#else the light on the glacier is really bad

[tjerra14]

Glacier dates

#horizon zero dawn #hzd #hzd photomode #aloy x ikrie #aloy/ikrie #i miss them #been rotting my brain away to some asg the entire weekend #so this is what happened about 36 hours in #very glad the game allowed for some sun #else the light on the glacier is really bad #especially in the lil valley where you first meet ikrie fighting her relationship crisis with some grazers

[paperbag-prncss-writes]

From Tirol with Love

König x F! Reader

(Read Here on AO3)

Summary:

Callsign Moon and König are on a mission in the mountains. The change of weather forced them to hide out in a hut. Eventually one thing lead to another and they were blowing their steam off.

It is cold. So bloody cold. The blond woman pulled her balaclava further over her nose, so she could protect her face from the freezing air, which felt like cutting her skin. The bright reflection of the sunlight on the snow-covered mountain was almost blinding her. Quickly she tucked her ski goggles back to cover her eyes.

It was early February, the snow was fresh and it was a windy day. Under other circumstances, she would have never gone skiing on a day like this. However, today they are in a hurry. When KorTac received the mission to catch up on a target, who was planning to flee from Italy to Austria over the Alps, they quickly need to secure a possible route, so they could catch up on him.

It was her colonel König who formed different teams to find new routes over the glacier, after an avalanche last week made it impossible to cross the borders by the known route. König himself wanted to cover up the route over the Weißseespitze via ski. As a partner, he picked one of the sergeants, Call sign Moon. After working under König’s supervision for two years Moon was confident on skiing, but the cold always hits her hard. She could never get used to it.

Two clicks confirmed Moon’s boots are securely attached to the skis again. She grabs the ski poles tight and patiently looked at König, waiting for further instructions. She is glad her balaclava hides her grin so well, because she could not stop rolling her eyes when she sees him. He looks so ridiculous. Normally, at the base, he wears this stupid black shirt over his face, but here on the mountain, he really choses to wear a white shirt over the face, so he could blend in with their snow camouflage? Like the balaclava would not cover his face enough already? It looks just like a negative from what he usually wears. This man really put some afford into his outfit. She would have never guessed he is so vain.

König took a last look on his GPS before he gave Moon a nod. “Are you ready? We need to go 3km west - downhill.�� Moon slides closer to him, “Yes, ready when you are.” König gave himself a push with the ski sticks to slide down the mountain. He leads the way down, close to the original route. Moon was right behind him. She could not see a difference on why the old route would not be passable anymore. She could only trust König in what he was doing. Suddenly he stops, Moon stops right beside him. He was almost half a meter taller, she lifting her head so bad to meet his gaze. “Did you hear that?”, he asked. Moon tried to listen to any noise, but the only sound she could notice was the wind, howling deep. “No, what do you mean?” König was silent for a brief moment, trying to find more of the noise he heard. “It was a thunder. Looks like it could be another avalanche somewhere. We need to find shelter.” Moon’s stomach turns. This was the worst-case scenario. Her mind went almost blind if König would not have pulled her back into reality. “There is a mountain hut close by. Follow me.” He started to slide further down and Moon was close behind him. Moon was focused on every little noise while she slides close behind him, not like she could change anything about the situation, but there was nothing else she could do.

Just as König promised, they arrived at the mountain hut shortly after. They entered it immediately only to see the last time it might have been used was a while ago. It was a bit dusty, but still cosy somehow. Moon was happy to take she skis off her boots and stomps on the wooden floor. König moves around and checks if they have everything they need for the moment, “There is a bit of wood, so we can light the fireplace.” He slides his feet out of the heavy boots, so he can move around better. Moon just turns around, “What do you mean? How long are we staying?”. König chuckles, “As long as we need to. At the moment it’s not safe to go out.” The cold floor sends him shivers up the body. He piles up a few logs of firewood and lights them on fire. While watching the fire to burn higher and take over the whole log, he started to undress himself. Taking off the jacket and hanging it over a chair, facing the fireplace, so it can dry. He sits beside the fire and waits for it to warm him up.

Moon could not stop starring at him. König in his compression clothes was a hell of a sight. She knew he worked out, but his body was looking good in this tight shirt. Quickly she brushed this thought off, he was her Colonel after all. She got out of her jacket as well. The place was tiny, so it did not take long until her eyes catches a book. She flips the pages and reads a few entries. It’s the guestbook wanderer left when they passed the Alps and seek shelter at this hut. Moon looks out of the window and wonders how peaceful this hut could be, if there wasn't an avalanche threatening at the very moment. She did not even realize when König was suddenly standing behind her. He was massive compared to her. A thunder caught his attention. His eyes piercing the area trying to find the place where it was coming from. The echoes made it hard to locate. His reflexes worked to quick. Before Moon could even notice, his hand was on her waist and he pulled her over, “Away from the window!”, he screamed. He could move her over so quickly, like it was nothing. The snow masses dash down the mountain, only hundred meters away from their mountain hut. The thunder was threatening, but it was a close call. Moon grabs to the next thing to hold herself, but it was his chest. His body felt hard, no tense, but his warmth was comfortable… Moon blushes and stumbles, “Th… thanks, Sir.”

The shock gave her body shivers. She sits on the bed and tries to calm herself, while König sends an emergency call. They would need to be rescued from the mountain, the snow masses are not safe to enter. After a while, König turns to her, mounting so intimidating in front of her. “They’ll try to send a rescue team tomorrow at sunrise. The weather is changing right now. We need to stay here over the night.” Moon nods and pulled her knees in to keep her body warmth close. If they wait this out, they will need to safe resources. It is not the first time Moon is rescued out of a mission, but this time the threat isn't human.

König puts another log in the fire before takes a seat by the window. “Try to get some sleep, Moon. You’ll need some stamina when we make it out tomorrow. I take the first watch.”

Moon rolls her eyes. Why would he take a watch anyway? It's not like they would expect any human enemies any minute when an avalanche just rolled past them. Maybe it is just a soldier habit to have a watch over sleeping teammates. Or maybe it was, because this hut only has one bed.

Moon only keeps her compression clothes on and rolls over on the bed, facing the wall. With all the gear off she only recognized now how sore her muscles felt. The tension could finally wash off. Yet, she was not tired, but wants to use the time to relax at her best. She closes her eyes and listens to the cracking of the wood in the fire. Her breath got calm and the room gets darker.

Eventually König came to the conclusion there is no need to keep a night watch. He figured Moon was asleep regarding her calm and relaxed movements. He tries to be as calm and slow as possible to sneak under the blanket. Of course Moon noticed the sudden movement on the bed, “Oh, sorry Sir, is it my turn already?”. She wanted to get up, but König puts a hand on her shoulder and pushes her back into bed. “Negative. There’s no use watching the pitch black darkness. We’re safe here. Let’s get some rest.” Moon turns around again. She tries to play it cool being in one bed with her colonel, but there is nothing they could change about this situation. König was trying to get comfortable in the bed, but it was a difficult task regarding his massive build and the additional person in the bed. After rolling around a few times he found a position, that was ok for him, resting his hand on Moons shoulder. Moon was feeling her cheeks blushing. As much as she tries to act it professional, but she could not ignore the feeling of his body pressed against her back any longer. It was making her nervous. It’s been God knows how long since somebody touched her and she could not lie, but König was feeling way too comfortable. If… there was not a growing stitch on her bum. She considered for a moment, if she just wants to ignore it, or speak up, but decided it is better to get it off her chest. “Colonel… please tell me that’s a pistol you took in bed with you.” König chuckles, “What? A soldier like you shouldn’t be afraid of heavy weapons.”

Moon folded. She was not prepared for him being so cocky. But after all... he still has a nice body and she was touch starved. Did she get him right, or was her imagination running wild with her at the moment? She did not even notice her body reacting to him. König came even closer so he could whisper in her ear, “You should know I can feel you clenching down there.”. He gently slides his big hand down her back till it stops at her waist and draws little circles. Moon was glad the room was dark and she was facing the wall, otherwise he would notice her blushing so bad. “Sorry, Sir... it's just... haven't been touched by anyone in months...” she stuttered. It was a lie, it was even longer now - years maybe. The grip in his hand was growing stronger, he pulled Moon closer in. “Oh? Isn't that exciting?”, he whispers with a smirk. His hand carefully slides under Moon's shirt. His fingers traced the curves of her waist, like he was testing the waters.

His touch sends shivers over Moon's whole body. She bites her lip in anticipation where this behaviour would lead to. König's hand slides further up till he cups her breast. “Is this like you remember it?” Moon holds her breath. “... similar.”, she pressed out between her teeth. While his fingers continued massaging her breast and playing with her nub, his other hand grabs her hips tight and pulls her into his lap. “Want me to remind you how it's like?”

Moon cursed his name in her mind, whimpers is all she lets out, once she feels his big cock pressing against her bum. “Sorry, I didn't hear you, little one.”, König whispers in her ear. “...yes.” she muffles in her pillow. “That's better...” His hands started caressing her tights. Even through the fabric of her compression pants, she could feel his hands being to gentle on her. Eventually he pulled her in on the waistband of her pants. He was getting more demanding. Moon answers with desperate whimpers.  He pulls her pants off, giving himself more access to her to feel her soft skin. His hands slipped so easily between her legs, feeling her heat, sweat moisten her skin. Moon moans and bites her pillow to dampen her noises, when his fingers reached her slit – tracing her puffy lips up and down before he circles her bundle of nerves in a slow pace. “What's that? Already so wet?” One finger enters her, he growls, feeling her sucking him in so easily. He pumps his finger in and out while his thumb rubs her clit in circles. “You're really desperate, aren't you?” “Please...” “Please what, Hasi?” “I need to feel you...” König was knuckles deep in her, feeling her gummy walls clenching, desperate for him to feel. He inserted a second finger, stretching her, making her feel full. “Look at that... you're doing so well.”

König moves around, grabs her waist and turns her on her back. He hovers on top of her, squeezing the flesh of her tights. “How come, you didn't let anyone touch you for so long?” Moon gets hold on the waistband of his pants and pulls him closer. “There was nobody I liked.”, she said seductively. König gives in and rubs his cock over her swollen clit. “But you like me?” It was more of a statement than a question. Moon only nods, biting her lip to swallow her moans. König pulls down his pants, letting the tip of his cock trace her slit up and down. Her juices coating him so well. He presses his his cock slowly into her pussy, carefully not to hurt her – he wants her to get used to his size. “Slow, and gentle... you're doing so well.” Moon takes a deep breath in, feeling him stretching her so wide. Her nails digging deep into his shoulders, pulling him closer. König notices her eagerness, her pussy sucking him in, but he wants to go slow on her. “You listen to me, Hasi. I want you to get used to me, feel me. And when you come, you scream my name.” Moon wraps her legs around his hips, rolling her eyes back as he goes in even deeper.

König thrusts in and out in a slow but steady pace – his hands pinning her hip into the bed, giving her no chance to move. He enjoys the cute little noises Moon makes under each thrust way too much. It encourages him to go a bit faster, his thumb rubbing over her clit. He feels her pussy clenching around him. “That's it, Hasi. Taking me so well. You're amazing.” Moon's legs started shaking, he hits her g-spot just too good. Being so touch starved didn't help much, König was pushing her right to the edge. “Come on, Hasi. I know you're close. Come on my cock, let me feel that sweet pussy sucking me in.” It only takes two more thrusts to push her over the edge. Her core was pulsating, trembles washing over her body. “Fuck, yes König! Yes!”

König couldn't hold it any longer, her pussy was choking his cock. He painted her gummy walls all white. He is almost collapsing on her. His head laying on her shoulder as he whispers, “Actually, it's Lukas.” Moon smirks, “Alright.... Lukas.” “So, was this like you remember your last time?” “No... this one was better.”

#call of duty #cod mw2 #cod mwii #könig #könig x reader #könig mw2 #könig call of duty #konig x reader #könig cod #cod x reader #call of duty modern warfare #cod smut #mw2 smut #call of duty x reader #call of duty smut #könig smut #kinktober #smutober #smut oneshot #smut fic #smut writing

[worstcharacterpoll]

Thanks for playing! Here's the summary (long post incoming)

[Image description: A 32-entry tournament bracket in black and red titled "Tumblr's most hated." It is a visual representation of the summary described below. Notably, Ross as the "winner" is wearing a Burger King paper crown, and Walter White and Mort as revival contestants have steel chairs edited in next to them. End ID]

First round summary with bracket links (see the individual posts for vote counts, percentages, and comments):

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Pearl (Steven Universe); Vriska won

Rex (Victorious) vs. Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty); Rick won

Ansem the Wise (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Gul Dukat (Star Trek: Deep Space Nine); Ansem TW won

Kylo Ren (Star Wars) vs. Kokichi Ouma (Danganronpa); Kylo won

Scrappy Doo (Scooby-Doo) vs. Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory); Sheldon won

Pierre (Stardew Valley) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Pierre won

Seraphine (League of Legends) vs. Heimskr (Skyrim); Heimskr won

Jurgen Leitner (The Magnus Archives) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug); Andre won

Walter White (Breaking Bad) vs. Light Yagami (Death Note); Light won

Buck Cluck (Chicken Little) vs. Ross Geller (Friends); Ross won

Bramblestar (Warriors) vs. Starlight Glimmer (My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic); Bramblestar won

Goro Akechi (Persona 5) vs. Pariston Hill (Hunter x Hunter); Pariston won

Katsuki Bakugo (My Hero Academia) vs. Berdly (Deltarune); Katsuki won

Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) vs. The Impostor (Among Us); Angel won

Olaf (Frozen) vs. Hooty (The Owl House); Olaf won

Zenos viator Galvus (Final Fantasy XIV) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

In the second round, I brought back Walter and Mort because they lost by slim margins in the first round. Here's the summary:

Vriska Serket (Homestuck) vs. Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty); Rick won

Ansem the Wise (Kingdom Hearts) vs. Kylo Ren (Star Wars); Kylo won

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Pierre (Stardew Valley); Sheldon won

Heimskr (Skyrim) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug) vs. Walter White (Breaking Bad); Andre won

Light Yagami (Death Note) vs. Ross Geller (Friends); Ross won

Bramblestar (Warriors) vs. Pariston Hill (Hunter x Hunter) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Mort won

Katsuki Bakugo (My Hero Academia) vs. Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel); Angel won

Olaf (Frozen) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

Round 3 was when I got marked as spam and shadowbanned (I know it wasn't actually a "shadowban," but that's the term) so there were less votes overall in this round. But I don't think redoing the round would have altered the results, and they still got over 1k votes each.

Rick Sanchez (Rick and Morty) vs. Kylo Ren (Star Wars); Kylo won

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Andre Glacier (Miraculous Ladybug); Sheldon won

Ross Geller (Friends) vs. Mort (Madagascar); Ross won

Angel Dust (Hazbin Hotel) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Tony won

In the semifinals we were down to four live-action white dudes which I find kind of sums up what kind of character people on tumblr hate on its own. These were a week long because I was still shadowbanned but I think I got my blog restored partway through this round.

Kylo Ren (Star Wars) vs. Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory); Sheldon won

Ross Geller (Friends) vs. Tony Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe); Ross won

And then there were two, and I did my best to create art for the finals so please check it out in the link.

Sheldon Cooper (The Big Bang Theory) vs. Ross Geller (Friends)

Ross won. It wasn't even that close. So as promised, he was publicly executed. In Skyrim. Because what else would it be.

Personally I never watched Friends so Ross sweeping was not what I expected lol. There were some characters I put on opposite ends of the bracket because I thought the finals would be Vriska vs. Bakugo or Kylo vs. Tony or something like that. But it turns out people really hate annoying sitcom dudes, at least from the sample size that voted in this poll.

I'm doing another tournament soon and I'm currently taking nominations so please check out @youngersiblingstournament if you're interested :) thanks for playing!

#worst character poll

[delta-orionis]

Tuesday Again No Problem 4/2/24

I feel like this is one of those weeks where I was extremely busy but accomplished very little...

Listening

Earlier this week I felt compelled to go back and listen to some of the songs by AURORA that were featured in that Sky: Children of the Light concert from a while ago.

This song in particular is one that I'd love to create a music video for if I had the skill or patience.

Because I have Rain World on the brain, it brings to mind a slugcat (Survivor and Monk in particular) who are just focused on survival but slowly start to become aware of exactly why the world around them functions the way it does.

Watching

My Well There's Your Problem marathon continues. The most recent episode I listened to was this one about the Y2K Bug:

(Again, it's kind of cheating for me to put a podcast with slides in the watching section, but I haven't really been watching anything else...)

Reading

Fallow this week.

Playing

I'm back to playing Rain World.

I was putting off beating the Artificer campaign, so I finally said "fuck it", and killed the Scavenger king in a very anticlimactic way by just chucking a singularity bomb at them.

In other news, I started a Hunter playthrough. I'm going to admit up front that I cheated in extra cycles for myself because I know for sure I will not be able to beat the game in under 25. To be honest I kind of wanted to do a relatively normal run where I can take my time and also be a carnivore.

Oh, and I have slugpups unlocked, so I keep finding the little guys everywhere. (They're hard to keep alive, unfortunately...)

My adventures have so far included...

Getting bullied by squidcadas,

Watching vultures beat the shit out of each other,

And witnessing one of the strongest enemies in the game get electrocuted to death right in front of me.

I finally reached Five Pebbles today. I got to him by climbing The Wall by way of Chimney Canopy, which isn't the route I usually take. I also made the (probably foolish) decision to take the long way out and go through his interior to access the Underhang. That might have been a bad idea, but Five Pebbles is one of my favorite areas in the game and I didn't want to miss an opportunity to pass through it. The Underhang sucks, though. If I get too frustrated I might just go back up through the inside (since fast travel isn't available for Hunter).

Making

I haven't made much progress on my crochet projects this week. I am getting close to finishing that granny square tote bag, though. I started the tedious process of weaving in all the loose ends.

I've also been revising that post I mentioned last week about trying to estimate how big Rain World's iterators are. My initial estimate was WAY too big, I think, and I've been debating even keeping it in the post at all. For the sake of clarity it might be best to delete it, even though I went through the trouble of making some diagrams for it... I'll think about it some more.

In addition, I’m continuing to worldbuild for my iterator OC. I made a rough layout of their facility grounds:

The idea is that they sit on top of a mountain, where their rain freezes into several glaciers which flow down to the base. At the base are twelve dams which collect the water, arranged like a big clock.

This “clock” is broken up into six sectors which serve different functions, and have analogues to the regions from the game (noted above in parentheses). I’d like to make a more polished map, maybe some time in the future.

I also posted some doodles the other day (featuring the same OC being smacked in the face)

--

This coming week, I'm traveling to the path of totality for the April 8th solar eclipse. Because I'll be traveling, I can't imagine I'll have much to report in terms of the Tuesdaypost, but I guess we'll see.

#tuesdayposting

[not-a-coral-snake]

for the @lamenweek Day 2 prompt: Alternative Universe

In this case, a Private Eye/Film Noir au.

The sign on Laurent’s door reads “Investigations,” but really his job is broader than that. ‘Solutions Specialist’ might be more accurate. People bring him problems, he solves them.

And business is good, these days. The once-gleaming metropolis outside his windows continues its slide into gloomy decay with all the slow inevitability of a glacier moving down a mountainside, and even as the more sunshiney aspects of the economy dwindle, there remains a steady stream of corrupt politicians and crooked businessmen growing richer off the desperation they inflict on everyone else. Desperation makes people reckless, and reckless people make bad choices, and bad choices get people into the sort of situations they bring to Laurent to get them out of. Money whispers in the halls of power and creeps through back channels, and enough of it crosses Laurent’s hands to keep him in rent and coffee and whatever crappy sandwiches the automat has on offer.

It’s past closing time, and Laurent’s secretary Radel would have never let the man, no matter how belligerent or well-dressed he may be, into Laurent’s office at this hour. But Radel left early today, and it’s just the kid minding the desk out front.

Laurent looks the man over, trying to guess what kind of case this will be. There’s a lot of him to look over. He’s easily 6’5”, maybe 6’6”, with shoulders like a mountainside and a stance like a soldier or an athlete. Burnished bronze skin, black curls that gleam in the light from Laurent’s desk lamp, square jaw, strong features.

“What’s your name then, sweetheart,” he says finally, when it becomes clear the man is waiting for him to speak first.

The man’s lip twitches slightly. Not used to being mocked, then.

“Damianos Akielopoulos,” he says. “Sweetheart.”

“Charmed, I’m sure. And you’re here in my office three hours past closing time because . . . “ Laurent says.

“It’s about a woman,” the man--Akielopoulos--begins. Isn’t it always? Laurent is glad, as he so often is, that his preferences do not run that way.

