#top ten final sights to see before dying violently

[lavendulachronicler]

Do you guys think that if you were to shine a bright light or something into Alastor's face or get a night-vision shot of him his eyes would do the deer thing and just go entirely reflective? I hope so, I bet that'd be scary as hell.

[eclecticmiasma]

Cold Blood (Bucciarati x Reader)

FS, as I deem you, you are always welcome in my inbox you nutball 😘 Incoming forced Bucciarati x Reader angst.

In the end, even the righteous are nothing more than animals. 

NSFW

[Warnings: rape, dead dove do not eat]

Art credit: MIE. on pixiv

When you and Bruno had entered the abandoned hangar, it seemed normal enough. A bit ominous in how massive and empty it was, an impression not helped by the lack of lighting, but nothing out of the ordinary. All you wanted to do was get in, gather some intel, and leave.

That’s when you spotted Diavolo’s henchmen.

“You’ve built up quite a reputation for yourself, Bucciarati. Many loyal citizens even refer to you as the Santo di Napoli…How quaint.”

Bruno’s mind reeled for ways to wipe the shit-eating grin off of the green-lipped doctor that loomed atop some scaffolding near forty feet above you. Even the gremlin that perched next to him on all fours seemed to be mocking in his gaze. Fear etched its way into your features, as neither of your stands were equipped to reach them. Until they made a move, you were caught like mice in a trap.

“My orders were to execute you both, but there’s a small experiment I’ve been dying to try for decades. The world lacks such passionate and honorable men as yourself, and I fear that if I simply snuff out your life now, I might never get the chance to see if my theory holds true.”

Your capo stood in front of you protectively, fingers itching, a cold and calculated look on his features. He was no doubt regretful that he had asked you and not one of his other underlings to help him with this task. His number one goal was to protect the ones he loved, and his love for you ran much deeper than you even realized.

“You see, I have a theory that any man on the planet can be brought to their base instincts with nothing more than a chemical. Humans love to drone on about how civilized and evolved we are. We tout our self-control as though we’re anything more than sentient beasts…The problem has been finding a man virtuous enough to be worth experimenting on. You should be honored that I’ve chosen you, Bucciarati.”

Cioccolata gave Secco a tap on the head and gestured for him to fish something out of his pockets. The boy did so gratefully, worming his fingers through the taller man’s pants until he found what he was looking for. His shoddily held together mask slipped down and revealed a beaming grin as he held up a small pistol for the doctor to see.

“Perfect! Always a reliable boy,” Cioccolata praised, flicking a white cube into his pet’s waiting mouth. He turned his attention back to his anxious captives, “If the experiment goes well, I’ll gladly let the two of you live. Though, I don’t know if you’ll want to.”

It happened in a millisecond. He pointed the pistol straight at Bruno and pulled the trigger once. Something much thinner than a bullet shot right through Bruno’s black and white suit into his bicep. You rushed forward to help him as he cried out in pain, immediately ripping the foreign object out of his arm and throwing it to the floor like it was made of fire. It appeared to be some kind of small, pink dart.

“Stay back!” Bruno shouted at you, feeling warmth spread from the sight of injection throughout his upper body. Whatever was in the dart worked immediately, and as you made eye contact you watched his frantic pupils dilate to the point that you could no longer see a hint of his bright blue irises. Panic flooded through you as you watched him struggle, fearing that he was in real pain. You turned up to shout obscenities at Cioccolata, demanding to know what he’d done, but the doctor’s unhinged look of pure delight gave you pause.  

“I wouldn’t take my eyes off of him if I were you,” He said, clucking his tongue. You noticed that Secco was leaned over the edge of the scaffolding, angling a video camera your direction.

Bruno’s heavy breathing brought your attention back. He was sweating bullets, normally kempt raven hair sticking to his forehead. His eyes flicked up and down your body as his chest heaved. Fear gripped you as you realized he looked like a cornered feral animal, “Bucciarati…are you o-”

“[Y/n]…” He practically growled, limbs twitching, drool dripping from his parted lips, “Run.”

You didn’t need him to tell you twice. The entrance to the warehouse was twenty to thirty feet away. If you could just get outside, you could flag down Abbacchio and Giorno who stood as lookouts for backup.  

You got hardly ten feet before something wrapped around your waist and slammed you backwards onto the hard metal floor, knocking the air out of you. Your veins ran ice cold as whatever it was immediately hooked its arms beneath your shoulders and began to drag you backwards. You kicked out wildly and screamed bloody murder, trying to dig your soles into the floor just enough to keep from being taken.

In a last ditch effort to escape, you turned your head down to bite the arms that constricted your chest. Horrified, you realized they belonged to Sticky Fingers.

“Bucciarati, stop!” You cried out, terribly confused. Sticky Fingers stopped and heaved you sideways so that Bruno stood at your feet, looming over you. His breathing was even more erratic, and his hands were visibly trembling. A single tear leaked from his blown out eyes.

“I’m so sorry,” He whispered. You tried to jerk out of the stand’s grasp as it suddenly gripped the sides of your shirt and ripped it open in a flurry of movement. Bruno’s eyes pierced your bare chest with his unhinged gaze, and suddenly he was on you like a rabid wolf. Lips, hands, teeth, breath- all of it gliding along your body at once with no regard for your sobs of protest.

Bruno and Sticky Fingers made quick work of your clothing, stripping you naked in a matter of seconds. All you could do was beg your capo to stop as he exposed you to the world, and all he could do was mutter apology after apology. He gripped your hair painfully and pressed his body against you, rutting his clothed, painfully hard erection against your lower abdomen and panting in your ear.

“[Y/n], [y/n]…I have to. I need to…”

“Bucc-Bruno, please don’t do this,” You wept. Bruno bypassed removing his pants altogether by just zipping the top half of them off completely, freeing his throbbing length. It hit your bare stomach with a sickening slap and bile rose in your throat. Sticky Fingers tightened its grip on your arms as you struggled, but you managed to kick Bruno hard in the thigh.

“You bitch,” He shouted, hands moved impossibly fast, digging his nails into your flailing legs so hard they pierced your skin. His voice sounded like it came from another entity altogether. You never even thought it possible for Bruno to get so enraged.

Just as fast as his fury came it disappeared into dust. His face immediately twisted into sadness and he threw himself against you, letting out a slew of apologies against your ear. You stopped struggling and just cried, completely stunned and profoundly conflicted. On the one hand, the man you trusted the most in this world was going to violate you beyond repair. On the other hand, it wasn’t him. It wasn’t Bruno. It was the enemies that stood proudly above you, lazily gratifying their own members to your despair.

Like a man possessed, Bruno pushed your thighs apart painfully wide and began frotting against your bare folds. His groveling melted into mumbling incoherently about all of the ways he’s wanted to fuck you ever since the day you met. It pained you deeply to think that your friendship might have been nothing but Bruno biding his time, waiting for the day you would accede to his desire. You tried to shake the thought from your head. It isn’t Bruno, it isn’t Bruno.

From somewhere above, you heard Secco cackle wildly. The tip of Bruno’s cock found its way into your entrance, and the burning stretch immediately brought fresh tears to your eyes.

Bruno pressed on, despite the fact that your body rejected him fully. It was agony, your role model’s thick, dry length impaling you inch by excruciating inch. His lips met your neck and sucked angry red marks into your clammy skin. It felt like he was splitting you in two. Sticky Fingers gripped your arms so tightly one of your shoulders felt dangerously close to popping out of its socket.

“Looks like I was right again, Secco. Even Santo Bucciarati can’t fight nature,” You shook your head violently, feeling the room spin. Stop talking…you thought. Stop talking, stop talking, it isn’t him!

After eons, Bruno finally bottomed out inside of you. Even sitting still, the thrum of pain you felt around his cock was immense. Your eyes wrenched closed, refusing to watch as Bruno took your body for his own.

“Please,” You whimpered one final time, appealing to some part of Bruno you desperately hoped was still lurking beneath the surface of whatever possessed him. You were granted no such appeal.

“Fuck,” He growled, moving inside of you, dick dragging along your walls like barbed wire. He felt your hot, sticky tears against his cheek as his sweat-slicked face leaned against yours, and in his first act of kindness dragged his tongue along them, “Don’t cry, bella…you’re taking me so well…” His hips snapped against you as his hands roamed your body, grasping at whatever flesh was within his reach. Even Sticky Fingers made small sounds as his user canted deep inside of you.

Bruno moaned aloud when your pussy clamped on his length for the briefest of moments as he hit a spot that, under other circumstances, would have felt incredible. Instead, it only made you sick. A cloying feeling scratching at your guts as he fucked you with wild abandon.

His thrusts became more erratic once his lips found yours. You fought as hard as you could, clamping your lips shut and turning your face away from him. Sticky Fingers didn’t hesitate to painfully grab your jaw and snap your head back to center, using its thick digits to pry open your mouth and give its owner access. Bruno moaned into your mouth when his tongue met yours, and it took everything inside of you not to retch as it slid along your throat.

“God, fuck,” He pulled away from you, wrapping his arms around your neck and penetrating your hole at a brutal pace, “I love you, [y/n],” Your stomach dropped, “I love you, I love you, I-” His hips stuttered as his release hit him suddenly, his seed spurting deep within you all at once. You whimpered pitifully at its warmth, disgusted at the feeling of his thick semen coating your walls.

Cioccolata slowly clapped. Secco proudly showed him from what great angles he managed to film the fall of Bucciarati.

Bruno clung to you for several minutes after his orgasm, when all you wanted him to do was leave you alone to mourn. His body trembled against yours. When he finally pulled away, you saw that his eyes, the real Bruno’s eyes, were filled to the brim with tears. You never saw him look so pained. He tried to speak, but no words came. Sticky Fingers faded away, and you collapsed into a heap on the floor.

Bruno pulled himself from you and bellowed into the endless abyss of the hangar until his throat was raw.

Diavolo’s guards held true to their word. They didn’t kill you that night, or any other night. They simply collected their data, and left the two of you to wallow in your shattered new reality.

*all original work is my intellectual property. do not edit or re-upload.

[dreamer213]

Broken machines: Lights The Dark

Chapter 1 Lovely Day

Italicized: Narration

Bold: Inner Thoughts

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Staring at the foot of Pyrrha Nikos I am broken and helpless. I can not move, I can not hear anything, half of my body has been torn off and is laying a foot away from the rest of me, and my vision is fading.

My systems, my strength, even my voice are…failing.

EVERYTHING IS FAILING! ITS SO DARK! I CANT SEE ANYTHING! I CANT GET UP! MY LEGS! I CANT MOVE! I CANT! I CANT! GENERAL! DAD! ANYONE! SOMEBODY PLEASE HELP ME!

This is horrible. I feel like I still being crushed. I feel-I feel… Scared? It this what scared feels like? Or is it….. death? Am I dying? No no NO! That can’t be it! This can’t be it! I just made my first friends, I just entered my first Vytal Festival Tournament, I just started really living my life it can’t just end. Not here not like this……….Daddy please help me.

…..I….I don’t want to die.

I DON’T WANNA DIE!!!!!!

At that moment Penny’s eyes shot open as she wakes from her nightmare. She sits up in a state of pure distress, taking short panicked breaths, her pajamas and hair are disheveled and the cable in her back ,the connector for her power station, has become loose from its socket from her violent shaking. She looks down at the blanket covering the lower half of her body, with a shaky hand Penny pulls back the covers to reveal not the broken and mangled pair from her nightmare but a set of perfectly attached, full intact, pale and freckle dusted legs. This sight calms her and pulls Penny full out of her daze, she pulls the cable out then flops down on the bed, her eyes glow softly.

Systems Overview:

Optics: Fully Functional

Hearing: Fully Functional

Nerves: Fully Functional

Weapons Systems: Fully Functional

Temperature Gauge: Fully Functional

Power Storage: Fully Functional………………

All Systems Are Functioning And Full Operational.

Penny: Pffft, It was just another dream. That marks two weeks and four days between this dream and the last dream, five weeks and two days from the one before that and two months from very the first. I’ll have to inform the General about this if it continues.

She shakes her head in dismissal

….No that would be useless. Informing him will result in me being sent to the lab for some diagnostic tests and a few scans. And since my systems aren’t showing any signs of error it’ll just be waste of time and resources. And we can’t afford to waste more of ether. Not now (Sighs).

She reaches into the drawer of her nightstand and pulls out a book and pen, she makes a few quick notes then return the items to their place, gets up, and begins her preparations for day ahead. She brushes her teeth, changes into her work clothes, tidies up her hair, puts on and securing her rocket boots, grabs her backpack, then heads down stairs. Right after turning back around for one last mirror check before she goes.

She arrives down stairs to see her Dad setting up the table with two plates of breakfast and two mugs, one filled with coffee, the other strawberry milk. As he finishes up Pietro spots Penny making her way towards him. He smiles brightly, his little girl is up bright and early again today.

Pietro: Good Morning, Sunshine of mine.

Penny: Good morning Dad.

Pietro: How are you doing this morning?

Penny: I am functioning optimally and all my systems and programs are running correctly.

Pietro: What about the “dreams” ? Are you still having them?

Penny: N-no I have not. (Hiccup)

Pietro: Uh Huh. Now Penny you know that I love you ,and you know I will always be there whenever you need me. But I can’t help you when you need me if you don’t tell me.

Penny: But there isn’t anything you can do about this. This isn’t an error or virus or anything to do with my specs or my hardware, there’s nothing wrong with me for you to fix.

Pietro: Not everything is matter fixing broken parts, sometimes it’s more a matter understanding emotions and talking about hardships. I’d be happy to help you with both whenever you want.

Penny: Thank you Dad but I do not think that will be of any significant help with this problem. And with the increase of my responsibilities, the rise in overall military activity and “ the project” I cannot add another issue to my daily routine. So please let’s just leave this problem be, just for little while.

Pietro: I understand I wouldn’t bother you about anymore. Now come here eat your breakfast, the foods getting cold.

Penny: Dad I don’t need to eat.

Pietro: But you can eat and makes you happy, isn’t that a good enough reason for doing it.

Penny: Okay, okay but I only have ten minutes and fifty three seconds to spare. If I stay any longer I’ll be running behind schedule.

Pietro: Well we can’t have that now can we? Better sit down and eat while you can!

Penny quickly takes a seat in front of her plate. She looks at her meal, two sunny side up eggs two pieces of welled spiced sausage and white toast cut into two triangles. She takes a deep inhale, picks up her fork, and takes her first bite. The eggs have warm welcoming taste as the yolk isn’t too runny and the whites are just the right amount of chewy. The sausage is tender and juicy, the rich meat flavor with a of spicy kick makes hard to stop from eating too fast. And rounding up the plate the wonderful toast has come out just right today, not too soft nor too burnt with a generous amount of butter on top. A pure blanket of soft crunchy buttery goodness. But once the food all gone the only way to finish up a proper breakfast is with a morning beverage. For today that morning beverage is cold and sweet strawberry milk. A creamy and sweet way to put some sugar and vitamin D into your morning.

It’s nothing special really, just a simple everyday meal but for Penny ,someone so new to the practice of eating and enjoying food, it is a moment of pure and utter bliss.~

Penny: Delicious as always, thanks Dad.

Penny gets up and turns to leave.

Pietro: Wait! Aren’t you forget something?

Penny: The dishes?

Pietro: No.

Pietro goes over to her, spreads his arms out, and gestures to her.

Penny: Oh!

Penny leans down and warps her arms around him. She stays like this just long enough to soak in her father’s warmth, he give her a kiss on the head as she pulls away.

Pietro: I love you Sweetheart.

Penny: I love you too Dad. I’ll be home before 10 pm.

Penny walks to the door gives her dad a quick wave and is out the door. Once on the streets she clicks the heels of her rocket boots to active them then takes off into the sky to begin her daily responsibilities.

7:30 AM to 12:00 PM Patrol Mantle’s streets

After a quick aerial scan of streets below Penny lands a starts to survey the area, everything seems to be in order store owners are opening their shop doors, groups of children are walking to school, the buses transporting the mine and factory workers, though noticeably less full then usual, are running according to the schedule, and the late night patrons of Sammy’s Pub are finally heading home from another night of intoxication. Mr. Calves, a man known for being a destructive alcoholic, is slumped against the building and losing consciousness fast.

Penny: Mr. Calves please leave this area and return to your home immediately. The owner of this establishment has already stated several times that you can no longer loiter here after business hours and has asked to have you trespassed if you refuse.

Claves looks at Penny with disgust as he shakily stands up. He downs the remaining liquid in his bottle, he then swings the empty bottle at Penny’s head! Once the bottle is within inches of her face Penny grips him by his forearm, applying just enough pressure to stopping him in his tracks. While holding him steadily Penny calmly takes the bottle from his hand and gingerly places it on ground, straights up Calves’s clothes, then looks up and makes eye contact.

Penny: I repeat please leave the area and return home. Or I will have you trespassed and will have to take you to the near military station.

Calves finally takes the hit and skiddes away. As he leaves Penny turns her attention back towards the streets just in time to see a group of small children heading to school. A little boy with light blue hair and a little gap in his teeth notices her while walking with his friends.

“Hey it’s Ms. Penny!” he shouts, this grabs the attention of the other children as they all turn their heads at the mention of the friendly neighborhood protector.

Soon there was swarm of little hands waving wildly and a chorus of “Hi Ms. Penny” “Good Morning Ms. Protector” and “ Hi Ms. Hero” can be heard from blocks away as the parents tried their hardest to get their awestruck children to keep on their way with little success. Penny smiled brightly and waved back at them, this had become her favorite part of her morning patrols since she was tasked with the role of Mantle’s Protector. After a month or so of handling both the Grimm and crime in Mantle the people had began to recognize her as somewhat of a neighborhood hero. Although they would not approach her often most adults would wave to her as she passes by them during patrols. The children would look at her with fascination and wonder asking all sorts of questions like how she flew, why was she was so strong, and if she could give them a ride on her back while she fled around! And the elder, especially the older woman, would treat her like one would a sweet child, telling her not to stay out too late, reminding her to wear thicker clothes when it got cold, and would give her small treats like candies, small cookies, and leftover baked goods whenever they had the chance.

This is what gives her work so much meaning. The comfort and happiness she saw in their eyes, that’s what Penny was protecting, that’s what she’d repeat to herself whenever things got difficult. As long as the people, her people, were safe she could handle whatever role or new responsibility the higher ups decide to throw at her. As long as she could fight they could smile and as long they could smile she could fight.

“RING” “RING” “RING”

Penny’s scroll rings, a loud blaring alarm, it’s a status update from the security officers in charge of the surveillance drones there are two on going altercation happening sixteen blocks away, a small fire twelve blocks east, One large Grimm at the southern most edge that’s proving to be a problem for the morning squadron, and a small pack of Grimm making their way towards one of mines due southeast. In summary a normal morning in Mantle.

Penny: And like clockwork my morning peace has comes to an end. If I help with the fire first and handle the altercations a few blocks ahead then fly max speed across town to get to the Grimm I should be able to cut off the pack just before they reach the mine.

She puts her scroll away and turns to take off but not before giving the crowd one more wave as she clicks her heels and twirls as she jets up into the air. She then does a very showy wink and peace sign for the crowd and flys off.

1:00pm to 4:00 pm Training With Military Huntsman

After cutting off and taking down the pack of Grimm Penny heads to the military training center to add the other hunters as they hon their skills in biweekly training sessions. Now most days Penny will just set the facilities to train the specific skills each team needs to work on for both group and individual training. But Penny will join in if a session requires another person or if she is specifically requested. Today is Team FNKI’s turn and they’ve requested that Penny train with them, though it was more like Neon begged for two full hours to have Penny join them so she could play with Penny’s “pretty light swords”.

Once the boys are all set with their individualized training, Neon and Penny are left at the center for a 1 vs 1 sparing match. Neon playful circles Penny rainbow trailing behind her. She smiles coley ,twirling her her nunchucks and her tail, as though she doesn’t have a care in the world.

Neon: you ready to dance Penny? Cause I’ve been dying to see if those cute swords of yours are more then just a light show.

Penny: I can assure you Neon Katt my swords are indeed military grade weapons, the lights are an indicator of the connection between them and my systems so I may use them freely. They are also optimal for fighting in the dark and at night.

Neon: And you just ruined the joke killjoy. So if you’re done talking I’m just gonna beat cha with my chucks, ‘Kay.

Neon changes her stance then charges at Penny, she swings her chucks wildly at Penny trying to land a hit. Penny dodges her rapid attacks for a bit but that soon fails as Neon only grows more fierce with each swing. Neon closing in she’s just about to landing a hit but when she brings down her chucks something blocks her, she loses her balance and is pushed back. Once she regains her composure she see Penny with one of her swords in hand and smile on her face. Penny looks at her for a second then let’s go of her blade letting it flow upward to above her head. Once’s it there she releases the rest of her arsenal, the blades fanning out around her like a peacock’s tail creating a beautiful but deadly display. Penny raises her hand to Neon and gestures for her to make a move.

Game on.

The girls continue their sparing for the duration of the session, when the time almost up the door to the training room is swung open. The elegant Winter Schnee enters the room with a loud bang, grabbing everyone’s attention and stopping them dead in their tracks.

Winter: Team FNKI Your session is over please clear out so the next group may enter.

With that the boys grab their things and start head towards the door while Neon stands there sulking.

Neon: Aww man, But I wanted to play some more.

Flynt: Kitty no it’s time to go, say goodbye to your friend.

Neon: Ugggh, fine..

Neon begins to leave, looking upset and defeated she skates to the door but right as she’s about to leave she perks up and skates back to Penny.

Neon: You have your scroll on you?

Penny: Yes.

Neon: Gimme it like Now!

Penny hands Neon her scroll, Neon starts fiddling with the scroll until she finds the app she’s looking for then starts typing. Once she’s done she hands the scroll back to Penny.

Neon: If you’re ever bored or want tickets to our next concert hit me up ‘Kay.

Penny: Okay?

Neon: Awesome, and don’t worry about calling too late I’m a real night owl.

Flynt: KITTY!

Neon: OKAY! Bye Penny Pop, later Winter Wonder. See you losers in few days!

Neon rolls out of the room while Flynt looks back apologetically before leaving with the rest of his team. Penny and Winter are left standing in the room in an awkward silence.

Winter: Penny, go change the settings for the room to my presets.

Penny: Right away Ma’am

Winter: And Penny.

Penny: Yes Ma’am?

Winter: Don’t get distracted. We don’t have time for distribution.

Penny: Yes of course Ma’am.

Penny leaves the room and heads to the control room to change the settings. Once she’s finished she call a co-worker to take over as she grabs her things and leaves for her next task.

5:00 pm to 8:00 pm Filling Out Reports At The Military Outpost

After a quick flight from the training center Penny heads to the nears Military Outpost or Military Station to fill out reports on petrols, arrests, Grimm sightings and kills, and any oddity or security issues she might have noticed in between her commutes are the cities. Basically everything that needs to go on record throughout the day was to written and submitted at this time.

This was is the part of the day Penny dislike the most. After hours of detaining criminal, fighting Grimm, training with military huntsman, and keeping the community safe sitting at a computer, in an uncomfortable chair and typing everything out for hours on end was truly mental draining. Recounting an entire day down to the mundane details, filling out arrest form after arrest form, document after document is just so soul sucking and horrible. But this what she and every military member had to do when their work day comes to an end in order to keep the system running.

Penny walks in to the station she shows her identification to the front desk assistant, she is then given a usb, and boozed into the main building. Once she’s in she looks for the nears open computer, once she finds it she sits down, logs in to the system, inserts the usb, and gets to work.

After two hours of typing away Penny’s close to finishing her work a bit earlier the usual when Chief Stones, the man in charge of the station, comes running towards her with a phone in hand.

Stones: Poledina, I just got off the phone with the southwest shipping facility. They need some extra security on today’s shipment transfer and they asked for you specifically, so get down there.

Penny: Yes Sir.

Stones: And don’t forget to come back and finish your reports once you’re done.

Penny: ………Yes Sir.

After saving her work and removing the usb Penny grabs her things, heads outside and straight to the sky. After a near hour or so of flying Penny spots the facility coming up on the horizon. She’s getting closer when suddenly a truck comes zooming past her at an intense speed. It’s the shipping truck! But why is it going so fast? Where was the security detail that was supposed to be escorting them? And why is it going off the normal route? Penny stops and gets ready to jet off after the truck when-

“ HELP! SOMEBODY HELP US!”

That’s when Penny turn back and sees smoke. The truck could wait someone was in danger and she was the only one there to help. She flys towards the screaming only to find it’s the security detail! The vans been thrown on it’s side and a fires broke out. The guards have made out of the vehicle but most are injured some are unconscious the strongest of them is waving Penny down with one arm while keeping a wound close with the other.

Penny: Penny Poledina Mantle Main Security, What happened here?

Long: Seth Long Transport Security, there was a breach at the facility it turned out false alarm but once we got back they’d already set off smoke bombs in loading dock and ran off with the truck. We tried catch up with them but I think they saw it coming they set off some sort of trap and blow us off the road. Our van got flipped 5 of my men were injured 3 are out cold there was nothing we could.

Penny: We need to get you and your men to a medic right now-

Long: WAIT! There’s 1 man still in that van, he was driving when we gave chase and got stuck when we crashed. He’s names Tony, please you gotta save him.

Penny looks at the man for a moment, the desperation and fear clear in his eyes, she rips a piece off her skirt and uses it to dress Long’s wound then heads for the van. It doesn’t take her long to spot Tony, he has multiple injuries, has breathed in a lot of smoke, and is losing consciousness. Penny pulls out one of her swords and cuts him out the seatbelt. Once he’s free she gently picks him up and jets up and out of the van. When they’re back on solid ground she sets Tony down next to Long, Long gingerly pats Tony’s head and mouths “thank you” to Penny before his strength finally gives and he passes out. Penny pulls out her scroll and calls for medical attention, in the meantime she does everything she can to keep the men stable until help arrives.

It takes a few hours for everything to get cleared up but soon everything has documented and everyone in need of medical attention has either been seen or sent to the hospital for a few nights stay. With that Penny quickly heads back to the station to wraps up her reports for the day then heads home. It’s one thirty in the morning, it been a very long day and all Penny can think about is getting home, taking off her boots, getting out of her now dirty work clothes, and getting some sleep. Before she knows it she’s standing at her front door, she grabs her keys and quietly opens the door trying her hardest not to make too much noise so she doesn’t wake her dad, only to find him waiting for her at the table with a warm plate of chicken and rice with tomato soup. Penny smiles at him and heads to table for a nice late dinner and some family time. Once dishes are done and Dad’s gone off to bed Penny goes to her room, she takes off her boots, grabs some clean pajamas and heads to her bathroom she then washes off the day’s dirty and grime, puts on her pjs and heads to her bed. Once she’s in her bed she plugs herself into her power station, tucks herself with her nice warm blankets, snuggle her head into her pillow, and falls into a hard earned and well deserved night sleep.

[smilingmikasa]

I want to post some oneshots here as well, here’s one of the oneshots from my (male) Mikasa oneshot collection over in Wattpad! This one is Female Mikasa x Dying Reader. Ps, this does have manga spoilers!!