Could be a crooked politician or a businessman looking to cover up a potential damaging scandal, judging from the fancy suit, but something in the man’s specific brand of discomfort says “personal matter.” He’s embarrassed, with a sort of “aw shucks” embarrassment that reads different than the shame of civic figures complicit in wrongdoing. Could be he wants Laurent to look into a crime, pick up a case the cops abandoned or bungled--the air of righteous anger he carries is right for that--but with a suit like that, the cops would keep working on the case until the man in Laurent’s office was satisfied with it. No, this is probably the sort of case that unfortunately makes up Laurent’s bread-and-butter. A cheating partner.

The woman, Akielopoulos is telling him, had shown up in his life two years prior. She was whip-smart and ambitious and movie-star beautiful. A dangerous combination, all golden hair and cutting remarks and underneath it a mind as ruthless as an ice storm in March.

“So you were in love with her,” Laurent says. Which makes it worse. Jobs are always harder when the person paying him is too emotionally involved to see reason.

Akielopoulos is not used to being interrupted, is not used to frankness. “Yeah, I was in love with her,” he says. “But that’s not the point, the point is,” he continues.

The point is that she had always taken an interest in his work, and Akielopoulos had welcomed it. Had grown accustomed to telling her about the day-to-day patterns of his work at his father’s company, the details of board meetings, the company’s unannounced plans and secret worries. He’d liked her attention. He’d liked the cool, calculating expression she’d wear when analyzing his colleague’s motivations, how to bring them over to his way of thinking. And the advice she’d offered him had been good, and he’d liked that about her, too, her fierce intelligence, her knack for cutting to the heart of a problem. 

“And then she took all that privileged company information to your competitors and left you out to dry,” Laurent says.

“Not exactly. Worse. We knew someone was spying from within the company. Stealing patents, bringing them to our competitors. Maybe stealing plans for corporate strategy too.”

And Akielopoulos’s father had put Akielopoulos in charge of rooting out the problem. A test of sorts, to see if he was ready to take on a leadership role now that Theomedes was thinking about moving towards retirement. “I think he was worried I was too soft-hearted to be effective,” Akielopoulos says, and though his tone had been veering more towards pure “righteous anger,” the “aw shucks” is now back in full force. 

“And it turned out that this lover of yours--Jokaste--she was the one selling secrets,” Laurent says, varnishing his voice with an extra layer of boredom in the hopes that it makes the man get to the point faster. He’s going to kill Nicaise for letting him in in the first place, expensive clothes and belligerent charm be damned. It’s nearly nine and Laurent wants to head home for fuck’s sake. 

“No. Well, maybe. Probably. I don’t know. What I know is, the investigation was going nowhere for weeks and then finally I thought I was getting somewhere and then--”

And then Theomedes had called him in to a meeting with the board. An important meeting, an urgent one, no way of finding out in advance what about. And Akielopoulos had been able to look nowhere other than his father’s face, the anger there almost drowned under bewildered, devastated disappointment. “It was my brother and Jokaste presenting,” he says. “They had names and dates and evidence--fucking exhibits they’d had printed out and were passing around to the board. All about how they’d caught me, how I was the one sabotaging the company from within. My own family’s company! As if I would ever do a thing like that, as if I would even have any possible reason to do a thing like that, as if--”

Laurent stops listening and lets him go on in that vein for a bit longer in the hopes that he’ll burn himself out and they can finally talk business. But the rant seems to be gathering steam, rather than fizzling out, so he interrupts again.

“So how long have they been sleeping together?”

“What?”

“Jokaste and your brother. How long have they been sleeping together?”

“I never said they were sleeping together.”

“So you’re saying they’re not sleeping together.”

“Five months,” Akielopoulos says, like the words are a bitter confession Laurent’s extracted and not a crucial piece of the case he’s keeping Laurent here past closing to tell him about. “She’s five months pregnant, and she says the baby is his, so at least five months.”

Laurent is tempted to whistle, stops himself at the last moment. Five months is a long time not to notice your girlfriend is fucking your brother. 

“So can you help?” Akielopoulos says.

“Help?” Laurent repeats.

“I need to find out who was really stealing secrets from the company. I need to find proof that Jokaste and Kastor framed me, so my father will give me my job back. And if they got rid of me for any reason other than taking my job, if they’re planning something else they don’t want me around for, I need to find out what it is and stop them.”

He draws a breath. “You’re a private investigator. Help me investigate.”

Laurent stares past him, through the reflected light on his window out at the darkened office building across the way. “It may get messy,” he says at last. “Family matters typically do.” 

“You know from experience?” Akielopoulos says. Laurent rewards him with his iciest glare.

After a beat, Akielopoulos seems to consider his question withdrawn. “It doesn’t matter. Whatever else they’re planning, Kastor and Jokaste need to go down.”

“Do you want them dead?” Laurent asks, careful not to let the question alter the insouciance of his posture. “Because I don’t kill for money.”

Akielopoulos’s posture, on the other hand. The man reacts as though slapped, though he recovers quickly. “I wouldn’t expect a man in your profession to go around wearing his moral code on his sleeve.”

Fair enough, Laurent supposes. Most people in his business would sell their own mothers’ tombstones for a shot of whiskey. But Laurent, he doesn’t drink, and he’s always found it necessary to determine where you draw the line before you start the job. To get what you want, you have to know exactly how much you’re willing to give up.

“I’m in the habit of setting realistic expectations. Saves time later.”

“I don’t want them dead,” Akielopoulos says. “They’re family. But I need my father to know the truth.”

And if everything else about the man’s demeanor, his ridiculous story, his adorable moral outrage, hadn’t thoroughly convinced Laurent that Damianos Akielopoulos is as naive as they come, that line about the truth would have done the trick.

“So,” says Akielopoulos after a beat. “Are you in?”

The man is trouble. Laurent would be able to see that blindfolded from a mile away.This whole job reeks of trouble like Saturday’s catch of the day on a Friday night. But sometimes trouble is its own reward, the heart pulsing, heady feeling of being alive never stronger than when you have to fight to remain so. Sometimes the easiest way to outdistance the clinging memories of your own demons is to dive fresh into a vat of somebody else’s. 

Aw, what the hell. 

“I’m in,” Laurent says.

#please picture laurent with his feet on his desk the whole time #captive prince #Lamen Week #Lamen Week 2022

[girlongirlactionatadistance]

I’ve been trying to come up with an inoffensive way to say that I think part of the difference in cultures between my former and current workplaces is due to the staff of the former being mostly men, and the latter being mostly women, but. Anyway.

I used to work for a company that did construction takeoffs and estimates. It was fun at times because I got to apply some things I’m studying in school and there was a strong problem solving component. Literally one woman in my whole office tho. In a senior position, so not with zero influence, but still.

Now I work as a unit clerk in a NICU. Other than attending docs, there are like five men total on staff, but on a given night I’ll be one of two or three actually scheduled.

Some of my own values have actually changed working this job, and not in ways that I think could be chalked up to general differences between the medical field and the construction industry.

For example, to make an almost inordinately broad statement, the women I now work with value making things nice. Value being the operative word. It’s not a waste of time or effort to them to make anything more pleasant or comfortable. I was literally raised - not even subtextually conditioned, like explicitly taught - to think caring about stuff like this was frivolous. And the more serious the situation, the more frivolous. Running to silliness, naïveté, and poor judgment in the limit. Converging towards possibly dangerous.

Yeah, that is actually all backwards.

It turns out healthcare is kind of a uniquely optimal setting for proving principles like that. The way things really work is, the more serious the situation, the more impact any slight kindness or conscientiousness, any little improvement that can be made, will have. It becomes huge. It’s clearly evident in outcomes for patients and in the way the unit functions.

It took me a while to learn this. It annoyed me at first. Then one day someone borrowed my desk and filled my pen jar up with new pens before leaving. I realized being annoyed was gaining me nothing. I was just scoffing internally at the “woman’s touch” all over the unit while benefitting from it in ways that were in some cases literally right in front of me.

Actually come to think of it, and idk what this means, but I think the first person who was probably trying to teach me about this “making things nice” principle was a man. Someone I consider my most influential climbing mentor in fact. In his late 60’s this guy lead me and a couple others up the emmons glacier on mt rainier. It was my first climb on a glaciated peak and it’s funny in retrospect how much I underestimated it. So, this guy baked us all cookies. Each of us got a bag of the crispiest, laciest, most delicate oatmeal cookies I’ve ever had. “Bring a treat on every climb,” he told us, “or you’re going too light and too fast.” I can’t explain how good those cookies were after a day of hopelessly strenuous climbing, looking forward to a freeze dried dinner and a night on a crowded, dirty spit of crumbly rock. Or how much easier everything seemed with the uptick in morale.

So what is my point? I think it’s that misogyny is bad for you. Maybe not for your demographic, but for you on the scale of little actions that you probably have not been taught to appreciate can make things way harder or way easier for you. Or for somebody else. Don’t give women shit for doing the stuff they do to make things nicer for everybody. Society literally conditions them that way and then teaches us that it’s just ~girl stuff~ and men should be too tough to care. Do you know how much better my old office would have run if we’d been more oriented towards picking up each other’s slack when it was needed? Towards anticipating that need? Sports metaphors. I could make sports metaphors about this.

Then again maybe it’s bad on the demographic scale, too. It’s not like my female-dominated workplace is utopia, it just has some things men’s spaces often don’t. To put my male feminist hat back on, I think the misogynist desire to control and pigeon-hole women into this role of sole-emotional-laborer arises because men obvs do need the kind of support that goes around in women’s spaces. We’re just not up for doing those things for each other. We don’t believe that we’d be better off if we were more like women.

#live-blogging my feminist awakening #feminism is the radical notion that men are people #climbing?

[velvett-tearss]

Checkmate — Eren Jaeger

summary: A vicious cycle where you and Eren fight over who gets to light the match while dousing each other in gasoline.

warnings: toxic relationship, manipulation, domestic altercation, slut-shaming, gaslighting, cheating, heavy cursing, suggestive themes, mentions of alcohol and marijuana use, fem!reader (she/her)

genre: modern au, angst (?)

word count: 3.4k

a/n: my venus scorpio hates to love Eren lmao pls don’t think this is a healthy relationship, (lmk if i forgot any other warnings pls), this was on repeat while i wrote, hope you enjoy it <3 (again, pls lmk if I missed anything!) and stay safe!

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it anymore, you knew that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you had.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

He didn't worry about feelings, responsibilities, or duty. He didn't care if he came back later than he said he would you, if he left you waiting in that pretty dress you had picked out just for him.

And, you loathed that about him. You loathed that Eren Jaeger was free. Totally and utterly free of everything and anything. Nothing would hold him back. He wouldn't allow it to come to pass.

He had his freedom, but you had something else.

You questioned things when you weren't satisfied with the answer you had been given. You did things just to see what would happen after. You pushed people just to see how long it would take from them to fall over the edge.

You had often been told you were simply too much to deal with. That you pushed people's buttons until they no longer wanted to be around you. That you stole parts of their sanity until they had no choice other than to run away.

But, you never saw it like that. You didn't mean to be a parasite who ate away at people's peace and patience. You simply liked testing your boundaries.

So, you preferred the word curious.

Maybe Eren had been walking around the earth without shackles his entire life, but you knew everyone was a prisoner to something, even someone like him.

Naturally, you wanted to see what it would take for Eren to break. He was so shameless, so completely free of any care in the world. Eren obeyed his own rules and his alone. He was such an inconsistent asshole half the time, but you couldn't help yourself.

You wouldn't forgive yourself if you had looked away from that charming smile and those pretty teal eyes.

Despite the facade of him being a simple-minded person, you found out what was truly hiding underneath the mask.

Eren was intemperate with a sharp tongue and a loud mouth. He did things his way, and there would be no other option. There was such a mix of emotions boiling inside him, it was like it was asking to be disrupted.

How could you not indulge yourself?

You knew it would be gratifying to see how he would react when backed into a corner. Would he cry like the others? Would he fall to his knees and beg for your forgiveness? Or, would he shut down?

How long would it take for him to leave you?

Eren was already known to be hot-headed, and you wondered what it was like to burn. You figured it wouldn't take long to find out how far you could push him. He was the crybaby type, so you didn't think he would be hard to crack.

But, he wasn't like the others.

See, Eren Jaeger wasn't a person who would easily crack. He wasn't the guy who gave up under pressure. In fact, he was the complete opposite. He was a fighter, and he would stop at nothing till victory was his.

It was only too bad for him that you were the same. Your thirst would only be quenched when you saw him break. You needed it more than you had ever needed anything.

You pushed, and he pushed harder. You shouted, and he shouted louder. You bitched and moaned and complained and did awful things to him, and Eren did them right back.

It was an endless cycle between the two of you.

You would do something to tick him off. Maybe it was telling him how Jean looked so sexy in black or how Armin's intelligence was out of this world you didn't know how he wasn't dating anyone.

Perhaps you were a parasite who ate away at your own liberty to do what you wished. You stretched yourself to push him into a corner, and it always worked.

Whatever it was, Eren would explode on you. You knew it pushed his buttons, it fucked with his mind, and that's why you did it. Because maybe it would be the day he finally gave in to the pain you inflicted on him and leave you for good.

Sometimes it would be him doing something that rubbed you the wrong way. Perhaps you wore something too short, so he called you a whore before fucking you like one. Or, he didn't answer your texts all night because he was with God-knows-who.

You shouted at him, called him all sorts of different names, and even trashed his apartment if you felt like it. Eren would fight with you, blame you for pushing him far enough as to dip a toe in the unforgiving pool of infidelity, and the two of you wouldn't speak for a week or so.

"I can't even walk around my own damn apartment without you being so annoying!" Eren shouted with so much force you held back a flinch. He took a few deep breaths to calm himself down, green eyes wondering about the room.

You didn't know if he was shit-faced, high, or a mix of both. You didn't care anymore. It seemed like you had been arguing for hours, but who really knew? All perception of time was lost on you when you were around Eren.

All this started because he asked you to stay the night at his apartment. He usually preferred to go out and have some fun around town, but this was his way of making it up to you for leaving you stranded at the restaurant on your last date.

Well, it was a way for the both of you to make up with each other. Before Eren decided to steal your phone and drive away without you, the waiter serving you had left his number for you. It was only the consequence of your actions earlier that night.

You spent most of the evening flirting with him every chance you got. Batting your eyelashes at him, leaning against the table the slightest so he could get a peak of the dainty little necklace that sat pretty on your cleavage.

He wasn't even that attractive, really — you and Eren both knew that — but he still let his emotions get the best of him. If there was one thing you could trust to be consistent it was his red-hot anger.

"Don't leave when I'm talking to you!" Eren ordered, green eyes blazing hard at the back of your head. He watched you walked around the house, following you to continue your argument. "What? You're gonna go and cry like a little bitch now?"

"Why can't you leave me alone, Eren?!" you screamed, grabbing your sweater and shoving it into your bag. You turned around only to find him inches from your face. "I'm not staying here if you're gonna be a dick!"

He let out a dry chuckle as you continued gathering your things. "What a perfect fucking excuse to go fuck that jerk in your class, right?" Eren hissed, reaching to grab your arm. "Gosh, can't you ever just keep your legs closed for a night?!"

"Keep my legs closed?!" you shot back, shoving him away from you. "You're the one who's been out doing who-knows-what, Eren! You're the one who comes home with lipstick stains from whichever whore you fucked!"

"You shouldn't talk about your friends like that."

You snapped your neck to him.

His face was stony with his jaw clenched, and his hands balled up in fists. None of those things frightened you, though; it was those eyes of him. Those pretty green eyes that had once stared at you so sweetly, so lovingly long ago.

Now, all you could see were glaciers in his irises.

You swallowed down the thick lump in your throat. "You are such a fucking dick." you declared, averting your gaze from his cold one. You advanced to the door, but he caught your arm in his grip again.

"Let go of me." you ordered, attempting to pry his hand off your arm, but he wouldn't budge. "Fuck, Eren. Are you fucking stupid and deaf? I said—"

Your voice got caught in your throat when he shoved you against the wall of his bedroom. He had you caged in, one hand pinning you to the wall and the other right beside you.

It seemed like Eren learned from the last time he tried to keep you from escaping. His last efforts of getting you to stay put were always futile, and you somehow still managed to break away every time.

He always tried to grab you a second time, but you left his cheek with a bright red outline of your palm, smacking him good and hard before leaving his apartment in a fray.

None of your past escapes mattered right now, so you continued squirming around in effort to release yourself from his iron clutch. "Wow, I guess you're not as stupid as you look." you scoffed, your other hand clawing at his.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren ordered, but you continued your attempts to leave that were only feeble against his strength.

"Why don't you go with your other girlfriends, hmm?" You scoffed, reaching for his wrist and struggling to release your arm. "Tch, Eren, you're fucking hurting me. Stop—"

He brought you towards him, pulling you into his arms. You let out a grunt of disapproval as you tried to shimmy out of his crushing hug. "Oh, my gosh, let me go! I don't want you!" you protested, pushing your hand against his hard chest to create space between you, but he thrusted you back into his chest.

"Don't be such a bitch." Eren murmured into your ear. He had one hand wrapped around your upper back, keeping you close to him, while the other held your wrist tightly to stop you from pushing him away.

His shirt still smelled like the cologne you gifted him for his last birthday. Eren was extra kind to you that day, holding your hand and giving you kisses on the cheek.

The fresh scent was familiar on your nose. You breathed it in, allowing yourself to give in to his touch. "I'm not a bitch." you told him, closing your eyes. You hoped it would help you travel back in time to that beautiful spring day.

He only grunted in response, leaning his head against the top of yours. You felt the slight brush of air down your neck when he let out a sigh. The hand that held your wrist released it, finding purchase on your waist.

A few moments of silence passed between the two of you. Eren's fingers found solace in the ends of your hair. You hadn't realized how much his words affected you until you felt your hair twirl around his fingers.

Did he really think you were a bitch? Is that why as much as you loved his cologne, you could still smell the unfamiliar scent of someone else on him?

If he cared about you, why would he leave you alone in his messy apartment all night? Why would he even bother inviting you? Why did he make an effort to speak to you so lovely that your heart fluttered?

"I just wanted to have a nice time with my girl, and you're making that so difficult. Why?" Eren questioned softly, a strand of your hair between his fingers. "Why do you go out of your way to do shit that irritates me?"

Tears prickled your eyes. "I could ask you the same thing." you replied, holding back the urge to sniffle. How could you not cry when he hurt you? You loved him with so much of yourself, and everything he did seemed like it was just to cause you harm.

"You're so mean to me, Eren. You never treat me like you should."

"I know." he said, the movement of his mouth against your head. "I don't mean to treat you like that, baby. I'm sorry. I really am." You didn't believe him, though. You didn't even want to look into his eyes because you feared you would be right.

You let out a sigh, wiping the tear that escaped the corner of your eye on his shirt. "You're bad for me, Eren." you stated, turning your head to rest against his shoulder. "You're a bad guy and a bad boyfriend. You cheat on me and call my names, and you make me cry."

Eren hummed, rubbing your back in circles. "I'll be better. I'll try harder this time." he offered, his tone almost sounding pleading on your ears. "I promise I'll do better for you."

You didn't believe it. Eren couldn't do better. He was sick with an incurable disease. He no longer felt safe in his own body. He couldn't trust his thoughts to lead him to the correct answer. It all started when he met you, and your infection spread throughout his entire system.

You had infiltrated his way of thinking and acting, his way of feeling and speaking. Eren Jaeger would never be the same person he was before he met you.

He couldn't hide his disdain when he was around his friends, not with all the remarks you made of them. Did you really think Jean was better looking than him? Was it his hair?

Maybe he should start spending more time in the library. Would that make him him look smarter in your eyes? Would you come to him for help with your homework or would you still go to Armin?

And, it was in your silence that his questions of doubt were answered. "You don't believe me." Eren stated as if he were reading the very thoughts from your mind.

A bolt of lightning shot through your spine at his tone. This was the side of your boyfriend you hadn't quite figured out yet. He could loving and playful and crack jokes all day, and mean and standoffish where he wouldn’t even look at you, but he could also be fucking sadist.

His fist curled into the roots of your hair, yanking your head back to meet his gaze. There was a sharp ache pounding on the back of your head, but you forgot all about it when you saw the slight curl of his lip.

"No one else would put up with you. You know that, don't you?" Eren asked you, green eyes appearing darker than they ever had. "You know no one would ever give you the time of day like I do."

"I know." you managed to tell him, leaning into where he gripped your hair to ease the pain you felt.

"Do you?" he questioned, raising a brow.

You tried your best to keep the hammering of your heart against your chest from showing on your face. Eren may have been a sadist, but he wasn't the only one.

"Yes, Eren." you stated, deciding to take a risk and place a gentle hand on his shoulder. You felt him tense under your touch. "You misunderstand me. I only what what's best for you and me. That's all I ever wanted."

He furrowed a brow at your words.

Sure, you would admit that Eren had power over you. He was stronger than you, taller than you, quicker than you. He was the one who had your back against a wall, and it was your hair in his fist.

But, you had something he didn't. You honed the skill he wouldn't be able to polish for years to come. He may have been overly aggressive and carried the ability to make an environment where he would always be the person with the most power, but you had experience.

And, that was something he couldn’t create.