@Weird0taku (on Wattpad)

.IT'S A SHAME.

Spoilers for Manga and Season four Part two. I repeat, MAJOR Spoilers for the manga and anime, if you aren't caught up in the manga, specifically, chapter 138, then don't read this!

3rd POV,

Walking outside the mansion she glanced up at the dark sky, stars lit the place, it looked lovely. It was the same sky she saw back home. Going across the field she felt her coat get tugged, looking down she saw the little boy. The same boy from the market, Ramzi was his name. Smiling down at him the boy grabbed her hand and led her to his home. Speaking to her even though she didn't understand his tongue.

Y/n came to face many tents, lit up with lanterns, this was the boy's home. Ramzi let go of the older woman's hand and ran over to his grandfather. Giving him a hug, the two smiling. Y/n's weak smile grew genuine at the tender moment, the makeshift tents felt more like home than the mansion Kiyomi offered the scouts to stay.

Her throat went dry, knowing that it was coming she faced away from the tents and coughed into her elbow. Her cough was rougher than usual, her throat burning as she coughed. After almost a minute she pulled away and softened her eyes. The burgundy rose petals littered her coat sleeve, a bit of blood on the petals. Sighing she wiped them off and kicked dirt over the bloody petals. No one needed to know about her condition.

They knew Y/n had been acting differently but they all presumed it was because she was tired. Tired of fighting. Her eyes weren't the same bright e/c eyes she had back in 850, they were dull now. She would hardly smile truthfully, not even when they tried ice cream.

Feeling another tug on her sleeve she saw Ramzi, he offered her a cup of something. It wasn't technically a cup but rather a can. Ramzi and his grandfather saw her coughing, worried, his grandfather sent him to give Y/n a drink. He asked if she was alright. She didn't understand of course but figured what he was saying from his worried face. Reaching down to the cup she grabbed it and thanked the boy, bowing her head a little so he would understand. Raising the cup she smelt the drink, it was booze. Scoffing under her breath she took a swing, the liquid burning her throat even more. She didn't mind, it'll make her forget.

Exhaling after taking a gulp she heard footsteps approach her. Turning around she faced her. Feeling her face warm-up she sent her eyes away from Mikasa. The black-haired girl came up to her and smiled, that was until she saw the drink in her hand. Recognizing it as alcohol from the familiar smell of it. This wasn't Y/n's first time drinking, out of the whole squad she was the one that drank the most. Mikasa never understood why she drowned herself in it.

"If you're going to t-tell me that I shouldn't be drinking, please don't. The boy from the market offered it to me." Y/n stuttered, feeling warm in her cheeks. Her throat was beginning to burn again, she knew she couldn't cough up in front of Mikasa. She couldn't know about the disease Y/n had. Swallowing down a huff escaped her. Mikasa frowned. "I'm not, I'm here because I was wondering if you've seen Eren. He wasn't in Ms. Kiyomi's mansion just like you." Mikasa said, placing one of her hands on Y/n's shoulder. The girl got warmer, even after Mikasa mentioning Eren's name.

"I haven't seen him, do you...Do you want to stay here with me? You have a good view of some constellations here. I can show you them." Y/n asked, pointing up at the sky. She learned quite a bit of constellations over the few years, Marley had a lot. The most popular being the constellation of Helos. Mikasa gazed up at the stars, she gave it a thought but shook her head. "Sorry I can't, I have to find Eren. Maybe later." Patting her shoulder Mikasa walked away, going out to find Eren. Leaving behind Y/n.

She watched Mikasa go, her heat in her cheeks disappearing. Then she began to cough violently, thankfully Mikasa was out of hearing range. Covering her mouth with her hand flowers escaped blood spattering onto her palm. Knowing she was going to gain people's attention she stumbled away. Till she got out of range of hearing, she fell to her knees. She couldn't handle it anymore. She knew Mikasa didn't love her back, she knew that Mikasa never will. No matter how much she tried she couldn't forget these feelings she has for Mikasa. The unconditional love she had for her. This love would be the death of her.

Y/n knew of the surgery, it could save her life. But it was pricey and it was rare to find a doctor who could perform it. Besides...Y/n will rather die than forget the love she has for Mikasa. To never feel love again was a nightmare. How could someone live in this world without loving someone? Coughing up petals she couldn't breathe, it was suffocating her. Grabbing the can of booze she brought it up to her lips and drank what was in it. Gasping she finally got her breath again. Breathing heavily she saw all of the bloody burgundies rose petals in front of her. Picking up each one of them she went to find a place to throw them, including a place to wash her bloody hands. She came back to the tents but made sure to stay out of the light.

She wasn't sure when her feelings for Mikasa started, she thinks that they were just...always there and grew more as the years went by. Y/n always looked up to Mikasa, she wasn't the most skillful soldier, heck she didn't graduate in the top ten. Y/n was confident in herself though, hoping to be as strong as the girl worth a hundred soldiers someday. Her optimism helped others out, trying to lift others. She wondered where that girl was now. She could hardly make herself happy anymore. The only thing keeping her going was Mikasa.

Strong, talented, smart, beautiful, and many more things. Mikasa meant everything to Y/n. The h/c girl can't imagine what she'll do if Mikasa left...

"Mikasa why is it...that you care so much about me?"

Recognizing the voice of Eren saying Mikasa's voice the girl stopped in her tracks. Looking over in the direction she heard his voice she saw him standing next to Mikasa. Looks like she was able to find him. Y/n bit the inside of her cheek. She can't deny it, she was jealous of him. He had all of Mikasa's attention, she cared for him, she loved him. He made her happy...Shouldn't that make Y/n happy as well?

"Is it because I saved you when you were a kid? Or is it...because I'm family?"

She knew it was wrong to listen in to their conversation but to able to hear Mikasa's voice. The voice of hers that was filled with love and care, brought warmth to Y/n. Even if it wasn't directed to her. She heard Mikasa mumble over her words, not understanding what Eren was saying.

"What am I to you?"

Eren asked her, Y/n saw that he was facing Mikasa, though Y/n wasn't able to see the look on his face. She expected Mikasa to dodge the question and call Eren family like she always did. Coughing lightly Y/n was about to walk away till she froze completely. Shocked at what she heard from Mikasa.

"I love you, Eren. You're someone that I love and always have, that's what you are to me. I'll go wherever you go, not because you're family...but because I love you.

Facing the two from where she stood she stayed still. Her eyes widened. Eren reached down his hand and grabbed a hold of Mikasa's right hand. He must've said something but Y/n wasn't able to hear. Mikasa said something as well, must've shocked Eren since he went stiff. The next thing she saw was Eren and Mikasa running away hand in hand. Y/n wrinkled her forehead, her hold on her can cup and petals loosened and she let go of them. Reaching out her hand in the direction they ran she felt her eyes beginning to burn. "Wait...Mikasa." They continued to run not hearing Y/n's quiet call, soon disappearing out of her sight.

Y/n hoped they didn't leave, that they were going to come back. That Mikasa was going to come back to her. Falling to her knees it felt like she was suffocating again. Sobbing she cupped her ears, denying what she just saw. "She didn't leave. She didn't leave. She didn't leave. She didn't leave." She repeated softly to herself. Not even realizing that Ramzi caught eye on her. His gibberish went unnoticed, worried like before he saw her friends coming from where Kiyomi's mansion was. Waving out an arm he caught their attention, pointing at Y/n.

The group of young adults gasped when seeing her and went to her aid. Sasha and Connie squatting down next to her and asking what was wrong. Jean raised his brow at what she was saying but went to help her up. Armin was about to help until his eyes landed on the can, petals lingered around, trotting over to it he inhaled sharply. He saw the blood. Picking up one of them he went to Y/n. Jean had an arm wrapped around her as Connie helped him, the girl they were aiding had stooped repeating those words.

"Y/n..." Armin called, the girl opened her eyes a little and looked at the blonde-haired boy. He showed her the blood petal, "Is this...For how long have you had Hanahaki Disease?" He asked, his voice is filled with worry. Armin's question shocked everyone. All of them going to look at Y/n, she didn't say anything, tears rolling down her chin. Her lips trembled, finally gasping out an answer.

"Since the moment I laid eyes on Mikasa..."

.IT'S A SHAME

WE WEREN'T MEANT TO BE.

[popcornanon]

Metal, Part 1

A/N: the backstory to my ‘Glass’ story, also I never know what to title my writings lol

Warnings: blood, gore, physical and sexual assault

BAU Team x Reader

Hotch x Reader

Word Count: 1.8k

Hotch, Morgan and you were crammed into the booth with the best vantage point of the bar. This bar, The Black Cat, was one of the three bars young brunette women disappeared from, only to be later found brutally beaten, sexually assaulted and wrists slit. The bar was packed tight with college students fresh from a university football game. Reid had, of course, decided to stay back at the precinct since bars weren’t really his ‘scene’. He felt he was more helpful going over the files and narrowing down the profile with Rossi.

Morgan’s eyes were trained on the front entrance of the bar as he took a sip of his ginger ale. Hotch’s eyes moved through the room like he was reading a page in a book. His hand fidgeted with his glass.

The bar seemed to become hot and humid with all the sweaty bodies constantly moving around. You scooted out of the booth and told the guys you were going out for some air. You had also wanted to check out the taxi situation to see if the drivers had noticed anything out of the ordinary.

“I’ll come with you.” Hotch yelled slightly over the music.

“I’ll be fine. I’ll be right back.” You yelled back. Hotch saw the look on your face and read that you’d rather go alone for some quiet and fresh air. He settled back into his seat.

You made your way pushing through the crowd towards JJ and Emily. You quickly informed them of your plan as you kept pushing to the door before they could argue. Finally once you were outside, you positioned yourself under the awning of the bar off to the side. The cool air felt wonderful on your skin as you breathed in the night. The rain was a sprinkle now and several taxi cabs lined the street waiting for potential customers. You looked at your phone to see the time. It was just after 2:00 am. You were hoping last call would be soon and Hotch would allow the team to return to the hotel for a few hours of rest. You shifted on your feet as you regretted not packing your more comfortable shoes. The new shoes had started to ache the soles of your feet and you were dying to kick them off and crawl into your mediocre hotel bed.

You decided to pace the front of the outside of the bar. You tried to determine different vantage points the unsub may have used. As you get closer to the alley to the left of the bar, an arm reached out and wraps around your neck. You knew what this was and you refused to go down without a fight. The attacker pulled you into the darkness. Derek has always described you as small but feisty and you were going to show this unsub just how feisty you could be. His hand now covered your mouth to keep you from yelling out and alerting close by-standers. As the man struggled for something in his pocket, you placed your left foot behind his and twisted to break out of the hold. You broke free but he grabbed your shirt and yanked you back into the alley. You tried for your gun but suddenly a foul smelling cloth covered your mouth. The unsub held you hard against a dumpster. You felt your body begin to weaken despite of your protests. But you didn’t lose consciousness, just lost control of your own body. You leaned on the man as he held you up. Carefully, he unholstered your gun and gently placed it on the alley floor. Your vision began to blur at the edges and the lights blared brightly. You shoved your phone into your pants as best as you could. The man wrapped your arm around his neck as he half carried you to the line of taxis. After deciding on the taxi farthest from the bar door, he smoothly slid you into the backseat of the cab behind the driver. The attacker began casually talking to the driver.

“Whew, what a night! Think my wife drank a bit too much.”  He said as he closed the car door.  “She’s a bit of a lightweight, if you know what I mean.”

The driver chuckled and the unsub gave an address you heard but couldn’t decipher. A phone rang out and for a second you thought it was yours but the attacker answered his own. While he was distracted, you shoved your own phone down a crevice of the taxi seat. You desperately hope someone would find it. You began to fade in and out, hearing only bits and pieces of the unsub’s conversation.  

“Yeah, I can get you the paperwork…sorry babe…got to stop at work for some things. Hey buddy, change of address.”

The rest of the ride was a dizzying fight to stay awake. The cab soon stopped outside a dark warehouse with one dim lightbulb lighting the entrance.

“You want me to wait?” The driver asked.

“Nah, I’ll be awhile. Come on, honey.” He said supporting you and paying the taxi in cash.

The taxi drove off and as soon as you were forced through the door, a powerful punch landed square in your face and you were on the ground. Before you could even register the pain from the blow and the now blood seeping from you nose, you were being dragged through a hallway, down a stairwell, and into a basement. Momentarily you were on your feet only to be pushed down again onto a cold concrete floor. The man began kicking you in the abdomen. The pain was close to blinding now.  

“FBI…huh…not that impressive.” He commented as he circled his prey. “You’ve been gone, what, 20 minutes. Have they even noticed you’re gone?” He landed another kick to your side, this one just as powerful as the others. You began to cough violently.

“How about some music?” Raging heavy metal boomed through the empty basement. Your head rang from what was bound to be a concussion now from all the hits.

He turned you on your back and for the first time you saw your attacker’s face. His eyes were steely blue yet dark with perversion. He straddled you and carried out several more punches to your face and jaw. Red filled your sight and you choked on the blood that rose in your throat. He leaned down to your ear and whispered with his hot breath.

“How about we have some fun before your friends show up?” And the unmistakable sound of a belt unbuckling echoed as a pause in songs happened.  

~ ~ ~

Back at the bar, last call had been called ten minutes ago and there was no sign of you. The team gathered outside of the entrance of the bar.

“I’ve called several times.” JJ said as she hung up her phone. “What if she went back to the precinct?”

“Without telling us?” Morgan stated the obvious.

“No, Reid said she wasn’t there.” Prentiss hung up her own phone.

“I’m calling her again.” JJ shook her head and pressed dial once more.

A balding heavy set men grunted as he got out of his cab to dig in the back of his car. He held up a ringing familiar phone and before JJ could say anything, Hotch was springing over to the taxi. The team following his steps.

“Was that in your passenger seat?” Hotch questioned.

“Uh, yeah think that couple must have left it.”

“What couple?”

“A man and his lady…lady was pretty much out of it. Said she drank too much.”

“Did she look like this?” Emily pulled up a picture of the team at the annual triathlon on her phone. She pointed to your zoomed in smiling picture.

“Yeah, that’s her…ah don’t tell me that was her ex?” The driver asked.

“No, much worse.” Derek mumbled.

“Where did you take them?” Hotch said trying to maintain his voice.

��A warehouse. The guy said it was his office.”  

“We need that address now.” Hotch got his phone out and called Reid. “Reid, we need SWAT and police at this address. We’ll most likely will need EMS too. He has (Y/N).”

~ ~ ~

It was becoming increasingly hard to breathe as you gasped. He was still on top of you. But now he had a knife out and was lightly dragging it across your stomach. Your chest ached, you could tell your ribs were bruised or broken from fighting him.

“Now, for the final performance…my favorite.” He announced.  

He plunged the knife into your lower abdomen as you gasped and coughed. Your body was close to being paralyzed from the pain. He continued stabbing at random places on your torso.

“The piece de resistance!” You could feel the blade drive down your forearm on both wrists, one at a time. He was finishing his MO: slit wrists.

Th CD was now finished with its songs and the faint echoing of sirens filled the musty air. The unsub whipped his head to look in a darkened corner where a shadow moved and the creaking of a door hinge originated.

“Well, funs over now. Ta-ta!” And with that you were left alone.

Your hands and legs began to numb and you struggled to breathe through the blood. Your vision was blurred with crimson. Suddenly, a familiar face peered down into yours. More faded into view. Then mouths moved but the sound was slurred and slow, almost echoing through empty space but unintelligible. Pressure built on your stomach and arms. Your eyes were open, barely processing the chaos surrounding you. Everything went white and suddenly you were in the back of a tall vehicle watching orange lights reflect off objects. A mask covered your mouth and nose but did little to improve your breathing. Your eyes wandered to your side where a grimace of a face was. His umber eyes on yours and you thought to yourself: I don’t have shoes on…when did I take my shoes off?

You attempted to sit up but immense pain and pressure forced you down. The pressure coming from the hands of the umber eyed face. You stared confusingly at the face. It said something but you didn’t understand the words. They were muffled and far away. Your eyes wandered again to your bloodied bandaged left hand and saw the face’s hand in yours. This seemed to confuse you more. You raised your free hand to the hissing mask and removed it as you tried to free yourself from the cords. You began to cry as more hands pushed you gently but forcibly down. You were so tired and weak and confused. A hand reached to your arm and your eyes fluttered closed and all was quiet and still.

[imalifegen89]

A Legacy Left Behind - Chapter - 5 - The Gemmond Incident

Part 3

Sheppard and Lorne were a lethal sight to behold.

They moved like two dancers who were following complicated steps on a deadly routine that was known to the two of them alone. Their actions, the way they moved and attacked, were synchronized to the point that it looked like they were carrying out a sequence they had practiced a million times. They left a trail of dead Drones behind as they steadily advanced towards the bridge of the Carrier where the Wraiths were stationed.

Sheppard was communicating with Lorne mentally. He had realized that he had the ability the moment he changed. Lorne had instinctively given the lead to John and followed him as they continued their killing spree, closing the distance to their prey.

The Wraiths were already aware of them when they finally reached the bridge. They’d had lunch, judging by the withered, dead bodies of the Gemmondians that were strewn around on the floor of the bridge.

"Kill them!"

The older Wraith hissed a command at the ten Drones that were gathered in the area to protect their leaders. Sheppard took two long steps to meet the oncoming assault head first as Lorne moved from his side, meeting the Drones that were advancing from their left. Sheppard caught the stunner that was closest to his face and dragged the Drone that was attached to it right up against him. The Drone, unwilling to let go of its weapon, took an unintentional step forward at Sheppard's urging and met an unfortunate end at the tip of a knife that went straight through its neck. Still holding onto the stunner now attached to the lifeless Drone, Sheppard whirled around, putting his back to the dead Drone, and fired the stunner on the Drone that was creeping up from behind him. The stunned Drone fell to the floor and John threw his knife at its neck, finishing it. Then he dropped to the ground, narrowly avoiding the stunner that went swinging past where his head had been when another Drone had decided to use it as a club. John unstrapped his P90 in one smooth movement from where it was cradled on his chest and shot it from the ground, dropping it to the floor, dead. Then he got up and calmly shot three other Drones that were intent on attacking him. Finally, he turned to see the last Wraith Drone that was still grappling with Lorne. As John moved his weapon to shoot it, Lorne managed to drop the thing with a shot to its feeding hand followed by a tap to the neck.

"How is this possible? Who are you? ANSWER ME!!!"

"Kneel!"

Both the Wraiths, now alone with John and Evan in the bridge, were panicking and hissing commands both verbally and mentally.

John moved towards the closest Wraith.

"Don't! I will kill your friends. As you can see, your friends and the rescued prisoners are surrounded. My servants shall kill them all on my order."

The Wraith had taken a step back at Sheppard's advance. He was now staring at a Wraith equivalent of a security feed on the wall beside them. Sheppard could see the moving dots on the screen that was most probably his teams moving fast to get out of the ship. Seeing the live feed, the Wraith recovered from blind panic as he realized that the two prison-break teams were now flanked by the remaining Wraith Drones. The Wraith could mentally track the movement of the Drones and see through their eyes as well. He knew that this hostage situation would give them the chance to escape these abnormal human horrors.

Sheppard didn't say a word. He knew that he couldn't let that happen. No matter how hard the compulsion was, this time he wasn't letting it overtake him completely. The first time had caught him unawares and he hadn't known what was happening to him. But now he knew. So he was going to do his damndest to get everyone out before he finished off these two abominations.

"Put down your weapons and kneel, humans - bow down now to your superior. See the glory and the power of I, The Night Shadow! Do as I say or witness the death of your people."

The Wraith was on a full rant, confident that he had the upper hand of the situation.

Sheppard did as ordered. He saw, in the periphery, Lorne's eyes go wide at this sudden turn of events. He hadn't expected Sheppard to fall to his knees at all. He knew the Wraith had absolutely no control over Sheppard's mind and therefore the surrender on John's part was completely voluntary.

"Play along." Sheppard’s deep voice resonated in Lorne’s mind. He dropped to his knees as ordered.

The Wraith, his smug superiority inflated at the display of subservience by the obviously lethal humans, took a bold step forward, coming to stand right in front of Sheppard. Then he stretched his hand and backhanded Sheppard harshly on the face a few times. Sheppard bore the assault with barely a grunt; his face hardly moving despite the raining blows, much to the displeasure of the Wraith.

"Ah! I see. How very noble... willing to sacrifice yourself for your friends. But let me ask you this, human..." The Wraith spoke softly, his hissing voice full of menace. Then he extended a clawed finger towards John's chest and made a vicious slicing movement. The strong claw cut through the fastening of his tactical vest and the uniform underneath. Then the Wraith tugged both his vest and the uniform apart, exposing John’s bare chest, making his intention to start feeding on Sheppard abundantly clear.

Lorne twitched at the assault but otherwise stayed still, trusting John to know what he was doing. Instead, he kept his attention on the other, still somewhat frightened Wraith, aiming a nasty smile at him with a promise of violent and painful death.

"How could you possibly know that I would let your friends go? After I have sucked you dry, maybe I will do the same to each and every one of them instead?"

The lead Wraith let out a loud, ringing, triumphant laugh as he bent forward slightly and placed his feeding hand right on top of John's heart. John wondered for a moment how this dumb asshole could be so sure of himself just after witnessing the fresh carnage that John and Evan were clearly capable of creating. 'Oh well, self-delusion is probably a side-effect of their rather unhealthy dietary habits,' he concluded.

The moment he felt the cold, dead palm making contact with the bare skin on his chest, Sheppard reacted. He caught the feeding hand of the Wraith with both his hands and locked it in an iron grip. The Wraith hissed out a startled breath and tried to wrench it back. But he kept his grip, firmly holding the now struggling Wraith right in front of him which was exactly where he wanted it.

Then John opened his mind.

He remembered the way he felt when he was mentally assaulted by the Wraith female back in Afghanistan. He mentally forced a connection into the Wraith's mind as the female had done to him. He felt the dark and slimy presence of the Wraith mind and almost recoiled in horror. But he firmed his resolve and forced himself to dig deeper. He knew the Wraith was able to communicate orders to the Drones mentally and he needed to find those connections. As he continued his telepathic trespass deeper into the Wraith's mind, he started to see a pattern. It looked like a complicated Spider's Web - tangled threads of mental bonds, connecting them to each other. And at the center of the maze, he found the core of the mind of the Wraith called Night-Shadow.

He yanked the flimsy threads apart as he waded his way through to the core he had just spotted. Then he put his metaphorical mental fingers on top of it and started ripping it to pieces.

Sheppard pushed the entire strength of his will towards the destruction of the core and he felt the mental Web starting to disintegrate inside the Wraith mind along with its physical body. He withdrew his mind from Night Shadow and came back to himself amidst a scene of horror and destruction incarnate. The two Wraiths were writhing on the floor, their inhuman screams fading into pain-riddled whimpers of death throes. A similar phenomenon was taking place everywhere, the dying screams of the Drones echoing inside the entire ship. Sheppard felt the ship itself vibrating fearfully at the assault he just unleashed.

Lorne was up and closing in on Sheppard the moment he knew what was happening. He felt a faint echo of what Sheppard did through his mental connection to him. He knew that John used the mental bonds the Wraith had to each other to destroy them all in one fell swoop. He also felt the strange awareness and the boost he had been riding until now, slowly receding deep into his mind, confirming that the Wraith in the vicinity were no more.

Lorne reached him just as Sheppard started listing to his side, his body no longer able to keep itself upright. The physical exhaustion after having killed so many Drones and the massive amount of mental energy he just expended, all taking the toll on John at once. Lorne caught him before he did a faceplant on the nasty and most probably germ-ridden floor. He helped his leader to get back on his feet and kept a supporting hand on Sheppard's shoulder when he felt the man swaying alarmingly as he stood up. Then he used his free hand to extract a field bandage and handed it to Sheppard, who used it to wipe his upper lip and nose where he was bleeding freely.

"Sheppard to Steve, Steve - come in." John tiredly tapped his earpiece, raising the team.

"Yeah, Shep, go ahead," the Navy SEAL answered.

"Clear the ship now and put as much distance as possible from here. The Wraith and the Drones are dead, so your way is clear. We are heading back to the Jumper," Sheppard updated. Although he had only raised Steve on the comms, he knew the whole team was listening intently.

If Steve heard the weariness in his voice, the SEAL never questioned it. He knew that Steve would come to check on John himself, the moment they finished their mission.

"Copy that." The crisp acknowledgment came over the comms and Sheppard knew they were on the move. He took a deep breath, wishing he could just lie down for a nap before he had to move.

"Hey, can you walk?" He noticed Lorne was eying him wearily, contemplating whether he was going to have to carry Sheppard. He knew he looked as bad as he felt, maybe even a bit worse.

"Yeah, I can walk. Just gimme a minute," said Sheppard as he straightened from the hold Lorne still had on his shoulder and took a few experimental steps. When he was reasonably sure that he wasn't about to topple over, he started walking towards the exit of the bridge.

"Okay, let's go," he threw over the shoulder when he realized that Lorne wasn't following him.

"Ah, Sheppard, it's this way." The asshole was trying to hide a chuckle while pointing at the exit on the other side. John grimaced.

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Lead the way then." He extended a hand gesturing for Lorne to take the lead who obviously had the better sense of direction when they were not riding the Wraith annihilating high.

"So, it should be somewhere here," Lorne announced, as he finally led them both into an open area. Sheppard looked around, hoping they were in the right place. He really needed to sit down and rest now. Just as he was about to give up, he felt the Jumper calling out in his mind.

"Wait, I can feel it, let me just..." He started walking towards the direction he felt the mental pull, requesting the Jumper to de-cloak.

"There you go," he grinned as the Puddle Jumper shimmered into existence in front of them. They both climbed in through the back door and fell to their respective seats.

"Let's get the hell out of this shitty, smelly excuse of a spaceship. Even if there weren't any Wraith, I’d still blow this piece of shit on principle," Sheppard grumbled as he went through the compulsory flight checks to get the Jumper moving.

The Puddle Jumper somehow seemed to sense its pilot's exhaustion, because the little ship did most of the orienting and flying all by itself, only letting John extend the tiniest bit of energy towards their movement. John was grateful for the support and the Jumper was happy and proud to be of service.

Meanwhile, both Steve's and Danny's teams had regrouped just outside the landed Wraith ship. They were already running fast further into the jungle area to clear the blast zone. Once they all had put a distance of about three hundred yards from the ship, Steve clicked on the comms to let Sheppard know that they were in the clear.

Sheppard took the jumper directly above the ship and ran a final scan. Then he told the Jumper that he needed the Carrier to be disintegrated, but with minimal damage to the terrain. The Jumper acknowledged the order, re-oriented itself to the best position to carry out the instructions, and released two squid missiles. The squids exited the Jumper leaving twin graceful arcs behind and impacted the Wraith Carrier from opposite sides simultaneously. The ship erupted in a huge explosion, turning into a ball of fire that started cleansing away the misery and carnage it had caused in blazing glory.