"I've done so much for you, Eren. Why would I go through all this struggle if I didn't want to be with you?" you explained, forcing a pout on your lips. "Is that how you feel about me?"

His grip on your head began to loosen. "No," Eren forced out, eyebrows so scrunched forward they lost their sharpness. "That's not what I want. I was—"

"If you know that, then why would you stand me up?" you demanded, gazing you at him. "If you know all I want is for you to be happy, why would you start a fight with me? You know I would never hurt you like that, baby."

"I didn't mean to start a fight." Eren admitted, swallowing. "I just don't want you to leave me. I don't want to be alone. I don't know what—"

"I know. You don't have to explain it to me, baby. I know exactly what you're thinking." you told him, reaching for his hand to hold in yours. "It's okay, Eren. I know you wouldn't ever want to hurt me, right?"

He nodded, teal eyes watching as you brought his hand to your pillowy lips. You placed a feathery kiss against his knuckles. It had been so soft, so sweet that he wanted to cry.

He had just had car sex with one of the girls who lived in your dormitory's building, and you were kind enough to give him another chance. He did something that hurt you, and you still only wanted what was best for him.

"I love you." Eren sputtered out. His eyes were wide at you, and his voice sounded like he was begging you for something you refused to give him.

You let out a sweet sigh, eyes snapping to his. "You love me?" you repeated, taking a moment to savor the way the words felt on your tongue. Your brows furrowed at the words. "Do you really?"

He nodded quickly, maneuvering his hand to hold yours. He peppered kisses along your fingers, your knuckles. "I do. I really fucking do. I love you." Eren assured, kissing the inside of your hand before grabbing the side of your face.

You raised a brow as he planted soft, needy kisses along your cheeks. "How much do you love me, Eren?" you inquired, bringing your hand to massage his scalp.

Eren swallowed, looking up at you. He was quiet. You blinked back at him, waiting for his answer. You had been so surprised to find he had nothing to offer you in that moment.

You quirked a brow at his silence. "How much, Eren? How much do you love me?" you repeated, voice advancing from a curious tone to a demanding one.

He shook his head, bringing your lips to meet his gently. He tasted like . . . was it honey? Or was it just how sweet the lies he told sounded on your ears?

You weren't able to tell what his mouth tasted like, but you knew you had earned another spit sister? Had he kissed her the way he kissed you? Did he feed her the same lies he did you? Could she taste him? Was she able to put a finger on what the candied flavor on his lips was?

Eren pulled back from you slightly. You couldn’t tell if it was his turquoise eyes that were glassy or if it was yours. "Too much." he told you, lips brushing against yours. "I love you too much." He collided his face with yours, tongue slipping into your open mouth.

His kisses travelled lower — along your jaw, down your nec. He sucked hard when he found your pulse-point, only stopping once a soft moan escaped your swollen lips.

There really wasn't a way you would ever leave him, even if you tried to. Despite all the fights, all the times you professed your hate for him, all the times you tried tried to break it off, Eren stayed with you.

But, it was the same for him. Even if you hurt him, flirt with his friends right in front of him, cuss him out and manipulate him the way you had already done a profuse amount of times in the past, Eren would always love you. How could he not?

Maybe it was because both of you were equally fucked in the head, or because you both loved the concept of pain whether you be playing the role of the inflicted or inflicter, but in some twisted way, you never wanted to leave him.

Somewhere in the messed up relationship that you two had, you realized you loved him. God, you fucking loved him, even if he treated you like a pet.

And, he was your favorite toy. Yours to use and to lie and to fuck. Whether Eren Jaeger was so free he couldn't help but trample over you, or you were too much, too curious that you pushed him to the very brink and a little more, one thing wouldn't change.

You knew it was wrong. Everything about you and him was wrong. Nothing could justify it, you figured that much. You didn't think you could lose yourself in the game, but you did.

And, all of it was Eren's fault.

note: welp they were toxic huh

#snk x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger x reader #eren jaeger x you #eren jaeger x y/n #eren yeager x y/n #eren yeager x you #aot eren #eren jaeger angst #toxic!eren jaeger #eren yeager angst #aot x reader #aot x you #eren yeager x reader

[rebrandedbard]

Gifted Glances Stolen Smiles

wc - 2391

Ao3 link.

Jaskier is trying to get Geralt to smile, but he just can't seem to figure out what it takes, and he maybe gives Geralt a goodnight kiss while he sleeps. In the meantime, Geralt thinks they're already in a relationship that's moving at the speed of a glacier and he's sweet about it.

-

Did Geralt ever smile, Jaskier wondered? The man was stoic at the best of times, and at the worst, his face was warped with displeasure. It was a treat to see Geralt relaxed: the lines of his wrinkles would soften, his brow unfurrow, and—if Jaskier were very lucky—Geralt would close his eyes and rest awhile, looking nearly content.

Jaskier liked it best when Geralt slept. He was always the last one asleep, the first one awake. It was a rare thing to catch Geralt unconscious, and Jaskier was sure that was by design. But twice he’d woken in the middle of the night and found himself nose to nose with the sleeping witcher. The first time, it had been nearly impossible to see his face in the darkness, but the second, the moon had been almost full, so big and bright, and she’d cast her light upon his face. It was like the light which fell through the windows of a cathedral to embrace the masterworks of great artists upon the altars. And what better pedestal for Geralt than a soft pillow? If Jaskier had his way, he’d wrap Geralt in the finest linen sheets, lay him on a down mattress, all bathed in lavender for a restful night’s sleep. He wondered what his face would look like then. Beautiful, no doubt.

Geralt had almost seemed to be smiling, softened in sleep. Jaskier had not been able to help himself. He tipped his head forward and placed the gentlest kiss upon his brow; a silent good-night, and a blessing for pleasant dreams. If he tried, Jaskier could trick himself into believing Geralt really did smile after.

Alas, Jaskier lamented: Geralt wasn’t one for smiling. But then again, he’d never been one for talking much either, and the next day he was unusually chatty. Geralt had said, ‘Good morning’ and used up a few of his precious fifty words a day to complain about Jaskier’s breath before breakfast. When they’d sat down to eat, Geralt asked if Jaskier wanted to return to the room, have his sleep out while he went off to see the alderman. A very unusual offer. Geralt often had Jaskier tag along to collect payment, as Jaskier had a persuasive tongue. With Jaskier at his side, Geralt received most of his payment in full.

“Are you trying to trick me, witcher?” Jaskier asked. “Trying to give me the slip and make off while I’m asleep? Tell me, what have you put in my morning tea? Have you spread some sleeping draught on my bread instead of jam?”

He took a great bite, swallowed it down with a monstrous slurp, then pretended to gag. He threw a hand over his forehead and went limp over his plate.

Geralt rolled his eyes and nudged Jaskier’s foot under the table.

“I live!” Jaskier gasped theatrically.

“It’s a miracle,” Geralt deadpanned.

Jaskier grinned and tucked back in, chewing at a more gentlemanly pace. “So. What is it? Have I got bags under my eyes or something? You’re being generous.”

“I just thought you might be tired.”

“Well, that was courteous of you. But rest assured, I am well rested.”

Geralt hummed. He returned to his breakfast without another word, and Jaskier regarded it as a fluke of the early morning.

Until it happened again in the market.

They were returning from their meeting with the alderman—only stiffed by one silver coin—when Jaskier wheedled his way into an extra hour of shopping. Geralt followed along at Jaskier’s side while he flitted from stall to stall, abusing this sudden burst of generosity to have a bit of fun.

“Look at this, Geralt!” Jaskier held up a little floral sachet embroidered with two stars. It was filled with lavender and chamomile, with just a hint of cinnamon.

“This,” he explained, “is a charm for good dreams. See these two stars here? They’re wishing stars. The first grants blessings for good dreams during your first sleep, the second for your second. You see, most charms try to lay a sort of blanket-blessing for the whole night, which is why they never work. My grandmother made one of these for me when I was little and she used both stars. I never had a poor night’s sleep with it under my pillow.”

“Hm.” Geralt picked up the sachet, examining it with an amused expression.

Jaskier liked when Geralt looked smug. It was not the smile he truly wanted, but anything like a smile was a blessing to see. He was always glad when Geralt enjoyed himself.

Geralt dangled the little sachet in front of Jaskier’s nose, swinging it slightly. “And how did you sleep last night? Are you in need of a sleeping charm?” he asked.

Jaskier stiffened. That made twice that Geralt had suggested sleeping poorly. Jaskier had been sure he’d been asleep, but now he had an inkling that he was being made the fool. He lightly tugged the sachet from his hand and returned it to the stall.

Geralt resumed his silence after they left the market.

That night, Jaskier slept with his back to Geralt. He thought he could feel Geralt’s eyes on the back of his head long after they snuffed the candle. He nearly jumped when he felt the arm wrap around his waist.

Geralt pulled him to his chest and spoke in his ear. “Calm down,” he murmured. “You’re thinking too loudly. I can’t sleep.”

Jaskier nodded, heart racing with nervous energy.

“This too,” Geralt said, placing a hand over the thrumming in his chest.

“I’m afraid that’s out of my hands.”

“It’s in mine. So relax. You have nothing to fear with me.”

That was … a strange sort of comment. Strange, and oddly calming. Jaskier played them over in his head, imagining them in a new context. He closed his eyes, taking in the feeling of Geralt wrapped around him, warm and steady. Geralt’s breath tickled his neck. And yes, Geralt had his hand over his heart. His heart was, in many ways, in Geralt’s hand.

Jaskier smiled, cracking an eyes to look up at the moon. “I’m not afraid of any werewolves sniffing about tonight if that’s what you were thinking.”

“It wasn’t.”

“Hm. So what do you think I’m afraid of?”

Geralt only hummed in reply.

Jaskier turned under Geralt’s arm. “Oh no, I said ‘hm’ first. You have to say something else. I already used it in this conversation.”

“Hm,” Geralt replied again, a funny little smirk on his face.

“I’ll smother you,” Jaskier threatened, putting a hand on Geralt’s pillow to make good.

But Geralt took the hand from under his head and wrapped it around Jaskier’s. “Wish you would,” he murmured.

“Come now, Geralt. The pay wasn’t that bad. And I don’t really mean to suffocate you; you don’t have to hold me back.”

“You need more sleep. You’re slow-witted today.”

Jaskier frowned. “And what do you mean by that?”

“Go to sleep, Jaskier.”

So he did, and things were relatively normal as the week progressed. Evidently, Jaskier looked rested enough, and Geralt no longer felt the need to make comments. Perhaps that had been all. Jaskier had to admit, he was tired. Or perhaps it was more convenient to pretend. He didn’t like thinking that Geralt had woken, and he didn’t believe Geralt would toy with him.

They were on the path again, and Jaskier returned to his musing. What, he wondered, would make Geralt smile? He told jokes at the tavern at the next town, hoping to steal one little grin. Now and then he cast a look over his shoulder to see if Geralt might laugh, but after the first few jokes he had to concede. He spent the rest of comedy hour focusing on his circle of patrons, laughing and drinking while he waited for Geralt to finish his lunch.

In the evening, he worked the same crowd, hopping round and round in a dance as he played his songs. He played a few songs Geralt had deemed not horrendously irredeemable in the past to see if that might do the trick, then tossed in a few cheeky verses of ‘Fishmonger’s Daughter’ for good measure. He bought Geralt an extra ale. A second plate.

Geralt never did smile, but at least he looked pleased.

When Jaskier had a moment spare, he brushed Roach and polished her tack. It would seem this quest of his was never-ending. All month long he’d been asking himself the question, and honestly, his efforts were uninspired. He wasn’t doing anything more or less than what he would normally do, sprinkling in little treats here and there which he thought Geralt might enjoy. There wasn’t  anything special in it. The lack of imagination bothered Jaskier and he knew that if he wanted Geralt to smile, he would have to think of something bigger, grander!

But Geralt was different. Geralt didn’t mull over these things. It was surprising, yes, when Geralt went out of his way to do things for him, but he didn’t agonize over doing them. As easily as Geralt set his bags down at the campfire, he might place an apple by Jaskier’s elbow. The day might be long, but Geralt would set up camp at midday to let them rest, just when Jaskier was aching for a good lie down.

Jaskier lay awake after his first sleep some nights, watching him, thinking it over. The more Jaskier thought about it, the more he became aware of the little things Geralt did. They were more frequent now. At least once a day, Geralt did something to make him smile. All Jaskier wanted was to do the same.

What, Jaskier asked himself. What would make him smile?

He stood in the tailor’s mirror, asking himself the question once more as he adjusted his new doublet. He turned this way and that, plucking at the sleeves. It would be autumn soon enough, and he needed to dress for the season. He thought a nice red would do.

Geralt sat on a stool to one side, a new cloak folded upon his lap. It was Jaskier’s treat for the day, and he had bullied Geralt into accepting it.

Jaskier’s eyes flicked to the side of the mirror. He hoped he might steal a glance of Geralt smiling at the new cloak. It was a black wool, lined with soft fleece. It was still a bit early to wear anything so heavy, but Geralt was always telling him to think ahead. This village was known for their particular breed of sheep, and the coin was good, so Jaskier thought it wise to invest in the warmest, softest wool in the east. Silently, Jaskier dared anyone to try and find a more thoughtful gift than that! It was a smart gift, he thought, and to his great shock, he saw it at last.

Geralt was smiling, a real, true smile. Not a smile born of politeness, nor a wry grimace, not a smirk, but a genuine smile. But Geralt was not looking at the cloak.

Geralt caught Jaskier’s eye in the mirror.

Jaskier turned and said, “You’re smiling.”

“I do that,” he replied.

“Not often. I hardly ever see it.”

Great shrugged. “You’re too busy most of the time.”

“I’ve been trying to catch you smiling all month long! I’ve been constantly vigilant. How could I be too busy?”

“You’re singing. You’re talking and dancing, writing. Having fun. I like to watch you do it,” Geralt answered. “Almost as much as you like to watch me sleep.”

Jaskier flushed. “You know about that?” he asked.

Geralt stood, setting the cloak aside, and crossed the room to stand beside him. “I don’t mind. It’s no different from my watching you.” As he spoke, he carefully slipped his hand into Jaskier’s. “I understand if you still want to move slowly, but some nights I wish that you would kiss me again. I thought you were trying to tell me you were ready for more.”

Jaskier’s heart stopped.

Geralt wrapped his arms around Jaskier’s shoulders, looking at their reflection in the mirror. “Even so,” he said, leaning his head against Jaskier’s cheek, “I’m happy where we are now. I’m all in, Jaskier. However long it takes, I don’t mind waiting.”

“Waiting?” Jaskier squawked. He did not currently have the capacity to process everything Geralt had said, and Geralt had said quite a lot—very plainly spoken—in less than a minute.

Geralt nodded. “As long as you need.”

“You’ve been waiting on me. Waiting for me to … I beg your pardon, but did you say you wanted me to kiss you?”

“I did.”

Jaskier’s limp hands remembered themselves. They rose to cover over Geralt’s arms. Jaskier simply gaped into the mirror. Slowly, a smile lit up his eyes.

“Hey, Geralt?” he said.

“Hm.”

“I bet you a gold coin I know a way, guaranteed, to make you smile again on command.”

Geralt chuckled. “You’re broke.”

“Then it’s a good thing I’m guaranteed to win.”

“Given your tone, I have a funny idea I’m about to win something as well.”

Jaskier turned in Geralt’s arms and pressed a kiss to his cheek.

Geralt hummed. “I love being right,” he said.

“And what else do you love, my dear?” Jaskier brought a hand up to curl a teasing finger around Geralt’s long white hair. He felt giddy and silly. He wanted to dance and sing and act a fool, then leap into Geralt’s arms. But never mind the leaping; at that very moment, he was right where he wanted to be.

Geralt shushed him. Slowly, he unwrapped himself from Jaskier and walked back to the stool. He picked up the cloak and wrapped it around himself, after which he bumped Jaskier out of the mirror to have a look.

“My new cloak,” he answered.

Jaskier laughed and bumped him back. “I have excellent taste.”

“You do.” And Geralt adjusted Jaskier’s ruffled tie.

They stood together, side by side in the mirror, stealing glances at one another. No, not stealing, Jaskier realized, for this was allowed. He would not steal glances this day forward. From now on, they would be a gift. So he gifted Geralt with another glance and winked.

And Geralt smiled.

#drabbles #my fic #witcher #the witcher #geraskier #geralt of rivia #jaskier #this is just pure fluff

[homosexuality-at-its-finest]

Spring (Bucky Barnes X Male!Reader)

Plot: For Bucky it was love at first sight

Pairing: Bucky Barnes X Male!Reader

Y/N: Your name

H/C: Hair color

E/C: Eye color

Warnings: Fluff, Bucky hella in love

Word count: 908

Since the moment Bucky was captured by HYDRA he felt as though he was living in a cold and desolate world. He felt like frost ran through his veins, numbing him to the warmth that surrounded him. When Steve came back into his life the cold wasn’t as hard to bear, his friends’ encouragement, bright smiles and comforting actions bit back at the frost, adding a bit of warmth back into him. When the team got back together and he officially met everyone he could feel the warmth of the sun beating down on his back, it was awkward yes, but he wasn’t so cold and lonely anymore.

God when he met you though, it was like spring had finally come. His world exploded with warmth, your warm smiles, warm eyes, everything about you was warm. He was addicted to it. You came in and thawed him from the glacier he’d been stuck in for the last 70 years, you didn’t even have to try. Every time your fingers ghosted over his skin, he felt like flowers sprouted in your path, you made him feel again. No longer was he just alive, he was living for the first time since the 40’s.

He hadn’t told you this, you were his teammate, his friend. He couldn’t risk the friendship he depended so heavily upon. Even now as you two sat in the abandoned common room at 3 in the morning you still made him warm, there could be a blizzard and he’d be blazing in the heat your presence bathed him in. He had a particularly bad nightmare and came to you; you had made a routine for this. The two of you would go into the common room, you’d make him hot chocolate and let him talk as much as he wanted, or you could sit in silence, whatever he needed. Bucky appreciated that a lot, you knew sometimes it was so much to talk about, you understood that, you understood him.

His head rested in your lap; eyes closed as you soothingly ran your fingers through the ex-assassin’s hair. Tonight, had been a night of silence, Bucky was trying to process the nightmare and you were there for him to lean on. After a few minutes of silence Bucky looked up at the man who turned his world upside down, the H/C giving him a soft smile. “Penny for your thoughts?” Your voice was so unbelievably gentle, it made him want to curl into you and never let go.

“I’m just really thankful I have you.” Bucky admitted, voice almost shy and embarrassed, a rather comical thing coming from the most feared assassin of the modern world. You cocked your head to the side and God you just oozed of kindness. “Why? I haven’t done anything.” You pointed out, and you couldn’t be more wrong. Bucky shook his head, a soft smile spreading across his lips. “No doll, you’ve done so much for me and don’t even know it.” The way your eyebrows creased with confusion made his heart swell, so he spoke again.

“Before you came into my life it was like I was in a never-ending blizzard, frozen in place. But when I saw you, it was like spring had come. Everything warm I could never feel was suddenly there. My world full of colors and happiness, something I never thought I would get to experience again, until you came along with your goofy smiles and infectious laughter.” Bucky had sat up as he spoke, eyes staying on you and gauging your reaction. He hadn’t meant to be that open, but it was like the words were spilling out and he couldn’t do anything to stop it.

“Bucky...” Your face was flushed, and you looked so beautiful, he just wanted to kiss you; so, he did. The super solider leaned forward, flesh hand gently cupping your cheek, pausing as if to wait for permission. When you showed no discomfort, he leaned the rest of the way, pressing his lips to yours. He felt like he was being engulfed by the sun, bathing in your flames. Your lips were so warm and soft compared to his own, and he couldn’t help but melt as he felt your hand move to his neck. By the time you two pulled away he was breathing heavily, his cheeks tinged a light pink.

He stared into your beautiful E/C eyes, forehead resting against yours. “I’ve loved you since the moment I met you Y/N.” His voice held anxiety as he finally said those words out loud, but he was terrified of rejection. The smile that spread across your lips destroyed those worries, your eyes shining with such love and adoration that made him want to kiss you again. “I love you too Bucky.” Your words were quiet, as if you didn’t want to risk anyone else hearing such an intimate moment.

A grin spread across Bucky’s lips as his thumb brushed over your cheek bone. “Be my guy?” He questioned, having a feeling he already knew the answer. “Of course, Bucky, took you long enough to ask.” There was that goofy grin he loved, and for the first time in a long time he was truly content and happy.

#marvel #marvel x male reader #marvel x reader #avengers #avengers x male reader #avengers x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x male reader #bucky barns x you #bucky barnes x reader #marvel x you #avengers x you

[ringmyheart]

Heyy, hope I'm not being annoying with so many asks, but could I please get ice feet of death characters of your choice? Thank you so much 😘😍😘🤩😘😍😘

Eli Jang

Eli Jang wasn’t going to push people important to him away anymore - or ever again.

In his past, he’d seen what that had done for him, and it ended disastrous. He wouldn’t keep people at an arms length away anymore, especially people precious to him, and especially not you.

Such an earnest and well meant swear to himself was extremely hard to keep up with, however, when you were besides him and your feet happened to brush against his calf. Feet as cold as fucking ice.

His hand was planted in the middle of your chest, keeping you ironically enough an arms length away from him. When you’d crawled into bed that night, before you could even go under the covers, his hand had shot out and kept you suspended exactly where you were - and you swore you saw a flash of fear in his eyes.

“...”

“...”

You both looked at each other, you perplexed and him worried - of what, you couldn’t say. Cocking a brow, you asked, “is something wrong? Eli?”

He swallowed down a lump in his throat, before removing his hand and returning it to his side. Internally, he hoped you wouldn’t come too much closer. Or at the least, that you’d sleep with your legs bent so he wouldn’t be subjected to the cold with you. He wondered if you were even aware of this…

“No, nothing’s wrong!” He forced a laughed, though no joy reached his eyes; rather, a pained emotion swirled in them.

‘I can’t take another night like this!’

And when you shrugged off his odd behavior and continued settling under the covers, he acted quick. Maybe he could somehow cure this.

“H-hey, it’s winter, and it’s cold.” He lifted himself up with his elbows from the bed and grabbed you by the shoulders spontaneously, steering you to the bathroom. “Why don’t you take a bath?! Since it’s so cold!”

You let him lead you the way there and push you along, confused. “Uh-?”

Sending a skeptical look over your shoulder to Eli, he felt somewhat guilty for suddenly forcing you away. But when he recalled the icy horror he’d be introduced to if he didn’t try and fix it instead, he pushed on - for his well-being as well as yours.

He sent you a smile. “I wouldn’t want you to catch a cold!”

“...” Silence engulfed the two of you before you smiled back. “Aww, that’s sweet. Okay. Don’t worry, I won’t use all the hot water.”

“Please do.”

“What?”

“Nothing.” He smiled stupidly, waving you bye while you walked into the bathroom. “Also, make sure your feet are in there.”

“What?”

“Nothing.”

When he heard the bath water begin to run, a wave of relief washed over him. Even if the water didn’t permanently cure your case of cold-feet, it’d at least take care of it for a while, right? And then he could sleep comfortably with you tonight, right?

When you were eventually done with the bath and had put clothes back on, you began to crawl back onto bed, getting comfortable as soon as you pulled the sheets over you. He wondered if it’d worked. He could feel heat radiate off of you from his side, and when you shuffled, the side of your heel brushed against his ankle briefly before it was gone in a second.

In that second, it felt like he’d tasted death - and it was freezing.

‘That didn’t work?!’ The top row of his teeth crushed against the bottom row in a quick act of brain storming. He shot up where he sat, catching your attention from how abruptly he’d pulled himself up, and he looked at you. His eyes darted back and forth in thought, before an imaginary lightbulb seemed to light over his head.

“Man, it’s cold tonight, huh?” He said causally, with a fake shiver. You shifted your gaze upwards, thinking for a moment.

“... I’m not that cold, to be hone-“

“You know when people get a really bad cold they actually feel warm?!”

You stared up at him with wide, doe eyes, and he continued passionately. “I don’t want you to be cold! Here, I’ll get you another blanket!”

He sprinted out of the room temporarily, and you stared at him with an indecipherable expression, a few dark lines falling down the top of your face. You just wanted to sleep…

He came back with a wide smile spread across his lips, a blanket in his hands. Holding one corner in each of his hands, he gestured it to you like a car dealer trying to sell a client a car they didn’t really want. “Here!”

He lifted the overs you already had on you, the one the both of you shared, and began to lay the other blanket over you. You remained still, but your features hardened.

“Uhh… why not just put the blanket over the top of the blanket I already have…?”

“Hm?”

His face blanched. If you squinted hard enough, you could almost see a question make appear on the side of his head, and he still smiled - like he was suddenly frozen in that position, and his ability to express other emotions came to a halt. This masked whatever was going on inside his head, and you looked at him with scrutinizing eyes.

“Because I wanted to tuck you in!” His smile widened, and you sighed when he suddenly began tucking the corners of the blanket underneath you. He spent half of the time he spent doing this around your feet, you noticed.

When he was done, he brushed his hands together, like he was admiring his own handiwork. If your feet were covered by a blanket, you could sleep together and he wouldn’t feel the glaciers at the ends of your legs, right?

The plan felt foolproof this time, and the bed dipped underneath his weight until he laid down and got into a position he could remain in. You examined him before shrugging this weird interaction off - again.

“Okay, well… I’m gonna go to sleep.”

He nodded. “Okay, babe. Good night.”

“...” Waiting to see if he was gonna interrupt your trip to dreamland again with some weird request or offer, you curled into his side after an appropriate amount of time passed. Enough time for you to decide he probably was done with his odd behavior.

You miscalculated.

And so did he.

His teeth gritted together, and it felt like he’d come to a horrible realization, a clap of thunder and lightning striking behind him at his moment of mental clarity and terror. ‘Even when under another blanket, their feet are below zero degrees?!’

The already cold weather certainly wasn’t helping, and he was prepared to research webMD to see if cold feet were ever fatal enough to kill you, when another thought rang in his head.

‘Why not just tell them?’

He quickly shook it out of his head. He wouldn’t push you away. He wouldn’t hurt your feelings.

Even at his own expense.

You were shaken awake violently when Eli suddenly suggested the amazing idea of putting heat packs on your feet to keep you safe for the winter night, and you internally groaned for a world-record amount of time. When he’d put the packs on your feet, it was another failed attempt; rather than heating you up, you’d chilled them down. It was like carrying two packs of ice when he went to put them away.

He’d even turned up the AC to see if maybe that would unthaw your feet, but it was fruitless; and it felt like he saw the light when your feet touched his again, and they were like a visit to the Arctic.

Now, not only did he have freezing feet planted on him, but he was also extremely and uncomfortably hot everywhere else with the AC cranked up.

A head of sweat rolled down the side of his head while he glared at the wall, wondering where he went wrong, when he felt you tap his shoulder.

“Hey, Eli?”

“Yeah?” His brow was crinkled in thought as he searched internally for another solution, but your next few words threw him off guard.

“Are you mad at me?”

“What? Why would I be mad at you?” Shock laced the tone of his voice. You paused, skin between your eyes creasing.

“... today, you kept pushing me away from you. I was just wondering if I did something…”

The look on your face was forlorn, and it felt like a dumbbell was dropped on top of his head. In his act of trying to not push you away… it seemed he’d pushed you away worse than what would’ve happened initially. A black hole of guilt consumed his heart, and his lips formed a shaky, remorseful line.

“No, I’m not. I’m sorry if I made you feel that way. You didn’t do anything. I was just… I don’t know.”

You glanced at him tiredly, before closing your eyes, chuckling with a half smile and nuzzling further into your pillow. “Oh, okay… I was worried, but I guess it’s fine then.”

“Yeah, it is.” He watched your peaceful sleeping expression, and a genuine smile graced his lips. With a soft countenance, he blinked at you a couple of times, before summoning some courage and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, (y/n)?”

“Yeah?”

“Your feet are really cold.”

Your eyes shot open. “For real?”

“Yeah. Like, really cold.”

You averted your eyes from him. “Is that a problem?”

His eyes carried the brunt of his smile for his lips, and they glimmered happily. He rested a hand on your shoulder. “No, it’s no big deal. None at all.”

The small smile on your face you got from hearing those words made Eli come to another conclusion that day.

He wouldn’t push you away - and he would never lie to you again. The temperature of your feet made him nearly faint, but he’d rather die in a blizzard than see that downcast expression on you again.

Vin Jin

“Get your cold feet the fuck off of me.”

“And if I don’t, what will you do? Be mad?”

“I’ll kill you.”

Before the both of you had gone to sleep, Vin Jin had made it very clear to you; do not touch him with your feet. Your arm was okay - but on thin ice, considering your fingers could get pretty chilly, but not your feet. He’d pronounced every syllable in the sentence, even doing little gestures with his hands to paint you a picture. Do. Not. Touch. Him. With. Your. Feet.

He’d fallen sleep before you, and was out like a light an hour after the conversation you’d had. Feeling cold and evil, you decided to go for it anyways, and threw your leg over his. He awakened instantly, and the very first words to you were him telling you to get your cold feet the fuck off of him.

“Is that a promise or a warning?”

“It’s a threat.”

You chuckled, “You don’t have it in you. Y’know, you’d try to kill me, but you’d probably get cold feet. Do you get it? Haha!”

A vein burst in the side of his head, and he kicked your leg away with his grumpily. “I’m not kidding. I’m fast. I’m really fast.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah, you won’t even see it coming.”

You grinned. “Well then, evade this, fast guy.” You kicked your leg back to his. He went rigid.

“That’s it-!” Grabbing his pillow and leaping up in one swift motion, any remnants of sleepiness in him were expelled, and he jumped onto you; smothering you with the pillow. “Choke out!

Your muffled laughter came from behind the pillow, and you lifted your leg to the part of his which wasn’t covered, and laid the flat of your foot on it. He screamed like he’d been shot.

Falling back onto his side of the bed, he clutched where your foot met his leg. “You cheap tricked bastard! That’s it, come here!”

Wrapping his fingers around your wrist, he pulled you out of bed, and you stumbled over your own feet as you followed wherever he was taking you with no qualms; smile of a winner, eyes of a sinner.

He let go of you in the living room and made a motion for you to sit, and you did - patiently, at that. The sound of running water hit your ears and it didn’t stop for a good few minutes, and then a dripping noise - like something spilling over something - reached you. Vin Jin came stumbling back into the room with a pale of water, and your chest moved as you chuckled.

“Hah, what’s that for - hey, what the hell are you doing?!” When he lifted your foot into the bucket of water, you weren’t too reluctant; warmed after was warm water, and it usually felt good. But this water wasn’t warm; it was burning.

“Ack, get my foot out of there!” You tried to retract it, but he kept a grip around your ankle.

“This is for your own good. And mine!”

“Stop talking like this is some intervention! That waters scorching hot!”

“Your feet are scorching cold!” He sneered.

“That’s not the comeback you think it is. I don’t think you can use that correctly in a sentence, dumbass!”

Eventually you pulled your foot out of the water, and it was burning red. You hissed lowly in pain, and Vin tossed the bucket of water aside, kicking your foot with his lazily to see if there was a change.

He was down immediately, and if he didn’t have sunglasses on, you would’ve seen tears build in his eyes. “What the fuck - how are they still cold?! Go to a doctor!”

You puffed your chest out defensively. “Leave me alone.”

“Whatever,” he said, scratching the back of his head angrily. “I’m going to bed.”

When you didn’t copy him in doing so, he sent you a quizzical look. “What? Don’t tell me you’re butt-hurt. I just called it as it is. You have cold as fuck feet.”

You crossed your arms over your chest. “I’m sleeping right here, on the couch tonight, since I’m apparently that much of a pain to sleep with.”

“Don’t be like that.”

“Like what?”

“All- al frown-y and shit!”

You sent him a sharp glare before turning on your side and laying down. “Im not. I’m just staying here.”

“Cmon.”

“Come on what?”

“If I leave you here, you’ll just stay and at me and won’t talk to me in the morning.” He ran his hand across the top of his head.

“...”

“...”

“...”

“...”

“Okay, fine! You can sleep with me. Geez, you’re so high maintenance… just put socks on at least.”

You jumped up from the couch, nothing left of your soured expression. “Yay! Thanks.”

He glanced at you, before turning his head away swiftly with an annoyed blow of air out of his mouth. “Yeah, yeah.” If he’d been facing you, you might’ve caught the tint of pink he was turning. “I’m just a really good boyfriend, that’s all.”

“Yeah you are.” You flattered artificially, and he just clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth in faux irritation.

That night, when your feet would drift to his, despite the violent chill running down his spine, he didn’t say a word.

—

The following morning, you and him awoke to a driveway full of snow. You’d went back to sleep, telling him to take care of it. And to his chagrin, he did end up having to do it, and when he came back inside he came to a realization.

His feet were as cold as yours now.

A snake-like smile curved the edges of his lips into a V-shape, malice hiding behind his eyes. Delighted with the realization, he crept back to your room. He couldn’t wait to get into the bed, and subject you to the same horror you’d don’t to him - to turn the tables. And to see you have to suck it up despite hating the frigid feeling crawling up your calf, because he’d done the same for you, and who were you to refuse?

“Hehehehehe.” A childlike laugh fell off his lips, and when he crawled back into bed, he immediately shuffled his legs to touch yours. You slowly, gradually began to tense, and he saw your shoulders uncomfortably rise. He would’ve cackled had you not been besides him.

He finally gave you a taste of your own medicine, a-

“What the hell?” You mumbled, half-asleep. You jerked your foot away from his, and his mouth opened and closed in a state of a shock. “Your feet are freezing… stay over there.”

“Wha-but I—“ His mouth opened and closed.

“Hmmm. But you what?”

Like a fish, he gaped at you, wide eyed and body language expressing his utter shock, and betrayal, both of which mutating into absolute anger. After everything he did for you?! “Wha- Wha- Wha- you fucking-!”

Goo Kim

“You know I love you, right?” Those were the words you were shaken awake to that cold night, and you’d blinked a few times, clearing the blurriness infiltrating your vision.

Groggily, you replied. “...Yeah?” Even the tiredness befuddling your train of thought, you’d known him well on enough that useless flattery always comes before a request. One usually to your inconvenience.

“And you know I’d do anything for you, right?”

“Hm. Yes.”

“And would you do anything for me?”

“... Yeah.”

“Then can you do me this one thing?”

“What?”

His eyes, which previously had glinted with an artificial, saccharine light, lidded. “Keep your feet one million miles away from me.”

There was a soft thud made audible from the lack of any noise in the room when he hit his ankle against yours, the momentum sliding your leg back to your side. As soon as he’d said that he turned back onto the side he was previously facing, sending you the cold shoulder. You groaned at his back.

“But then I’ll be cold.”

Your feet naturally gravitated to the warm side of the bed - his, and he curled into himself, leaving you stranded.

“I only ask of you one thing.”

“Oh, you’ll be fine,” you scoffed, walking the line between sleep and unconsciousness. “You’ve literally killed people before.”

“You’re killing me.”

“Oh?” If he’d seen you, he’d see your brow curve curiously. “Elaborate.”

“It’s already cold out. You’ll sleep by me, and you’ll drop the temperature around me because you’re so cold, and then I’ll die, and then you’ll go to jail for homicide and then you’ll be sorry.”

“How would being a little cold kill you?”

“Hypothermia.” He answered without missing a beat.

“Huh…” you hummed at how quickly that was thought out, and consequently how poorly. “Maybe my cell mates will hold me.”

“Your heart’s as cold as your feet…”

Your mouth fell open, and you pressed your feet against him again, this time with bad intent. “They are not that cold!”

The moment the bottom side of your foot touched him, he lost out a shrill shriek, and jumped out of the covers like a startled cat.

“I can’t take this anymore!” He yelled, standing to full height and walking over to the foot of the bed. He made a gesture with his hands for you to get up too, and begrudgingly you lifted the covers off of you and got up, rolling your eyes.

“What?”

With his hands, he made a slicing motion over the bed, as if he’d cut it in half. He placed the tips of his fingers on the bed itself and slid them back and forth, like a pizza slicer.

“This,” he was referring to the left side of the imaginary cut he’d made in the bed, “is my side of the bed.” He then slammed his hands on the right side. “And thiiiiis, is yours. Do not cross my side. Capiche?” He titled his head in your face obnoxiously, hands still swinging back and forth as though he was parting the sea.

“One more time. This-“

“I got it the first time! Geez.”

He folded his arms over his chest in an ‘X’. “Do not cross my side! Got it?!”

You narrowed an eye. “So we’re just gonna sleep like this forever?”

“Maybe not in the summer.”

“But then it’ll already be hot and I’ll want my side to myself!” You threw your hands on your hips. “‘Kay, you know what? Fine. Fine! I’ll sleep on my side.” You out your hands up in mock defeat. “You’ll never know the touch of a significant other again.”

“At least I’ll be warm.” He’d nearly hissed it out bitterly, and without sharing another word, you’d huffed and stepped into your side of the bed - sticking close sky to the edge.

All night, you’d slept somewhat soundly - aside from the few times you’d feel a burning, gaping hole in the back of your head. Why he kept looking at you all night, you couldn’t tell. After a while of feeling the pair of eyes from behind on you, you came to the conclusion he was monitoring to make sure you stayed on your side, and your lips fell into a brooding flat line. The bastard…

Eventually you knocked out and didn’t wake back up again - at least, not so easily, and when your eyes finally opened again, it was daylight. Waking up with a yawn, you stretched, the lack of presence by your side not going unnoticed.

At first, you’d tilted your nose skyward frustratedly. Just leaving without saying goodbye - were you seriously that cold? You’d probably continue to anguish over the fact, when you noticed a piece of paper with a letter on the wall that usually wasn’t present, hung atop the dresser.

‘WEAR THESE SO WE CAN SLEEP TOGETHER AGAIN ->’ written in writing so bad you had to squint and analyze it for minutes to decipher it, you unknowingly nodded before following the line of the arrow, seeing it pointed to a pair of socks hung on the dresser. They looked like they were so heavy and thick, they’d drag the entirety of your leg down and indent the floor you walked on with every step, not to mention the ugly, multiple colors - but disregarding that, you smiled at the sentiment. Thanks to the note afterwards, you were able to discern the series of glances to you that night weren’t of skepticism, but regret - or maybe guilt.

Despite the seemingly angry ‘that fucking bastard’ ringing in in your inner thoughts, there was a humorous smile resting on your face.

Taehoon Seong

“Like hell yer sharing a room with that fuckin’ bastard Hobin.”

When he slammed his hand on the register’s desk, both you and her jumped. In spite of his firm tone indicating he’d already made his mind up about this, it was purposeful on his part that his bangs swept across his eyes, and he noticeably flushed red.

You gasped, facial features contorting, aghast. “That’s cold… you can be mad at him, but you don’t have to bring him not having a father into this. We’re only sharing one to save money!”

He threw his hand down back to his sides irately, and the angry expression he held would’ve intimidated you had he not seemed so flustered. You recoiled a little regardless.

“That’s not what I meant, you air-head!” He yelled through gritted teeth. Throughout his thought process, he’d figured if he’d covered up his indignance at you and Hobin sharing a room with an annoyed front and changed it quickly, he’d be able to avoid having to face your confrontation on why he was so concerned. And he’d figured by doing this, he’d be able to avoid confronting his feelings for you himself as well.

However, as reckless and spontaneous as he acted, hiding his true intentions, his embarrassment was thinly veiled.

He sent the lady behind the check-in register a glare. “Change it.”

She began to type something, and you could visibly see a layer of sweat beam on her forehead nervously. “Uh, s-so I’m switching you two to be in the same room, right?” She stammered out, hurriedly complying, and you scoffed.

“Wha-?! Do I just not get a say in this?!”

Your objection was shut down swiftly by a glower being sent your way, triggering your flight or fight response. “What?” He seethed, head tilting back threateningly, “are you saying you want to share a room with that loser?” The dark aura surrounding him seeped into the atmosphere, and you shuddered.

Rubbing the back of your neck, you gave in. “Ah - uh, well, I don’t mind either, I guess… heh…”

Hitting one last letter on her keyboard, the lady behind the register spoke up, grabbing your synchronized attention. “Alright, so,” she squinted at her screen, “Hobin is now in a room alone, and you two are sharing one. Is that right?”

Wanting the entire ordeal over with, he nodded furiously, before grabbing your wrist and leading you along behind him. You’d protest and inquiry further, but truthfully, it felt nice to be wanted, even if the reason why wasn’t made clear to you.

-

“Oh, man.” You chided casually, hand sliding off the strap of your backpack to rest at your side. “Only one bed… how cliche.”

You made sure to implicate a sense of normalcy to your words, trying to make this feel like no big deal at all. By your side, he just stood still, like a frozen statue. His eyes were wide, and you couldn’t tell if it was shock or agitation.

Engulfed in silence, you waited to see if he’d say anything, but were met with no response. “Well… looks like one of us is gonna have to sleep on the floor.” Secretly, you hoped he would be ‘one of us’. However, he provided an alternative.

Dropping his bag on the floor with an extra amount of force so it’d slam onto the ground, he stormed to the bed, leaving you standing idly at the door. Curling into the farthest possible left corner of the mattress, he shrunk into himself somewhat, blowing out of his nostrils.

“Whatever,” he shrugged, “it’s no big deal. I don’t give a damn.” His gaze made sure to avoid yours like the plague before this, but now he glanced at you from the corner of his eyes, patiently; awaiting your reaction somewhat… worriedly. Concerned to what you’d say, and wether it would be an indirect rejection against him, or a more pleasant answer.

Secretly, you’d wished this unforeseen circumstance would’ve elicited more of a reaction. If he liked you, he probably would’ve refused instantly, right?