[i-am-a-closet-fanfic-fiend]

Sexiled (Part 15/23) ~ Steve Rogers x Reader College!AU

A/N: I hope everyone is staying safe and healthy in these crazy times. I’m back with some more of these cuties. As an FYI I do have the remainder of the series mostly planned. It will be 5 parts (I think). I don’t know when they’ll come out but this story is heading towards its conclusion. Thank you so much for all of your love and support it means the world to me. Now, on to the stroy. 

Summary: Sam wants to go laser tagging for his birthday. Shenanigans ensue. 

Rating: T 

Warnings: Language Maybe. Making out in dark corners. I think that’s it

Word Count: 1216

Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

“Happy birthday, Sammy!” you announced as you strolled into his and Riley’s room early on Saturday morning to meet the others.

“Ooh muffins!” Pietro made a grab for the boxes in your hands.

“Uh uh. Paws off, Speedy. Sam gets first pick,” you informed the Sokovian track star as you brushed past him to put the muffins on the desk. “I think your favorite is in the top box,” you informed Sam.

“Thanks, sugar. You shouldn’t have.”

“I wanted to.”

You shrugged and he pulled you into a bear hug. You greeted Riley, Wanda, and Pietro with hugs as well.

“Now can I have a muffin?” Pietro pouted as Sam ripped the edge of gingerbread muffin.

“Here. Pass them around.”

“Where’s Natasha?” Wanda asked quietly as you climbed onto the bed next to her.

“She stayed at Clint’s last night, they hadn’t come back before I left.”

“Have you guys even stayed in the same room since you met Steve?” Riley laughed.

“Yes? I mean at least a few times. Huh. Now I feel bad.”

“Feel bad about what?” Natasha asked as she and Clint walked in, immediately greeting Sam with hugs and a bag of goodies.

“Never staying in the room at night when you’re there.”

Natasha waved you off. “Don’t feel bad. I’m at Clint’s place as much as you’re at Steve’s. But maybe we should do a girl’s night.”

“That would be fun.”

“You in Wanda?”

“Absolutely. We should invite Skye too.”

“Good plan. We should get to know Barnes’ girl,” Natasha agreed.

“So, Sam, where are we going?”

“There’s a great laser tag place about half an hour from here.”

“Aww yeah.”

The group chattered excitedly as you waited on Steve, Bucky, and Skye. You’d all been surprised to learn that Sam and Skye knew each other from their comp sci class and were quite friendly already, but it made for an easy transition into your friend group.

When they finally arrived you all caught the T out of the city.

“So the way the game works is that you have five lives. It takes three shots to drain your life,” Stan, the man who ran the laser tag arena explained. “Once it’s drained you have to pass through one of the arch at the center to reload. You’ll have ten seconds after reloading to get some cover. You also only have thirty shots. To reload you have to cross any one of the corners of the arena. Any questions?”

You all shook your heads.

“Good. Are you doing teams or a free for all?” He asked as you all buckled into your gear.

“We’re doing teams of two,” Sam informed him.

“Great. So once you’re all set up, I’ll have you put your names in on that screen over there.”

“Will do.”

You had five minutes to get the lay of the land and make a plan of attack, so you and Skye quickly scouted the area and holed up in a corner.

“Alright, so who’s our biggest competition?”

“Nat and Clint are probably going to dominate. She slinks in the shadows like it’s her job and he’s one of the archery team’s stars.”

“So we need to take them out first.”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, and after?”

“I don’t know. The others all have their skills so, it’s probably a toss up.”

“Alright so Nat and Clint and then everyone else along the way. Easy.”

Skye smirked as the lights flashed three times signaling that game play would start in one minute.

“So I say for this round we stick together and watch each other’s backs.”

“Agreed. Once we have a better feel for the competition, we can adjust.”

“Exactly.”

The overhead lights went out and the neon lights of the arena came up.

“Let’s go to work.”

You were right to assume Natasha and Clint were your biggest problem. They handily won the first round.

Before the second round, an alliance was formed between you, Skye, Wanda, and Pietro. Unbeknownst to you the guys had made an alliance as well, which took Nat and Clint out of the game early, leaving four teams, and considerably longer playing time.

You just reset after getting tagged for the second time when you noticed movement in the corner. A flash of red against olive revealed that Sam and Wanda were making out. You took the opportunity to tag both of them. Neither of them noticed the vibrations of the vest or the fact that Sam’s name was crossed off the board.

Yeah, you were never going to let them live this down.

Bucky had eliminated Pietro, as you took out Riley after he tagged Skye, forcing both of them to retreat to the reset point. You managed to hit Steve twice from the shadows, before Riley returned the favor and got you out. Wanda managed to pull out the win, high-fiving her brother when she exited the arena victorious.

“That was certainly a good round for you,” you whispered as you caught up to Wanda, giving her a knowing look.

“Yeah,” she squeaked, knowing she’d been caught.

“Don’t worry. Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thank you,” she mouthed.

The hour you had booked passed quickly and before you knew it, it was the last round, and you had had an idea that you couldn’t get out of your head all afternoon.

 You kept to the shadows as you searched for your target, avoiding enemy fire as much as you could. But you still managed to lose a life before you could carry out your plan. Sighing as you reset, you glanced up at the scoreboard. Surprisingly, everyone was still in play – making your game considerably harder.

You were slinking around the outskirts of the arena when a hand wrapped around your wrist tugging you into a corner.

“Looking for someone, sweetness?”  

Steve grinned down at you, perfect teeth glowing in the neon lights.

“Maybe,” you drawled.

“Did you find him?”

“Yep.”

You wasted no time, threading one hand into his hair and pulling him down for a kiss. Steve expertly slipped his tongue into your mouth as he pulled you closer. You nibbled on his lower lip, thoroughly enjoying the growl he let out as he spun you so your back was flat against the wall. You lost yourself in the kiss until his vest vibrated violently between you as he was eliminated.

You pulled back so you could look over his shoulder to flash a thumb’s up at Skye who was smirking.

“Good plan, y/n. See ya,” she whisper yelled before bolting out of sight.

Steve glared down at you, one hand landing on the wall beside your head as the other continued to trail up your side.

“So that’s how it is, huh? I’m wounded, sweetheart.”

“What did you expect, handsome. You’re the competition and I’ve been dying to make out with you all day. Two birds, one stone.”

“Does that mean you’re going to stay here and make out with me a little more?” he tried hopefully.

“Not a chance. Now I’ve got to see if Bucky falls for the same plan.”

You winked and kissed him once more before ducking under his arm. With a pat to his butt, you disappeared into the darkness, his soft chuckle following you.

~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: So I hope you enjoyed! I really just wanted to have them make out playing laser tag. Thanks for reading! 

I’ll reblog with tags. 

[jinxytwinxydoo]

Tick...Tock...Tick.....

Plot/Prompt: A game of tag goes horribly wrong for Peter and Tony.

TW: Major character death

Reposts are appreciated ^^

You can also read it here on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26739538

                                                  __________

Every night, Peter went out to save the world in his own little way. Swinging through the air and doing flips, shooting a sticky fluid at muggers and crooks, and even just helping that one orange tabby cat get out of a tree. It was always something he did. A routine that had been engraved so deeply into his mind that it was an automatic system his body seemed to have. He would always go out, school homework or not. He always threw himself high above the streets below, eyes wide and scanning for any signs of threats. Sometimes he was even accompanied by a friend on the phone or even another “hero.”

This night was one of those nights. That being said, it was a much less active night. Nothing terribly amazing had happened, and Peter found himself chasing around a red and gold suit at ten pm. Not what he had exactly expected this whole “Spider-Man” gig to lead to, but here he was. Chasing around the Tony Stark, aka Iron Man, in a game of tag. It was an odd and hilarious sight to see when you first saw it, but it became something common after a year or so. There was even a group of little kids that sat at a park sometimes that would jump up excitedly when they saw Iron Man diving low to avoid Spider-Man.

It was good. Life was good. There was nothing that could go wrong! ...but then it did.

“Having trouble catching up there, webs?” Tony taunted over the coms that had connected the suits automatically once in range. The billionaire was currently weaving between street lights, his thrusters humming softly so as to not disturb anyone. He was flying through the air on his back, palms aimed towards his feet as he looked back at Peter. The boy was flinging himself high into the air, swooping low, hooking himself on a street light, and then proceeding to arc back into the air. An obvious attempt at gaining momentum.

“You should add some of those fancy thrusters to my suit.”

“Not happening.” “Oh c’mon! Why not”

“Because,” Tony stopped in place, hovering in air near a taller building and slowly letting himself rise higher into the air. “Because I said so.” He finished, clearing his throat and looking down. He expected to see Peter speeding up the side of the building or shooting webs at him, but he didn’t see a thing. Just empty space with no sign of the spider-themed vigilante. Stopping his ascent, Tony furrowed his eyebrows and hummed thoughtfully. “Peter? You there? ...Marco?”

“Polo!”

The shriek that came spewing out of Tony’s mouth left the man a bright red and Peter a laughing mess. The boy had come down from above, tapped Tony’s shoulder, and proceeded to swing away. With the added advantage of falling down and gaining more momentum, the first swing he took was big and propelled him forward a good amount of distance. But that wouldn’t save him. Tony blinked his eyes and shook his head, bending his knees and curling his body in on himself. A moment later, he was kicking his legs backwards and zooming forward after Peter. It was nights like these where he truly allowed himself to relax. Peter was an entertaining kid, and that was saying something since Tony didn’t like children. He was a verified genius in Tony’s eyes. But that wouldn’t stop him from making mistakes. 

He narrowed his eyes on Peter’s form, watching as the kid webbed onto the corner of a roof and sent himself hurling around the building. Tony twisted his body, dipping his right shoulder towards the ground and turning the corner less sharply, losing some of the speed he had built up. Thankfully, it wasn’t very hard to get it back with his thrusters. “You can only outswing me for so long, kid.”

“You aren’t swinging, mister Stark. I can only evade you for so long.”

“Don’t you take that tone with me.” 

“Don’t you take that tone with me.” 

Peter parroting what Tony had just said was enough of an encouragement to call for backup. He brought his right wrist up to his mask, raising a hand and tapping a holographic button labeled “Bird V2.” Then his focus was set back on Peter… who was nowhere to be seen again. Tony’s first instinct was to look up, but he got one hell of a surprise when he was suddenly being pulled down. 

His head snapped down so fast that he thought he’d given himself whiplash. But it was worth seeing Peter crouched on top of a streetlight with some web attached to it. Said web was also attached to the heel of Tony’s suit. “Cya mister Stark!” The kid stood upright, saluting lazily as he fell backwards off the streetlight. Tony watched as the kid shot out a web towards another building, yet again, but he wasn’t worried about Peter escaping. He watched, humming in amusement as a sign showed up in the corner of his screen. Back up had arrived.

“Getting a little windy, Peter. Wouldn’t you say?’

“Huh- Woah!”

And suddenly, the air is howling. Peter’s web that he had just shot towards the corner of a building goes slack and flails around while the kid desperately twists in the air, legs churning and arms shaking around wildly. But Tony doesn’t panic. He knows what caused that burst of wind, and he can say for sure that Peter is safe. His suit brings him forward towards Peter where he taps the boy before reeling away.

A moment later, Peter is perched on top of a roof. “That isn’t fair! Sam can’t help you!”

“Yes he can.” Tony cocked his head, hovering a few feet in the air in front of Peter. “You never said he couldn't.” He pointed out jokingly, pointing a finger at Peter as if to tease the phrase ‘i gotcha there.’ He craned his neck over his shoulder at a faint humming, raising an eyebrow as Sam wandered over. He stopped a little above Tony, a smug smirk plastered across his face. “That’s for Germany, web-head.” Sam sneered in a teasing tone, earning a thread of sputters and word vomit.

“Thank you very much my bird friend.,” Tony waved a hand at Sam, a little chuckle leaving him at the annoyed expression that danced onto Sam’s face at the nickname., “but me a bugs here have a game to get back to playing.” He threw a thumb towards Peter’s direction, who had now fallen silent and was definitely glaring icily at the two heroes. Sam snorted, folding his arms. “Ah, yes. A great game of tag… y’know, it’d be a shame if I told the others that you were playing tag.”

“Steve already knows, and it's safe to say Natasha knows too. The only people you’d surprise would be Clint and maybe Bruce… and honey bear if you count him in.” 

“Man, you are no fun.”

“I’m plenty of fun!” Tony threw his arms out to his slides, facing Sam. “Now shoo. Go on, now. A little birdy told me that Clint is trying to beat your high score in Mario Karts.” Tony waved his hands, carelessly tossing a few jabs and teases here and there. Sam reeled backwards, eyes widening. “He’s what?!” And before Tony or Peter could get a word in, he was doubling backwards and whirling around in the air, zooming off towards the tower.

Tony snorted and turned back around to see Peter standing with his arms folded, tapping one foot. “No more enlisting the help of other Avengers from now on. I let it slide the first time with Steve, but now it's just unfair.” And Tony can just see Peter rolling his eyes beneath his mask as he recollects what had happened when he got Steve’s help. Sure, the kid almost got hit head first with a shield, but it was worth hearing him shriek and Steve panicking.

“Fine, fine… No more outside forces. Got it. I understand.”

“Don’t lie to me mister-”

Then there’s a crack. A terrible, loud crack that shatters the calm atmosphere. He can practically feel the air around him breaking like glass. There’s a brief moment of frozen shock and he manages to briefly catch a warning flaring in his vision: “high-speed object incoming.” And then there’s this terrible, terrible feeling that pools in his gut. This terrible feeling that sends him reeling- wait. No. Peter just did that. Because one second later, Peter is jumping off the building straight into Tony. 

He hits him with a thump, and the sudden weight brings the suit down. Having set his thrusters on a low setting to keep them quieter had meant that the suit wouldn’t be able to support too much weight. Having done that meant he was sent crashing to the sidewalk below, his thrusters flickering as he clumsily falls to the ground. The heel of the suit hit the ground first, sending him tumbling backwards onto his back with Peter still pressed up against his suit. For a moment, his suit scrapes against the cement as his thrusters push him along before dying off.

“...Jesus.” Tony breathes out shakily, letting his mask retract. He brings his chin to his collarbone, looking at Peter who is sprawled out on top of his chest suspiciously quiet. “Up and at ‘em, kid. The cement isn’t getting any comfier.” He jokes, ignoring the fact that he has just used a word that isn’t in the dictionary. But all of his focus is on Peter. Because he still hasn’t moved. Not even a grumble of words. Nothing. He blinks a few times before slowly sitting upright, his hands moving to guide the motionless body on top of him to the cement.

And then all the air in his lungs is violently ripped away.

There’s a stomach-churning amount of dark red forming around Peter’s stomach on his suit, turning the vibrant red into something close to black. He way his body slumps lifelessly to the side and how his neck lolls at a sickening angle is enough to send Tony into overdrive. He’s on his knees in an instant, ripping off Peter’s mask. “Scan him.” He spits out, tapping Peter’s pale cheek with his hand gently. Nothing happens except for Peter’s head lolling another way. “GSW to lower abdomen. The bullet hit him in the side around his hip and traveled up, finally stopping around his rib cage on her left side. Immediate medical attention required.”

“Call Sam.” He had to be closest. He had just flown by, after all. And so what if he saw the kid’s face. This was a matter of life or death. “Tell him to get medical and get here fast.” His voice broke off into a whisper as his hands moved to Peter’s side. He shakily intertwined his fingers and pressed his palms down on the area where the red was coming from, trying to even his shaky breathing.  

“Jesus- fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

“Boss. You need to calm down.”

“I am calm!”

“Judging from your elevated heart rate and-” Tony cut the AI off before she could finish, practically snarling into his mask. “Not now!” He’d seen the kid in bad shape before, but never this bad. Sure, he got a concussion sometimes and maybe a broken bone. Hell… When that big guy in Germany hit him, it nearly gave Tony a heart attack. But this was different. This was a gunshot. This was life or death. 

“ETA on Sam!”

Time was moving too slow. Tick.. tock… tick…...tock……….tick……

“No heartbeat detected.” The blood in Tony’s veins turned to ice. He shook his head, peeling his hands away from Peter’s body. No… no, no, no, no, no! A low, mournful sound left him, eerily rising out of his throat. Oh god… No. No. This wasn’t real. This wasn’t happening! “Pete? Peter? Buddy… hey, hey. C’mon. Open up those eyes now.” He whispered, his voice coming out as a croak. Trembling hands slowly slid up towards Peter’s face and he gently tapped his cheek once again.

Nothing.

“..get up.” He whispered, voice trembling. He stared for a few moments before his body just moved on its own. He drew his arm back, suit still encasing his hand, before swinging it forward and slapping the boy. “Get up! C’mon!” He demanded. Frantically, he moved his hands over top of Peter’s chest and began compressions. He couldn’t think clearly on whether or not this mattered right now, but he didn’t care. “C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… breathe, Parker! Fucking breathe!” His voice was shrill, cracking and shaking. This wasn’t happening. Clenching his jaw, he reeled backwards and threw his head back, letting out an animalistic scream. And then he was slumped over, arms folded on top of Peter’s chest as he sobbed. No, no, no… This couldn’t… it was fake. “Wake up… c’mon… you can do this.” His gaze drifted blearily to Peter’s face, his stomach churning as he stared at the lifeless face that didn’t even twitch. Skin ghostly pale… lips turning blue.

“You can’t do this to me, kid! Goddammit!” 

He shot upright again, hands flying to Peter’s shoulders. He jerked the boy upright into a sitting position, shaking his body. “Open your eyes! Please! Just do something! Anything!” He begged, a sob rising in his throat. But nothing happened. Peter’s head lolled lifelessly, dropping so that his chin met his chest. His arms were dangling at his sides, knuckles turned towards the sidewalk and brushing up against it. 

“Please.” 

And then he pulled Peter close. He brought the lifeless body of the kid he was supposed to protect close to his body, cradling it. With one hand wrapped around Peter’s back holding onto his shoulder and the other cradling his head, Tony wept. He bowed his head, ugly noises rising from him as his shoulders bounced up and down. He squeezed his eyes shut, fat, salty tears waterfalling down his face.

Tick...tock...tick…………..tock.

[mimiwrites2000]

Blue

Armin's Week Jan 2020

Day 3 - Prompt: Kiss

Words count: 3206

Pairings: Armin x Annie/ slightly Gabi x Falco

*spoliers for chapter 125

A one-shot about how Armin would finally meet Annie after over than four years, hope you enjoy it!

Armin rode his horse through towns and hills, Gabi by his side.

They rode in silence, but each one’s thoughts were enough noise in their heads, buzzing around, slamming into their skulls, obstinate to get out, and they scarcely held them in.

Besides there really was nothing to talk about.

Armin was concerned about the girl he left behind, Mikasa, he snapped at her, hurt her for the first time ever, then departed.

She didn’t say anything in return.

And that was what made him feel worse, if only she raised her fist and punched him in the guts, if she kicked him and slapped him, if she told him that he’s as worthless as he was when they were kids, getting bullied at every given chance, that he’s not the person they should have brought back to life….

He would have nodded his head and told her that she was right.

He would bend his head down and tell her that he should’ve died four years ago.

His hands tightened on the straddle of the horse, his knuckles turned white, and his teeth clinched.

Armin never thought that a day would come where he and Mikasa would have an argument this corrupt, and the core of it to be Eren. He just wanted to turned around, get back to base, hug Mikasa and apologize.

She had enough weighing her down already.

But, Armin considered, that at the heat of the moment he just spitted out the first thing that came to his mind, he never meant to hurt her and he was stupid to snap at her, but at that moment, his mind exploded with how many things were happening at the same minute.

Eren is destroying the world.

Levi and Hanji might be dead.

Commander Pyxis and commander Nile are gone, hell, he himself killed commander Pyxis.

He had no idea what the Yeagrists were doing, nor Yelena.

He thought of Reiner, the Cart Titan.

Connie and the boy they were after.

Annie.

His breath hitched, and his tongue turned into a knot which was hitting the roof of his throat making him gag.

If the day to finally see Annie out of the crystal had finally came, and it was today…

No, there’s no way he could meet her today, she might not even be out the damned crystal, but then the thought that he could look at her without a barrier between himself and her, that he would be able to raise his hand and land it on flesh rather than a freezing glass…

Again, he didn’t want to get his hopes up.

He decided that he needed a distraction, and he tried to start a conversation: “So you and that kid are close, huh?” Shit, that’s not something he should be asking about now.

“Yes, we are, and that’s why I need him back.” Gabi answered Armin, her voice determined and unwavering, her gaze fixated on the road ahead of them, never averting her eyes from it, as if she looked concentrically, she would get there faster.

“It’s really something to have someone that close to you, isn’t it? Someone you would die for.” Armin was spouting, he wanted to keep this conversation going on.

“Everyone has that someone, no one can live without someone to go back to.” She swallowed hard, and Armin comprehended that this isn’t a laid-back topic for her to approach, “even if we don’t realize it at the moment, but someone is always thinking about us, someone is waiting impatiently to see us, and these people are worth our very last breath.”

Armin contemplated what she said, then he added: “But dying won’t do them any good, we should fight to survive to be with them, shouldn’t we?”

Gabi didn’t answer him, but he noticed that her gaze intensified, something in her eyes deepened.

They kept going on in silence for some time, it was enough time for Gabi to grow the enough courage to ask Armin this question: “Do you have someone like that?”

It was Armin’s time not to answer.

But he did think of some people.

His grandfather, the 104th squad, Hanji and Levi.

Annie.

“You know what, yes, yes I do have that someone, and the whole thing is crazy, I think I’ve gone crazy, I don’t get why I feel that way or how.” He confessed, he just needed the last push and he would spill it all out.

“What are they like?”

Huh.

“Well, when you first look at her, a piercing ice would come out her eyes and you would immediately feel a shiver down your spine.” He glanced at Gabi, and for his surprise, she was already gazing at him, and that encouraged him to talk more, he took a deep breath:

“She joined the cadet corps the same year me and Mikasa did, she ended up in the top ten and she had a special talent in throwing people off her shoulders.” A shy smile pulled at Armin’s lips “she wasn’t talkative, she would eat alone, but that’s not because she’s shy or mean or anything, that’s just who she is, I guess. She’s a good person, but she had a goal in her mind, and she wasn’t interested in anything except in it.”

“What was it? Her goal I mean?” Gabi inquired.

“To go back home.”

“And she couldn’t just do that?”

“if she had the chance, she would have taken it, but no, she had to stay.”

A beat of silence.

“Are you talking about-”

“Wait, do you see what I see?” Armin asked, craning his neck forward as he inspected a silhouette of a horse with someone on it.

Gabi didn’t know why Armin was alerted at the sight of another horse, but when they got closer, she saw a woman in military uniform, a horse’s head implemented on the jacket.

“Hitch? Hitch!” Armin shouted and waved with his hand, and that caught Hitch’s attention.

She looked behind her, and for a moment Armin was worried if someone was chasing her, but the horizon seemed to be empty and only them were in his peripheral view.

When Hitch neared, he noticed that her lips were moving, and Armin wondered if the time had finally come for her to lose her mind and started talking to herself since no one was around her, and then he decided that everything they had been through is certainly enough to turn even trees into lunatics. Just how long until all of them talked to themselves and staggered in the streets? If they were alive by then alright.

The horses neighed as they pulled the straddles, bringing them to a halt, both had sweat dripping from their foreheads and were slightly panting, even though they were riding the horses and not running on foot.

“Oh, hello there Armin, and hello there, young lady, what’s up Armin? Out for a last walk before these titans smash us?” Hitch wisecracks as pointy as ever, but there was a hint of fear in it that was coated with uncertainty.

Armin weighed the decision of garnering information about how everything was going in the interior, or to just ride past her because time was running out and they barely could get to Connie in time.

Annie.

“Hitch.” Armin had no idea how he was supposed to say this and sounding as sane as someone whose life was about to end, so he tried tentatively to reach the subject as smoothly as possible, “when the walls fell down, the armored titan’s armor broke down at the same moment.”

“Ok?” Hitch titled her head to the side, slightly offended that Armin ignored her question.

“Annie. I know this might sound crazy, but.” His hands were up and in front of his head, shaking violently and waving around, as if drawing motions with them would help him get to his point tranquilly, “the crystal, I mean-”

“Well don’t you look at that.”

Armin’s arms froze midair, and air was stuck in his lungs.

Even though there was a chance that Hitch was only playing around and pulling a prank on Armin, it was highly anticipated that she was solemn.

Then Armin saw something.

Or someone.

He got off the horse, and Gabi did so only to catch the horse’s straddles; they couldn’t afford more time to be dashing after horses, not now.

Armin walked a few hesitant steps towards Hitch, and the someone was more visible.

A small frame, a hunched back.

Blonde locks.

“Annie…” He could manage to get some air out and wheeze that name, and it didn’t come out as a question, because she slowly, almost agonizingly slowly, lifted her head up, and he could see her face.

It was her face with no doubt, he has been looking at it for hours daily, for over than four years.

But for the first time in these four years, there wasn’t a barrier between him and her.

He wondered if her eyes had always looked this blue.

As blue as an ocean, he thought.

Then she sighed, and got off the horse too, but with some trouble.

And then she was standing right in front of him, only some feet apart, Armin inexplicably felt premonition of emotions swirl through his stomach, and he didn’t know what expression he was making, nor did he know Annie’s, since she suddenly was interested in the dirt underneath her shoes.

Armin stretched out his arms towards her, but still far away to feel her body’s heat, and his arms kept hanging there.

She was there, he could touch her face.

He spent sleepless nights just wondering how her hair would feel like between his fingers, and how his own body would feel pressed against hers, he imagined her body warm, unlike the crystal that she caged herself in, warm and soft.

Then he was startled when her head snapped up.

Blue met blue.

It was almost detectible to see the sparks materializing from both of them, for them to meet in the middle and create a magnificent mass of luminous blue energy; too gorgeous to stare at, too terrifying to touch.

“Armin.” She said, he felt a pinch on air rushing into his lungs, and instead of breathing ordinarily again, it only suffocated him more.

Then Armin’s eyes were growing hot, and blazing tears squirmed at the edge of them threatening to fall if he blinked, but his eyesight was growing blurry, so he had to blink, but his view didn’t clear out, because now tears didn’t stop falling and scrolling down his cheeks.

She only looked at him, her face more professional than a poker face, but if you’ve been around her for enough time, you’d know she’s showing more emotions than she did in years.

Armin heard Hitch throwing colorful profanities, but her voice seemed distance, and he was weightless; floating, like he was deep under water.

He called her name one more time before he took the two steps separating them and wrapped his arms around her; he hugged her tightly, so tight, and a few sobs slipped from his clenched jaw, and he hugged her tighter because -even though he had already anticipated that she broke free from the crystal- he couldn’t believe that he could just touch her.

To feel her.

Her body was warm, and her hair was soft, he didn’t know when he had tangled his fingers in her hair, but he didn’t pull back.

Then weak arms were pressing around him, and he had to pull back for a second to make sure he was hugging Annie because there was no way Annie’s grip would be as weak as that.

She pulled him back into the hug, and he hugged her again.

He was laughing.

And he didn’t know why.

Then he felt his shirt getting damp from where Annie’s face was buried, and that was when he loosened his embrace.

He pulled back, his arms cupping her cheek, and wiping off a tear of her cheek.

For a moment, in years, he felt pure happiness.

It’s true the world was crumpling down around them.

And it’s true that they would probably be dead soon.

He was happy for a moment.

And by seeing the twitch at the corner of her lips that turned into a smile, he assumed that she was as happy as he was.

Armin rested his forehead on Annie’s, then she closed her eyes, and so he did.

“You’ve taken your time, haven’t you?” Armin questioned her, though he wasn’t serious in the slightest.

“I did.” She answered, and he could hear the smile through her voice.

“A lot have happened.”

“I know.”

“A lot have changed.”

“I know.”

“I’ve changed.”

“I know.” She sounded confident when she replied to his last statement, her voice firm, and her fingers digged slightly in his cheeks.

Armin’s lips were partly opened, he was thinking of how he could tell her about everything that happened, all the catastrophes that occurred while she was locked away, faraway from anyone’s reach.

He, even though they were on the line to do their most likely failed mission, let himself enjoy the blue in her eyes; he had never been this physically close to Annie, and his breath was taken away.

He could get lost in her eyes at any time, to sink and drown and not even trying to save himself.

You should tell her.

A nagging voice at the back of his head insisted.

You must tell her.

“Annie, I-”

“She knows.”

Armin completely forgot that they had company, he had lost the sense of time and place the moment he felt Annie’s body against his, and despite the fact that he felt slightly irritated that he was snatched back into reality form his boundless pensive world; he was glad he was run by again with their condition.

And now that Hitch said that Annie already knew everything, then Hitch must have told her before their unforeseen meeting.

“She was awake, all this fucking time, she heard everything we said.” Hitch said this as it was the most common thing anyone could do at any time; yeah sure my friend got herself crystallized for four years but she was conscious all that time! Do you believe that?!

Armin looked back at Annie for validation only to find that she was already staring at him.

“Is that…?” He couldn’t let himself finish the question.

“Yes, I was.”

It took Armin three seconds before her turned into fifty shades of red.

He looked everywhere except Annie’s eyes, but he was sure she was still there because she was in his arms. His arms that now were around her waist.

A giggle.

That’s a sight he couldn’t miss, so he instantly looked at Annie, who held a bigger smile on her face.

Dammit.

“Never thought you were that type, Armin.” She said, “But I guess four years did change you in many aspects, right?” She was enjoying this way too much.

“Well.”

“But honestly you look handsome in this haircut.”

“Huh?” Armin didn’t think she would say this so abruptly, and he shivered at her fingers skimming the hairs from his undercut.

“I mean, I did like your long hair, but you look as good as I remember.”

Armin was looking back straight into Annie’s eyes, he could see the deepest corners of the ocean in her blue orbs, then his eyes flickered to her lips.

Then her eyes flickered to his lips.

And they both met in the middle.

It wasn’t a sweet kiss from one of the fairy tales his grandfather used to read to him; when the prince met the princess and their lips barely brushed in a sweet, gentle kiss, no, it was rough, rougher than a first kiss should be, but perfect for two souls with suppressed spirits, prohibited from feeling each other for years.

His arms could wrap completely around her waist, she was tiny, really petite, and he grew in the past few years, not much to be compared by his teammates, but he was adequately built to gulf Annie into him fluently.

Annie kissed him back as hard as he kissed her, if not even tougher, no one would know how much at times she just wanted to get out of the crystal, grab Armin by the collar of his shirt, smash her lips onto his, then get back into the crystal.

But when it finally did happen, she wondered if it was even humanly possible to want to get back into that freezing cold mass after feeling the blazing flames his lips were.

They both never kissed anyone before, but they couldn’t imagine anyone on earth would have the same lips as the ones they were kissing now.

Annie cupped Armin’s cheeks and moved her lips towards his, for some inexplicable reasons, it didn’t feel awkward, nor did it feel just right, it felt like they had already done this plenty of times, but each time they kiss, a new fire is ignited and they were thrown into a whole new world.

But their real world was ending, but there they were.

“Um excuse us, but we are kind of in a hurry and, uh, the walls literally just collapsed?” Hitch sarcastically commented, even though her grin was so wide it was actually audible.

Annie pulled away, and it was the cutest thing ever when Armin followed her withdrawing lips, wanting to kiss her more and obviously didn’t hear Hitch, but then he opened his eyes, and they were blurred, like he just woke up from a two days sleep and was itching to sleep even more.

So, Annie caressed his cheeks and while doing that she softly replied to Hitch: “Shut up.”

She watched him blink a few times, then he slightly shook his head, and he seemed to emerge back into reality, then his eyes widened, and Annie, with all the strength she could monitor, held herself back from just kissing him for the end of all eternities.

“Yes.” He murmured, and nor Annie, nor Hitch and nor Gabi -whom jaw hit the ground- were aware if he was agreeing with Annie or with Hitch, but maybe he was syncing his senses back to that moment.

“Yes…Yes!” He said, this time completely back in his mind, his eyes had a glint that didn’t show in years, “Annie, could you transform?”

“What?” Annie was confused, she shrugged her head back.

“I mean, we need to get to Ragako, Connie’s village, as fast as we can.” Armin took a step back and even though his body language seemed to indicate that everyone was included in this conversation, his eyes were fixated on Annie, “and your titan form is fast! Faster than thirty horses combined!” he was gesturing with his hands, then he stopped, a cover of concern layered him: “wait, I don’t even know if your capable of transforming, I mean, are you ok? How are you feeling? You had clearly lost mass muscles, I just-”

Annie reached out and held his hands in both her hands, looked him in the eyes and said: “Yes."

Thank you for reading!!!

@armin-week2020

[driftwork]

on a small island having useless thoughts in summer

Some things are in our power,others are not in our power. In our power are opinion, sentiment, aversion... (E...)

The world was smaller and the borders were liberatory when we were more active.  But we are decades after those years.. I think the diameter of this small small island is about five or ten  miles at most. A narrow coast road runs alI the way round it, often with sheer drops into the sea off the steep cliffs to the south. But mostly it runs level along the coastline to the north and east. With slopes down to the beaches which alternate between sandy coves and shingle beaches. Occasionally I have stopped and explored these lovely beaches.  On the western end of the island there are concrete groynes  placed to slow the inevitable  erosion of the island. On the south concrete tetrapods are placed to protect the cliffs, gradually becoming a reef as the sea level rises. There are three or four towns, two of which have harbours for small boats and the regular ferries  from the mainland which is five to ten  kilometres to the north.  And its on one of these beaches that I am sitting eating an ice cream, with a cappucino in a takeaway cup, speaking to you.  I am speaking quietly to you because you are lying in the  sunlight, the sea and the sound of the wind on the yachts moored out to sea has made you close your eyes. You are beside me , your body is rising and falling with the rhythm of a sleeping person,  to the rhythmanalysis of a sleeping person. I don't want to wake you so I talk to you quietly about the place. Spacetime perhaps.  your soft brown leather bag is beneath your head. A violent pillow.   Some writers we know would be entranced by this island,  with its seagulls, terns, cormorants, crows, songbirds, trees, hills and rare  insects. The photographs of the bunker archaeology  collated by the council. Perhaps its the island he told us about over cocktails in the snow, before he died, killed by the leviathan. We exist in the net, captured by its almost visible lines, drawn out in the... I can hear you laugh "no no stop this is a lovely day, forget these things just now..." But when I look down I see you are still asleep, I sip coffee and wonder what time it is.  I am phoneless and watchless on this beach. Only you a pen and a notebook, Children run into the water... splash splash splash. I watch.

I found out by chance that he is still alive. The bookseller in the allay behind the town hall, next door to the hairdressers and adjacent  to the ice cream parlour, who likes to pretend that he is still ukrainian even  though he was born on the mainland 80 kilometres up the coast. Do you speak russian well I asked him.  Not at all, hardly at all he replied. A ukrainian  russian newspaper is delivered to the shop a few days after publication, perhaps he reads it? most likely he simply wraps up the books he must post in the pages.   Once a week, once a month in the newspaper, they run a provincial section  of news of the place where he was  born, before his parents took him, that is you  to america.  I remember when you, she and I went there for a  week, staying at the ramshackle dacha that you had inherited and still owned.  I remember the treelined roads, that we rode along on the bikes,  and the open top german car... and sometimes as we drove down the long intricate road into the river valley we would drive through the shadows of the cork oaks. In the village, mostly emptied of people who had deserted this place for the cities and a better  life. And there looking up at me from the opened out pages, on which a book rests which is about to be wrapped for posting, I can see a picture of your smiling face. The face of a man who supposedly died on the other side of the world,  but is now looking at me, not looking at me, as I look at him from a two day old newspaper. It's the same smile I remember from the hospital club, and  the hotel off wardour street from your last trip to london. "Bye S...  see you next year in april" you'd said. Before dying they said in A...  But there you are.  Big, alive, unable to avoid the photograph in a local paper  that ended up here on this small island. This invisible island.

Here we are later,  I wonder if it's him she said, again. What should we do if it is ?  Nothing she said.  It's nearly sunset the sun is setting in the west, the east.  The cypress  trees are lit by the deep yellow of the setting sun.  They were  deep green earlier, now they are yellow and black.  Down the hill on the plauteax leading to the beach there is a cafe,  the smell of Greek food. We walk down the slope. There is a row of houses facing the sea, northwards,  just down the road. The end house,  a short distance away was once Susan Kant's house, she'd landed there from Germany and spent a decade praying they would never find her,  they didn't. Only she was left there, here.  Her husband and mother had never returned even years after the nightmare ended. She never knew what camp they had ended up in, and now was still trying not to talk about them, survivors guilt perhaps.  But we left Susan in peace, we would visit her tomorrow we said,  and went  down to eat moussaka and to drink cheap retsina,  though we ended up drinking Chablis.  Thinking about how he was still alive, how his being alive threatened us, how he'd escaped from the south, travelled across the world to hide out there, there of all places... Was there a trail of bodies and ruined lives behind him enbaling his escape? she wondered quietly between mouthfuls of food.  Probably, I said. Thinking of the monsters he'd spent too much time with,  hiding in plain sight.  THINKing that he could hide  in their culture, traditions and earn money supplying them with the tools of oppression that...  but no it all disappeared.  He (must have) thought, i'll go in, take what's needed, supply them, be valuable,  I will become them,  I'll go when...   as if the monsters he served were harmless. Then they began to come for you.  for you.

I hope he has forgiven me for the way we spoke at the end. If I'd been more reasonable perhaps he'd be here rather than there or dead,  after these few years. I sighed and poured more wine. I wonder what he is called now. She said, tapping the table. How should you address  the man you loved who said see you in April and who vanished half a year later, presumed dead and yet has now appeared in a monochrome image in an un-understandable newspaper... Was he loved down there in exile? Is he loved now? floating down the lines in the liquid modern.   Were you with a man, a lover or friend, perhaps betrayed by them with the inevitable quick exit or was it a slow exit, the run across the face of the earth.  Or was it just furtive moments for the gratification of the body.  Were you mostly alone at night,  in your bed alone. Did anyone say "my love" in the way of the  liquid modern , holding you in their arms.  Did you remember the first night of your escape in Lyon? in the small hotel, the small room with its paisley cloth wallpaper, that was the first night in the run away from Italy. You unable to sleep from fear,  me and the other carriers still awake in the adrenaline rush of the drive north, eventually sleeping in the chair or sofa. How did it feel for you as we paused in our northward trajectory?  From Lyon we dispersed northwards, you by train with a courier who took you to London and your new identity.  Me to Amsterdam, then Belgium and the yacht across the channel and southwards along the coast.  We were never innocent, just smugglers of people.

So seeing the picture of you again,  all the time and memories I had suppressed returned again.  The years returned, tectonic plates shifted. The long recovery into this stable place after the final disastrous runs across europe, losing people on the way, time falling away as the police searched for the few who escaped, me hiding in the alps. Meeting her in the mountains and then in late summer traveling north with her by train, leaving the car in Avignon. A few photographs and unreliable memories are all that remain of that summer.  How did they find us? I spent the summer wondering.    The photograph of her is beautiful,  she is young, recovering from her divorce, a picture of her in profile, reading a book outside a building, a cafe or school perhaps, I don't remember.  There is a second photograph, the book laying open on your stomach, half asleep in the sun, eyes closed, relaxed. Weeks passed.  She took me out of my life,  took me home with her.  I thought she was saving me but really it was mutual.  We changed trains at Lyon, traveling on the fast trains north, in first class, looking like the young couple that we were becoming.  "Come with me, to my house" she said, "In case he is there..."  Her flat was empty,  half the furniture, books, music, all his clothes gone.  I never left.  Time passed. Eventually we left together.  We were both surprised that we stayed together.  Then later after I felt safe to go to my old flat again, to collect some belongings. The shock on your face when you saw me loading hastily packed suitcases, a few books.  "How are you here? " You said,   the look of betrayal on your face.  I shrugged and said i escaped.  And so the photograph reminded me of the betrayal that was the cost of your building a life.  I understood your life and knew you would never understand mine. "How did you have a life?" is the question you never asked me. Did you also betray them ?  The subtext of the utterance. One that I never answered as I never told you about the alps, about how she and i met as I hid waiting for the police to arrive.  The fear I suppressed as we boarded the train and traveled north.  How could you understand a life that wasn't founded on the betrayal of your rescuers ? Did you ever understand why I never spoke of it. Looking at the photograph I got the idea that this time someone had tried to  betray you.  You were building systems you told me, us.  That do what?  I asked.  It was clear that you couldn't tell me, us. Perhaps you thought that it was a step too far, to tell us about your relations to the leviathan. Did you think we were about to take some form of vengeance on you ?

It's a little later,  we are in Y.  A small town or village on the island.  It's not particularly beautiful but in the summer its always full of happy people. The section of the port that you can see from the  dockside is full of pleasure craft, yachts and motorboats,  behind you is a street of restaurants that leads to the square and other shops, tourists and working people pass through, a few fishermen,  sailors,  laborers travelers,  upper class figures imagining... Perhaps its still beautiful because we can be scarcely visible here.  And that's what we did, changed my name to hers.  Adopted new numbers, identities. Pretended I only spoke english.  Becoming english,  learnt how to be monocultural. More interestingly we became monosexual only facing each other.  From the small house we are staying in you can see the sea and further on you can see the hills that run along the centre of the island before sloping down to become cliffs to the south. We spent days and nights looking out to sea. So since we are about to leave this place and travel  back to our home north of london we look at the hills for the last time. The walls of the house are covered with tongue and groove planking,  painted a pale blue colour.  The bedroom had a painting of yachts on the light blue sea.  There was a wardrobe to the right of the bed, in which we had kept clothes and pillows. One of the sliding doors had a long dressing mirror hanging off it. On the walls of the living room,  small paintings and photographs hang.  Two small sofas and an easy chair are lined up together, a bookcase with a a flat screen monitor standing on the top.  This is where I am sitting, waiting for her to return from the local cooperative with food for the night, and a full tank of petrol.  I thought of you in your flat in Shoreditch with your parrot, cats and guilt.  And for the first time since you vanished I thought that something  needed to be done about you, to prevent you from acting again.  What is the point of this life if we don't stop you this time ?  We are catching the last ferry from the island, driving north for three or four hours, she will sleep in the passenger seat. I will be contacting my old friends in the group...  So whilst I wait, i write this note to you.  We know your location and your address will be found soon.  There will be no more trips for you, no more waiting at airports to fly to moscow, madrid or dayton. No more boarding of ships, yachts or driving across the  country searching for a broken down byzantium church. No more betrayed bodies. The mirror of your old age is approaching. The newspaper that brought you back to me, says you may travel to brussels soon. It is a tribute to your life that they admire you, describing you as a man of peace and progress. This letter which is in your hands now, either in brussels or wherever,  is timed   to arrive in your post box the day before the woman from shanghai delivers the heart attack, arriving to see you off, will you see her approaching you? [...] Before this decision is finalized we are on the beach, I drink more coffee. She moves in the sun, her head tilted to one side to get the sun out of her eyes. she mutters something in her sleep. I put my hand on her warm shoulder. She sighs contentedly.

[manawhaat]

Island Fires

Title: Island Fires

Characters: Steve Rogers x Reader, Tony, Bucky, Bruce, Helen Cho, mentions of Clint and Wanda.

Prompt: Huddling for warmth.

Summary: You and Steve are stranded on an island after a failed mission when a life or death situation reveals more about the two of you than you ever would have known.

Warnings: Bearded!Cap, Steven Grant Rogers swearing like a sailor, flying (and crashing) a helicopter, sinking into the ocean, open water, distress and scenes of hypothermia, character death, being stranded on an island, fluff.

Word Count: 5.7k

A/N: Written for @star-spangled-bingo with a quick beta by @samsgoddess. If you like it, let me know :) Thanks for reading!

“How are the comms even down?”

“I don’t know, but we probably shouldn’t stick around to see what else they can manage,” Steve pants, eyes squinting against the midday sun. “We already know Clint was compromised and Wanda was injured. If anyone else’s comms are up they’re probably going to pull back. We should get back to the q-”

Before he can finish his sentence you catch a glimpse of something rising up into the air and you watch as the quinjet takes off, leaving you and Steve there in the thick of it with no way out. 

“Fuck.”

Bullets ricochet off the railing overhead and you both spring into action to eliminate the threat. In the thick of the fight you spot your way out at the end of the tarmac. “Cap, look.” 

When the enemy is down, blue eyes lock on the chopper and you follow his lead, both of you making your run for it. 

“Do you even know how to fly one of these things?”

Running ahead Steve shouts back at you, “Does it matter? Now hurry up.”

“Oh, sorry I’m not Captain A-Fucking-Merica,” you sass. 

Steve shoots a look over his shoulder that says ‘really?’ and you roll your eyes but pick up the pace, chest pounding hard and fast when you finally make it into the chopper beside him. 

As the engine starts up, bullets start whizzing by. Steve moves the cyclic and the rounds flying by outside the chopper start pinging off the landing skids as you lift into the air. A few seconds later Steve has full control of the helicopter and you’re soaring up and through the sky. 

“Get on that radio and see if you can make contact with them,” he orders, and you start flipping buttons, holding the headset to your ears, listening for anything.

Ten minutes pass before you say, “I’m not picking anything up.” 

“Ok. That’s fine. We just need to get somewhere. We just-”

A loud screeching starts coming from the cockpit and lights flash all over the control panel. Looking for the source, the chopper slows and slowly starts descending. 

“What is this? Steve, what are you doing?”

“I’m not doing anything! I don’t know what’s wrong.”

“Ok, but we’re clearly going down!”

Blue eyes look down and see a silver lining. “Well, we’re over water, so we might have a chance at surviving the crash.”

As much as you wish you could keep your cool, stand strong by your friend, your Captain, it just isn’t in the cards for you. A slur of swears and prayer erupts from your lips as your heart plummets into your stomach. Any semblance of calm is gone and you’re in a full blown panic when Steve grabs you by the collar and tries to snap you out of it. 

“Y/n! Look at me.” The tone in his voice cuts through and you’re able to focus on those cerulean blue eyes just long enough for him to say, “Look, we’re going down. It’s happening. I need you to breathe. We’re gonna hit, hard. Stay awake. Keep your eyes open. I’m right here and I won’t leave you. I won’t leave you, okay?”

Something about how he’s holding you makes you believe him, and though your body wants to fight it, you tighten the straps of your harness and force shaky breaths into your lungs. 

“Okay, hold on. I’m gonna try something, here.”

Turning to face Steve, you see him pushing buttons, flipping switches, working on a fucking miracle. “Brace, Y/n. Brace!”

Though he told you to keep your eyes open, you simply can’t. Slamming your eyes shut, the chopper lifts awkwardly, spins a little, dips, lifts, and then slams into the water at an angle that knocks the wind out of your lungs. Ears ringing, you’re faintly aware of a voice cutting in under the thrum of your frantic heartbeat. 

Cold. 

Eyes jolting open wider, everything is too bright all at once. 

“Holy shit,” you gasp in shock as frigid water floods the space around you, already threatening to cover your knees. Panic bubbles into your voice and a whole new level of fear fills you to the brim. “Steve?”

“I’m right here. Are you okay?”

“Considering we just crashed a helicopter?”

A faint laugh pulls on his voice. “Try to take deep breaths. It’s sinking fast so we’re gonna wait until we’re completely under, then we can escape, ok? Just keep your harness on until we’re under, alright?” Steve waits for you to nod his way before unbuckling his harness and diving into the water. He disappears and suddenly you’re filled with doubt. 

You try to find him in the water but everything is moving too fast and you can’t see anything other than the rapid rise of it in the small space. Tears suddenly fill your eyes and you shut them tight, trying to take deep breaths like Steve told you to. Every inch the water rises brings hiccups and tremors to your body. Hyperventilation isn’t uncommon in situations or water temperatures like this, but you’re going under and, thankfully, part of your brain snaps you out of it. Though shaky, you do your best to maintain steady, timed breaths. When the water reaches your neck, your eyes fly open again, looking around frantically. He’s still nowhere to be found and you let out a garbled cry of fear before heaving in your last deep breath. 

The cold water covers your mouth and washes over your head and your shaking hands go to unbuckle your harness. Fingers grasp at yours and you can make out Steve’s face right in front of your own. Though you’re still terrified, you find a little relief knowing that he’s there. 

Steve helps you and ushers you through the chopper to the emergency door. The corded muscles in his body tense as he forces the mangled steel open, then pushes you through the opening, pointing upward. 

Swimming through the cold water, you lose sight of him again. A cold numbness pricks at your skin and you heave in shallow, uneven breaths when you surface. A few seconds pass and you turn in the water, but Steve isn’t there. Ten seconds turns to twenty, turns to thirty, and you’re about to dive back down to find him when he pops up a few feet away from you. 

“Jesus, I thought you drowned.” The quiver in your voice has his eyes softening at you, and he shoves something your way. As your hands land on it, you make it out to be one of the pilot’s seats and you thank high heaven that it’s at least half-buoyant. 

“F-fuck, Steve-”

“I know.” You’re both panting, shivering, breath stuck in your lungs. “This water’s gotta be about fifty degrees- maybe less. It could be worse, but we’re still in danger, Y/n.”

Even in your turmoil, the idea of Steve being in danger pulls a sarcastic laugh from you. “We?” 

He sighs and finds your hand on top of the seat. “You have twenty minutes, maybe, before hypothermia sets in. In this water it’ll progress faster than normal, so you’ll only have an hour or so after that before...” 

He trails off and it’s now that you notice the mist in his eyes. It’s not the salt water. It’s fear. And if Steve is scared, you know it’s serious. 

“Ok,” you whisper, tearing your eyes away from the man in front of you to look around. A blur of green catches your eyes and you blink fast, a nervous laugh bubbling out of your chest. “Look.” An island stands alone not too far off in the distance, promising of your survival. “How f-far do you th-th-think that is?”

Steve’s brow furrows at your stuttering and he answers honestly. “It’s gonna take longer than you have to get there, Y/n.”

Stomach sinking, you take a second to swallow back your tears and push off the seat keeping you afloat. “Well then I think I’ll d-die a little closer t-to the island instead of in the m-middle of the ocean,” you snap as clearly as you can and start swimming away. 

Calling after you, Steve quickly catches up and pushes the pilot’s chair in front of you. “Look, I’m sorry, I just know what’s at stake, here…”

“And I d-don’t?” you shiver violently, grabbing onto the chair while your lungs contract in your torso. Eyes softening at you, you shake your head and muster your strength. “Okay, s-so what’s the game plan?”

Taking charge. Steve is used to leading the efforts and he feels good in his element, even if the crisis he’s trying to prevent is you dying. 

“We use this to conserve energy.” He pats the seat. “With the water and the shock of the crash you’re not going to have as much stamina or strength as you normally would. Your best bet is to get as close to land as you can and when your body gives out I can push you the rest of the way on top of the chair, that way you’re not completely immersed.”

Nodding at his plan, you and Steve get to work. Sure enough, less than half an hour later your body begins to lag. Confusion settles in and your eyes can’t focus on any one thing. You’re freezing, but also sleepy in an almost drunk kind of way, and your limbs slow dramatically beside Steve. 

“Looks like it’s that time,” he huffs with worry, stopping in the water to collect you and push you up onto the seat. 

“‘M fine, Shtevey,” you slur with a slack smile on your now pale face. 

You don’t know enough about hypothermia to understand the progression, but Steve does, and he works past his own pain and onset to get you to that island as fast as he possibly can. 

You’re slurring your words and muttering to yourself, skin tinged a light blue and eyes crossed. Steve’s working against the current when you garble something he can’t understand, then try to get back into the water. 

“What the hell are you doing?” Before he can push you back up onto the seat your muscles lock and the undercurrent he’d been fighting drags you under. 

Steve dives after you, finding a piece of fabric in the water and holding on for dear life. When he surfaces and pulls you up, you sputter and cough violently with the water you inhaled. Knowing you don’t have much time left, he pushes you up onto the seat and uses his strength to rip the harness straps, using part of it to strap you to the buoyant side of the seat and the other as a tow line so he can swim without holding onto the seat. 

Fading in and out of a dazed and confused state, you faintly register the rise and fall of waves under you, and then you’re sliding and going under again. Something in your brain tells you to move, but you can’t, and the crest of a wave slams into you, pushing you under the surface. Whitewash pulls your hair and limbs every which way and your face hits something hard, then two hands are ripping you out of the water. 

“We’re here! We’re here! Hold on, Y/n!” 

The world spins and flips and your legs drag in the sand where he’s hauling you up the shore out of the shallows. 

“Hey, hey, stay awake!”

Your eyes open at his words and you make out the blur of palm trees when heavy hands force you down to your knees in the sand and he makes sure your glazed over eyes are at least looking in his direction before he speaks.

“Stay here, Y/n. Don’t get back in the water. Stay awake. Just stay here, I’ll be right back.”

You give a mindless nod and Steve rushes off into the line of palm trees that turns into jungle, desperately searching for enough to make a shelter or fire to keep you warm. 

The cold subsides within you and all you are is numb and half blind. The ocean waves crashing against the sand behind you roar in your ears and suddenly a wave of stifling heat spreads through you. Shaky fingers reach for the zippers and clasps keeping your suit on, confusion muddling your brain. Removing the top half, your brain is flooded with dopamine and a drunk smile spreads across your face as you fall flat and roll onto your back to kick off your shoes and push off your pants. The world spins fast in front of your eyes, filling you with the feeling of flying, or falling, and the warmth flooding you urges you to remove your clothes. Bra and panties discarded in the sand, you force yourself to your feet, body lurching and swaying as you drag yourself up the beach towards the tall trees, looking for the perfect spot to dig. Numb legs deceive you and you land on your shoulder in the soft sand, eyes blinking lazily against the fall before the sounds of the sea lull you to sleep. 

Vines and branches whip at his face and he gathers whatever he can as quickly as possible, worried about leaving you there on the shore alone. When he has enough for a fire he runs back, heart dropping into the pit of his stomach when he clears through the trees again. 

“Oh, shit! Shit, shit shit!” 

The palm fronds fall to the ground and Steve is at your side in an instant, pushing you onto your back and lightly slapping your face. You’re unresponsive and a growl comes from his throat as he tries to wake you to no avail. As helpful as a fire would be, if he doesn’t warm you right now, you’ll die. 