It felt like you were being friend zoned, the way he want about it so mundanely, and your face was blank as your thoughts grew more and more forlorn and disappointed. You’d gotten lost in them after a while, like a-

“Are you gonna fuckin’ say anything?”

Snapping you out od your thoughts, you redirected your focus to the moment at hand, and quickly made a decision.

“Hmf…” you stared at him with wide eyes briefly, before humming. “Alright.” You slung your backpack off of your shoulder. “If you don’t care, neither do I.”

He went slack at your words, releasing a relieved breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in. When your weight dipped under the bed as you climbed on, his eyes were faced forwards; but he was acutely aware of every shift and creak of the bed.

“...” Glaring at the wall, his face felt hot again. So close…

“Well,” you smiled. “Good night, then.”

Strands of hair fell over his face when he sent you a look over his shoulder scrutinizingly, before he fixed his vision forwards again, resting his head on his hands. “Yeah, yeah… ‘night or whatever. Just stay on your side.”

You’d fallen asleep much quicker than he had, his heart skittering too loudly in his skull for him to catch any rest, until your even and serene breaths lulled him asleep as well.

Normally, he was a fairly heavy sleeper. However that night, he was instantly pulled from his dreams, and his eyes abruptly snapped open when he felt a glacial cold on the lower extremity of his leg.

He awoke to a piercing cold.

You were woken when you went flying off the bed, sent by a kick to the middle of your stomach. Any sleepiness remaining in you was expelled the moment you collided with the floor, rolling a bit from the momentum.

With a pained groan, you lifted yourself on your elbow. “Hey, what the hell?!” You griped, looking up to see he’d rolled onto your side of the bed - or at least, what was your side of the bed, eyes narrowed at you from above.

Rubbing the part of your head which had hit the floor, you scowled. “What’s your problem? Don’t tell me you’re a sleep kicker…”

Remnants of exhaustion were still evident under the crevices of his eyes, however that didn’t impede the lour he directed to you. “Yer sleep in’ on the floor tonight.”

You looked oddly sad at that, shoulders boxing into a square. “Wha- what did I do?!”

The blades of his shoulders stiffened up to his jaw, and he squawked. “Don’t tell me you don’t know! Your feet are fuckin’ freezing!”

You seemed to ponder for a moment, internally wondering if they really were that cold - it’s not like you’d ever slept with anyone before in the same bed. Eyeing your unnecessarily intense expression, he stubbornly scoffed, before retreating back to his side of the bed. Not that he it was needed, as he’d claimed the entire thing for his own.

And you’d been banished from your own bed. The one in the room he argued you’d stay in!

Furiously, you picked yourself up to your feet, and stormed back to the bed. You didn’t even have to listen to him, he didn’t own the room, right?

Your rampage was cut short when he noticed you approaching, and swung his legs off the corner of the bed you were headed towards defensively. With your means of getting up now hindered, you wondered if you could just walk around to the other side and hop on, but realized he’d probably make it there before you. And then you’d be faced with the same situation, so it’d be easier to just handle it here and now.

Leaning down and summoning the most menacing stare you could to match his own, you started speaking. “Let me on.”

“No way.”

Frowning deeply, you tried to attempt overreaching past him and somehow mauevering yourself onto the bed from then. You weren’t gonna sleep on the floor; not in a room you were told to be in by the very guy kicking you off the mattress. Your hand flashed past the arch of his neck to reach the bed behind him, but mid-way a blur of pasty skin was quicker than your motion; and you found your hand blocked by the side of his palm. You scowled lowly, and tried again on the other side of his head, but met the same outcome.

Intimidatingly, he stood, but you stared him down, trying to be as unpredictable as possible. With a small groan of exertion, you tried to fly your hand past him, but this time it was kicked away by the head of his foot; and you let out an “ouch”.

“Yikes, that stings, asshole!” You growled, before going at it again, and being kicked again - this time stumbling aback from the force. This kept going for a prolonged amount of time, you reaching and him deflecting your attacks.

“Damnit!” You reached - he kicked. “Let me-“ this time you tried to glide besides him and jump into the bed with your entire body wholly. He kicked your shoulder back, and you heard it pop. “-get on-“ you went for the other side. He blocked. “-the fucking bed!” With a sudden surge of confidence spurred from your fatigue, you just jumped with no prior plan or idea and mind. His foot crashed into your stomach, and you lost your breath when you were propelled back, and hit the floor.

Now on the floor again, you somewhat subsided to your fate, and a few minutes passed as he’d gotten back into the bed to your upmost chagrin, and you were stuck on the cold hard floor. Drawing senseless doodles into the floor with your finger, you grumbled to yourself angrily.

“-fucking inviting ME to HIS room ‘nd then kicking ME off the bed… little asshole… one of these days…”

You considered how things would’ve turned out had he not interfered with the rooming plan for whatever reason he did. “Yoo Hobin would never treat me like this…”

You could hear the sheets beneath him shuffle as his upper body went taut, and it creaked when he sat up and glared at you again. “What did you just say?” Despite his harsh and cold tone, he looked somewhat guilt-ridden.

Feeling especially spiteful, you averted your gaze to the floor again and continued your nonsensical tracing of the floorboards. “Oh, nothing, I just said that YOO HOBIN WOULD NEVER TREAT ME LIKE THIS.” Your tone was casual, but near the end you amplified your voice as loud as possible to draw out the guilt in him. It was deserved, that’s what he gets for kicking you off.

You picked yourself up, headed towards the door. “Maybe I’ll just go sleep with him…” you knew deep down you wouldn’t. You didn’t want to wake him up if he was asleep, but you hoped he would somehow stop you before you reached the door. If not, to save your pride, you’d continue to storm out the door and then just wander the halls ‘till daylight.

“... Fine. You can sleep here… just stay the hell away from me.”

You beamed, mood doing a complete 180. “Really?!” You clasped your hands together gratefully. “Thanks so much! Don’t worry, I’ll stay on my side.”

You jumped onto the bed, now appreciating it much more than before, and when you’d finally settled comfortably your eyes fluttered to a close. It would’ve been extremely peaceful, had you not felt a sudden pressure against your chest.

Eyes blinking open, you arched a brow when you saw him posed to kick you, keeping his leg besides your upper body.

“... And what’s this for?” You asked, unnerved. He lidded his eyes at you.

“To make sure you keep your cold feet on your fucking side… if you cross over, I’ll freaking kill you.”

“Aren’t you technically on my side now and infringing upon the rules you set yourself?”

The look of hatred he sent you made you chuckle nervously, a drop of sweat sliding down your forehead. “Heh… okay…” with a sigh, you just gave in. “Well, it certainly beats sleeping on the floor.”

He glared at you broodingly, in spite of the red color painting his face. You closed your eyes and smiled, content.

“Goodnight.”

“If I feel yer feet come on my side, you won’t live to see daylight.”

That was good enough for you. Signing tiredly through an exhale, you fell asleep, him watching your peaceful expression until he drifted off too.

(Unedited)

Ur not annoying me w ur requests at all!!!! I love writing them, u could never annoy me by requesting lol DONT worry!! I hope this was what u wanted w ur ask, it ended up rlly long and unexpectedly sweet? and I’m not certain if u have read how to fight, but if u haven’t, based on ur last few requests I think u would like taehoon, wangguk and thus one other guy who’s name I don’t remember but his hair is in a bun LOL. It’s by the same author if lookism so if u haven’t read it I definitely recommend it!!!!! Ty for requesting ❤️❤️❤️

#How to fight x reader #Viral hit x reader #Lookism x reader #Goo Kim x reader #Eli Jang x reader #Vin Jin x reader #Taehoon Seong x reader #Taehoon x reader #How to fight #Lookism #Viral hit

[reinerispretty]

reminiscence. (? x f!reader) pt10

hello!!!!!! we r back with another edition of this fic hehe. thank u all for ur support, i appreciate u so much! it’s also five am and i am not even tired so rip. 

also!! who do u think reader should end up with? i have it decided but i’m willing to hear reasoning and perhaps be persuaded ;)

pt1

pt9

pt11

“So, where do we find this Iroh guy?” Mako asked.

“You think he has any relation to General Iroh?” Bolin questioned. “I mean, how many Iroh’s can there really be, y’know?”

“He’s Iroh as in, Zuko and Iroh,” Korra informed them, and Bolin let out a shocked gasp. While she was nervous about getting her memories back, (Y/N) would definitely be grateful not to be absolutely lost when things were discussed.

A Republic City winter was nothing compared to a South Pole winter. (Y/N) was cold while she slept, cold while she moved, cold while she stood still! Korra’s mom had her wrapped up in so many different coats, furs, and blankets that she waddled while she walked. “How are you okay right now?” She asked Korra as they walked to breakfast together. “I feel like my nose is going to fall off.” 

Korra looked back and flashed her a smile. “It’s all I’ve ever known! You just kind of get used to it.” (Y/N) frowned. She couldn’t imagine ever getting used to weather like this. 

As they sat and ate their breakfast--(Y/N) tried to eat, but the layers made it hard to bend her elbows--they discussed their plan for the day. Led by Tonraq, they would travel by snowmobile to the Spirit World Portal. It was a long trip, so they would have to camp for the night, but the next day they would be trekking through the Spirit World looking for answers. “It’s warm there,” Korra said, nudging (Y/N) with her elbow. She smiled gratefully. 

She decided to ride on the back of Korra’s snowmobile. Bolin would be on the back of Asami’s and while Mako also had his own, (Y/N) wasn’t sure if she wanted to have her arms wrapped around him for the entire trip, especially when they hadn’t discussed the things that happened between them. Her and Mako hadn’t discussed things at all, really. She knew they were on better terms since the first time they met, but he was so guarded and she was so scared that anything Mako had to say to her, she might not want to hear. 

So, she waddled over to Korra’s snowmobile. “Mind if I ride with you?” She asked as Korra secured their supplies. 

“Not at all!” Korra said, her face lighting up. Then she cleared her throat and turned her eyes back to tying knots. “Just be sure you hold on tight, okay?” (Y/N) nodded, managing a joking salute. 

She wrapped her arms around Korra’s middle as tightly as she could, but it must not have been enough because as soon as Korra hit the gas, (Y/N) was flung off, landing on her back in the snow. She let out a shout of surprise, followed by a groan as she opened her eyes and saw Korra staring down at her. She wore a humored smile on her face. “I told you to hold on tight!” 

“I was!” (Y/N) insisted as Korra helped her get back to her feet. She pulled some rope from their side pouch and wrapped it around (Y/N’s) waist, then tied it to her own.

“We do this for little kids sometimes, so they don’t get lost in the snow.” (Y/N) narrowed her eyes and stuck her tongue out at her. Korra laughed at the childishness and helped her get back on the snowmobile. Then they were off, (Y/N) much more secured this time around. 

As they rode through the snowy hills, (Y/N) leaned her head on Korra’s back, taking in the sights of the Southern Water Tribe. Far out where the sea was, icy glaciers poked through the inky waters, shimmering against the sunlight. Everything was rather sparkly; if (Y/N) looked at the snow for too long her eyes felt sore. She turned her head and waved a gloved hand at Bolin, who gave her a thumbs up from his position behind Asami. 

Sometimes, when she looked at Bolin, it physically hurt her heart. She knew it was some sort of physical reaction, something her body remembered that her head didn’t. The feeling increased when he had referred to them as being friends. There was nothing wrong with being friends, in fact she supposed that was better than any other alternative, but even now she had always thought there was something more between them. Perhaps she had interpreted everything wrong. There was a giant piece of her memory missing, after all, and all she knew was that she had really messed up Bolin when she had left. It was probably better if they were just friends. Bolin was great and she didn’t want to lose him a second time. 

Their ride was so long that (Y/N) had eventually fallen asleep against Korra’s back, only to be awoken by the snowmobile coming to a jolted stop. She awoke and squeaked in fear, gripping on tighter to Korra. 

“Sorry!” She said. “I’ve never been really good at breaking.” 

“You’re going to tell me that after I spent hours on a giant metal deathtrap with you?” (Y/N) huffed. 

“It wasn’t that bad considering you were snoring into my back,” Korra quipped, quickly turning herself around so she could untie them. “You sounded like a lion turtle.” 

“I don’t even know what that is, but I’m sure you’re wrong.” (Y/N) slid off the snowmobile and began untying the packs. 

“Lion turtles used to carry cities on their backs and bestow the gift of bending to humans occasionally.” 

“Think we’ll find one in the Spirit World to grant me some powers?” (Y/N) asked. “What element do you think I’d bend? I think fire’s pretty cool but-” 

“Oh, you’d be an airbender for sure,” Korra said as she hoisted two packs onto her back. (Y/N’s) face lit up.

“Really! Why do you think that? Is it because of my calm and collected nature?” 

“It’s because you talk so much,” Korra explained. “You’re constantly bending air with your mouth.” She booped (Y/N) on the nose before making her way to the rest of the group. 

“You’re hilarious! (Y/N) called after her, gathering her own packs onto her back. “Why don’t you stop being the Avatar and become a comedian instead!” 

They set up their tents and made fire, which was easy work considering two out of the six people in the party were firebenders. As soon as (Y/N) finished her tasks she sat in front of the fire. She was probably too close, but she didn’t care. It’s warmth, albeit small, made her feel just a smidge less cold than she had been, and she’d take it. The rest of their group soon joined her, Asami sitting on one side and Korra sitting on the other. She appreciated the girls protecting her from any awkwardness that could potentially ensue from being near the boys. 

“I’m thinking when we get to the Spirit World, we’ll try our luck at finding Iroh,” Korra explained. “He’s always got spirits around him, maybe one of them will know who took (Y/N’s) memories.”

“And if they don’t?” Mako questioned. “We can’t just wander around the Spirit World hoping for some clue.” 

“Maybe I’ll start remembering again,” (Y/N) suggested. “Like when Bolin took me to the spot where we met. I got that memory back.” 

“You also threw up and passed out from that,” Asami reminded her. (Y/N) pursed her lips. 

“I can handle it,” (Y/N) reassured them. “At this point, I’ll do whatever it takes to get my memories back.” 

“The Spirit World is magnificent, but it’s also dangerous,” Tonraq said. Night had fallen, and his face was illuminated only by the fire. “They might not be happy to see humans there, especially after what happened last time.” 

“I’m the Avatar,” Korra said. “They have to at least listen to me.” 

“I just want you all to be careful. Whatever took (Y/N’s) memories has to be powerful. Maybe dangerous.” 

“We’ll be careful, Dad,” Korra reassured her father. Tonraq trusted his daughter’s abilities, that was obvious, but the worry he held for her was still evident on his features. (Y/N) swallowed, her mouth feeling dry. She hadn’t really considered that this could be a dangerous mission. If she was being honest, she had never really thought this far ahead. She had spent every day maneuvering around the different dynamics of the four friends, making sure that she didn’t overstep her boundaries or create unnecessary problems. She hadn’t considered what would be waiting for them on the other side of the Spirit Portal, or that the people she had grown to cherish would be put in danger for her sake. 

Asami passed around their food and (Y/N) ate silently, considering this information. Her friends talked around her, but she was so distracted that their comments went in one ear and out the other. Once she finally zoned back in, it was just her, Korra, and Mako sitting around the fire. 

Korra let out a big yawn, stretching her arms. “I’m absolutely beat,” She said. “I think I’m gonna turn in. You coming?” (Y/N) shook her head.

“I think I’ll stay near the warmth just a little longer.” Korra nodded and gave them a sloppy salute as she waded through the snow and to the tent she shared with Asami and (Y/N). It was just her and Mako now. 

She stared at the flames of the fire and how they danced in the cold night air. Should she say something to Mako? This was the first time they had been alone together and neither of them had immediately made up somewhere else they needed to be. They’d be heading to the Spirit World tomorrow, so if there was any time for them to communicate, it should be now. 

(Y/N) adjusted her coat, huddling further inside it. “Want me to make it bigger?” Mako asked, and (Y/N) nearly jumped, surprised to hear him talking to her. She looked at him, eyes wide and not quite understanding what he was talking about. “The fire, you want me to make it bigger?” 

“Oh, no, that’s okay,” She said. Mako stared at her for a moment before making the fire larger and while she had said she hadn’t wanted that, (Y/N) was grateful. It was so hard to be straightforward with Mako sometimes, because of the way he jumbled her brain. It was like she didn’t even recognize herself when she was around him anymore. Before, only one emotion accompanied being around Mako, and that was anger. Now, (Y/N) felt a whole range of emotions when she looked at his amber eyes. “I think we should talk,” She said finally, wincing at how small her voice sounded. 

“I think so too,” And he gave her a half smile. (Y/N) nodded, but both of them remained silent. How should she start? How did people even communicate properly? Perhaps the thing (Y/N) was most excited about getting her memories back was how to talk to people normally. She felt so awkward! 

“Why’d you kiss me?” She asked suddenly, her face heating from embarrassment. Mako’s eyebrows shot to the top of his forehead. 

“Oh,” He coughed. “I mean, well, it’s a little--it’s like--” (Y/N) couldn’t help giggling. “What’s so funny?” 

“Nothing!” She insisted, biting down her smile. “You just...you seem so tough and confident and aloof sometimes that it’s funny to see you act so...” 

“Embarrassing?” He guessed. (Y/N) shook her head. 

“Normal?” She tilted her head and shrugged. “You don’t always have to wear this tough guy act, you know.” 

“It’s not an act,” Mako insisted, but he and (Y/N) exchanged a look that had them both stifling back their laughter. “Maybe sometimes. People believe you’re tough if you act like it. Keeps you from getting your stuff stolen when you’re sleeping in a gutter.” 

“You grew up on the streets?” (Y/N) guessed. Mako nodded. 

“Sometimes I forget what you know and what you don’t.” 

“Me too, if we’re being honest.” They paused into a silence that wasn’t necessarily uncomfortable, just full of anticipation. “They teach you how to dodge questions on the streets, too?” 

Mako sighed, running a hand through his black hair. “It’s not easy for me to explain stuff like this. Bolin’s the one that can talk about emotions and feelings.” 

(Y/N) smiled. “Bolin can talk about anything.” 

“When we were arguing on that balcony, I wasn’t just angry at you for being here. You hurt Bolin a long time ago, but watching you be with my brother and knowing that I could never be with you...that hurt, too. You were so close to me that night and something inside of me said I should kiss you and once the idea popped into my head, I couldn’t get it out. I think I hoped that once I did it, it’d be some sort of release. Like a way to get it all out so I’d stop feeling like that.” 

“Was it?” 

Mako looked directly into her eyes. Normally, his gaze would make (Y/N) feel weird and she would have to look away. She couldn’t bring herself to do that tonight. 

“Not at all,” He admitted. “I thought I had gotten over you once you disappeared, but once you came back it all hit me full force.” 

(Y/N) thought for a moment about what she wanted to say. Then, she took a deep breath. “I don’t have any memories to base my feelings off of. But there are certain things, feelings, that I remember that I can’t place. They’re just there.” She placed a hand over her heart. “It happens when I look at Bolin. I remember feelings, like sadness and regret, but I don’t know why. It’s overwhelming sometimes, discerning emotions. The things that I feel for Bolin, they’re like past feelings that I’m remembering. Kind of.” She squinted her eyes shut. She wasn’t sure if she was explaining this right, but she was trying her best. “But when I look at you, now that the anger has subsided, I feel things now. Being around you feels nice and when you talk to me, I feel very...light and relieved. I can barely hold your gaze without blushing, and--and I think about you. A lot more than a friend should, I think.” 

“But,” She continued. “I don’t have all of my memories back. I don’t know how or why I left and I don’t know if things will change once I do.” 

“I get it,” Mako said. “As much as someone with memories can.” (Y/N) gave him a small smile. “And I don’t want to confuse you even more, because I’m sure being around Bolin is confusing enough as it is.” 

“You have no idea,” (Y/N) breathed. 

“I’m glad I told you. Almost two years and I finally admitted to my brother’s ex-girlfriend that I had a crush on her the whole time. This is a big day for me.” 

“The whole time?” (Y/N) questioned. “When did you realize that you liked me?” 

“I think Kya told us that we couldn’t share too much about the past with you, or else you might lose your memories forever?” (Y/N) pouted. “Fine, but if you can’t get your memories back, don’t blame me.” The wind picked up over them and he scooted closer to her so that he wouldn’t have to shout over it.

“Aye-aye, Captain,” (Y/N) said, giving a small salute. She rested her chin in the palm of her glove in order to pay attention. 

“There was this one time when you got to our place. Bolin wasn’t there yet, I think he was out performing tricks with Pabu. It was cold outside, one of the coldest days Republic City had had in a while. You came in and you were like an icicle. You were shaking and had forgotten your coat and decided to walk halfway across the city to our place. I gave you a blanket and one of Bolin’s coats, but your hands were still like ice, so I used a little firebending to warm them up.” Mako remembered the feeling of your hands completely encased in his. “I held your hands for a while, until they were warm enough. I got up to leave for work and you grabbed my hand and pulled me back down onto the couch. You said, ‘Stay, Mako! I love having you around.’ So, I stayed. We talked all day until Bolin got home, and I ended up losing that job, but spending that time with you made it all worth it.” 

(Y/N) sat silently for a long while before saying, “I’m sorry for making you lose your job.” 

Mako laughed. “It’s cool,” He said. “I wasn’t a very good delivery boy anyway.” 

(Y/N) pulled off her gloves, exposing her hands to the cold winter air. “Do you think you could...?” She offered her hands to Mako. He gave her a small smile and nodded, removing his own gloves and taking her hands in his. (Y/N) let out a happy sigh of relief at the feeling of warmth that emanated from his skin. 

“I’m sorry for being so mean to you at first,” Mako said. “I just didn’t want Bolin to get hurt again.” 

“I understand,” She said quietly. “I’d probably do the same if I were you.” Cautiously, she leaned her head on Mako’s shoulder. They sat like that for a long while, staring at the fire as Mako held her hands in his. While she was probably even more confused about her emotions than before, part of her hoped that whatever happened in the Spirit World wouldn’t change how she was feeling right now. She wanted to see where this could go. 

---

Once the cold became too much for either of them to bear, Mako and (Y/N) parted ways. Korra and Asami were fast asleep when she entered their tent and slid into her sleeping bag. She fell asleep quickly, her hands still warm, but it felt like she was asleep for only moments when Korra shook her awake in the morning. 

“One more hour,” (Y/N) grumbled, rolling over to avoid Korra’s gaze. The Avatar scoffed. 

“I already let you sleep in as late as possible!” She gently kicked (Y/N’s) butt. “Up! Spirit World today, woohoo!” A very groggy (Y/N) reluctantly left the warmth of her sleeping bag. The early morning sun was absolutely blinding as she walked out of the tent. (Y/N) let out an unhappy grumble. 

“Tea?” Asami offered, handing (Y/N) a thermos. (Y/N) smiled gratefully at her and took a long sip of the beverage, feeling it warm her from the inside out. 

“Thank you so much!” (Y/N) said. “I needed that.” 

“You were up pretty late,” Asami said, giving her a knowing smile. “Any particular reason?” (Y/N) shrugged playfully as she loaded her sleeping bag onto Korra’s snowmobile. 

“Mako and I finally talked.” 

“And? How’d that go?” Asami glanced over at Mako’s who sleepily nodded at whatever Bolin was excitedly saying to him. (Y/N) lightly slapped her friend’s arm. 

“Don’t stare!” She laughed. “It went fine. We talked about our feelings, actually.” Asami’s eyes widened in excitement and she opened her mouth to say something, but (Y/N) cut her off. “And while there are some feelings there, I told him how until I got my memories back, nothing could be certain.” 

Asami hummed in approval. “Seems like a good resolution.” 

“What’s a good resolution?” Korra came over to tie her own belongings to the snowmobile. 

“Mako and (Y/N) finally talked about their kiss.” 

“Woah!” Korra exclaimed. “Are you guys dating now?” 

“I’m missing like seventy-five percent of my memories and you think we’d be dating?” (Y/N) snipped. Korra shrugged. 

“I don’t know what goes on in your head!” 

“Like I told Asami, it was a good conversation. We talked about our feelings but I said that until I got my memories back, nothing could be done. I mean, what if I get them back and there was actually a non-Spirit World reason for why I was so awful to Bolin?” (Y/N) shook her head. “I was honest about how I felt and I think that’s good progress.”

“You know Korra,” Asami started. “Weren’t you telling me yesterday how much your bag hurt from having (Y/N) hold onto you?” 

“What? No?” Korra said, furrowing her dark brows. Asami elbowed her sharply in the side. 

“Remember? You said she held on too tight? Don’t you think that today you should ride on the snowmobile by yourself, since you’ll need to be at your best Avatar abilities in the Spirit World?” 

“I know what you guys are doing and I’m having absolutely none of it!” (Y/N) insisted. “I’m riding with Korra, end of story.” 

“Oh, I see what’s happening here,” Korra said. She placed her hands on her lower back. “Oh, yep, there’s definitely a tough knot there and it’s all (Y/N’s) fault. I don’t think I can ride on a snowmobile with you anymore.” 

“I thought the Avatar was supposed to bring peace, but all you’re causing is chaos,” (Y/N) hissed. 

“Hey, Mako!” Asami called out. Mako looked over to them, raising a questioning eyebrow as (Y/N) banged her head against the snowmobile. “Do you think (Y/N) can ride with you for today? Korra’s back is absolutely killing her.” 

“Ow~!” Korra drawled dramatically. 

“Uh, sure?” Mako questioned. He walked over to Korra’s vehicle and untied (Y/N’s) pack from it. “I think Tonraq said we were leaving in a few minutes, so I’ll be over there.” 

“Sounds great, she’ll be right there,” Asami said. 

“I’m not going,” (Y/N) said with a shake of her head. 

“I thought you said it was a good conversation?” Korra questioned. 

“You guys are so lucky I’m not a bender and I’m not very good at hand-to-hand combat because--” She shook her fist at both of them. “You’d be getting it!” She stomped over to Mako, a frown etched on her face. 

“Everything alright?” He asked. She let the frown fade from her face. 

“Everything’s fine,” She said with a sigh. “Korra and Asami are just being big pains.” 

“Don’t I know it.” Mako strapped his helmet and placed (Y/N’s) on top of her head, buckling it underneath her chin. He then tied a rope that connected the two of them, as Korra had done yesterday. “Safety first,” He said with a smile. (Y/N) felt her face flush as he helped her onto the snowmobile. Shyly, she wrapped her arms around his middle, and then they were off toward the Spirit World Portal. 

This trip was much shorter than the previous day’s. The portal was only an hour or two away from where they had camped. While (Y/N) was surprised that they had arrived so soon, there was no doubt that they were there, as the portal was a beam of warm yellow light that shot into the sky. It lay in the middle of the woods, only accessible by foot. 

They parked their snowmobiles on the outskirts of the woods. Tonraq began setting up his tent; they had agreed that someone should stay behind with a radio just in case anything went wrong and they needed backup. But to (Y/N’s) surprise, Asami was setting up her own tent as well. 

“You’re not coming with us?” She asked. Asami raised an eyebrow and shook her head. 

“We agreed before you woke up this morning that someone else should stay behind with Korra’s dad to help keep watch. You obviously need to go, as does Korra, and I knew Bolin and Mako would be absolutely horrible if they had no idea what was going on inside. So, I decided to stay.” 

(Y/N) frowned. While the reasoning was sound, it still made her sad that Asami wouldn’t be accompanying them on their journey. She and (Y/N) had developed a real friendship over the last few weeks. They had spent nearly all of their time together. It would be strange, not having her around. 

“Be safe, okay?” (Y/N) asked, throwing her arms around Asami and squeezing her into a hug. 

“You’re going into a completely new dimension and you’re telling me to be safe?” Asami laughed, but she wrapped her arms around (Y/N’s) frame and hugged tightly. “I can’t wait to hear all about your memories.” The two friends parted and (Y/N) lifted her pack onto her back. 

“Ready?” Korra asked, and she, Bolin, and Mako nodded. Their group said their goodbyes to Tonraq and Asami before Korra led them into the woods. 

“The last time I was here, I was frozen into a block of ice by an ex-girlfriend,” Bolin said. (Y/N) raised an eyebrow at him. “It wasn’t you! It was Korra’s cousin from the Northern Water Tribe.” 

“The one with the evil dad?” (Y/N) asked. 

“That’s the one!” Bolin nodded. 

“This is it,” Korra said as they stopped in front of the Spirit World Portal. (Y/N) could feel its energy radiating from outside the forest, but now it was even more prominent. “Next stop, Spirit World.” She turned around to look at (Y/N), whose face looked as if she had seen a ghost. “Everything alright?” 

(Y/N) nodded, gulping. “I’m okay,” She nodded again, trying to convince herself that she was speaking the truth. What if getting her memories back wasn’t necessarily a good thing? Something had blocked them out. Perhaps they had done it for her own benefit. But they had come this far, so she remained silent as she stepped through the threshold and into the Spirit World. 

It was an odd feeling, transitioning between two planes. It felt like each particle of (Y/N’s) body was buzzing, until suddenly she was on the other side and staring at so many colors, some that she was sure she had never seen before. She released the breath she had been holding as she stepped through. 

Indescribable beings flew overhead, cawing and cooing at them. Korra had been right: the Spirit World was significantly warmer than the South Pole. The group removed their jackets as (Y/N) took in her surroundings. Currently, they stood in the middle of a rocky wasteland, but patches of flowers and grass popped up here and there. In the middle stood a gnarled tree with a hollowed out middle. 

“That’s the Tree of Time,” Korra explained. “That’s where the first Avatar had imprisoned Vaatu, the dark spirit that I defeated a month ago. His energy made this part of the Spirit World a wasteland, but it’s healing.” 

“It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) breathed, and Korra smiled. Their group walked across the barren land to the greener parts of the Spirit World. Butterfly-like animals flittered around them as they walked and Korra explained her many trips to this place. Mako and Bolin had been here as well, although they had never been further than the Tree of Time. That helped (Y/N) feel less out of place. 

“So, where do we find this Iroh guy?” Mako asked. 

“You think he has any relation to General Iroh?” Bolin questioned. “I mean, how many Iroh’s can there really be, y’know?” 

“He’s Iroh as in, Zuko and Iroh,” Korra informed them, and Bolin let out a shocked gasp. While she was nervous about getting her memories back, (Y/N) would definitely be grateful not to be absolutely lost when things were discussed. 

“There it is!” Korra exclaimed, and then she started running. The others dashed behind her, not quite sure of where she was going, until a small house appeared seemingly out of nowhere and they were right in front of it. A small tea party of spirits and one human sat at a table in the garden. 

“Korra!” The old man exclaimed. “Welcome back! We were just about to start afternoon tea.” He peaked behind her at her friends. “And you brought company! The more the better, I think I have some extra teacups in the house.” 

“Hi, Iroh,” Korra said. “We really appreciate it, but we don’t really have time--” But the old man was already headed inside his house. When he returned, he held four additional teacups and a bright smile on his face. 

“Sit, sit,” He insisted. Korra looked to (Y/N), who shrugged, and dropped her backpack to the ground and took a seat. If having tea was what she needed to do in order to get her memories back, then she would do it. “You!” Iroh said as he placed (Y/N’s) teacup in front of her. “I’ve heard many things about you. Welcome back.” 

“Back?” (Y/N) questioned, looking at her friends. “I’ve been here before?” 

“You are (Y/N), yes?” She nodded. “When Korra first visited me to ask about you, I did not know much.” He placed a hand to the side of his mouth. “Spirits are horrible gossips sometimes, and I did not want to lead the Avatar on a path different from the one you must take. But I have asked many a visitor about you and they have all said the same thing: you were here, not too long ago, but you were here for a while.” 

“Why was she here?” Mako questioned before (Y/N) could. Iroh sighed as he poured their tea. 

“Whatever the reason, it was not good. Many of my friends say they saw her enter the dark part of our realm and she did not leave for a long time.” 

“It’s true!” One of the spirits interjected, an oddly blue wolf. “I saw you months ago with my own four eyes. You looked nothing like you do now. You came through the portals, yeah? Last time, someone brought you here the other way.” 

“You mean through meditation?” Korra asked. The spirit nodded. 

“Whatever it was, something powerful had to do it. I couldn’t do nothing like that.” 

“So, powerful spirit in the dark parts of the Spirit World. Forgive me if I’m wrong, but it doesn’t sound like something a good spirit would do.” (Y/N) looked to Iroh to confirm her suspicions. 

“Spirits are neither good nor bad, unless we are discussing Vaatu and Raava. But there are some spirits whose motives become skewed.” 

(Y/N) deflated in her seat. The spirit who had taken her memories was powerful and most likely dangerous. And if they found it, she would be leading her friends right to them. 

They finished their tea with Iroh before continuing on their journey. Bolin had talked excitedly with him about his adventures with Avatar Aang and Fire Lord Zuko, whoever those people were, and Iroh gave him a Jasmine Dragon teacup to take back to the mortal realm. The entire time that they talked, (Y/N) was incredibly distracted by what Iroh had told them. 

“We should go back,” (Y/N) said suddenly. All three of her friends stopped and looked at her as if she were insane. 

“But, you need to get your memories back,” Bolin said. 

“I’ll just start over,” She insisted. “I can start fresh. Whatever this spirit is, it isn’t good, and I don’t want to hand you guys to it on a silver platter. We’ll go back and I’ll just learn to live without my memories.” 

“There are pieces of you you’ll never get back. Important memories that might have meant a lot to you. You deserve answers, (Y/N), for everything that’s happened to you.” Bolin grabbed her hands and she felt that same shock of electricity run through her body every time he touched her. 

“It’s not worth it if it means you guys will get hurt.” 

“Stop trying to play hero,” Mako said suddenly, his voice much harsher than it had been the night before. “If we didn’t want to be here to help you, we wouldn’t be.” 

“You shouldn’t be helping me. You guys fight every day for the greater good, for the people of the world. I’m one person. You can’t get yourselves hurt over one person. This,” She gestured to the entirety of the Spirit World, but referred to their mission. “Isn’t as important than whatever is going on back in the mortal world.” 

“But you’re important,” Korra said suddenly. “You’re important to Bolin and Mako and you’ve become important to Asami and I. The Avatar fights for the greater good, but as your friend, I’ll do whatever it takes so that you can feel like yourself again.” 

(Y/N) felt her eyes watering. Why weren’t they getting it? “If anything happened to you guys while we’re here, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself.” 

“And if we gave up on you, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself,” Bolin said. She looked up at him through watery eyes. “No matter what we’ve been through, we care about you. I care about you. And we’re going to get that dumb spirit to give your memories back.” 

(Y/N) looked from him to Korra to Mako, whose head immediately turned as soon as her eyes landed on him. “Okay,” she said. “But I think this is a horrible idea.” 

“I find that horrible ideas make the best stories,” Bolin said with a smile.

---

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#lok #legend of korra #korra x reader #asami x reader #mako x reader #bolin x reader #avatar #the last airbender #writing #fanfiction #korra #mako #bolin #asami

[bokunoheroanalysisforthefuture]

Part three of three. Let’s close this match out in style.

[No. 40 - Emancipation]

Endeavor is, unsurprisingly, thrilled with this development. He yells his son’s name, marching his way down the steps of the stands as he continues to shout. He’s pleased with Shouto finally accepting his fire, and that it all starts now for him. With Endeavor’s blood in his veins, he will surpass him and fulfill his ambitions. 

Shouto… doesn’t even seem to hear him. 

Endeavor, Toshinori, and the audience in general are left in an awkward silence. Eventually Present Mic makes light of the sudden pep talk from Endeavor, calling him a ‘doting parent’ with probably a bit of wry humor, and that it’s a bit unexpected since they’re not on good terms. 

Shouto wipes away his tears, looking back up at Izuku. Izuku is still proud of his victory in getting through to Shouto, which prompts Shouto to ask why he’s smiling. With his wounds, and in this situation, he must be crazy. It’s not Shouto’s problem what happens to him now. The two pull up the full power of their quirks as they face each other down, ready for the deciding blow.

Cementoss, meanwhile, gets up and calls to Midnight for help in stopping the match before it goes any further. Cementoss sends out a wave of cement, while Midnight tugs open her costume and lets her quirk loose.

Shouto sends out another massive glacier, which Izuku leaps over by sacrificing his right leg. Izuku thinks on how he has to get close and give it everything as he brings his right arm swinging around, thinking of his own words to Shouto to give everything he’s got. Shouto brings up his left hand, wreathed in flames, as he thanks Izuku.

Impact.

Not gonna lie, I really do appreciate the anime for how much more epic they were able to make this, mostly because of the advantage of sound + music + animation in conveying battle scenes. But also, the art style… Horikoshi really started out great and only got better from there. God, those flames...

Also, it’s such a small thing, but I can’t help but notice that thank you, so small against the rest of the full page spread, basically lost among everything else happening in that instant… it’s questionable whether Izuku even heard it over the noise of everything happening - we can certainly guess no one else did. And it’s so important, that acknowledgement, even if it’s unheard, to what Izuku did for him. 

In the aftermath, smoke covers the arena, making it impossible to see the results. Cementoss comments on how he doesn’t believe bigger is better, but that was something else. Present Mic, knocked over from his seat, is in shock, asking what is up with Aizawa’s class. Aizawa replies that all that chilled air had been heated in an instant, making it expand. Present Mic comments on the blast and the heat, as well as being unable to see anything. He wonders whether the match has been decided. Midnight is picking herself up as well, her hair a mess and mask blown away. 

The smoke clears just enough to see one of Izuku’s shoes scritching against the ground. Toshinori and Endeavor are tense as the smoke continues to clear, enough to see that Izuku-

-is out of the ring and out for the count. His unconscious body continues to slide down the wall, hitting the floor with a heavy thump, while Shouto, conscious and just inside the ring, watches on. Midnight calls the match - Izuku is out of bounds. Shouto moves on to the third round.

The crowds murmur and comment. Izuku got straight up blown away… was he just provoking Shouto without a plan to back it up? Did he even want to win? Or was he trying to lose? Either way, that was some impressive power… he’s got some moxie, for sure. He put on a good show up through the cavalry battle, anyway.

The scene closes out on Katsuki’s contemplative expression.

In the back stage walkways, Endeavor tracks down Shouto once again in order to talk. SHouto says nothing, prompting Endeavor to make a comment on Shouto not telling him to get out of the way this time. Without control over his flames, going all out is dangerous - but he’s finally put aside his childish rebellion. He’s ready to replace Endeavor - to surpass him, even. He tells Shouto to work at his side after he graduates, and that he’ll guide him down the path to supremacy.

Shouto butts in, saying he hasn’t put aside anything. Endeavor is struck speechless. Shouto is not one to be turned that easily. It’s just that… in the moment… in that instant… he forgot all about Endeavor. Whether that’s good, bad, or something in between… that’s something he’ll have to think about.

God, I love this, not just for Shouto managing to hit harder with those words than all his anger before, but because Endeavor himself is struck speechless with this change and blunt admittance. It’s a small peek into his character development to come, and god does it make me want a look into his head in that instant.

...honestly. In retrospect, and acknowledging how far he’s come since here, I can’t help but wonder if this was actually a kicking off point for his development, that only really got seen much further down the line. 

We shift to Recovery Girl’s office, where Toshinori looks on his heavily injured successor. Recovery Girl tells him that Izuku’s right arm is shattered, and that it won’t be easy to set back to normal. First, she has to remove the bone splinters from his joints, and healing comes after. The boy admires All Might so much that he’s willing to destroy himself. Toshinori lit that fire. Toshinori moved him to this. She doesn’t like it, not one bit. Toshinori is overdoing it - him and Izuku - so he’d better not praise the kid for it. 

Several of Izuku’s friends slam their way into the room, worried for him. Poor Toshinori is startled in the process, clutching at his chest. Ochako gives an aside greeting to him, while Izuku notes that the next match is coming up. Tenya tells him that the arena was mostly destroyed, so there’s a break while it’s being repairs. Ochako adds on that they came because they were worried. 

Mineta comments on how that was scary as hell, and that no pro will want to hire him. Tsuyu slaps him with her tongue, commenting on how she can’t say she likes his rubbing-salt-in-the--would style. Mineta argues that he’s right, though. Recovery Girl tells them to pipe down as she starts shooing them out the door, stating that it’s fine to worry, but he’s about to have surgery. All of the kids are shook at this.

Izuku gets Toshinori’s attention by apologizing. He couldn’t do it. Maybe if he’d just shut up… but he had to say what he did to Shouto. Toshinori is speechless for a moment, seeing how distressed Izuku is at his perceived failure. 

He eventually notes that Izuku was trying to bring it out of him. Izuku agrees, saying that it was just too sad. He thought, maybe he should just mind his own business… but, he had to… at that point, he couldn’t take it anymore. It was so frustrating. He forgot why he was there… he lost himself. He then apologizes again, leaving Toshinori with no words. 

Recovery Girl finally succeeds in shooing out the other kids as Toshinori finds his words again. He calls the match an unfortunate outcome, indeed. And calling Izuku a fool won’t change what happened. However, giving help that’s not asked for… is what makes a true hero. Izuku himself seems to have no reply to that. 

We close out with a few shots of Shouto making his way into the arena with a new uniform to replace the one he half-destroyed, while the narration notes how Izuku finished in the top eight. 

Sorry for this being late by a day, but just. Wow. This match is just… in the manga, it feels just a bit different. And this aftermath, I think, makes it hit all the harder, what Izuku gave in order to save someone from themself. He feels like he disappointed All Might for prioritizing someone else’s life, and I just. This kid. This kid.

I’ll try to get through the rest of the chapters of this arc over the next week, then take a break before tackling hosu and all that stuff. See y’all tomorrow, hopefully.