“Fuck!”

Steve strips out of his suit before pulling your naked body into his arms. He rushes you into the trees and finds a spot where the sea wind can’t reach you, laying down a few palm fronds to insulate the ground before laying you down. He slides up next to you, fingers on your neck to check your pulse, and his own heart stops when your pulse is gone.

“No!”

Steve’s cry is left to echo back into his own ears on the lonely island. He refuses to lose you. He won’t let this sandy shore become your grave, so he starts compressions. Tears stream from his eyes and desperation takes up the space in his lungs with every push down on your sternum. Your skin is tinged blue and your eyes are glazed, lifeless, pupils dilated on nothing. None of your beauty is there in the slack pull of gravity. Your face doesn’t even look like your own and it haunts him. 

He stops twice to check your pulse and he’s at the end of his rope. When he checks it the third time, a fresh wave of tears fall down his cheeks. It’s faint, but your pulse beats weakly against his fingertips. 

“Oh, thank God. Come on, Y/n. That’s it, sweetheart.” That gentle beat is all he needs to hang onto.

Arranging you both on the palm fronds, Steve pulls you into his chest, holding you tightly to him. Every inch of him is wrapped around you and he finds another couple of fronds to pull over you both. Lips in your hairline, he whispers your name, whispers encouragement and praise. 

“Come on,” he pleads. “Come on. I love you, Y/n. I love you…”

When the words fall from his lips his heart leaps into his throat and suddenly he’s questioning himself. He’d never even thought about loving anyone after Peggy and the two of you have never been anything more than just friends. But as he says it again, swirls your name off his tongue, he knows deep down that he means it. 

Steve holds you for the longest five hours of his life before exhaustion finally takes hold of him and drags him into a dizzy and fearful slumber.

----------

When you slip back into consciousness, your senses take time coming back to you. The first thing you feel is skin on yours. You’re naked and warm and Steve is clinging to you for dear life. The smell of sea salt and sweat fill your nose and his fingerprints are tattooed into your skin with how tight he’s holding you. 

Dizzy and confused, you blink slowly, as if your body is on a digital lag. Images blur together in your brain and your eyes try to clear them to focus on the here and now, but the frozen reality is mashed up with the memories, not letting you focus on much of either then, or now. With a dull heartbeat, pain pumps through you. That small blip of pain grows and fills you in seconds and suddenly the dizziness multiplies tenfold. Eyes shooting open, your stomach flips and you tear yourself from Steve’s arms, rolling away from him to wretch into the sand. 

Steve is alert in an instant, moving your hair out of your face and rubbing a warm hand over your back as you throw up. “Shhh, take it easy,” he coos, watching you heave for air. 

Shivering and sobbing, he holds you until you’re done. The burn of bile and acid in your throat is strong enough to rob you of your words, and you shoot him a thankful grimace when he sees the question in your eyes. 

“I’ll fill you in on everything in a bit, okay. How do you feel? Other than,” he gestures to the wet sand beside you, “that.”

A pounding in your head has you wincing your eyes shut and curling in on yourself. “Cold,” you rasp. “Pain.”

Broad hands pull you into his side, rubbing up and down along your back and shoulders. “Okay, let’s warm you up a little more, then I can start a fire and find you some water and food. 

You nod weakly and curl into his side, tears staining your cheeks as his warmth seeps into your skin. 

Though you’re still weak and recovering, Steve waits until he’s sure you’ll be stable before carrying you down the beach and setting you in the sun. He wanders, finding your clothes and shaking it out, slipping his boots and pants back on before helping you to do the same, offering his top to you for extra warmth.

You aren’t strong enough to move but while Steve works on a fire, you spot what looks like a coconut on the ground a few meters away. When the fronds and branches are lit, Steve checks it out and returns with a smile on his face, cracking it open for you and helping you to take sips of the fresh, sweet water inside. 

“If there’s one, there’s gotta be more, right?”

He goes to stand but you catch his wrist and stop him. “I still want to talk about what happened,” you remind him, and he nods. 

“We will. Let me take care of you first.” 

Letting him go, you watch as he walks down the beach then disappears into the trees. He’s gone for just a few minutes and comes back with more wood and fronds, three more coconuts, and a handful of berries, offering them to you and cracking open a coconut for himself when he plops into the sand beside you. 

The sun is sinking down on the water, making it look so gorgeous you almost forget that that water nearly killed you just hours ago. Though your surroundings are that of paradise, there’s a tension rolling off of steve that fills your gut with a sense of dread and worry. 

“I- I need you to tell me what happened. I need to know everything.”

He heaves in a deep breath and turns to you, a foreign gleam of sadness in his eyes. “What do you remember?”

A flurry of incoherent thoughts flies through your brain and you try your best to recount everything you can. “Honestly, not much. I remember the crash, holding onto the chair and then you pushing me up onto it. From there it’s really a blur. I remember just getting colder and colder. Confused as all hell. Scared. Then I just-” you sigh, rubbing your hands over your face. 

Warmth lands on your back as Steve smooths a gentle hand over your shoulders. “It’s okay. You’re okay, now, Y/n.”

You shoot him a grateful smile, eyes watering as you take his hand in both of yours. “I am. Thanks to you.” Pressing a kiss to his knuckles, your heart beats hard in your chest and even as he tries to hide it, you can see the pink hue spread over his cheeks. 

“Your eyes,” you finally say, breaking the warm silence. “I remember your eyes.” The haunted sea blue fills your brain, but when you look back at him, the worry he once held is long gone. “I- I was so scared, and I could see that you were, too. And then we were on the beach and I just- everything in my body told me to take my clothes off. That if I did then everything would be okay.” You huff out a sigh. “I don’t even know what I was thinking.”

“You were trying to save yourself, Y/n. It was paradoxical undressing,” he states. “At a certain point victims of severe hypothermia will undress. As your organs shut down your blood vessels stop constricting and the warm blood rushes from your core. You’re already confused and at that point it feels like a hot flash. You feel like you’re burning up so you undresses to cool off. It’s not long after that that people die.”

“I don’t know if that makes me feel better or worse,” you groan. 

“I’m sorry. Do you remember anything after that?”

Shaking your head, you answer, “Nothing. After that everything was just… black.”

His other hand comes to cradle yours, his long fingers skimming over your pulse point, and he sighs heavily. “Sweetheart, you-”

“I know,” you cut him off. That eerie feeling of falling fills the pit of your stomach and you don’t need to hear him say it to know what happened to you. “I know.” A dry laugh escapes you. “Turns out heaven and hell aren’t real. It’s just nothing.”

The numbness in your voice makes him tense at your side and you’re quiet for a long time. Steve’s presence is strong and he wonders if he should tell you. Tell you the secret he didn’t even know he was keeping until he’d lost you. He wonders if you might have a secret of your own...

Before he can finish his internal battle, you speak up. “It was nothing for a while, then your voice was there. I couldn’t tell what you were saying but I knew I had to use it as an anchor, otherwise I’d slip under again. I had no concept of time or my body or anything, and then I woke up. Naked,” you laugh breathily, and Steve smiles earnestly beside you. 

“I knew what had happened and what you had to do, and then I was throwing up.” You shift and turn to look at him fully, take in the lines of worry that seem to have sprouted overnight in the outer corners of his eyes and on his forehead. “Thank you, Steve. Thank you for helping me. For bringing me back, and for keeping me alive.”

When you lean forward and press your lips to his, Steve tenses. You wonder if this is too far and you start to pull back when his hands come up to cradle your face and keep your mouth locked to his. 

Stomach doing happy flips, you take a chance and deepen the kiss and are rewarded with a tiny moan falling into your mouth. His beard brushes against your palms and tickles your lips, but you sink into it. It doesn’t feel like desperation or some swell of emotion leading you into his arms. It just feels right.  

Before you can build any more, he pulls back and rests his forehead against yours. “You should probably rest,” he says, and you let out a small sigh, knowing that he’s right. He kisses you again, soft and fleeting, then stands. 

The fire casts shadows over the sand as Steve stands and treks away from you, silhouette illuminated in the distance while he finds a few more coconuts, nuts and berries, and even a couple of bananas for you to eat. 

The two of you sit close the rest of the evening, bodies pressed against one another as the warmth from the fire pushes its fingers through your hair. The treeline offers enough shelter from the elements and Steve manages a small wind block for the two of you to sleep behind for the night. He adds to the burning pile of wood and leaves to make sure it stays lit, then his body curls around yours and you nestle into his chest, enjoying the warmth you find there and the way he hums against your temple as you fall asleep. 

Steve stays up, holding you in his arms into the wee hours of the night. The gentle sway of the palms overhead give a beautiful view of the glittering stars, and he only lets go of the dream when you shift and roll onto your other side. 

He stands, stretching his limbs and rekindling the fire, making sure it’s large enough to last until morning before sidling up behind you and finally falling asleep with his arm wrapped around your waist. 

The sun is just making its presence known when you stir awake, Steve’s body warm where it’s pressed against your back. Gently, you extract yourself from his hold and admire him for a moment before deciding to let him sleep. You’re weak, but you manage to walk along the shore, searching for anything to help the situation you’re both in. 

A funny movement catches your eye and you’re filled with excitement at the opportunity. Finding a rock large enough to do the job you quickly snatch up the two crabs and smash them, happy to have some food to take back to Steve. Content with the find, you’re about to turn around when something shiny catches your eye in the distance. Pushing yourself that far takes a bit out of you, but when you stand over the gleaming object, tears spring from your eyes. 

Steve is jolted from his sleep at the sound of you calling out for him and he’s on his feet the second he sees you running up the shore toward him. “Y/n wha-”

You cut him off, yelling, “I found it!” Heart threatening to burst from your chest, you fall into his arms and you both sink to your knees. “Look! Look what I found!” 

Thrusting the radio component from the chopper into his hands, a delirious giggle bubbles in your throat and before you can say anything else Steve’s arms are wrapped around you and his mouth is crashing into yours, a weightlessness filling your head as you kiss him and laugh into his mouth. 

“And I found us food,” you add, dangling the crabs in front of him. 

Steve’s smile is brighter than the sun and for the first time since the chopper crashed, you feel true warmth inside you. He sets off into the surrounding area to find more wood for the fire and he crafts tools from what he can, cooking the crab for you both as you fiddle with the wiring and try to make the radio come to life. He keeps the fire going, builds it large enough to signal planes and boats and offers moral support as you work on the small device. 

After a few hours you let out a frustrated groan and he wraps an arm around your shoulder. “Go ahead, take a break. I mean, I’d offer to help…” 

You laugh, then, and lean into his side. “But it seems to run on some form of electricity?”

He chuckles by your side and you take his advice, fading into his warmth and resting a bit before trying again. 

It’s mid-afternoon three days after the initial crash when the radio component in your hand flashes blinking lights and fills your ears with static. Heart in your throat, you cling to Steve’s side and radio for help. Static blips on each station until you finally manage to intercept a cargo ship and ask for help. 

The thick Boston accent on the other end of the radio puts a smile on your face and Steve rolls his eyes at himself when he asks the captain, “Have you ever heard of The Avengers?” 

It’s not long until word travels the wire and Tony’s voice is filtering through the radio in Steve’s hands. “Well, well, well. Serves you right for stopping for a fun island getaway without even inviting the rest of us. I mean, really, Y/n, if you wanted to get the Capsicle alone all you had to do was ask and I would have set it up for you.” 

You didn’t even need to see Tony to know the cocky grin adorning his smug face, and if you could have slapped it off through the radio, you would have. 

“Quit fuckin’ around, Tony. How long before you can get someone here? Y/n suffered severe hypothermia.” He risks a glance your way and his eyes shine with the truth only the two of you know. 

“The jet is already on its way with Helen and Bruce. They should be there in a few hours. Sit tight. We’ll get you guys back home, soon.” 

The sincerity carries through Tony’s voice and you sigh happily, leaning into Steve’s side for a moment of utter relief and joy. 

 ----------

 Even with his genetically modified body he’d still suffered moderate hypothermia, himself, but in Helen and Bruce’s care back at the compound Steve is fully recovered in less than a day. You, on the other hand, are under careful supervision, even if you feel mostly up to speed. Apparently dying isn’t great for your overall health. 

Though you aren’t fond of the constant monitoring, you do find comfort in Steve, who refuses to leave your side. 

“You can go, ya know,” you smirk, knowing that he won’t. “I’m fine, now. See?” you wiggle all of your fingers at him and he chuckles.

“What makes you think I’d want to leave you ever again?” he asks, and the tone in the room shifts. His stoic face breaks into a brilliant smile when your heart monitor starts beeping faster. Steve stands and presses a kiss to your warm cheek, shooting a wink your way before making his exit. 

An hour later you’re hanging onto Bucky’s arm, shaking your head up at him as he escorts you through the halls towards Steve’s room. 

“Don’t blame me for this,” he laughs. “It was his idea and I’m only helping because Helen said it was okay.” 

Crossing over the threshold into Steve’s room, you try your best to suppress a smirk. He catches you, though, and you laugh out loud at the set up of monitors and machinery that’s taken over his room. 

“I don’t care if you ‘feel fine’,” he air quotes. “They said you needed to be monitored and I volunteered.” 

 ----------

 Bucky’s feet are kicked up on the edge of Steve’s bed and his fingers pick at a loose thread on his jeans when he breaks the comfortable silence that had been filling the room since Steve left to find food for you. 

“So, uhm, I just want you to know that I’m really happy for you.” Warmth rushes to your cheeks and a charming smile pulls at his mouth. “I mean- I’m happy you’re alive and all… but I’m also happy for you and Steve.”

Clearing your throat, you open your mouth, then stop short. Everything in your body wants to tell him that he’s wrong. He’s made some sort of mistake and all of this is just Steve being nice to his friend. That this is just his nature. But you know that’s a lie and a shy smile blooms on your face when you think back to kissing him on that damned island. 

After staring off and getting lost in your own thoughts for a minute or two you finally turn back to him. “I am, too.” 

There’s no use denying it, and Bucky chuckles at the truth in your eyes. 

A knock on the door breaks the light-hearted moment and Steve stands there with a tray of food and a look in his eyes that tells Bucky it’s time for him to go. 

Bucky’s metal hand pats your foot and Steve shoots his friend a thankful smile as he leaves. A few minutes later Bruce pops in to check on you both before you and Steve are finally left alone. 

When you’ve both finished eating, Steve urges you closer to him and rubs a calming hand over your arm. “Go ahead and get some rest. I’m right here.” 

It isn’t long before you take him up on the offer, and it only takes another few minutes before your steady breathing has him dozing off with you held tight to his chest.

Rain bouncing off the window filters into your ears and you stir awake at the sound of thunder rumbling through the night. Your fuzzy brain wonders if Thor has anything to do with it but before you can think too hard on it Steve shifts beside you. 

“Everything okay?” His voice is rasped in a way that fills your gut with warmth and you nod, the dim light in the room glittering in your eyes. 

“Yeah, I’m okay. Thank you, again, Steve. For everything on the island. And for this.” You gesture to his room and he hums. 

“I couldn’t lose you, Y/n,” he admits in a whisper that lands against your temple. “I know we haven’t been romantic in the past, but when I lost you I realized that...” Steve’s voice trails off and his misty eyes meet yours. 

Swallowing past a lump in your throat, you say, “Me, too.”

Relief is visible on his face and he leans in to press his mouth to yours, his kiss fanning the flames of the island fires that brought you together. 

Marvel tags: @sebbytrash @abaddonwithyall  @becs-bunker @curlyblondexoxo @ellen-reincarnated1967 @plaidstiel-wormstache @samsexualdeancurious @saxxxology @thing-you-do-with-that-thing​

[alonelytinywriter]

Into The Deep

Anonymous said to alonelytinywriter:

One word: Mermaids.

Excuse me, but if you think I’m gonna drop everything I was doing and start a whole series in my head about mermaids now then, well, you’re right. Because I did. Now I have an entire AU in my head where all the BNHA character are mermaids ~ mermen!! ~ and I just can’t continue until it happens. I just - their so dynamic and I can see so clearly what each character’s tail would look like and I’m so hyped that someone asked for mermaids. THANK YOU!!!!!!! Also, I really, really hope no one minds but the OC in this is a woman of color. I’m not, but I see it so rarely and it bothers me because I feel like there’s not enough put out there for anyone of a different skin complexion  than - ‘white’ - and I realized that there doesn’t really seem to be a lot to read and relate to so, I don’t know, I just want to get some out there that they can also enjoy because I want everyone to feel included. It was honestly a bunch of fun writing this OC and I adore the way she turned out. I just hope it doesn’t offend anyone, ha ha ahhh, I know I’m gonna get hate mail because I’m not a girl of color myself but oh well. Come at me if you don’t like it. Don’t forget to hit that heart if you enjoy and read the warnings on every story because it changes! They’re there for a reason!

Warnings: NDE, Kidnapping, Bakugou - so ya know the drill, it’s Bakugou, but not that bad really - Language, WOC, all in all - this one is pretty safe.

 Mermaid! No Quirk! Bakugou / Original Female Character

 Playlist - EvERythiNG. All of it. Shuffle. Pandora. Done.

Name: Jacquie Keita ~ Birthday: August 14th ~ Age: 22 ~ Hair Color: Black (Dyed white) ~ Eye Color: Golden Brown ~ Gender: Female ~ Height: 5” 4’

Appearance ~ Jacquie has an athletic build with lean arms and legs, as well as a smooth stomach, due to years of swimming in the open ocean. She has light taupe skin, golden eyes although her long lashes make her irises appear darker than they truly are, and long dreaded hair which she has bleached white several times. The roots, however, are grown out and Jacquie hasn’t made landfall to pick up the supplies to dye it back. ~ Due to the fact she lives as a nomad on the open sea, Jacquie isn’t overly worried about her clothes. Most outfits contain sweats and sport bras, or cotton t-shirts with athletic brands printed across the fronts. She owns more bathing suits and items to exist in the water than anything, and she has zero shame in it.

~ Into The Deep ~

~ Jacquie had been traveling the ocean for years - first on a little dingy she’d bought for next nothing and nearly drowned in before she could leave the waves around the lagoon, then on a small house boat that was better suited for a lake than the ocean but it worked near the shorelines . . . so long as there were no storms. It had capsized near France and left her stranded for months until she’d been able to put the money together to purchase her next boat - and now, finally, she owned the 49 foot crossover house-ship swaying beneath her feet. The fact it was a crossover was important, because it allowed for her life style on the open ocean, and kept her safe.

~ She worked as a marine biologist, specializing in marine life and environment. She traveled the world, studying the habitats of all kinds of fish, looking for new breeds or kinds of ocean plant life, and the house-ship was a large, sturdy vessel. It was just under fifty foot long, and if Jacquie was being honest, most of the ship was used as space for her labs and research room, although she had sectioned an area off for herself. On the deck was the cockpit, where she could steer the ship, and it connected to the kitchen/dining room. Connecting that room and a small section of the floor below was a spiral staircase that would lead to the living/bedroom and a small door off to the side led the restroom. There was a lifeboat tied to the starboard, and a large glass tank on the port, where she could keep any fish or creatures she caught, if only temporarily to tag the fish for research, or care for them if they were sick or injured.

~ Sighing, Jacquie stared out over the waves, chest aching as she took in the sight of the bleached white corals that surrounded her ship; a bright bolt of lightening streaked across the sky and for the first time Jacquie noted the sent of ozone in the air. The storm was getting closer and she wasn’t prepared at all. She wasn’t going to make it to the shore before it hit - she could already see the wall of dark storm clouds rushing towards her - and the idea of riding out a violent Japanese ocean storm made her stomach churn. She had never been a fan of storms before, but now that she had lived on the ocean for so long, she understood just how dangerous they could be.

~ Jacquie had sailed around the world twice. She’d visited nearly every beach-line there was to see. Twice. But never had Jacquie seen a storm like this. There was rain, but it wasn’t very hard, like you would see near India, and that nearly cost Jacquie her life. It wasn’t such a bad storm, after all. It wasn’t until she was running across the deck, the lifeboat hanging at a strange angle from its davits that worry really began to creep into her chest. She was having to push herself up the side of the boat as she ran the deck - the ship was listing towards port and she couldn’t figure out WHY, and when she glanced over the edge of the railing she realized the drop wasn’t sheer any longer. She could see the ship’s great white side, and the angle made her stomach drop.

~ The ship was listing badly, and it wasn’t level from the back to the front either, a noticeable incline going from bow to stern. The ship was sinking, and Jacquie couldn’t do anything to stop it. She didn’t know how, or even why, but the ship was going to go down, and if she didn’t do something, she was going to be going down with it. Looking overboard she saw the sea was rising, getting close, the waves nearly rushing over the deck with every swell. She wasn’t sure where the reef was any longer - maybe she had hit it and that was why the ship was sinking. Or maybe she had drifted out and away and she was about to plunge down into the depths below.

~ Her morbid thoughts where cut short when a flash of lighting streaked across the sky, illuminating the world around her like midday for a moment. And there, nearly thirty feet above her ship, was a massive wave. It wasn’t the wave that brought her up short, however, although that was terrifying enough in and of itself. It was the distinctly sharp shadow drifting through the wave, a shadow that screamed shark at every one of her senses from the slope of its tail-fins, to the size and shape. The only problem was that there seemed to be a very angry, very human man attached to the front of the shark, staring down at her through narrowed eyes.

~ She never even saw the second wave seeping over the deck of her ship, but she was pretty sure it - he - did, because his eyes went wide a moment before it hit her. She felt the bite of the cold water as it knocked her feet from under her and sent her across the slick wooden floor. Her back hit the railing, and for a moment she thought she was okay, but then the wood cracked as a third wave crashed into the boat and the once solid wood against her back fragmented into the storm, leaving her with nothing to stop her from falling into the churning ocean below.

~ The water was terrifying. It surrounded her like a blanket, made it impossible for her to find the surface, made it impossible for her to think. She screamed when her head broke the surface, panicked coursing through her blood like a drug. She couldn’t see past the salt water burning her eyes, couldn’t breath past the liquid rushing over her again and again. The ocean had never scared her before but now, now it was something different. Black and icy and filled with rage, and there, only fifteen feet way, Jacquie spotted a dark triangle slicing through the water as another flash of lightning illuminated the world once more.

~ The shark. Her second scream was drowned out by a roll of thunder, but lightning accompanied it and she was able to see the shark drifting closer, a ten foot swell of inky darkness that made her muscles scream for her to do something - anything. The water was too cold, though, and it hurt to move her muscles beyond what was keeping her head above the water, and she couldn’t see the ship - where was the ship???

~ The shark was flung away with the next wave, or it went underwater, she wasn’t sure, and the next drug Jacquie away as well. A floating top spinning atop the surface of the water. It felt as if the waves were fighting over her, jerking her this way and that as she desperately attempted to keep her head above the water. She kept going under, and she couldn’t tell which way the surface was until she would burst into the air, lungs sucking in air until she was forced under again. The cold of the water was quickly numbing her arms and legs and it was becoming harder to keep her head above water. In the distance beneath the water she could see the flickering lights of her ship sinking into the darkness, and the realization that she was now stranded in the middle of the ocean, with no ship, no flotation device, nothing to keep her alive against the forces of nature steeping over her like cold tea. Or maybe it was the water, which had closed over her head, and she was too tired, too exhausted to continue kicking her legs or sweep her arms. She could clearly see the world around her, a darkness that seemed the filter gray light to show the shape of the waves as they swelled above her, the bubbles as they foamed across her limbs, her hair listing through the current like eels. It was peaceful.

~ What was not peaceful was the feeling of something hard, like an invisible rock, slamming into her. It hit her across the chest, slamming the air from her lungs in a whoosh. The world began to fade to a true black as she watched the thick cloud of silver bubbles drift away, and water began to flood her mouth and throat, chocking her. There was something else too, something thick, and slimy, and oddly rubbery, and it was forced into her mouth until she had no choice to swallow - swallow or choke on the strange lump as the darkness completely obscured her vision and her senses failed her . . .

~ Jacquie slept. And while she slept, she dreamed. Blurred wanderings through blindingly bright memories of the sun above the ocean, winds so calm the clouds didn’t move and the water sat as still as a mirror, her mother and father’s face, the ocean teaming with life around her. A mirage of memories, each brighter than the last until there was nothing but a wash of white -

~ The sun woke Jacquie. It was the wash of white, blinding in the clear, cloudless sky above her, which showed no signs of the storm before. The water was clear and vibrant, lapping gently at the sandbar that she rested against, and as far as she could see the reef grew brilliantly, like a snow capped wonder. She couldn’t remember making it to the shore, couldn’t remember finding shelter on a swatch of sand, and the longer she looked, the more she felt as if something were very wrong. She was propped against a large pile of seaweed and kelp as if she had been purposefully laid out, and the sandbar didn’t rise far enough from the water - she was submerged well to her navel. She should have been able to see the islands. Should have been able to see the formations of the bleached coral beds that showed her location but, instead, she saw nothing but water and sky. Even when she clambered to her feet and craned her neck this way and that, she didn’t spot anything that gave her any indication as to where she was at all. The reef surrounding her didn’t match anything she had seen before, despite the familiar bleached corals.

~ Suddenly, something brushed against her leg, making a tingle run up her spine. She thought, for a moment, that it might have been a fish, but when she glanced down she didn’t see anything. Then she felt it again, the slightest tingle against her leg, almost a tickle. And then it grabbed her. Jacquie screamed, jerking her leg away as hard and fast as she possible could, but that only served to send her flailing into the water. And that’s when she saw it. The grey-white triangle sticking straight up in the water - the fin of a black tipped reef shark, the same shark she had seen in the storm, the one that hadn’t seemed . . . right. And as she stared in horror, the fin turned in the water, and then sped towards her, moving steady and straight as an arrow.

~  Jacquie, despite all her knowledge, began to thrash in the water, trying to swim away. She was panicking, wanting to put as much distance between the shark and herself as she possible could, and when it seemed to swim right past her, she nearly calmed. Had it decided she would be too much of a hassle? But then it began to turn, streaming towards her in a wide arc. Circling. The shark moved in closer, the circle growing smaller and smaller each time it made a pass around her, and she didn’t know what to do. The rocks she had been propped against wouldn’t protect her well from the shark, and they didn’t come high enough out of the water to ensure it wouldn’t be able to get to her even if she climbed atop them. The Shark swam around her in a tight circle, close enough the the swishing tail sent waves over her stomach, and she could see him clearly for the first time since he’d begun circling. And just like the night before, there was something . . . misshapen about the shark. Its head wasn’t shaped all wrong, and then, when it turned again, she saw why it was misshapen and the shock nearly made her collapse. Her brain hadn’t been playing tricks on her the previous night. The shark within the wave had been looking down her through narrowed eyes, because the shark didn’t have a head. It’s upper body extended and shifted until instead of the hard grey scales of the shark, the surface was smooth, pale skin. Abdomen, chest, shoulders and arms - these appeared darker, nearly like the tail - and a head of messy blonde hair that looked spiky, even under the water. He was staring up at her, eyebrows narrowed, a strange sort of noise emanating from the water as it circled. It was a low, growling sound, nearly musical, beautiful and . . . somehow sad. It nearly sounded like a whale, and if it wasn’t for the fact she were sitting in the water, watching the shark - merman - mershark? - move closer. His narrowed, red eyes sparkled in the sunlight as it filtered through the water, and his skin gave off a silvery glow.