#readthrough #chapter 40 #sports festival arc #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #midoriya izuku #todoroki shouto #todoroki enji #yagi toshinori #recovery girl #cementoss #kayama nemuri #yamada hizashi #aizawa shouta #this chapter feels so melancholy because of the ending #a victory that feels like a loss

[gumnut-logic]

Warnings: Pure and simple Virgil hurt/comfort with a dash of an unrequited longing to hear John sing.

-o-o-o-

He had fallen, he knew that much.

The lights in his helmet blinded him and a fumbling hand found the switch that turned them off.

He closed his eyes.

“Virgil!” John’s voice was sharp in his ear and it sparked sluggish neurons into activity.

Wha-?

“Virgil, respond!”

He managed a grunt and forced his eyes open.

His world was blue ice.

It was beautiful. He stared. Sculptured arcs, white through to deep blues in the dim light. Water was running somewhere, trickling like tinkling bells. He was lying on a narrow ledge in a narrow crevice. This was probably bad, but the fog in his mind was fixated by beauty.

“Virgil! Status!”

John was upset. Why was John upset? This is a wondrous place.

“Virgil, Scott and Gordon are on their way. Please respond.” Johnny was pleading.

“J-John? ‘S beautiful.”

“Virgil!”

“S-sto’ yelling.”

There was silence for a moment and Virgil let his eyes close again. His head was so foggy he needed to sleep it off. He drifted.

Only to be yelled awake again. “Virgil, please!”

“Huh?”

“Oh, thank god.” John sounded worried.

“Wha’ss wrong?”

“Virgil, you fell down an ice crevice.”

He did? He forced his eyes open again. So beautiful. “‘S beautiful.”

“Virgil, medical status?”

Medical status? Uh? Flat on his belly, he couldn’t see anything but the blue of his fingertips. Fingerless gloves were a mistake. Useful, but a vulnerability. He really needed to remove them from the uniform pattern assembly. He had been meaning to do that for some time, but...time. God, he was tired.

“Virgil?”

“Wha-?”

“I’m reading some injury. What is your status?” Gentle. Johnny was being gentle now. Why was that a worry?

“You ‘kay?”

“I’m fine, Virgil. How are you?”

“Tired.” He let his eyes close again.

“Virgil.” It was almost sung, like Gordon at his most annoying. But this was Johnny. Johnny was kind and smart and always there.

“Mmmhmm.”

“You need to stay awake, Virgil. Scott is coming.”

Scott. Scott knew what to do. Always did.

“Virgil?”

“Hmm?”

“Are you in pain?”

Pain?

That prompted him to move.

His chest and left leg screamed at him. His breath vanished. He must have said something because John was calling his name again.

Oh, god, ow.

“Virgil, are you there?”

“’m there.” It was more a whimper than anything else.

Another exhaled breath of relief drifted over comms. John must have a shit of a time up in space just watching and being unable to do anything. The thought pushed a few neurons into more rational thinking. He had to do what John said because he didn’t want him to worry. “Sorry, John.”

Sorry.

Sorry.

Damn, he was tired.

He closed his eyes again.

Only to be shaken awake.

What?

“Virgil.” There was fear in John’s voice.

What was scaring his brother?

The ice beneath his fingers shivered. Huh?

“Virgil, you need to get out of there. Scott’s not going to make it in time.”

What? Scott was always on time.

“Virgil?”

Focus. John needed him. John was scared. Little brothers shouldn’t be scared.

“’m here.” He spat something out and red splattered on the inside of his helmet. Shit. That can’t be good. The medic in him activated, listing off causes.

Shit.

“Virgil, can you move?”

“Uh, not without pain. May…may h-have busted a rib or two.”

The ice under him shivered again. What was doing that?

“Virgil, you’re going to have to climb out. The glacier is unstable and the area is still experiencing tremors.”

Tremors. The thought sparked more thoughts. He had been fishing a climber out of a glacier after an earthquake. New Zealand.

“Climber safe?”

“He’s on Thunderbird Two. You were retrieving equipment when a tremor collapsed the ice you were standing on.”

“Tha’ sounds stupid.”

“It wasn’t, trust me. Do you have your ice pick?”

Ice pick? Moving sucked. He didn’t want to move.

“Virgil, do you have your ice pick?”

God, John knew how to nag. But John was worried. John shouldn’t be worried.

He moved his arm and felt around, hissing between his teeth when his ribs complained. But his hand landed on the cold metal of the tool he had been holding when he fell. He forced his cold fingers to curl around the implement and pull it close.

His eyes closed again without permission.

“Virgil?”

He forced his eyes open again. “John?”

“Do you have your ice pick?”

“Mmmhmm.”

“Repeat.”

Sigh. “Yes, John.”

“You had your crampons deployed before you fell. Do you have your grapple gun?”

Grapple gun?

He clung to the ice pick and felt around again. Ice. Cold. Crumbled fragments. Sharp slivers that hurt when his fingers encountered them.

“No grapple gun.” It was a pain-filled exhale.

John didn’t respond immediately and Virgil took the opportunity to drift into a painless oblivion.

The ice beneath him shook and groaned. He startled as the movement triggered whatever the hell was wrong with his left leg. His gasp must have hit orbit because John started calling his name again.

“Virgil, you have to get out of there. Climb!”

Climb? Are you kidding?!

He could barely move!

But his decision was forced as the ice beneath him suddenly cracked and began sliding downwards.

Not good. Not good! He gripped his ice pick as training and reflexes were shoved to the fore.

He moved without thinking and his whole body screamed as the ledge fell away beneath him. One arm whipped out and dug the pick into the crevasse wall. It bit hard as his body fell and impacted with the ice.

Everything whited out.

“Virgil! Respond! Virgil!”

His little brother’s voice drew him back.

God.

Oh, god.

He forced clarity and found himself on a sharp slope of ice, once again on his belly, but this time gravity was attempting to drag him into the dark depths below. The soft glow of ice was no longer beautiful. It was more of a maw desperate to swallow him.

“Virgil! Answer me!” John sounded terrified.

“J-hn.”

Everything hurt so much.

“You have to climb, Virgil. Climb, please, big brother.” Such pleading couldn’t be ignored. He…he…had to…had to…oh, god…John, I can’t…hurts. He squeezed his eyes shut and moisture leaked out the cracks. But he was aware of his choices. Climb or die. The maw below gaped at him.

He couldn’t do that to John.

Couldn’t.

“Scott’s nearly there. Gordon’s with him. You just need to climb a little, Virgil, please.”

Climb.

He forced his right leg up. The crampon on his boot dug into the ice and took some of the weight off his arm. His ribcage complained at every movement. His left leg hung useless. He had no idea what was going on down there other than a few smears of red on the white blue which he wasn’t acknowledging. Scott would fix it.

Scott fixed everything.

Gordon.

The thought of his little brother seeing him like this was enough to bring his left hand in contact with the ice searching for a handhold. The cold burnt, but at least it wasn’t quite numb yet.

Yet.

Fingernails bit into frozen water and with a grunt Virgil inched himself up a little.

He wriggled the ice pick out of its purchase and, trying not to scream, whacked it back into the slope higher up.

A strangled whimper escaped anyway.

“I’m here, Virgil. You can do this.”

John believed in him.

He wanted to cry. He honestly didn’t know if he could do this. But John was his little brother, he couldn’t fail his little brother.

Couldn’t.

He dragged himself up again, grunting. All those workouts, all that training, and it came down to this.

The will to make it happen.

The slope trembled under him.

No. Please, no.

He dug his boot into the ice again and pushed up.

Up.

Fingernails in ice.

Pick out and digging in.

Pull up and try not to scream.

He failed that last almost every time. His ribs whited out his vision and he almost lost it.

Almost.

But John was there. His little brother urging him on. Only a voice, but so much more. John’s voice was always a soothing presence. He loved talking to John. Late at night when his brother couldn’t sleep so far up above Tracy Island. Virgil used the excuse to check up on him, but in reality, he just wanted to talk to John. He missed him.

John was made for the stars. They were his home and Virgil would never not encourage him to pursue his dreams, but he missed his brother. His quiet, gentle brother with the voice that should be singing. They were five, but there was always one missing and Virgil ached sometimes for his little brother’s absence.

“Love you, J-hn.”

“Virgil?! Talk to me! Scott’s on approach!”

Such alarm in that beautiful voice.

Virgil let his helmet contact the ice and just clung to the cliff face.

Breathing hurt.

He spat red.

That was not good.

As if to urge him on, the ice shook again.

He had to move, but he didn’t know if he could. “John, I-“

“Virgil Tracy, you move your ass now!”

The anger and fear in his brother’s voice startled him.

“I’m not losing you, big brother, not this close. You move and you move now!”

Virgil blinked and realised the ice was lighter here. He looked up and was surprised to see a patch of blue sky above. A roar swelled from beyond that patch. A familiar roar.

Scott.

Gordon.

He pulled the ice pick out and reaching up, sunk it in again. It bit in strong.

His whimper trembled in tune with the vibration of the ice beneath him as the glacier shook again.

Snow fell over the lip of the crevasse and dusted his helmet.

“That’s it, Virgil. Not far to go now.” There was hope in his little brother’s voice.

Can’t disappoint a little brother.

He pulled himself higher.

And again.

A shadow blotted out the light and a deeper, authoritive voice joined John’s.

Scott.

Oh, god, Scott.

He almost fell limp with relief.

That shadow became his big brother, became arms that held him, a safety line, an emergency upward ascent as the cliff face finally cracked beneath his finger tips and began to slide, threatening to take him with it.

Everything hurt.

Everything screamed.

John’s voice.

Scott’s voice.

Gordon pleading with him as he drifted away.

-o-o-o-

 “’Mutton yesterday, mutton today, and blimey, if it don’t look like mutton again tomorrer,’ said one of the trolls.

 “’Never a blinking bit of man flesh have we had for long enough,’ said a second. ‘What the ‘ell William was a-thinkin’ of to bring us into these parts at all, beats me – and the drink runnin’ short, what’s more,’ he said jogging the elbow of William, who was taking a pull at his jug.”

Virgil frowned. The three trolls. Bilbo was watching the three trolls.

 “William choked. ‘Shut yer mouth!’ he said as soon as he could. ‘Yer can’t expect folk to stop here for ever just to be et by you and Bert. You’ve et a village and a half between yer, since we come down from the mountains. How much more d’yer want? And some time’s been up our way, when yer’d have said ‘thank yer Bill’ for a nice bit o’ fat valley mutton like what this is.’”

John’s accent was perfect. The familiar words sculpted out the scene in his head and he anticipated the drama that he knew was going to happen next.

His little brother’s voice sketched out the action of Bilbo and the dwarves being captured and Virgil just enjoyed it. It was a long moment before the question of why John was reading to him actually occurred.

It stopped him in his tracks.

He was lying in a bed. Most of his body was numb and his head was foggy.

John had such a musical voice. He could listen to it for hours. He really wished his brother would sing more often. Their mother used to sing and John had inherited that from her, but he refused most of the time. Virgil thought it was a travesty, a wasted talent. But it was John’s choice.

The trolls turned to stone as Virgil began to realise a few important facts.

The bed wasn’t his.

It smelt like hospital.

He tried to draw on his most recent memories and came up blank. This was disconcerting and increased his heart rate. A rapid electronic beep was the result.

John stopped reading. “Virgil?”

“Mmmhmm.”

A scuffle off to his left. “Can you open your eyes?”

Could he?

A slow blink and light flooded in. He squinted. Ugh.

“Hey, there you are.” There was a smile in his brother’s voice and Virgil forced his eyes to open again to confirm it.

John was standing over him, complexion pale and drawn, but smiling. There were dark smudges under those turquoise eyes.

Virgil frowned. “Are you okay?”

John’s half-hysterical laugh at those words had Virgil widening his eyes. His brother touched his arm and squeezed gently as his other hand reached for his collar. God, that shirt still sucked. “Scott, Virgil’s awake.” There was a mutter of acknowledgement and John’s gaze fell back to Virgil. “It’s good to see you.”

Virgil blinked. “What happened?” Something had obviously happened. John looked like death warmed up.

His brother didn’t get a chance to answer as the door flew open and a mess of an eldest brother tore into the room. “Virgil!”

Virgil stared at Scott. He looked awful. His usually perfect hair was askew. He had canyons under his eyes and their blue was dulled by exhaustion.

“What the hell happened?!” Virgil tried to sit up.

And failed spectacularly. Both Scott and John reached out to hold him down, but they needn’t have bothered, his body wasn’t working. That alarmed him even more.

“Hey, Virgil, look at me.” And John was holding his gaze. “Take a breath in.”

Virgil blinked, his heart beating a mile a minute, but did as he was told. His body responded like a creaky and numb old machine.

“Now let it go.”

He did and melted into the bed, suddenly exhausted.

His eyes darted back to his wreck of an eldest brother. “What happened?”

“You fell into an ice crevasse during a rescue. Broke a few ribs and mangled your left knee. There was some bleeding.”

His medic brain filled in the gaps. “Bad?”

Scott’s eyes dipped a moment and Virgil’s heart sank. His brother looked like he had been through hell and back. “I’m sorry.”

That did it. “Are you kidding me?!”

“What?”

A pale hand reached across the bed and touched his big brother’s arm. “Scott.”

The man visibly deflated. “Not your fault, Virg.”

Virgil’s eyes searched his brother’s face. What the hell had happened?

“Virgil.” John’s soft voice drew his gaze to the other side of the bed. “You’re going to be okay. It’s going to take some time, but you’re going to be okay.”

“Okay.”

Scott dropped heavily into the chair beside the bed, his head dropping into one hand.

“Scott?”

His big brother reached out and grabbed his bandaged fingers and squeezed tight. Scott refused to look at him, his face hidden by his hand.

Virgil’s heart clenched.

It had been bad.

The need to apologise rose to his lips again, but a tug on his other arm drew his attention back to John. A subtle shake of his head and Virgil remained silent.

Another glance at Scott sitting beside him and he squeezed those fingers gently.

John dragged over his chair and sat down again, not once letting go of Virgil’s arm. He picked up his tablet and a moment later, resumed reading ‘The Hobbit’. Virgil stared at him a moment as he let the words wash over him.

He still didn’t remember much, but there was something about his little brother’s voice, something leading him on, pushing him forward, making him do what needed to be done.

He watched those turquoise eyes track text and those lips translate it.

And speak with that musical voice.

-o-o-o-

FIN.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds #thunderbirds fanfiction #Virgil Tracy #John Tracy #Scott Tracy #nuttyfic reblog

[five-rivers]

Long Night in the Valley Chapter 2

“You shouldn’t be here.”

Everyone turned to see Midoriya standing on the stairs to the beach, looking down at them.  None of them, least of all Shouto, had ever seen that expression on his face before. That… flatness that almost rivaled his own.  

Uraraka took a step forward.  “Deku?” she asked, uncertainly.  Suzuki, the commission instructor, threw his arm in front of her, blocking her path.  

“Whatever that is,” he said, voice strained and low-pitched, “it isn’t Midoriya Izuku.  Saito’s quirk doesn’t allow for the subject to have an avatar in the dreamscape without a lot of practice.  There’s another quirk at work here.”

“You need to leave,” said Midoriya, descending a single step.  “Now.”

“It could be a result of his own quirk,” said Aizawa, who nonetheless had a hand on his capture weapon.  “He’s had odd reactions to mental quirks in the past.  Jumping to conclusions is illogical.”

“We have evidence Midoriya Izuku is working for the League of Villains,” said Suzuki, backing away from the stairs, slightly.  “By the rules laid out in the standard—”

Shouto tuned Suzuki out, by now quite convinced that the man had nothing particularly meaningful to say, in favor of examining Midoriya.  

It was Midoriya.  Just, a Midoriya that was annoyed, defensive, and maybe a little offended with just a touch of something else.  Which was a weird combination on Midoriya.  Especially as muted as it was. Midoriya’s expressions, no matter what they were, were always so big.  

“—I am recruiting you to aid this investigation and determine the League of Villain’s plans!”

“If you don’t leave, I’ll make you leave,” growled Midoriya.  

Wow, for someone who was the embodiment of sunshine, he could be really threatening.  Then again, sunburns were a thing, so maybe it wasn’t too surprising.  

“You’re here against my will, after coercing me into allowing a quirk to be used on me.  I want you out.”

“Eraserhead, I suggest you restrain this projection, whoever it belongs to.”

“I’m not going to warn you again,” continued Midoriya.

“I suggest,” said Aizawa, “that you listen to him.  We can ask Midoriya about this when we’re all awake and not in his head.  Like you should have done in the beginning.”

Midoriya tilted his head slightly to one side.  

“I agree!  This is very unethical,” said Iida, chopping at the air.  “This is basically an interrogation, and Midoriya is a minor! You need parental permission!”

“Which, before you start talking about him willingly participating in this course,” said Aizawa, “he has explicitly withdrawn. Not to mention his mother signed those opt-out forms, so her permission is withdrawn as well.”

“You can’t be serious—”

“I am,” said Aizawa.  “Take us out.  This whole thing is illogical.”

“I can’t,” said Suzuki.  “Saito is the only one who can shut down her quirk prematurely.”

“What?” said Uraraka.  “There’s no way for you to contact her in an emergency?  That’s really dangerous!”

“That’s not what Saito Yume said, either,” said Midoriya, flatly. “’The dream state persists until either I release it, the people involved break free, or eight hours pass.’ Implying that there’s another way to break free.  One that you, by necessity, must know.  So, leave. Or I’m going to start to defend myself.”

Suzuki took a deep breath.  “I am here,” he said, “to complete a mission given to me from the Hero Commission.  Your refusal to comply with the terms set out in your licensing agreements will be noted.”

Midoriya brought his head up straight again and squared his shoulders.  His hands clenched.  He was wearing gloves, Shouto noticed.  Not the gloves that went with his hero costume, but work gloves.  He’d seen the landscapers who worked at his family home wear something similar.  

Why?

“Fine,” said Izuku.  “Then I’m going to kick you out.”

“That’s impossible, you—”

“I know this beach very well.”

Abruptly, the pristine white sand was covered in towers of trash, separating Shouto from the others.  Suzuki’s insistence that Midoriya was a spy had already had him on edge.  This put him fully into battle-mode.  

He dropped into battle stance, and carefully froze one of the trash piles in front of him, making an icy stair to the top.  His first priority was to find Aizawa and his classmates and regroup.  To do that, he had to get a better vantage point.  

He jogged up the stairs, noting, absently, that he was now in his hero suit, not his school uniform.  What had he been wearing before this turned into a fight?  He hadn’t particularly noticed.  

He reached the top just in time to see Midoriya bludgeon Suzuki with a piece of rusty rebar.

Alright.  Maybe that wasn’t Midoriya.

.

Aizawa wasn’t fast enough getting around the piles of trash. He would have tried to scale them, but there was no safe place for him to grab on to.  The piles were simply too unstable, too untrustworthy, too poorly shaped.

He arrived just in time to see Midoriya, or what looked like Midoriya, impale Suzuki with a pole.  

Before his mind could fully process the problem child attempting what looked a whole lot like murder, he had him wrapped in his capture weapon.

Midoriya had the gall to look confused, if only slightly.

“Todoroki,” Aizawa barked, spotting his other student on top of one of the horribly dangerous trash mounds.  “First aid, stat.”

“Yes, sir,” said Todoroki, making an ice ramp to glide down.

“Midoriya,” he said.  “What was that?”  Perhaps it was illogical to ask, but he still couldn’t quite believe his eyes.  

“I was testing to see if he’d wake up and go away if he got knocked out,” said Midoriya.  He made a tiny, not-quite-shrugging motion.  “This is just a dream, after all.”

Alright.  That was true, but it was still incredibly disconcerting to see Midoriya act so callously towards the life of another human being.  Although he was unsure how many times Midoriya had hit Suzuki, and certain places of impact were less lethal than others, blunt force trauma, especially to the back of the head, could still be deadly.  

There was the sharp report of a gun, and Midoriya jerked forward, blood leaking from some invisible wound to drip down his face. Then he vanished.  

He turned towards that utter bastard Suzuki, eyes blazing, only to find him entirely encased in a glacier except for his head.

While Aizawa had been trying to train Todoroki out of reflexively encasing human beings in ice, due to frostbite, hypothermia, and other potential health issues, he was willing to let it slide.  Just this once.  

“I told you,” said Suzuki, teeth chattering.  “That isn’t your student.  And even if it was, he’s a traitor.”

“Sensei,” said Todoroki, “what are we going to do?”

“First,” said Aizawa.  He didn’t get beyond that, because Uraraka was abruptly launched from behind a wall of trash, trailing a makeshift tether of salvaged bungee cords.

“Found them!” exclaimed Uraraka.  “I don’t see Deku, though!”

“First,” said Aizawa, feeling exhausted despite technically being asleep, “we regroup.”

.

Toshinori was supposed to be teaching a third-year heroics course.

He wanted to be with Izuku at the Hero Commission training, even if he was retired, with only a retiree license to his name.  