~ He rose from the water then, his arms propping his head and shoulders above the small waves as his eyes found hers and stared hard. He made a soft sort of noise, something between a purr and a growl and behind his lips, Jacquie could see the pointed tips of his teeth.

~ “Stay away from me!”

~ The mershark paused, his teeth bared at the sharp tone of her voice, and Jacquie took his surprise and ran with it - literally. She was on her feet and already several steps away before the mershark seemed to realize what she was doing, but when he did he was on her in a moment, his arms wrapping around both her legs at the calf, sending her crashing into the water. They wrestled for a moment, and the mershark snarled, his teeth bared into a angry grimace as he attempted to wrestle her under his frame. He won, if only because of his size and weight, and Jacquie panicked as he pinned her beneath the water, his face inches away from hers. She sealed her lips, trapping the last reserves of oxygen she had left as she desperately tried to buck the mershark from her. He wasn’t bothered by her movements, though, and he merely stared down at her with a grim sort of purpose. He was going to drown her. She was going to drown, he was going to drown her - holy fuck was he going to eat her - and then she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She gasped, flooding her mouth with water, and a flashback of the storm swept over her so violently she thought she could feel the churning of the water around her. But there was something strange, something about the way the water seemed to flow from her nose, and out her mouth. She was . . . she was breathing. She was breathing underwater.

~ The mershark laughed then, and Jacquie could hear it. She heard it like it was carried on a cool summer breeze, dark and full of gravel, and it filled the water around her like a living, breathing thing.

~ “Holy fuck.”

~ The mershark throws back his head and laughs again, his long fingers squeezing her shoulders tightly. “I knew you were a great pick. You’re gonna be so fucking good.” He moved then, dragging her with him effortlessly as he swam through the water, the current hardly seeming to effect his direction at all. She fought, tired to pull away, but the mershark only pulled her closer, tsking at her struggles. “Stop moving would ya? It’s getting annoying.” He growled in her ear, and there was something to his tone of voice that made her go still. He wasn’t asking. He pulled her down, past the reef, until they arrived at the dark entrance of a cave that seemed to be built into the side of the sandbar. He wasted no time speaking, instead he opted to throw her on a pile of soft sponges laid across the bottom, causing her to bounce lightly in the water as he began to flint about, grabbing this and that as he swam around the cave. There was a multitude of items that screams of being from the surface and some of it - a lot of it, Jacquie realized with a start - seemed to have come from her boat.

~ To Jacquie it seemed as if he were circling her once more as he continued to move between one set of shelving and the next, and his words early only served to strength her thoughts of him eating her, so when he approached her side and reached towards her she nearly screamed. He didn’t, however, eat her. He did yank her forward when she refused to give him the arm he motioned for, his hands rough on her delicate skin as he slid heavy gold bands over her wrists. Arm bands followed, as well as several heavy necklaces that weighed Jacquie down and forced her to stay at the ocean floor verses floating upwards at the slightest current. He wasn’t finished until she was covered with more jewelry than she had seen in her lifetime and the weight of it pressed uncomfortably into her skin.

~ “It’s too much.” Jacquie said softly, already removing several layers of the necklaces that had been thrown over her head. “Too heavy.”

~ The mershark growled low, but he didn’t move to stop her until she was wearing only a few necklaces and other shining jewelry pieces. He did, however, propel himself forward and curl his body around hers like a puppy, his head pressed into her side while his tail wrapped around her waist, a more effective lock to keep her in place than if he had tied her to one of the rocks that made up the cave.

~ “Bakugou.” Jacquie stared and the mershark sighed. “Bakugou.” “I . . . I don’t -” “What, are you one of the stupid humans?” The mershark bit out harshly. “M’name is Bakugou.” “Oh.”

~ “Fuckin’ hell, what is your name?”

~ “J - Jacquie.” It was strange talking underwater. Everything sounded vaguely muffled, but not at the same time, and every time she inhaled it felt as if she were swallowing jello and feeling it ooze from her nose. “My name . . . my name is Jacquie.”

~ The mershark - Bakugou - smiled. “Good. That’s a good name for my mate. You look strong, and your hips are wide so you’ll be a perfect mate. You’ll -” But Jacquie wasn’t listening. His words were ringing through her ears, making no sense because over and over again one word kept rising to the top: mate. And from the way he was talking it seemed like he meant it. They were going to have pups, he cooed, rubbing his face against her abdomen. They were going to fuck, hard, and then when she got pregnant he would take care of her until she birthed the pups and they would do it all over. “You’ll be so fucking pretty with your stomach all swollen for me, swollen with our pups. And as soon as the seaweed finishes it’s work, you’ll have pretty little tail to move around with.” His sharp teeth nipped against her side with every word spoken to her like she was a lover, causing her to shiver in his hold. “It’s okay, sharks take care of their mates, not like those flimsy reef mer who flee at the first sign of danger, like that stupid fucking Deku. I’ll keep you safe, mate. And I’ll never let you go.”

[quidfree]

Hi! I saw that you wrote some prompts, I’m hope I’m not too late... could you do a James/Sirius prompt 11? Hope you’re not tired of writing about them I saw you got a lot of requests for that pairing

i never tire of these two x

11: i almost lost you (heavy stuff lol)

in many ways it is the first time they face him. 

sure, there had been the recruitment offer, midway through seventh year, like that was going to go anywhere; sirius' mocking laughter and the both of them staunchly unafraid, the handful of them (the year’s best and brightest, as it were) all comparing notes to lessen the slightly hysterical awareness that their last year of high school had included job offers from the dark lord himself. ignoring the fact that some of them had accepted.

that had been hogwarts, however, and though in age they are not far from that time this is markedly different. james has been in duels before, obviously; james has been in nasty ones at that, mainly with various members of slytherin house. the irony of the situation does not elude him as he ducks a sectumsempra curse. fights with the order are not the same. there is an unshakeable urgency to them, and the knowledge that all around you people are afraid, or dying, afraid of dying.

this fight is worse, too. there is a feeling of grim awareness coursing through him before he even knows why, and when he knows why it feels obvious. 

“the bastard is here!” moody had shouted, two, five, ten minutes ago, vanishing in a flurry of spells. james has lost track of him since, though he thinks he saw him crack someone’s jaw open with his wooden leg at some point. but the bastard is here, indeed, in flesh and blood, if tom riddle still has those. 

now, as he stands stock-still, wand raised, nerves singing, all of those ridiculous rumours they’d invented in school seem less implausible. 

“james potter,” lord voldemort says, coolly, advancing a little. they’re not close, but there’s an open space between them, largely unobstructed by the fights taking place around them. james spares half a look for the death eater he’d just knocked out, verifies he’s unconscious, then meets the man’s cruel, removed gaze. 

tom riddle had been handsome, in that uncanny aristocratic way that a vein of slytherin purebloods are, dark and charismatic and not all-together unfamiliar, though not the type of bloke james’d like a pint with. voldemort’s eyes are an eerie red, and his skin is reptilian, stretched tight; he looks like the sort of thing james had firmly pretended not to have nightmares about when he convinced his parents he was old enough to be read the warlock’s hairy heart. 

“tom,” james echoes, with a genial smile. “small world.”

the faint smile flickers; the man’s snake-like eyes don’t blink. “what a waste of a fine wizard. would you not be spared, potter?”

“spared a lecture, sure,” james retorts. they’re circling each other now, slowly; his pulse is thundering in his ears, throat tight. “otherwise, i’ll pass.”

“no? not even if it would spare your mudblood girl? it seems such a shame for you to lose her and your dear parents in such rapid succession.”

“she can handle herself just fine,” james says, through the throb of how dare he making him see red. his parents’ funeral was barely a month ago. “and my parents clearly raised me better than yours did.”

he just about manages to stop the killing curse very casually flung his way, quidditch reflexes rebounding it harmlessly skywards, then blocks three hexes in rapid succession, twisting sideways to launch two of his own back. voldemort stops them with ease, of course, but it gives james the time to move, pull away from the fray where anyone behind them might get hit, draw the man towards a hallway instead.

he’s a good dueller. near top of his year, even. but he’s eighteen, and six months into the order, and way out of his fucking league for an extended one on one with the dark lord himself.

it doesn’t matter. adrenaline carries him forwards, courage in his veins. he side-steps two crucios, throws out a hex voldemort has to twist to knock away, ignores the lightning-speed of his opponent for his own reflexive reactions. this is a fight like any other, at its core, wand against wand, wizard against wizard; he will kick as much ass as his magic permits, despite the sick thudding in his gut.

“very good,” voldemort calls, mocking, over the explosive sparks between them, robes flapping as he turns. “i expect you excelled at defence against the dark arts in your n.e.w.t.s.”

“i expect you failed,” james shoots back, faux-curious, then has to trip over himself to miss a curse; it gets him in the shoulder, burning like flames, and he swallows a yell to fire a quick block against the next volley, using the spare seconds to finish the curse before he has to duck and roll ahead of the next flash of green light, which catches his robes as he goes. 

from the floor he slams out several curses of his own, one particularly annoying binding spell managing to require voldemort’s full attention as he jumps to his feet. his arm is no longer on fire, but the whole shoulder area has gone fully numb, and the smug look on his opponent’s face says he knows this. 

he’s seen the same thing on too many’s people faces not to theorise. no doubt it’ll spread down his arm, loosen his grip at the worst time. 

well, fuck it. he wasn’t an excellent team captain for three years for a lack of ability. 

he tosses his wand from one hand to the other, and enjoys the momentary surprise on the dark lord’s face as he volleys a massive incendio his way. delightfully, it actually ignites the bottom of his robes. 

in the seconds where he can afford to, he listens to the sounds of the room drift in through the ringing in his ears: screams, and crying, and spells being thrown dizzyingly from all sides. mad-eye, somewhere, hollering strategies. the tell-tale cracks of apparition. 

someone is retreating. if he had the time- if he was someone else, he might have disapparated the moment he saw lord fucking voldemort had his sights set on him. for better or for worse he isn’t, though, and he might as well see this shit through until either camp leaves.

he’s not sure how long the next batch lasts. it feels like quidditch at its worst, like time is suspended and drawn out at once, a million manoeuvres going nowhere, not hoping to win so much as not to lose. he forgets everything of the outside world except the two of them, red against green, so closely knit amongst the chaos that they’re almost locked in a weird dance, pacing each other like animals.

he gets in two good hits. voldemort gets in three. 

the third comes as a direct response to his second, and really he ought to have expected that the man’s ego would respond so violently to successful mockery, but the moment his hex lands on his skin, bubbling comically if painfully under it, voldemort’s eyes flash viciously and james can tell, with the inevitability of watching the quaffle slip through the keeper’s fingers, that he’ll be seconds too slow with his next block, shifts course as best he can so he’ll be ready to heal himself-

he barrels to the floor instead, and sirius yells “motherfucker!” as his body explodes into cuts, blood bursting from him with almost comedic timing.

james manages to shield them on instinct alone, his heart pounding with misplaced adrenaline and pure visceral shock, vision locked on the red seeping from sirius’ body where they’re still half-crumpled in a heap on the floor.

he’s still seeing nothing but red when he twist, half-raises himself, and fires off three curses in such rapid succession that he is almost knocked back over by the intensity of his spells. one of them hits, maybe, based on the lack of response; he whips back around, says “sirius” with extreme conviction and no idea what he’s saying exactly, only that- shit, that-

“vulnera sanentur”, sirius grits out, finally audible, though he must have been saying it before; his voice got lost in the buzzing in james’ ears, or else he was practicing non-verbal magic. he is still bleeding. 

james pulls them both up to their feet mechanistically, shields with one arm, supports with the other, and feels the killing curse ripple through his protective spell as he looks towards voldemort, close now and smiling broadly. his heart is in his throat; for a moment he could kill. 

“enjoying the show?” sirius demands, caustic, unafraid always, even now, and james believes it wholly, because sirius is never afraid of things that could kill him, not like this. “purer blood than yours, tom.”

they are close, and it’s too late to disapparate, james registers distantly; if the fight has turned against them there’s no way out now. but does it matter, really? it’s him, and sirius, against some bully who thinks he’s all that. they have no choice but to give him hell.

voldemort spins two curses their way, and james doesn’t block; james weaves, dragging sirius after him, and sends two right back, grins violently in his direction, ignores the heavy weight of his best friend against him. voldemort doesn’t quite deflect the second in time, and he staggers back, grimacing in distaste, but then sirius is twisting urgently and throwing up a shield and there’s a second mask-less death eater nearby with a recognisably unhinged grin.

“resorting to dirty tricks, bella?” sirius snarls, which explains where he’s been all fight, really, and james just- fucking hell, he hates family reunions with the blacks.

“you’re one to talk about dirty, little sullied cousin,” bellatrix leers, and skips closer to her master, expression going exaggeratedly bashful as she twirls her wand. “my lord, i’m afraid i’ve come to curtail the fun somewhat. many of our ranks have fled before the paltry forces of the order; we are wasting time here.”

“very well,” voldemort says, unruffled, glancing towards the back of the room, where shouting is loudest. “say goodbye to your sweet cousin.”

james knows no small satisfaction in that the end of his sentence is cut short by his having to quickly deflect two hexes, but they get no further; bellatrix is spinning curses in their direction with a manic laugh before he can so much as blink, and it is only sirius’ jerky upwards motion that sends them through the ceiling instead, james following the motion with a blow of his own as he watches voldemort smile, dead eyes taunting.

"look at the state of you,” bellatrix scorns, “and not a scrape on the dark lord.” she too is unafraid, eyes wild and arrogant as their spells collide mid-way. 

“his robes look pretty stupid, though,” james retorts, watches her scowl as sirius snorts into his shoulder, itself devoid of feeling. her responding spell is more convoluted, nearly outpaces his twice before he gets a feel for it and rebounds it elsewhere. not far behind them he can hear voices again, and this time he recognises moody, back-up, safety. he is finding it hard to process through the haze, but he knows they are close to survival, so long as he stays alert.

he knows before he moves that it’ll be too much to fend off. voldemort spins green, bellatrix red, and the brute impact burns through his fading shield; the cruciatus curse skims along his leg as he shoves sirius out of the way, and it buckles, searing pain spasming through his muscles as he automatically barrels a hit back. it hurts so much he can’t think, but he throws his weight onto his functioning leg and yanks sirius behind him, watches bellatrix laugh and spin as their bodies begin to blur into nothingness, watches another two spells course through the air that reflex alone won’t be able to stop, and grits his teeth to shield jerkily even as he sinks downwards.

sirius’ free hand knocks into his, wands in perfect parallel, and the shield burns a brilliant white, parting blows collapsing harmlessly into nothingness. 

a spell hits his leg and he jolts, but the curse has stopped ravaging him; he pauses, turns.

“are you out of your fucking minds?” mad-eye roars, and james blinks, registers the quiet, registers the smoke fading, the handful of prone bodies and the exhausted disbelief on the faces around them. the many faces, he thinks. “have you ever paid attention to a word i tell you? it’s a bloody miracle you’re not both dead!”

“t’be fair, moody, was james’ fault,” sirius slurs, and that more than anything snaps james out of fight-induced focus, makes him twist to his knees to where sirius is now half-sprawled on the floor, pale and still blood-drenched and wildly, dangerously irresponsible. 

“merlin all-mighty, you fucking wanker,” james chokes out, ripping his shirt open to have at his torso, ignoring the convulsions of his leg. sirius shivers, flinches, smirks. his spell sealed many of his cuts, but there’s one jagged wound through his stomach still sputtering wetly, making james’ head spin.

“have some decency, prongs, really-”

“you absolute maniac,” james continues, conjuring dittany from frank longbottom’s bag and smearing it on with a vengeance, his hands shaking like the curse got his arms instead. “you could have just- fucking hell, you could have just shouted, or shielded, you-”

”all right, god,” sirius mutters, grimacing at the sting. “wasn’t fucking- thinking ahead, was i, would a little gratitude be too much to-”

“shut up, the both of you,” moody growls, fury in his hawkish eyes. “the order is moving out of this building. now! if you can’t walk, crawl, and if you can’t crawl, we leave you to die. ‘s what you bloody well deserve, for your antics.”

“could just say you were worried like a normal person,” sirius manages, lost in the irate clanging of wood on tile; he swats james off to drag himself upright, clicks his tongue at his leg. “idiot, what’d you go and get crucio’d for?”

“you,” james begins, suddenly impossibly overwhelmed, and thinks he might kill him, or laugh hysterically, or cry, the latter alarmingly probable, which must show on his face because sirius’ expression registers something like panic.

“prongs?”

“just-” james starts, stops, adrenaline crashing, his hands still fucking shaking. “don’t- don’t do that, don’t throw yourself into the line of fire for me, it-”

“oh, please, like you didn’t stand there and do the same for five minutes after i got a couple of paper-cuts,” sirius retorts, eyes flashing dazedly. “’s what we do, moron, ‘s what i’m here for.”

“no, it’s not,” james says. dumbly, he knows, numbly, and he knows why, actually, understands now that he’s shaking from the aftermath of shock, that when sirius went down he had the brief and violent thought that he’d died, that after his parents nothing seems invulnerable anymore, not even sirius, and he’d not known that until now, no matter how stupid that is. “you’re here to be here, you’re not...”

“oh,” sirius says, noticing his hands, maybe noticing his tone. 

he hasn’t cried once for james’ parents. not at the news, not at the funeral, not in the months since, and james knows it’s because he’s a complicated bastard who somehow thinks he can take the pain unflinchingly for his sake, even though james never asked him to, never wanted him to.

“bastard,” he says, out loud, and tries not to cry, drags himself to his feet, pulls sirius up after him, both of them shaky on their legs. they need to leave the building, and then mad eye’ll see them off, and once they’re home there will be time to heal wounds, wait for the next round.

he is so very tired, all of a sudden.

sirius stills him when they’re both standing, oddly serious now, chews on his lip and then lets go of his hand. james has barely refocused on his face through smudged lenses when he leans to kiss him on the forehead, like james does to him sometimes, like his father did, when they were younger. 

james inhales, sharp, and then starts crying. predictable, really. he’s done a lot of it the last while.

it’s all right, though, probably. they’ll be out of the building soon enough. he can walk and cry at the same time.

sirius ignores it, generously, or maybe just cautiously. when james starts walking he walks so close to him that james can smell him through the blood and dust, which makes him cry harder.

he can’t ask anything of him, is the thing. he can’t ask any of them what he wants, which is that they let him go first. parents aren’t meant to outlive their children; sirius will always die for james as long as there is a james left to die for. all he can do is protect him as best he can, in return, hope that between the two of them they cover all their bases.

he thinks of the shield, bright and powerful and effortless, and smiles wetly, rubs at his glasses. still smudged. his hands haven’t stopped shaking. if they were different he might’ve grabbed sirius’ hand.

they stop outside the doors, near last, and james gets a glimpse of the others- tired, appreciative, sympathetic- until sirius snatches his glasses off him, visibly surrenders some of his pride to lean heavily against him as he cleans them, shoves them back on with unnecessary roughness, just to be annoying. 

moody is saying something, gruffly, and the longbottoms are counting heads, and sirius says: “he’s an ugly fucker, isn’t he?” and james laughs, not shaky at all, ignores the glare moody shoots them and laces their hands together after all, pays no mind to the brief outrage on sirius’ face.

“godric, yeah. d’you reckon he took a bludger to the nose, at some point, or was i imagining the family resemblance with goyle?”

“oh, i think it’s innate,” sirius says, scoffing with unshakeable haughtiness. “looks sort of lizard-like, doesn't he, and we’ve all heard about his dubious parentage..”

“what, mrs riddle fucked a dragon?”

“dragon is generous, prongs, maybe a newt or something.”

“that feels unfair to newts,” james says, seriously, and hums. “limax, maybe. ohh, d’you think that would explain-”

“the robes?” sirius completes, eyes sparkling despite his feverish pallor. “body of a slug underneath. makes sense.”

“potter, black,” moody barks, “if you could spare us the speculation...”

they’ve lifted the mood, at least; he sees alice struggling to restrain a laugh near him as she wipes her brow, smiles winningly at their grumpy commander. 

“sir yes sir.”

tomorrow, if the urge strikes him, he’ll kick sirius in the shin to lower him. today, his leg is shaky, and sirius is the sort of steely he only gets when he’s about to collapse, so he just tugs on his hand, and sirius comes, obedient, brow furrowed in light curiosity. james kisses the side of his face, self-indulgent, squeezes his fingers unforgivingly.

“takeout tonight?”

“as long as it’s not indian again,” sirius replies, easy, and james nods feelingly and doesn’t let go of his hand for long enough that it stops being a lifeline and starts being funny.

[vannahfanfics]

Lucid Dream

Category: Hurt and Comfort, Romantic Fluff

Fandom: Naruto

Characters: Shikamaru Nara, Sakura Haruno

EDIT: This beautiful piece of artwork was made by the lovely @deliathedork​ who just can’t seem to stop spoiling me rotten with all the presents! TT.TT Please give her some love too! She is very, very talented!

Bonjour, mes amis! Here’s today’s story for ShikaSaku Week Hanami, prompt “Drip, Drip, Drip (Our Blood). For some reason I really like writing in Shikamaru’s POV… Anyway, enjoy~

Drip. Drip. Drip.

The slow, melodic sound was the first thing to greet Shikamaru as he phased into consciousness. His vision rolled as he forced his eyes open but could only manage to part his eyelids into a small slit for the overwhelming nausea that engulfed him upon doing so. Eyelashes fluttering like a trembling leaf as he struggled to keep his eyes open and survey his surroundings and current situation, the water kept dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. Dust was dancing in thin brown clouds all around him. It was dark save for a few spearing shafts of light pouring down from large, gaping holes in the ceiling.

A ceiling- he was in a building, or what was left of it. Chunks of the wall and roof were littered around him in great heaping gobs of crushed stone, with little pebbles and normal-sized rocks scattered around like their voluminous brood. Glass intermingled with the carnage, glowing with sheen as they reflected the harsh sunlight invading the dark space. Shikamaru turned his head to his left, though the muscles in his neck and shoulders screamed loudly in protest, to find a cavernous expanse stretching out just beside him. The floor- and the three stories underneath- lie far below in an indistinct collection of rubble. Illuminated by the sunlight below, a large red puddle bloomed on the smooth surface of one of the rock faces, a lake of blood that splintered off into many rivers that meandered into the cracks.

Drip. Another bead of blood bloomed on the tip of his finger from where his arm was slung carelessly into the void, then detached itself to fall down, down, down and splash into the puddle below. Blood. His blood, to be exact. It was a lot. How was he bleeding so much?

The spike of twisted metal embedded through his lower abdomen provided that answer. The jade green of his vest was dyed a dark brown where the blood had seeped into the thick fabric. He shifted slightly and could feel the sticky mass of blood squelching against his backside, traveling all the way down his left leg. The stretch of floor that he was laying on was sloped downwards and to the left, allowing the blood to run up his body, catch on his left arm, and pool on his hand before gravity stole it away.

“Well, shit,” he wheezed. His right arm twitched as he tried to move it, but the muscles were hesitant to comply at first. Slowly, he eased his arm up; his right hand shook violently that it made tremors wrack all the way up to his shoulder. Somehow, he wrapped his hand around the spear of metal that was jutting out of his stomach and gave it an experimental tug. All he earned himself was shooting pain blooming like flower petals from the epicenter of his wound; his head smacked back against the concrete as he hissed loudly in agony. That certainly wasn’t budging. It was probably his luck that the metal was worked into the concrete and had bent upon the building collapsing, and he had landed right on top of it. Pulling it out was counter-productive anyway; he would bleed out almost instantaneously. Shikamaru’s eyebrows threaded together as he fought to remember how he had ended up in such a drag in the first place.

The memories threaded like beads of dew on a spiderweb, spaced far apart but no less interconnected; he recalled something about raiding a suspected drug cartel compound. He tugged at the thread in his mind, hoping that all the dew beads would merge to form a coherent series of events. Green eyes and pink hair suddenly clouded him memories. Sakura, that’s right, he was with Sakura in the fifth-floor raid party; to catch the enemy unawares, they had planned to attack every floor at once to keep those on the upper floors from barricading themselves in or utilizing a secret escape route. It had been going all fine and dandy until some nutjob had decided to strap a bunch of paper bombs to himself to become a martyr. They had been in far too close quarters for the both of them to escape, and Shikamaru’s brightest idea at the time had been to wrench Sakura out of the window then dive for the stairs. The paper bombs had exploded and the floor had collapsed, and apparently, Shikamaru had ended up here.

Drip. Drip. Drip. The blood continued to accumulate in the rubble below.

Sakura… Is she okay? The girl was by no means a slouch, but she probably hadn’t expected to be flung off the fifth floor of a building, either. Shikamaru ought to be concerned with himself, but his thoughts were bent on the medical ninja. He could’ve killed her, really. He wouldn’t be able to live with himself if that were the case. Of all the things, that stupid set of decisions? He should’ve reacted faster. There were any number of alternate scenarios that could’ve unfolded, but that had been the one he had opted for. God, he was an idiot. If she did live, he almost hoped he did die to spare himself the beating he was sure to catch later.

Wow. He was actually acting like he was going to make it out of this alive. His vision, already fuzzing black around the edges, settled once more on the sharp metal bit jutting out of his abdomen. Shikamaru felt bile rise up in the back of his throat as he felt the acidic tang of fear beginning to flood his mouth. His grip tightened around the iron, as if his hand alone could shatter it. Waves of tingling numbness began to course over his body, head to toe. Then there was that goddamned dripping. Drip. Drip. Drip. It pulsed loudly in his eardrums like tinnitus, sending spikes of pain shooting into his skull with each accursed drop. He didn’t want to die. It’s not like Shikamaru was the biggest go-getter, but still, there were things he wanted to accomplish in life before kicking the bucket. He had to see Naruto become Hokage. More than that, he had to be that dumbass’s advisor, because he sure didn’t trust anyone else to do it. God, even though it was a drag, he wanted to get married, maybe have a kid or two, watch them grow up… Maybe, then, maybe he could die- but not right now. Not yet.

Sakura.

Maybe the blood loss was making him delirious. He was trying to keep his breath from coming in ragged, shallow gasps, because the faster he breathed, the faster the blood pumped through his veins, and the faster his blood began to drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Drip. Had it sped up? How long had it been since the building collapsed? One minute? Ten? How close was he to death, actually?

Sakura.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Girls were a drag. Shikamaru had always thought so. Seeing Ino and Sakura butt heads like fighting mountain goats was enough to solidify that in his brain. Yet… Somehow they had become less of a drag, over time. Especially her. Especially Sakura. He admired her, even. She was a bit feisty, but he preferred that to a total giggly fake pushover. She was smart, so he could hold intelligent conversation with her. She was strong, stupidly so, which meant Shikamaru never had to worry. Of course he hadn’t hurt her throwing her out of the building. It was Sakura, after all. She probably hurt the ground rather than the other way around.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

He was definitely delirious. His vision swam like swirling water before his hazy eyes. He didn’t even have the strength to hold his head up any more. One minute? Ten? It felt like a lifetime. He was definitely delirious, because he was regretting not telling her that he loved her. When did that happen? They hung out, sure. They were often paired on missions because they worked well together. He’d walked her home after they went out to dinner a couple times, but that was just work stuff. Friend stuff, if he was being generous.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

Did he think about her sometimes? Sure, but his mind just wandered like that. Wandered, to her pink hair like the cherry blossoms in bloom, to her spring green eyes that sparkled like a beautiful sea they had seen once in a mission out of the country, to her beautiful smile that shone like the sun itself. He had to be delirious, because he could see her before his waking eyes, calling his name with tears in those eyes like new spring growth.

“Shikamaru! Shikamaru, can you hear me?”

Was she actually there? Was she an illusion? Shikamaru really couldn’t tell. Everything around her was a smudge of indistinct grays and blacks and browns with those burning streaks of white light, yet she was so crisp and clear. His eyes settled on an abnormality, on the trail of bright red blood streaming down the side of her face from a gash in her forehead. Was that his fault? It traveled down her cheek, mixing with her pouring tears, down to her chin, where it beaded like a red jewel and dropped down onto his vest. Drip. Drip. Drip.

“Sakura… You’re… Bleeding…” Was that his voice? It sounded so garbled, like a frog croaking. His whole body was numb at this point, and the only point he knew that he had actually lifted up his hand was when it appeared in his line of sight. His trembling thumb gently swept over the thin laceration as his expression contorted into one of regret. “Sorry…”

“What? This? No, no, this is nothing!” Maybe it was his imagination, but she seemed to lean into his touch, cheek brushing into his palm. “Shikamaru, you saved me. I would have died in that explosion if you hadn’t pushed me out of the way.” His mouth twisted into a pitiful rendition of a smile. She wasn’t mad. No beating for him. He was finally catching a stroke of luck. That lovely pink hair of her whirled as she whipped her head around to shout at Naruto and Kiba, who were finally ascending the half-broken stairs to assist her.

“Sakura, you shouldn’t have run up the stairs like that! They’re all half-collapsed, believe it! We almost died!”

“Yeah, like, three times.”

“Shut up and help me!” Her voice was high-pitched, nearly manic. The tone demanded their will to comply. Shikamaru’s breath was rattling in his lungs now. It felt like it was water he was breathing, not oxygen, heavy and suffocating. He could vaguely hear the two boys suck in horrified gasps when they neared him, and Sakura vaguely instructing them to hold him still as she bent off the end of the pole. She stood over him, one foot on either side of his hips, while Naruto crouched down at his head to push his palms into his chest. Sakura grasped the end of the pole and charged her fists with chakra, and then bent the piece of metal as close as she dare to the gaping hole that was his wound.

The vibrations alone were enough to send Shikamaru’s legs to spasming, and Kiba had to dive on them to keep him from accidentally kicking her away. Short pained cries left his mouth, dignity ignored. It of course didn’t snap immediately; she had to bend it back and forth, working weakness into the metal until it finally broke, snapping off in a jagged point just above his heaving belly. “Shikamaru, this is going to hurt like hell.”

“Wha- AAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGH!” he howled as the three of them all but jerked him off the remaining short spike of metal. The barbed end ripped through his flesh with fervor, sending more blood spurting into the air and his vision flaring white as he fought desperately against fainting. His entire body burned like he was being submerged in lava, but especially that small circle of agony in his lower abdomen. As soon as they had him on the ground again, Sakura was straddling his waist with her hands pressed deep into his wound, dying them a dark red that he could even see through the hemisphere of green healing chakra; his body continued to twitch with lingering tendrils of fiery pain wracking his nervous system. He was wheezing as his wide eyes attempted to fixate on her trembling form but failing miserably as they danced with white and black spots. He could feel the light tremors against his body. Her tears continued to flow, gathering on the end of her chin to splash down below.

Drip. Drip. Drip.

“S-Saku… ra… I…”

“No. Don’t you do that,” she growled at him. Her green eyes, alight with furious fire, snapped up to meet his. “You’re not dying. Not here. Not like this. I won’t let you.” He couldn’t help but allow the tired smirk to form on his lips. So angry all the time. It was amazing how much roiling rage was pent up in that petite body.

His hand was moving again. It settled in her threads of disheveled pink hair, tucking it behind her ear. “Stop moving. It makes this harder,” she ordered, but with much less bark. Shikamaru ignored her, going to tug on the neck of her shirt to get her attention. “What?” What he mumbled, she could not here. A faint tinge of pink arose to her cheeks, but whether that was from embarrassment or ire, she wasn’t sure. She shifted such that she was now kneeling by his side, allowing her to both continue administering medical ninjutsu to his wound and leaning close to his face. “What did you say?”

“Just in case,” he wheezed in a hoarse laugh, and with the last of his strength, he pushed his head up so he could press a light kiss to her lips. He actually managed to hold it for a few seconds before his head smacked back down to the concrete. She stared owlishly down at him for a few seconds more. She would probably still hit him even in his condition for pulling a stunt like that, but hey. “Don’t look at me like that,” he simpered weakly. “You’re not one to deny a dying man his first kiss, are you?” A trail of blush blazed across her cheeks like a sudden wildfire.

“Idiot,” she grumbled, looking back down to his wound. “You think I’m going to let you die now…?” He quirked his eyebrow at her soft features. Was that a smile he saw? He would’ve thought she would be angry. He yelped loudly when she suddenly applied more pressure to his abdomen. “Idiot! I’m gonna heal this stupid wound of yours so I can kill you myself! Jeez, men, can’t even handle a scratch before they start getting weird ideas in their head!” she raged loudly, and in tandem, her green chakra flared all the brighter and became bubbly and unfocused around the edges. He sputtered out apologies as the force of her fists against his stomach literally bent his spine and forced him to sit up a little.

“Yeesh, Sakura,” Naruto frowned at her. “I thought it was kinda romantic, actually…”

“Yeah, if I was a girl, I’d swoon,” Kiba agreed with his arms crossed.

“Shut up! You two want some of this?! Why don’t you go and make yourself useful with the clean-up effort before they’re washing your blood off the walls!” The two followed her advice and made a hasty retreat. She began muttering under her breath about their incompetency, which made him chuckle slightly. He soon regretted that, because it flared that flower of pain in his belly again.

“Ouch…”

“That was reckless,” she scolded him quietly. It took him a second to register that he was referring to his abomination of a strategy earlier.

“I know. I probably could’ve come up with something better if I had been thinking straight.” He could talk in longer sentences now without gasping for air, so he supposed his chances of dying were now slimmer.

“You? Not thinking straight?”

“I was too busy thinking about how I didn’t want you to die.” Her mouth folded in on itself as she blushed darker. She looked away, likely because she was embarrassed for him to see. A long period of silence unfolded between them, a book with blank pages. Shikamaru wasn’t sure of what he wanted to write there. Perhaps it didn’t need to be written at all.

“You…” she sighed, looking back to him finally as she removed her hands from his abdomen. “I’ve stopped the bleeding and sealed the wound shut, but it’s only a temporary fix. You need surgery. Move too much and you’ll bust it open again.”

“Moving too much? Doesn’t sound like me.”

“You could have died!” she shouted at him suddenly. Despite what he had just said, he flinched violently, and his hand shot to the half-closed wound as it snarled in protest. His eyebrows were knitted together as he stared up at her face, twisted in agony and regret. “You could’ve died,” she repeated, more softly, “and I don’t know what I would’ve done if you had.” She hung her head. He watched those tears, tinged pink with the blood still leaking from her forehead cut, drip down onto her lap. Drip. Drip. Drip.

He clenched his teeth tightly, forcing himself up onto his elbows, then pushing off to unsteadily pull himself into a sitting position. He slung his arms loosely around the crying girl, half in a consoling embrace and half in a gesture to ensure he didn’t fall right back down. He pushed his head into hers, his dark black strands weaving with those lovely pink ones.

“But I didn’t,” he breathed into her scalp, “because you saved me.” He felt her shaking hands screw into the fabric of the back of his vest as she held onto him tightly. Her face was buried into his shoulder, smearing it with blood and tears and low sobs.

Surely, he was no longer delirious.

He slipped his hand under her head to grasp her gently by the chin, lifting up her face. Somehow, it was possible for her to still be incredibly beautiful, even with her face smeared with dirt and smudged with blood and her expressed scrunched up into misery. Those bright green eyes peeked out at him through thick, tear-heavy lashes. “You saved me,” he repeated comfortingly. Her eyes flickered a few times before falling to his lips. Her gaze rested there for a moment.

“Just in case.” Her voice was like a breath among howling wind, nearly inaudible. She closed her eyes as she leaned into kiss him. This time, her lips molded fully into his, and he relished how soft and pliant they felt under his. With a hunger he had never known, he devoured her in passionate, starving kisses, pushing against her such that she had to brace herself with her palms flat against the concrete, back bent at a dramatic angle. His were holding her face in place as he kissed her fervently, over and over and over until both their mouths were sore and bruised. That ache in him wasn’t even close to being filled, but he forced himself to pull back regardless, mostly because his head was beginning to swim again. He laughed breathily as his forehead fell into her shoulder, and her arms jumped up to wrap around his broad back.

“Rest,” she cajoled him. “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

“When I wake up, will this all have been some sort of twisted lucid dream?” he laughed wryly.

“No,” she laughed and pressed a kiss into the top of his head. “Not a dream.” Shikamaru decided to take that at face value and practically melted into her, allowing all of his muscles to finally relax. As he breathed in air, Sakura’s scent wafted in with it, a blend of strawberries and cream and the fresh spring breeze.

Even if he never woke up, he was pretty content with going out this way, held in the arms of the woman he daresay he loved while the sunlight warmed his back… Of course, it would be nice if he did wake up, lucid dream or not.

After all, there was a lot he still had left to do… Marry a girl, maybe have a kid or two, watch them grow up… retire to a home in the countryside, with cherry blossoms blooming in the brilliance of spring, and be greeted every morning by that smile that rivaled the glow of the very sun.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

Tag List: @deliathedork @searchfortheonepiece @shikasaku-week

[strangerivy]

The Beginning - Nine

Summary: Kacy and Scott have a talk with Derek that doesn’t go how they anticipated. Stiles and Kacy make a decision on what they are. Warnings: Swearing | Violent Depictions Pairings: Stiles Stilinski x Original Character (Kacy) Genre: 18+ | Fluff | Angst Word Count: 3.3k Author’s Note: I’m back! Those few weeks actually took longer than I thought! I almost came back early but I know I need that time away creatively. As always friends, let me know what you think!

|| One | Two | Three | Four | Five | Six | Seven | Eight | Nine | Ten | Masterlist ||

It was Sunday night and I was in my room working on some homework when Scott quickly burst through our joint bathroom staring at his phone, I pulled my headphones out staring at him waiting for some sort of explanation to his abrupt entrance.

“Derek wants us to meet him,” He finally said after a few minutes of silence, he shoved his phone back in his pocket looking at me noticing I was in my sleep shorts and a tank top. “You might want to change though,” I frowned

“Why does he want us to meet him?” I asked getting up from bed grabbing a pair of skinny jeans and a black t-shirt, Scott turned around so I could change.

“He didn’t say just said for us both to meet him,” I groaned pulling the shirt over my head

“He does know, we have School, right?” I asked annoyed, I had a massive pile of homework to get through if I wanted to at least keep my grades in the B range. Scott on the other hand though… he really needs to get to work on schoolwork. I grabbed my all black vans slipping them on grabbing my zip-up from my desk chair slipping it on.

“Don’t remind me,” Scott groaned walking out of my room with me in tow.

“Mom is going to kill you tomorrow, you know,” This caused him to loudly groan again.

“I know,” He whined as we got on our bikes and headed to Derek’s. As we pulled up to the old Hale house, Derek was standing up on the porch wait for us. He jumped down once we got off our bikes heading over to his car.

“Get in,” Was all he said, I raised my eyebrow in question, but Scott just shrugged his shoulders and got in the front while I climbed into the back-passenger side.

We drove for about 15 minutes before pulling into a dark alley, Derek parked the car and got out still without any explanation to what was going on.

“Derek, what the hell are we doing?” I demanded getting out of the car leaning up against the car door.  He turned to look at me, squinting his eyes in a threatening matter, I sighed heavily shutting the car door and following both him and Scott.

“It’s okay Kac,” Scott tried to help me relax but I just scoffed

“What about this is okay?” I zipped up my coat wrapping my arms around me for more warmth. “We are walking down a dark alley with a guy we barely know,” I mutter quietly

“Okay, just the other day you were defending this guy,” He questioned, Derek stopped at the back of a building and started climbing up a ladder to the roof. Scott looked over at me and I rolled my eyes.

“That was then, this is now,” I respond heading up the ladder, once on top I could see the flash of blue and red coming from on the ground in front of the building. We walked to the edge of the building Scott and knelt staying out of sight to the commotion below.

I recognized the two in by the ambulance as Lydia and Jackson and then a cop car pulled up and out steps Mr. Stilinski. I looked up at Derek.

“What’s going on?” I asked he gestured back to the scene and when I turned back, I could now see Stiles leaning out of the cop car as a body bag rolled by. The alpha.

“Starting to get it?” Derek asked us

“Uh I get that he’s killing people, but I don’t get why?” Scott responded looking up at Derek. I watched the paramedics load the body into the ambulance before standing up and backing away from the edge tucking my hands into my jacket pockets.

“This isn’t standard practice, right? We don’t go out in the middle of the night murdering everyone, do we?” Scott sounded really concerned and I admit I was too. This isn’t what I wanted to be.

“Wouldn’t all of us be dead, if we were just mindless killers?” I asked turning to face Derek, he nodded

“We’re predators. We don’t have to be killers,” He answered calmly

“Then why is he a killer?” Scott asked anger in his voice, Derek didn’t react to it though

“That’s what we’re are going to find out.” He answered turning to head back down off the building and back to the car. The car ride back was silent as we processed what we had just saw. Once we were back at Derek’s we walked into the house.

“Derek,” He stopped on the stares but didn’t turn around, “I can’t keep doing this, I have school.”

“Yeah, we have lives you know,” Scott added,

“No, you don’t,” Derek shot back quickly, I was a little taken back by his abruptness, I took a step forward

“Yes, we do! I don’t care about what you say about him making us his pets or-”

“Part of his pack.” Derek corrected turning to face us from the stairs.

“Whatever,” Scott threw his hands back

“I thought this alpha doesn’t even know I exist,” I crossed my arms, Derek rolled his eyes. God, he was really testing my patience.

“And how long do you think that is going to last? Huh?” He shot back taking a step down from the stairs, I went to say something back, but he was right, it couldn’t last forever.

“Look, Derek,” Scott spoke up now, “We have homework and I have to go to a parent/teacher conference tomorrow because I’m failing chemistry,”

“You wanna do homework? Or do you wanna not die?” Derek asked us as if it was that simple

“Why is everything about dying lately?” I asked no one in particular, Scott sighed in annoyance throwing his head back

“You two have less than a week until the full moon, you don’t kill wit him, he kills you.” Derek was serious now and I knew he meant well in all of this.

“Okay, seriously! Who made up these rules?” Scott asked in irritation that there was no easy way about this. That we couldn’t just be normal teenagers.

“It’s a rite of passage into his pack.” Derek said as if it was that obvious

“You know what else is a rite of passage? Graduating High School!” Scott fired back and I nodded my head in agreement

“Which is something neither of us is going to do if we keep getting next to nothing on sleep,” I pointed out, Derek rolled his eyes at the both of us.

“Why can’t you just find him? Huh?” Scott asked gesturing to Derek and I swear if it was possible Derek would roll his eyes to the back of his head.

“Would you quit acting like any of this should be obvious?” I spat with a glare, “Why can’t you find him when he is human?” Derek pinched the bridge of his nose closing his eyes before looking back at us.

“Because his human scent could be entirely different, it has to be one of you,” Scott rolled his head back with a soft sigh. “You two have a connection with him, a link that you can’t understand. If I can teach you to control your abilities, you can find him.”

“What makes you so sure?” I asked crossing my arms

“I just know,” Scott and I looked at each other and I sighed knowing we had no other choice.

“If we help you, you can stop him?” Scott looked back up at Derek.

“Not alone were stronger in numbers a pack makes the individual more powerful.” I threw my hands up in the air

“Of COURSE, it does.” I shook my head running my hands through my hair. “How are we supposed to help Derek? Hm? We have no idea what we’re doing!”

“Jesus Christ, because I’m going to teach you!” Derek turned his attention Scott, “Do you remember what happen that first night you were shot in the arm?”

Scott nodded remembering the night “Yeah, I changed back.”

Derek walked down from the stairs nodding his head.

“Mm-hmm and when you were hit by his car, the same thing, right?” Scott nodded his head in confirmation but still wasn’t sure about where he was going with this.

“And you,” Derek turned pointing at me, “What happened when Scott went to attack Stiles?”

“I turned,” I said with a shrug, Derek nodded his head

“And then once Stiles was safe?”

“I turned back,” I muttered

“So, what’s the common denominator for you both,” I looked away, but he could tell I knew the answer by the way my face scrunched up in discomfort.

Scott still didn’t understand what Derek was telling him, so Derek grabbed his hand squeezing it hard enough to break bone causing me to flinch at the sound. Scott yelled out in pain falling to the floor.

“What the hell are you doing?” He yelled out at Derek

“It’ll heal,” Was all Derek said before letting go taking a step back towards the staircase.

“It still hurt,” Scott groaned standing back up gripping his hand

“And that is what keeps you human, pain,” Scott's hand slowly healed as he breathes heavily from the pain, He was finally able to move his fingers again, “Maybe you will survive.” Derek headed back upstairs leaving us alone. I walked over to Scott gently grabbing his hand turning it over to look at it.

“it's fine now,” He mutters quietly before gesturing for us to leave.

My alarm startled me the next morning I shot up grabbing it and throwing it across the room. It shattered against the wall and I flinched as the pieces fell to the floor. Scott came burst in toothbrush sticking out his mouth and towel around his face.

“What the hell?” He asked throwing his hand up. I groaned rubbing my eyes falling back into bed. Scott sighed before going back to his room shutting the door behind him. I rolled so I could grab my phone off its charger looking at the time. I groaned setting my phone back down before rolling flat on my back staring up at the ceiling. If it wasn’t for parent-teacher conferences I would probably ditch today.

I stretched my arms and legs before sitting up, I got up going to take a much-needed shower. It seemed like the only peace I have been getting lately.

Once out I got dressed into some black ripped skinny jeans and an oversized dark grey sweater. I dried my hair when Scott walked into the room backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Ready?” He asked looking at me through the mirror. I nodded my head grabbing my all black vans slipping them on and grabbing my backpack off the floor following him out the door. The ride to school was quiet and we parked our bike in their usual spots.

We walked into the school and Allison was opening her locker as we walked in. As we got to her a bunch of balloons popped out of her locker. I raised an eyebrow with a small smile.

“Happy Birthday Allison,” I whispered with a goofy grin, by the way, she was acting she clearly didn’t want people to know. She gave a shy smile and a small wave making me laugh as I said goodbye heading to class.

For the most part, classes went by smoothly, all teachers mentioned the parent-teacher conferences but by the grace of the gods you had somehow kept up with all you work and had A’s and B’s so you would not be required to attend.

There was one thing that was odd, I had not seen Stiles all day. Normally he would find us right at the start of the day. I shrugged it off as nothing going out to my bike, I noticed Scott’s was still locked up and that’s when I cocked my head in confusion. Now that I thought about it, I hadn’t heard from Scott at all either.

I pulled out my phone sending him a quick text letting him know I was leaving in case he was staying late to study, unlikely, but one can hope. I wasn’t sure if it was because nothing crazy happened today and had an oddly normal high schooler day but something in my gut was telling me something was… off.

I pulled up to my house parking my bike on the porch heading upstairs. I paused at the bottom of the stairs seeing my mom in the kitchen.

“Hey, mom!” I greeted giving her a smile, she looked up from what she was doing and smiled when she saw it was me.

“Hey kiddo,” She greeted before looking back down at the papers all over the table “How was school? Am I going to hear good things tonight?”

I couldn’t make eye contact with her nodding my head that she should.

“I don’t see why not,” I answered before walking back to the stairs, “I’m going to go do some homework,” I shouted before heading up the stairs into my room. I got into my room setting my backpack by the desk kicking off my shoes.

I tossed my phone onto my bed getting ready to change into some sweats when it started going off, I looked at the screen and stiles name shown on the screen.

“Hey! Where the hell were you all day?” I asked him

“Have you heard from Scott?” He asked ignoring my question completely, I frowned and sighed

“No,” I answered bluntly sitting down on my bed

“Look Kac, I was at Lydia’s,” I raised my eyebrow at that

“Why were you at Lydia’s?” I asked my jealousy slipping into my voice, I mentally punched myself and Stiles seem to catch my tone

“Look Kac it wasn’t like that,” He tried to reason but my heart rate was already spiking and I could feel my body temperature rising. Why was I even reacting like this? It’s not like Stiles and I were anything official or anything at all really. I closed my eyes taking a deep breath.

“I gotta go Stiles,” I whispered knowing if only continuing this conversation now would make things worse. I heard him start to protest as I hung up the phone falling back onto my bed. I closed my eyes tight trying to fight back the tears that wanted to breakthrough.

I knew I should have never gotten my hopes up, he would always be in love with Lydia. It’s been Lydia since as long as we have been friends why would that change now?  I felt a tear leave my eye and I quickly whipped it away, I sighed falling back onto my pillows, annoyed at both Stiles and myself. My phone started to go off and, but I clicked the ignore button knowing it was Stiles. I tossed my phone to the side draping my arm over my eyes letting my mind drift to nothing.

I wasn’t sure how long I was asleep but was woken up suddenly by my phone ringing.

“I swear to go stiles,” I grumbled to myself looking at my phone seeing it was actually my mom, I quickly answered rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Mom?” I questioned, I looked at the screen checking the time, it was the parent-teacher conferences right now. “Something wrong?”

“Kacy McCall, do not lie to me with what I am about to ask you, or I swear...” I sucked in a breath confused about what was going on, “Do you know where your brother is?”

“No actually… I really don’t,” And for once I was telling the truth, I hadn’t heard from him since this morning

“Thank you, sweetheart,” My mom said with a heavy sigh before hanging up. Once she got off the phone, I pulled up Scott's number sending a quick text.

Where the hell are you? Mom is pissed!

I looked through my missed calls seeing a few from Stiles and none from Scott I scoffed setting my phone back down. Stiles would at least have to wait till tomorrow when I have calmed down a bit and can think clearly on the subject. Right now, I just felt anger. I looked down at my fingertips seeing the claws and then I looked in the mirror to see yellow eyes staring back at me, I frowned taking a few deep breaths opening them to see my normal eyes now. I heard my phone ding and I quickly picked up seeing it was Scott.

I was with Allison, I’m on my way to the school now.

I sighed shaking my head my phone dinged again

And before you get mad, it was her birthday.

I rubbed the space between my eyes not sure whether to be pissed or annoyed or both. I plugged my phone before getting up and grabbing my beg, it was still early enough that I could get some homework done my short nap giving me some energy.

I swear these boys were going to be the death of my sanity. I pulled out my math homework getting started on the problems. My phone started ringing again, I glanced at the screen.

Stiles Stilinski.

I rolled my eyes going back to my book tapping my pen against my book and at the last right I groaned grabbing it answering it.

“You have 30 seconds,”

“Look Kac, it’s not what you think!” He panicked through the phone; I could mentally see him throwing his arms up in a sporadic manner.

“How do you know what I think?” I tried to play it off like I didn’t know what he was talking about. He sighed and I started to feel bad to how I was reacting. “Stiles, look-“

“No Kacy, don’t hang up on me,” He begged, I rolled my eyes at him but I could help the small smile break out on my face.

“Dammit, I don’t know,”

“You don’t know?”

“Yeah I don’t know, I never thought anything would happen between us,” This news piqued my interest my ears perking up an eyebrow raised in curiosity. Did this mean he felt the same?

“What do you mean?” My voice coming out quieter than I intended, I could feel a lump forming in my throat my heart beating faster than normal. It was quiet between us for what felt like hours only the sound of our breathing. “Stiles?”

“Yeah… I’m still here,” He whispered back “I like you Kac but...” I sucked in a breath tears prickling at the corner of my eyes I covered my mouth.  “I just need some time, I need to sort through some things,” I nodded my head even though I knew he couldn’t see me. A tear trailed down my face. I pulled the phone away from my ear taking a deep breath tipping my head back trying to hold back my tears. I brought the phone back to my ear.

“I-I get it, Stiles,” I cursed under my breath at my broken voice but kept going, “I mean, I have a lot going on too you know, whole wolf thing.” I laughed trying to lighten the mood and reassure him in my words.

“Kacy,” He whispered knowing me too well I heard the front door shut

“I need to get to bed,” I cut him off before he could say anymore, “Goodnight Stiles,” I hung up my phone setting it on the nightstand a few tears falling down my cheeks now that I wasn’t holding them back. A knock on my door pulled me out of my thoughts. I quickly whipped the tears away before telling the person to come in.

The door opened to reveal Scott with a small frown noticing my tear-stained face. I gave him a broken smile before waving him in. He shut the door quietly behind him sitting down on the bed, I rubbed my nose soft sniffles breaking out now. He pulled me over to him embracing me.

I used his shoulder to hide my face as I cried silently, Scott not needing to ask what this was about.

|| Previous | Next ||

Tags: @criminalyetminimal @itshouldbe @sammypotato67  @capandbuck

[piracytheorist]

To Give One’s Trust (1/1)

Note: Written for @csrolereversal​! I must admit that I'd nearly given up and dropped out of the event, but with the help and encouragement of @darkcolinodonorgasm​ and @artistic-writer​, the latter of whom also provided the magnificent art above that inspired this story, I managed to set a smaller, but more attainable goal and finish just in time to participate!

Summary: Captain Hook has been a werewolf for centuries, in control of his wild state. When he gets kidnapped and experimented upon, his desperate actions to escape have dire consequences for him. When Emma Swan meets a feral werewolf on a night with a full moon, she can sense that there's something more to that creature.  Perhaps, with the right amount of trust, she can help him help himself.

Warnings: Violence (yep, there's whump), blood, and near the end, a minor character death that’s a bit graphic.

Word count: ~6k AO3

~

In all his centuries and past torments, Captain Hook had never imagined he’d be brought to such a horrid state.

He’d known better, of course, than to make hopeful dreams for his future. He’d turned pirate because of his brother’s death; he’d surrounded his thoughts with a thirst for revenge because of Milah’s death; he had nothing more to live for...

Except, ever since that damned werewolf bit him, dying had stopped being an option.

And his current tormentors seemed to be aware of that. Actually, he wouldn’t call them tormentors, not exactly. Sure, they spared no sympathy for the pain they were causing him, no reaction to his screams, but overall they were only... testing. Potions, spells, curses, incantations, anything dark magic could conjure up.

They were of course aware of the fact that he couldn’t die and that his healing abilities worked ten times faster than of a normal human. So after they were done experimenting on him for the day, they’d leave him rest, curled up in a pool of his own blood, shivering, as he waited for his multiple wounds to heal. Then they’d come back the next day to continue their experiments.

He could swear that the worst was during the nights he turned. All of his senses were heightened then, as well as his healing, and the experiments got even worse - besides, they had to try the different application of some of them on a three-legged canine.

But that wasn’t the worst.

The worst was the Dark One watching.

He never laid a finger on him as his minions worked on the experiments he was ordering. He only watched, standing outside the cage Hook was kept in, sometimes even smiling at him. Sometimes he stayed after the other men had left, and watched him as Hook struggled to keep his sobs quiet, to not let the Dark One hear them.

Two months being experimented upon and most nights with Rumpelstiltskin watching he managed to keep quiet; that he considered a small victory.

He had made peace with his werewolf nature; thanks to meeting a werewolf pack during his first months of being one, he’d managed to learn to control himself, and for centuries, the night of full moon was just another night. Sometimes, seeing the moon grow larger could even bring him some excitement. The joy brought by running as a wolf could easily come close to the one of sailing in the open seas.

Now, that same sight only brought a reminder of a harsher, more painful night.

Some nights, when his body hurt too much for sleep to claim him, he’d look at the moon peeking outside the window and wonder how long he’d have to endure that.

~

It didn’t take much longer. Just one night before his third full moon there, Rumpelstiltskin got too close, and Hook was just too desperate. With surprising agility, considering his injuries, he plunged his hook into the Dark One’s arm... who was too keen on gloating about the pain he’d been ordering on him to notice Hook’s eyes dropping to the dagger on his belt.

It only took two swift moves to pull it out and bury it deep inside Rumpelstiltskin’s chest.

It was the moment Hook felt his mind stop working. He could watch. He watched Rumpelstiltskin fall on his side, dead. He watched a blast of magic leave him, destroying his cage and incapacitating - killing? - his tormentors before they had a chance to run. He watched the environment change around him as he moved - ran? - outside, to who knew where.

But he wasn’t seeing.

His senses were being assaulted by memories; all the deaths he’d witnessed, with the pain they were accompanied by, striking as if brand new; his torments, from as old as the ones in his childhood, to losing his hand, to the one he’d suffered just that day.

And the most intense of it all, hearing his name whispered around him.

Killian Jones. Killian Jones. Killian Jones.

~

It was daytime when he woke up. He was lying in the middle of a forest, with the bloodied rags he wore in the torture chamber, but all of his wounds healed up, way faster than even his werewolf healing offered.

He wanted to wonder how that could be, but he knew it would be simple denial now.

He was the Dark One. The cursed dagger was in his hand, Rumpelstiltskin’s crusted blood still on it, the name Killian Jones engraved on the blade.

He could already feel something pulsating under his skin. He could hear birds chirping a little too loud next to him, and he was overcome with an urge to kill them. He wanted... something. He wanted to burst out on someone, and the damn forest was too deserted.

The violent thoughts kept coming and coming, and had it been any other day, he’d have simply ignored them or drowned them in a flask of rum.

But that night there’d be a full moon. He’d turn by the first moonbeam, and if his thoughts were already surrounded with an urge of violence, how could he be sure they wouldn’t get even more intense after he turned? Everything was more intense in wolf form. Sight. Hearing. Taste. The taste of flesh.

First, the dagger. The safest place to hide it was his safe at the Jolly Roger, as the only way to open it was with his hook, and his hook always disappeared to... wherever, when he turned, so it would be safe until he turned back into a human.

He held the dagger tight, closed his eyes and thought of his cabin. When he opened them, he was there.

His cabin was as tidy as he could remember leaving it. He didn’t allow any emotions over the loyalty of his crew over the nearly three months he’d been missing; he had to be quick lest someone saw him.

After he secured the dagger, he spent all afternoon building a special cage to keep himself in. Hard, thick steel bars, heavy chains around his limbs and torso, enchanted to stay stuck on his skin and not break by brute force, completed by a blindfold as soon as the sun set.

He lay down, conjuring up thick vines to keep his body pinned to the ground, trying not to think just how easy it was to use magic, and focused on his breath.

I am the wolf.

I am in control.

I am...

~

Emma sighed as she conjured up a few more flames, stoking the campfire. She looked at it, trying to concentrate on the dancing colours to keep her mind off their plans for tomorrow. There was no use worrying over it now, she had already volunteered to help invade the Evil Queen’s castle to bring her down. She didn’t fear her; but she had no doubt she would have doubled her defences, maybe even hired more magicians to help her fight Emma and her parents’ army.

But again, all she should do now was try to relax as much as possible. She was already losing sleep with all that stress, and she needed to be strong tomorrow...

A pang of guilt rushed through her when she heard footsteps behind her. Damnit, now they’d start acting like she was a child, and why isn’t she asleep yet, and Emma, you need to rest, we need your magic...

Instead, she only heard an exaggerated gasp. “Shouldn’t you be asleep, young lady?”

Emma bit her lip to stop herself from laughing. She turned around, finally losing it at Elsa’s over-the-top dramatic face. But Elsa quickly dropped the mockery and sat down next to her.

“At least we can chat to pass the time,” Elsa said.

“Yeah.”

Elsa seemed to notice Emma’s nervousness. “Hey,” she said. “It’s gonna be alright. We’ll have the castle by this time tomorrow.”

“And I’ll take my rightful place as ‘Princess of Misthaven’.”

Elsa simply smiled softly at her, taking her hand in hers. “I’ll always be here, you know. If anything, I know what it feels like to not believing it when people keep telling you you have a place with them.”

Emma nodded, staying silent. The famous lost princess of Misthaven, separated from her parents as soon as she was born, only being found after more than two decades of not belonging anywhere... it’s not that her parents pressured her in anything. But she appreciated having someone to get what she was feeling. Her parents had spent all that time loving her, hoping to find her, while she had spent that time hating them, thinking they’d abandoned her. Such dark thoughts weren’t easy to let go of after so long of having been part of her.

“Thank you,” she said eventually, blinking away a tear.

“So,” Elsa said, “maybe we can lighten up? Play something, a word game or-”

Both their heads perked up towards the bushes at the sound of rustling twigs. They got up, preparing their magic, focusing on any other sound of their attacker. Before Emma could conjure up more flames to help them see better, they saw a dark figure lunge towards them. Emma shrieked, releasing a wave of force magic as Elsa raised a wall of ice in front of them. Through it, they saw the figure hit a tree behind it, then fall gracelessly on the ground. Emma finally conjured up those flames, immediately noticing the form struggling to get up.

“A wolf?” Elsa said.

“No. It’s something... more. I can feel it’s magical.” Emma walked towards it.

She spotted Elsa looking around at the sky. “It’s full moon. A werewolf?”

“No. I mean... yeah, probably, but... I feel something more.” When she was just a few feet away, the wolf jumped up, growling at her and preparing to attack.

Elsa conjured ice around his apparently three paws, keeping him in place. That only lasted a second though, as the wolf looked down at the ice and it immediately melted away.

“He can use magic?!”

Emma closed her eyes, focusing on the deeper magic inside of her as she extended her arms. The werewolf lunged again right then, but a magic sphere appeared around him, immobilizing him mid-air.

“I just need a few seconds,” Emma said. “Keep him frozen somehow so that I can create a magic cage around him.”

As Elsa struggled to keep him immobilized, continuously creating ice around him as he made it melt away, Emma concentrated on her magic again. Somehow, this wolf seemed to have quite powerful magic, and more magic than usual was needed to restrain him. Thick bars appeared around him, enclosing him in a cage wide enough for him to move and even stand when he’d turn back into a human, and Elsa let go.

Immediately, the wolf went for the bars, biting and swatting at them with his paws, but they wouldn’t give. He stepped back, curled inwards, then a blast of force magic left him and struck the bars, but again, nothing happened.

Emma and Elsa sighed, feeling a bit weary after the fight, and kept watching as the wolf, almost without rational thought, kept attacking the bars with force and magic no matter how fruitless his efforts were.

“Go and try to sleep,” Emma told Elsa, whose shoulders were noticeably slouched. “I’ll stay to make sure he doesn’t escape. Though I believe the cage will be strong to hold him overnight.”

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?”

Emma just nodded. As Elsa walked away, back to her tent, Emma turned her attention back to the wolf. She stepped towards the cage, close enough to see him better, but far enough to make sure he couldn’t reach her.

A magical werewolf. Actually, an extra-magical werewolf, since such creatures were already considered to have magic in the first place. He growled at her when she got too close, actually backtracking in the cage.

Huh. Perhaps there was some sense left in him after all.

She could barely feel tired, even after having used all that magic. There was something about this wolf, and she just couldn’t stop imagining all the questions she’d ask him once he turned back into a human.

Technically, she could sleep. The cage proved to be strong enough, and she would need the rest, but she was simply too alert to relax now. She sat back on the log she was sitting on before, watching the poor wolf slam himself into the bars and exhausting himself with magic, again and again and again.

Until he nearly collapsed on the ground, trying to curl up into a ball... and weeping softly.

It was that, no doubt. He was crying, and Emma couldn’t help wondering if it was from exhaustion, pain after hitting the bars so many times... or pure despair.

She wrapped her arms around her torso and leaned forward, trying to will away her memories of feeling so desperate she cried.

~

She woke up with the first sunbeam. She jumped up, panicking momentarily until her bleary vision cleared and she saw the wolf still inside the cage. When the beams reached his cage, a thick black cloud surrounded him, and when it dissipated, a man was at its place.

Emma stepped closer, taking a good look at him. He didn’t appear to have a left hand; in its place was a metal hook, secured on a brace that was wrapped with leather loops around his left arm. He looked tired, and even in pain, if she judged by the crease between his eyebrows. And - holy crap - he was barefoot, dressed in filthy, torn, blood-stained rags. But he didn’t seem to have any wounds, from what she could see.

Suddenly, his eyes popped open and he gasped, scaring her enough to elicit a short yelp, which in turn seemed to scare him, as he scrambled to his knees and arms and tried to move backwards, again gasping when he hit the bars behind him.

“It’s alright,” Emma said. “I’m not gonna hurt you.”

“Where am I?” the man said.

“Just a few miles off...” she almost said “the Evil Queen’s castle” but thought better of giving away their plan. It only then occurred to her that he could have been a spy. “... Misthaven,” she ended up saying. “What’s your name?”

The man looked around the cage, then his face turned sober, serious. “Why am I in a bloody cage?”

“For our protection. And most likely, yours too.”

She saw him swallow hard. “Did I hurt anyone? As a...” His voice trailed off.

“A wolf? Not as far as I know.”

He looked away, a discomfort settling in his features. He seemed to grow more uncomfortable the longer he looked at the cage bars around him.

“Let me out of here,” he said finally.

Emma straightened up, assuming an authoritative stance. “I’m afraid I can’t do that. Not until you answer some of my questions.”

“Are you bloody serious?”

“You were out of control of your werewolf state. You could have harmed my people, for all I know you hurt innocents who crossed your path last night!”

The man fixed her with a stare, then simply stood up, straightening his shoulders too. He raised his hand, conjured up a fireball in it, looked at it with what she could swear was disdain, then hurled it towards the bars.

Emma managed to not flinch. There was a part of her that was uncertain of the effectiveness of the cage now that he was human, but she managed to keep a straight face as the man looked at his hand in surprise.

“What?”

“Yeah. You were just a bit of a nuisance yesterday night. I had to make things a bit more difficult for you.”

Though he seemed to register the words, he conjured another fireball, hurling it towards the bars, then another, and another. He then simply walked to the bars and looked at her angrily. “Get on with your questions, then!”

“What’s your name?”

He seemed to think for a moment. “Captain Hook.”

“Hook?” She looked briefly at his namesake appendage, then back at him. “Were you really out of control last night?”

He seemed confused at that. “What do you mean?”

“One can never be too careful. How do I know you’re not just pretending you have no idea what happened last night?”

“How would you know if I lied?”

Emma smiled. “Try me.”

Hook just looked at her for a moment, before his angry face relaxed a little. He sighed, then said, “I was out of control. I suspected it would happen, so I tied myself with chains, but apparently it wasn’t enough.”

Truth.

“You were using magic, even as a wolf.”

His eyebrows raised at that. “What?”

“After I trapped you in the cage, you kept trying to force your way out of it with magic.”

He looked down at his arms. “This must be how I managed to escape last night.”

Emma opted not to tell him that restraining him had required more magic than she was used to using. “You probably needed someone else’s magic used against you to keep you down.”

He shivered at that, his shoulders slouching forward. “Are you done with your questions?”

“Well, obviously, I can’t let you go without knowing you won’t be a danger tonight as well.”

“So what now? You’ll keep me here all day? I suspect you have better things to waste your time on, lass.”

He looked at her with an almost exhausted expression. For some reason, the way he said and worded that cut deep in her.

“How did you get your magic? I might be able to at least use a spell that will contain it when you’re in wolf form.”

“You keep your bloody magic away from me.”

“Oh, is that so? Perhaps you would like to spend the day in the cage, after all.”

Hook sighed. “I was cursed with it. Both the lycanthropy and the magic. I was in perfect control of my wolf form, but I was... recently cursed with magic, and so it seems, I lost control of the wolf because of it.”

“How were you cursed?”

He didn’t respond for a while. He looked around the cage, biting his lip, clenching his hand into a fist, until he looked at her and said, “Perhaps I would enjoy that night in that cage.”

Emma felt a shiver down her spine. He seemed too reluctant to share the details of his magic, and that wasn’t a good sign. Especially since he seemed to prefer a whole day of imprisonment over sharing it.

“Well, that won’t do then. If you couldn’t control the wolf yesterday, who’s to say you’ll manage that next month? I may have to keep you locked up until you manage that.” She cocked her head. “Perhaps that’ll motivate you.”

He sighed and looked away. “This is bloody ridiculous.”

Before he could turn back towards her, Emma leaned in between the bars and grabbed his hand in hers. He gasped, turning towards her, but didn’t snatch his hand away.

Emma, however, couldn’t let go from the shock. “You’re the Dark One.” Her eyes darted to a tattoo on his arm, a heart with the name ‘Milah’ written on it. She looked up at him, feeling yet another shiver.

His face turned grim, and he finally snatched his hand away. “What of it?”

“What of it?! You killed Rumpelstiltskin? How... when?!”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“The hell it does!” Without any assistance from Rumpelstiltskin, the Evil Queen had no hope against them.

She hadn’t realized she was slightly smiling until Hook said, “You seem quite amused at the news of his death.”

She straightened her face, and her stance as well. “Well... let’s say he wasn’t the best around.”

“That’s quite the understatement.”

“Is that why you killed him?”

“How did you know, anyway? That I am the Dark One?”

“I... well, I sensed it. I can’t really describe it.”

“Hm. Well, in any case, you’ve had your answer, one way or another. Can you let me go now?”

Emma crossed her arms, too uncertain of his intentions. Again, for all she knew, he was the Queen’s minion, sent to kill Rumpelstiltskin so she could assume control of him. “Who’s Milah?”

He swallowed hard, turning his arm so she couldn’t see the tattoo anymore. “Someone from long ago.”

She would never mistake that look on his face. The look of heartbreak, of unspeakable loss. “That’s why you killed him. Rumpelstiltskin.”

He stayed silent, only looked at her, then away again.

Emma looked back at her camp, seeing people having woken up, occasionally throwing glances at them. Elsa was awake too, probably having informed all of them of their current prisoner.

It was almost time.

“I’m still not convinced I should let you go.”

“Too busy planning the attack on the Evil Queen?”

Emma blinked. He simply shrugged at her response, pointing at his ear.

“Wolf hearing. It has bought me my freedom more than once before.”

“Well, for all we know, you could be a spy of hers.”

“I don’t even know the woman.”

Truth.

Damn it.

Wait, what? Why did him not being a spy make her mad?

“Maybe one of her guards hired you,” she tried.

He sighed, exasperation starting to show on his face. “I am not a spy.” He leaned forward, resting his forehead on the bars. “I am not working for anyone. I just want to find a way to get rid of this bloody curse on me.”

Emma just looked at him, at his blood-stained rags, then back again at his face, tired and barely hiding a desperate expression. He mustn’t have known that killing the Dark One would transfer his powers, and thus his curse, onto him.

She sighed, thinking he couldn’t be her responsibility now. She conjured up one of their anti-magic cuffs. “This will block your magic when you wear it. Put it on before sunset and make sure you’ve gotten yourself somewhere where you can’t hurt anyone when you turn.”

He took it, studying it curiously. “Everything I wear disappears when I turn. Won’t it bring the magic back when I turn?”

“Your stuff doesn’t just disappear. You kinda... you’re kinda still carrying them with you. It’ll be alright.”

“You trust me?” He looked up at her, and her stomach coiled at his face. He seemed surprised... but accepting of the sentiment. “I’m the Dark One.”

“Keeping you locked up won’t do any of us any good,” she said, taking a few steps back and raising her hands. “Maybe it can be a peace offering. If I trust you, you don’t cause us any trouble.” Before she had the time to change her mind, she willed the cage to disappear. She opened her eyes, and he was still there, looking at her, with a visibly more relaxed expression.

“I didn’t even get your name,” he said.

“Neither did I yours,” she said, smirking at him. “But I’m about to help claim our kingdom back, and you’re the Dark One. Something tells me our paths will cross again.”

He nodded. With a swift move of his hand, he was covered in dark red smoke.

She had expected him to teleport away, but instead, when the smoke cleared, he was still there, only he was now dressed in lustrous black leather, from the tip of his boots to the long coat over his shoulders.

If that wasn’t enough, he looked up at her and smirked. She felt her stomach twist as he walked past her and said, “Farewell, your Highness.”

She looked behind her as he walked away. Her magic told her it wasn’t a trick; he was actually leaving, to Gods knew where.

Well, she thought, sighing. Let’s hope I didn’t screw this one up.

~

It was a harder, longer, and more bloody fight that they’d expected. Somehow the Queen had managed to gather enough magic energy and armed forces to rival them in both accounts.

Before she knew it, Emma found herself on the ground, defenceless, held at swordpoint by the Evil Queen.

“This is the end for you, Princess,” she sneered. She drew her sword back, ready to strike, and Emma closed her eyes in defeat.

Her eyes snapped open as screams were heard from outside the vast throne room. The Queen turned her head just a fraction towards the door leading outside, but it was enough for Emma to reach forward and grasp the hilt of the blade the Queen held.

Screams could still be heard outside as the two women fought for the sword that would very likely end one of them tonight.

They both turned their heads at the door as it opened, looking startled as one of the Queen’s guards stumbled inside, covered in blood.

“Wolf... feral... attacked... has magic...” he managed to mutter before he collapsed.

They stayed frozen, looking at what was now probably the guard’s corpse when suddenly the Queen snatched the sword off from Emma’s grasp.

“Now,” she said, “Where were we?”

Before she could raise the sword again, they heard a deep, loud growl coming from the door.

A wolf walked in the throne room, stepping steadily towards them, its paws leaving bloody footprints on the floor that glimmered as the moonlight shone on them.

It was... it was he. Hook. Hadn’t he worn the cuff? Or had he... and it didn’t work after all, after his transformation?

“Hey,” Emma said before she could think twice on it. She turned to him, slowly taking a few steps towards him.

The wolf let a louder growl, baring his teeth.

“It’s me,” Emma said. “You remember me.” You have to.

The wolf stepped closer, with more tense steps.

“I know this isn’t you. I saw how shocked you were at knowing you’d lost control. You must have worn the cuff but I was mistaken. It doesn’t work, after all, when you turn.”

“What is this? You took talking to animals from your mother?” the Queen said.

Emma ignored her. “I was wrong. You trusted me, and it led to this. I should have helped you...” she found herself kneeling down, folding her hands on her lap. “I know what it’s like, to have magic you don’t want and can’t control. I know how it hurts. And I know I should have helped you, the way I wished someone would help me when I was having trouble with my magic.” She reached out with her hand, her palm upwards. “My name is Emma Swan. And I can help you now. You don’t have to keep facing that pain anymore.”

The wolf walked more slowly now, but still steadily, towards her.

“I know you’ve been in pain. I saw it on your face. And I can’t claim to be able to help with that, but... I know how that feels too. And I trust you. I know you can find yourself.”

The wolf reached closer, then stopped, still in a position ready to lunge. However, it only leaned his nose forward, sniffing at Emma’s hand.

Emma smiled, but then the wolf looked up and lunged.

She merely blinked in shock, feeling time freeze around her. She looked at her still outstretched hand, panic overcoming her that she was done, over with, killed.

But then she heard the Queen scream behind her. She turned, seeing the wolf pin her down, his teeth burrowing in her neck.

The Queen didn’t scream anymore.

The wolf let her go, looking down at her corpse, then turned his head towards Emma.

“She was going to kill me,” Emma whispered. “You saved me.”

The wolf hung his head, however. Emma immediately offered her hand again and he stared at it for a few good moments, before he walked back to her with tired, slow steps.

“I’m here,” Emma said.

The wolf smelled her hand again, then rubbed his snout against it.

“It’s alright.”

He let out a soft whimper, before he slumped on the floor, slowly resting his head on her lap.

Emma hesitated; he seemed to be back in control now, but she couldn’t be sure how much touch he’d be comfortable with at this point. Deciding it was worth a try, she lowered her hand, letting it rest on his head. He seemed to... sigh? So she started brushing her fingers through his fur, stroking back and forth in what she hoped was a relaxing manner.

He’d saved her. He had found his control back with her words, and took the action to save her life.

And now, he was trusting her.

She was yet to see, though, what damage he’d caused while out of control.

~

His skin felt as if it was burning.

It must have, for the room was full of fire, and he was trying to escape, slamming his body against the burning walls in a desperate effort to bring them down.

But every time he hit a wall, another shriek sounded. Men, fearing for their lives. Screaming as he buried his teeth in their skin or slashed it open with his claws.

But it hadn’t been them he’d been looking for. He, or whatever it had been that had led him there.

He knelt down, clutching his arms against his chest, whispering to himself the only thing that brought him comfort amidst the screams and fire.

Emma Swan. Emma Swan.

~

He opened his eyes.

He still felt exhausted, though he had slept, apparently.

On Emma Swan’s lap.

“Hook?” he heard.

He looked up, and there she was, looking at him with worry.

“Are you alright?”

He closed his eyes, then opened them and forced himself to pull away from her and sit up. They were still in that throne room, the bodies of the queen and the guard having been taken away.

“What’s the damage?” he said without looking at her.

“Smaller than I’d expected, to be honest. My people said you just ran by them, only attacking people who actually stood in your way. All of them were the Queen’s guards, and you didn’t kill any of them.”

“I bit and clawed at them.”

“They’ve had worse days.”

“There was a... a guard, and the queen...”

“The guard will make it. Will stand trial, of course, but he’ll be fine. As for the Queen... I can’t say I wasn’t about to do the same to her.”

He hung his head, covering his eyes with his hand. “I didn’t... I... wolves don’t just kill. We kill to... eat.” After a short pause to give her time to process that, he continued. “This time was different. All my instincts led me to tear her throat open.”

“You saved my life.” She put a hand on his shoulder, and he nearly jumped up. He looked at her, his heart stopping at her soft smile. “It was a hard thing to do, yes, but if it weren’t for you, I would be dead, and our kingdom would be lost. And, Hook... you controlled yourself.”

He lowered his head again. “Killian,” he whispered.

“What?”

“My name, my real name, is Killian.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw her smile widen. “Do you know what brought you here?”

He shook his head. “I blacked out from the moment I turned, next thing I remember was being here, you talking to me.” He swallowed hard. “You helped me.”

“You trusted me back.”

Aye, that he did. Both silent for a moment, he looked into her eyes, wondering how it all came together like this. She had helped him, offered a way to possibly control the wolf, and though that had failed... her trust had been enough. It felt enough.

“Why did you trust me in the first place?”

She licked her lips, making him shortly but intensely shift his focus on them, then said, “I know what it’s like, to feel out of control. I thought that... if I gave you what I wished I had been given, we could avoid difficult consequences, for you, for me, and possibly everyone.”

“I didn’t want to become the Dark One,” he confessed. “I still don’t... want this.”

She reached out, taking his hand in hers. His stomach clenched, and he nearly felt tears in his eyes.

“I don’t know a whole lot about the Dark One,” she said. “What little I do know I didn’t dare share or look into, out of fear that Rumpelstiltskin would find me and...”

He squeezed his hand around hers without thinking. “You think there’s a way to fix... this? Destroy the curse?”

“We can try. That darkness hasn’t done anyone any good.”

He thought of his dagger, carefully hidden in the safe. It was what gave him this curse, what could control him and his magic...

But he wasn’t ready to risk losing all control again. It would take a month before his next time to turn. “You think you could help me again? Next time I turn?”

She nodded. “I know we just met, and trusting each other sounds weird...”

It sounds right.

“But if you’re willing to stay and let me help, I think we can work together towards a cure. Or something.”

“What if it gets worse? What if I lose control and escape before you can stop me?”

She leaned forward. “I guess I’ll have to find you, then.”

Once again, they looked into each other, and Emma wasn’t pulling away. His eyes dropped to her lips again, this time slightly parted, and now leaning even closer...

“Emma! We’re going to need-”

They pulled away as if in shock, letting go of each other’s hand as a couple entered the room.

“Everything alright?” the man asked.

“Yeah, yeah,” Emma said, standing up. “Uhm... Hook, these are my parents. I guess now it’s Queen Snow and King David.”

He didn’t feel like standing up yet, only acknowledging them with a nod. He’d still have some way to go before bowing down again.

David reached out with his hand. “Your arrival on the battle was quite the shock for everyone, but it ended up being to our benefit.”

Killian nearly scoffed. Guess that’s enough to make the nightmares worth it, he thought.

“And you saved my daughter’s life. For that, I’ll always be grateful.” He then knelt next to him, still offering his hand. “And at your service.”

Shocked at the apparent King’s humility and gratefulness, Killian found himself shaking hands with him.

“As soon as we fix the castle, you’re welcome to find yourself a room here,” the new Queen said. “We can work out the rest as we settle down here again.”

When they left, Killian finally stood up, looking at the cuff still on his wrist.

“You can take it off anytime, you know,” Emma said.

“They know I’m the wolf.”

“Well, they kinda came in seeing said wolf sleeping on my lap, then as soon as the sun rose, you turning into a human.”

“You didn’t tell them my real name.”

“Well, when they saw you turn back, they started asking questions, and that was the name I knew of you at the time. And now I guessed it’s up to you to share it with them.” She then leaned closer, whispering, “I didn’t tell them you’re the Dark One either.”

He looked at her in shock.

She merely shrugged. “I told you. I’m trusting you. It’s your choice to tell them, if you want them to know.”

Once again, he hung his head. “Thank you, Emma.”

“We’ll find a way. We can get rid of the darkness, then...”

He looked at her as she was apparently searching for words. He couldn’t blame her; a big part of him wanted to stay, already trusted her, but it was all too complicated...

He took a big breath, and as if waking up from a slumber, he assumed the bravado he’d worn so casually over time. He leaned forward, looking straight into her eyes, saying,

“Then, that’s where the fun begins.”