He was in the nurse’s office, getting his brain checked by Recovery Girl, because sudden debilitating headaches weren’t on the long, long list of symptoms he’d come to expect from his injuries and medications.

Chiyo was worried he might be having a stroke, an aneurism, or some other sudden, lethal, brain condition.  She’d used her quirk on him at once, and the pain hadn’t stopped. She’d said that, at least, it should stop an aneurism from getting worse.  

Toshinori hoped it wasn’t brain cancer.  As far as personal abilities went, all he had going for him right now was brainpower and a stupidly high pain tolerance.

He closed his eyes against the bright lights of the room. Everything seemed too bright and blurry.  Sounds warped oddly in his ears.  The fabric of the bed underneath him felt gritty against his fingertips.  

It was like he wasn’t entirely here.  

Oh, the joys of hallucinations.

(Something like urgency pushed against the back of his mind. Whispered Eight, and help, and Nine.)

(Something was going more wrong than usual.)

He waited for Chiyo to step out of the room before he snuck out.

.

Izuku emerged from sleep with a choked gasp, heart racing, head spinning.  Where-?

It took him several fraught minutes to get his breathing under control and recognize where he was.  The room for the Hero Commission course.  His classmates and teacher were sleeping next to him, as well as the commission instructor.  What had his name been?  Something with an S?

Thinking was hard.  It was like his brain was occupied with something else and he kept having to nudge it back on track.  It was like—

He shook his head, which pounded with the movement, distracting him further.  He—He should—

What?

An odd sensation overtook him, and he found himself slowly, cautiously standing up.  It wasn’t like Shinsou’s quirk, where his body was out of his control, but more like he was almost sharing control, somehow.  Like he could, at any point, take control back.  And he did, just to test the theory, stopping for a moment, his hand halfway to his backpack.  

But that was hard, and he really wasn’t up for much in the way of decision-making, and the others were quite adamant that he had to get out now.  They’d know.  He trusted them.  

They picked up the backpack.  

Eight was coming.  They could trust Eight.  

The door slammed open.  Izuku froze.  Several heroes in costume and a man with a suit and a commission nametag stood in the doorway.  

“Get him!”

Four moved so differently from Izuku.  Precisely, like he knew exactly how his opponents were going to act, where they were going to be.  It reminded Izuku of how Sir Nighteye moved.  

In seconds, they were in the main hall, sprinting past crowds with the help of One for All.  Izuku felt bad about leaving Aizawa and his friends, but they knew, they weren’t targets. Izuku was.  

Izuku didn’t know how they knew that, how he knew that.  

Parking lot.  Streets. Alleyway.  Rooftops.  His UA uniform was too attention grabbing.  They dropped his blazer behind one of the rooftop ventilation shafts and tugged off his tie.  The button down by itself was less attention grabbing.  There was nothing they could to about his pants.  Alley again.  The people chasing him could track his phone.  They needed to get rid of it.  

Preferably in a way that wouldn’t immediately tip their pursuers off to the fact they had gotten rid of it.  Sending them the wrong way would be a good distraction, would buy them time.  

They slipped onto a bus and dropped Izuku’s phone into a woman’s purse.  Hopefully, she wouldn’t notice the change in weight for a while.  

Six and Two were very good at this kind of thing.  Not to mention One.  

It would probably sound weird to an outsider, but it was comforting.  The experience and care of the past users wrapped around him like a thick blanket, making it so that Izuku didn’t mind so much about his distraction, even though he wished he could help more.  

He got off the bus.  They needed to find Eight.

.

“Just so you know,” said Aizawa, several registers shy of conversationally.  “If you’ve harmed my student in any way, I will do everything in my power to make your life a living hell.”

“Nothing here actually affects the mind of the subject,” said Suzuki, rolling his eyes.  “Otherwise, we wouldn’t use Saito’s quirk.”

“Your information hasn’t exactly been accurate so far,” said Tenya, pushing his glasses up and frowning.  Suzuki had, in fact, been fundamentally unhelpful.  “In fact, I believe you have outright lied to us on several occasions.”  He glanced at his classmates for support and did a double take.  

Standing behind Uraraka, half-hidden behind a beaten-up old refrigerator, was Midoriya.  A smaller, slimmer, younger Midoriya, who was wearing an ‘ALL M’ t-shirt, thick gloves, and… and an awfully large amount of rope?

He was also crying, silently, and staring at Suzuki.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” he said.  He pulled on the rope.  The refrigerator came free, destabilizing the pile of trash it had been supporting.

It all came tumbling down.  

.

Ochako managed to avoid most of the debris coming for her, and slapped most of the remainder, making them float with her quirk.  Even so, by the time the dust settled, she was covered in scrapes, the pink fabric of her hero suit torn—

Wait.  Hero suit?

Whatever, she was asleep, and the more important thing was to find Iida, Todoroki, and Aizawa-sensei.  They had been in the direct line of the collapse.  She was pretty sure Deku had been able to get out of the way.

“Shouldn’t have done that.”

“Five-point touch activation.  Seems to affect buoyancy of objects.  Possible martial arts background based on movement.”

Ochako spun to face not one, but two small Dekus. The new one was, if possible, even smaller than the first and wearing a gakuran.  He had a notebook spread out across his left arm and was writing in it at lightning speed.  

“Hands are a possible weak spot, but a known one.  Be careful of kicks.”  Gakuran Deku’s words devolved into mumbling, but t-shirt Deku was still nodding, so he must understand.  

T-shirt Deku also had a length of pipe.  Ochako did not like where this was going.  

Then again, the whole point of this exercise was to learn how to defend one’s mind.  She couldn’t exactly fault Deku for doing just that.  She dropped into a fighting stance and grinned.  

.

It was nothing short of a miracle, Aizawa decided, that they hadn’t been killed yet. Then again, it was possible that Midoriya, despite his obviously altered and disturbed mental state, was still holding back against them.  

Which was annoying.  Because neither of the two small Midoriya-lookalikes was particularly strong.  Nor did they appear to be using Midoriya’s quirk, despite the fact that Aizawa, Iida, Uraraka, and Todoroki had no trouble using theirs.  The problem was that they were terrifyingly intelligent, just shy of ruthless, and had an incredible home-field advantage in that they seemed to know the location and nature of every bit of trash on the beach and in that they could evidently make it disappear and reappear at will.  They also avoided head-on combat whenever possible, letting the terrain do their work for them.  

Fighting them was, in fact, like fighting someone with a quirk completely unlike Midoriya’s.  With a fighting style completely unlike Midoriya’s.

And that made Aizawa wonder, because all too often, he caught Midoriya trying to replicate All Might’s style, and if he did that when he could be doing something more like this—

But this wasn’t the time for such speculation.  

He pulled Todoroki away from a trap again (he evidently hadn’t yet grasped that Midoriya was attacking them), and then jumped away from a chain reaction caused by whatever Uraraka just threw.  

Unless they wanted to spend the next hour being beaten up by the problem child… “We need to get somewhere he has less control over the environment.”

“Off the beach?” suggested Uraraka, panting.  “He said—He said he knew the beach well, so…”

Aizawa nodded.  That was good thinking.  Where were the stairs?

“You need to leave!”  

“We’re trying, problem child!” snapped Aizawa, and, miraculously, that made Midoriya hesitate.  Aizawa pulled Todoroki towards the stairs.   The others were able to follow on their own.  

They made their way up, and as soon as they hit the top step the previously clear sky opened up and it began to pour.  Aizawa was soaked through in seconds.  

Wonderful.  

However, the attacks—which had been relentless up until this point—stopped.

“We left Suzuki,” observed Iida.  

Aizawa held back a groan.  

“Who cares?” asked Todoroki.  

“We do,” said Aizawa.  “We can’t let him run around unsupervised in Midoriya’s head.”

“I think he might have gotten crushed,” said Uraraka.  “He was still in your ice, wasn’t he, Todoroki?”

“Yeah,” said Todoroki.  “Trash should stay with trash,” he mumbled under his breath.  

“We have no idea how any of our quirks will function long-term in a dream,” said Aizawa, not addressing the trash comment because he honestly sort of agreed.  “Nor do we know what his quirk is.”  He sighed. “We may also have to consider that he is correct and Midoriya is compromised.”

Predictably, there was quite a bit of protest.  

“He may also have other information regarding the situation at hand,” said Aizawa.  “Which we need.”

There was a rattle among the trash heaps, and Aizawa turned to watch Suzuki drag himself out from under a mound of trash.  

“You left me!” accused Suzuki, loudly.  “You almost let that gremlin kill me a dozen times!”

“Well,” said Midoriya from behind them, where he absolutely hadn’t been a minute ago, “then maybe you should have left when I asked."

#bnha #long night in the valley #my writing #fanfic

[beastenraged]

(tell me) about how it hurts

(here we goo, @hallowed-nebulae)

Insomnia is awful at the best of times. In the middle of a kind-of maybe sorta cross dimensional visitation? It’s painful. 

Agh. Need sleep. Sleep is good, sleep is king. 

Maybe time to head back to b-

I nearly get knocked over by a rushing pink blur. A pink blur that looks like the alternate Xehanort, when I squint after them. “Wait. What?”

Note to self: find nickname for them? This ongoing nonsense of too many Xehanorts is really wearing on me. 

I follow, far enough behind that I can claim plausible deniability if I need to. Because my curiosity is too much sometimes and I can’t sleep anyway. What’s going on with them?

When I see Xehanort nearly collapsing in some dark corner, I get a bad feeling. That bad feeling gets worse when their Chirithy appears and they start whispering to it. 

I take a step back. But not too far. 

(Curiosity will be the death of me, one day. For sure.)

A whisper. One I shouldn’t be hearing, one I shouldn’t be able hear. 

“Chirithy, what- what am I?” 

That. That. 

I inhale quietly. My heart gives a lurch. Aching as a I lay a hand on my chest. That’s always the question, isn’t it? The big one, the ‘what am I’ one that us freaks of nature always face eventually. 

For one wild moment, I want to sweep out of the shadows. Take their hands in mine, wrap them up in a hug. Do what I did with Xion so many months ago, as she sobbed into my shoulder at Beast’s Castle. 

Promising her that she doesn’t have to be a copy of Sora, she doesn’t have to be anything but herself. Like how I’m Ruse and no one else. 

I want to tell the truth with an ache so fierce it surprises me, reveal to this Xehanort about that past life of mine and that I’m Ruse despite it. That they can be themselves and no one else. No matter what other people may say. 

But the ice comes out before I can give into that urge. 

It’s both incredibly fast and slow, creeping out explosively. The stuff of icebergs, glaciers of the kind that swallowed up mammoths and kept them preserved until the end of time. 

The ice is not that much of a problem. I have ice too, after all. It’s the time stuff that’s more...of an issue. 

Time shudders, moving forward and back. I’m stuck and not at the same time, I’m moving, I’m running, while I’m laying on the ground. Still as the dead. 

The world is shattered glass and every reflection is a different me. 

(Silver chains in the dark. An ocean. Glowing red eyes. My face but also not, staring back at me. 

“What you doing here? You have not reached this point yet.”)

My heart shudders. Time running out. Time rolling back. What if the patches break? What if I die? 

(No. Not yet. The circle is not complete.

“Go back.”)

A shudder. A scream. But nothing’s actually happened at all. Or everything has?

Crying. My heart is screaming to reach out, to do something. My heart is also burning as I try to keep it together. Have to leave it to the kid’s actual Dream Eater here, since those sobs (and the time/ice quakes) are dying down now. 

Maybe it’s time to go. Try a sleep. Or two. 

Until. 

Ira, of all people, steps out of a flash of light. Walks with purpose to the sobbing collapsed Xehanort to rest a hand on their head. 

Light. Connected. So bright. Should be heartwarming and is, but also-

My first response is: fear. My legs tense up, my hair stands on end. The scars on my shoulder ache, a burning reminder of the last time I ran into a Foreteller (or someone Foreteller adjacent. Was Luxu a Foreteller actually? I don’t know). 

My instinct is to flee. Especially from something so bright, a sun come down to earth to roast us all alive. 

(Even the sun, as far away as it is in reality, can still give you cancer.)

I am from the Darkness, I’m not meant to see this. 

My hand is on my face. Scratching. Until I feel the wetness of blood. Oops, must have torn something open. 

Ansem’s going to be disappointed. Even’s going to be upset. 

Oh well. The pain at least lets me collect myself. Put everything back together. Humpty Dumpty could never!

Hm, time to take my chance and get out of here be-

Oh.

That unicorn mask seems to be pointed in my direction. 

He noticed me. Yay? Not yay?

#storm whispers au #oc ruse #my writing #kh ficlet #My fic #ficlet #kh ira #kh young xehanort #ruse is the Worst when it comes to stuff like this #eavesdropping time nonsense yeah it's her jam #should she do it? nope #does she anyway? yes

[angelinasway]

Regaining Hope

Pairing: Clark Kent/Buffy Summers

Warnings/Triggers:Torture, Violence, Mention's of Major Character Death, Bad Language, Sexual Tension, Eventual Smut

Summary: Takes place during Man of Steel. When Buffy discovers the U.S Military trying to keep quiet about an object buried in a twenty thousand year old glacier, she immediately thinks the worst. However, when a surprise visit to the Canadian Arctic puts her in the path of a mysterious stranger her whole world is changed forever.

[TTH] [AO3] [FFN]

Authors Notes: Thank you all for your amazing reviews. You guys have been inspiring. I'm gonna add one more warning to this story because I got a review on FFN that makes me feel I need too. Even though It's a warning that I never knew I would need to put considering who we're talking about here. So here it is, there is Angelus bashing in this. I'm trying to keep my biased about Angel to a minimum, but I wasn't aware that Angelus needed a disclaimer too, so there it is. As for this chapter, there will be a lot to unpack here. I'm also going with the idea that one of Clark's weaknesses is magic, so keep that in mind as you read this. Thank you guys again so much, your kind words have really helped me keep focused on the story, I truly do appreciate each and everyone who took the time to review. Thanks for giving this a chance I hope you all enjoy reading. Also thank you to my wonderful beta Hipkarma for giving this chapter a look for me. Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Chapter Two

 It took Buffy less than a minute to find the recently constructed tunnel. It wasn’t snowing and she easily found a set of large footprints heading along a rocky ledge. The glacial ice was still steaming from whatever had been used to cut through it when she found the opening. The edges were smoothed as if a giant heated drill had ground and melted the ice into nothing. There were hardly any puddles to speak of, and it was quite clear that whatever did this, wasn't done by any machine that she knew of on Earth. In fact, if she had been dealing with anything else she would have immediately thought this was some sort of magic. Though to be fair, she still wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t.

  "Why do I have a feeling I'm going to regret this?" She grumbled quietly, as she stepped inside and slowly made her way through the frozen tunnel.

  Her breath came out in large puffs of fog, adrenaline masking the cold she should be feeling. Luckily, there was just enough light to make out where she was going with her enhanced vision. It was a slow journey, but when she finally reached the opening, she gasped in awe. ‘Oh yeah, this thing is definitely out of this world. It’s absolutely massive, still partially covered in thousands of years of hard ice.’

  She noticed a ramp leading onto the ship dripping with recently melted ice and cautiously followed it up. She stepped onto the glass-like metal flooring of the hull and noticed movement out of the corner of her eye. She turned in time to see a strange looking floating creature moving into her periphery.

  She froze. It looked way too much like a facesucker for her comfort zone. She took a step back, tossed her pack and dropped into a defensive stance before reaching behind her to unsheathe her scythe. The mouth, or body, or whatever the hell it was, started to open and she stepped back even further.

  "Dammit, I hate it when I'm right." She muttered.

  So focused on its head, she wasn’t paying attention when the next second its spike like tail whipped out slicing deeply into the side of her abdomen. Buffy cried out in surprised pain, feeling the unmistakable sensation of hot and sticky blood soaking through her shirt and down the leg of her jeans. She stumbled backward, but was able to keep her footing even as the thing tried to swipe at her again.

  Her eyes narrowed at the thing. “All right, now you’ve really pissed me off,” she growled. The pain of her injury taking a back seat to her need to survive.

  It screeched at her, attempting to swipe at her again. She dodged its attack, rolling right underneath of it and coming up with a full powered swing of her scythe, only with the wrong side. The flat end made contact, the thing slamming hard into the inner wall of the ship. It screeched again, as sparks flew from it and her eyes widened in realization.

  “It’s a robot,” she murmured in surprise.

  It came at her again, this time shooting some sort of blue ball of energy at her. She dodged, flipping away from it to create enough distance so she could charge the thing. Maybe take it by surprise. She never got the chance however, because by the time she had turned back around, her mystery man was already there and had the droid between his large hands. He struggled with it for a minute and Buffy stepped forward ready to help him when the metal suddenly gave under his assault. His hands crushed the droid like a soda can and he threw what was left aside, it crashing into the wall of the ship with a loud bang.

  They stared at each other a long time. Man, she really hoped he wasn’t evil because right now with the injury she was sporting there was absolutely no way she could fight him. Especially, with the show of strength he just performed. The reminder of said injury brought back the pain in full and she shakily slid to her knees, scythe falling from her hand.

  "Thanks," she breathed gratefully, her eyes falling shut as she used her hand to stem off the blood flow as best she could.

  "You're welcome." He said, the deep baritone of his voice making her shiver. She felt him move closer, before he added, "You're hemorrhaging, the droid nicked your abdominal artery."

  Buffy nodded, wincing as she used one hand to undo her belt and slide it through the loops in her jeans. "I know." She said shakily. "Not exactly my first rodeo."

  She felt him move closer still, crouching down in front of her. Her trembling hands trying to clumsily wrap her belt around her torso so she could stop the bleeding.

  "I could cauterize the wound for you, if you'd like." He said quietly, worry lacing his voice.

  Buffy finally managed to put the end through the loop in that moment, and yanked the belt tight. She fell backwards, her back hitting the cold metal wall. She whimpered as tears of pain filled her eyes, breathing slowly through her nose until the pain began to ebb away. When she finally could speak again, she met his eyes, a small smile gracing her lips at the concern she saw in them. "Thank you,” she said sincerely, “but it’s not necessary, I heal fast." She must have lost more blood than she thought however, because her next words surprised even herself. "Just need to slowdown the bleeding so my Slayer healing kicks in. Don't want to end up a corpse on your floor for the next nine hours."

  He immediately frowned in confusion, "I don't understand?"

  Buffy chuckled humorlessly, "Yeah..." She coughed, grimacing at the taste of blood in her mouth. “Neither do I.” She sighed, and changed the subject, not really wanting to go there at the moment. “Gotta name, or do I just need to keep referring to you as handsome stranger in my head.” ‘Okay, yep, I definitely lost too much blood.’

  He looked away at her words, partially because he seemed to be genuinely shy and partially because he seemed torn on answering her. She could relate to that. She understood what it was like to need to hide who you were from people. She was never very good at it, but she remembered very clearly the fear of what people would think of her if they knew she was a superhuman freak.

  “Hey,” She said, reaching a hand out to place on his arm. Thinking better of it when she noticed the blood coating it. “It’s okay, I get it.” He looked up, meeting her eyes and she shrugged. “I was never very good at the secret identity gig, but I certainly remember what it was like to need to hide who I was.” She chuckled, “Believe it or not, the U.S Government thought the Slayer was a myth until I caught them playing in my backyard.”

  “I still don’t know what that is.” He said quietly, “A Slayer, I mean. I tried finding out from Jed, but all he said was that you work for an organization that hunts and kills monsters.” He paused, taking a deep breath, before asking. “Am I the type of…Do you kill people like me?”

  He was being serious. She knew. But she couldn’t help messing with him a little. The truth of the matter was, she had no intention of going head-to-head with him even if she was at her best. If he was truly evil he would have acted already, especially with her weakened state. She also doubted he would have offered to help her heal or look quite as worried for her safety as he did.

  She put her most serious face on and pretended to contemplate it for a minute. “Hmm, well you’ll probably need to pass my required oral exam to be sure.” Her eyes suddenly widened at what that must have sounded like, especially after the handsome comment. ‘Okay, this is the last time I’m losing this much blood in front of a hot guy and not just letting myself bleed out. Apparently, I really don’t know how to shut up when I’m this anemic.

  She noticed his cheeks reddening and the look of shock on his face, so she blurted out the first question that came to mind. “Do you eat babies?”

  A horrified look of disgust quickly replaced the shocked look, “What? No!”

  “Do you like to bathe in the blood of the innocent?” She could tell by the suddenly offended look on his face that he still hadn’t caught on that she was messing with him.

  “No!” he said, an irritated frown marring his face.

  “Do you worship any deities that require you to make a human sacrifice yearly, biyearly, monthly, bimonthly, weekly, or biweekly?” Now he just looked annoyed, and it was getting harder for Buffy to keep a straight face.

  “Are these questions actually necessary?” He asked, the annoyance clear in his voice.

  An amused smile broke across her face, “Are you asking if these things actually exist, or if I actually think you do any of them?”

  His look of annoyance quickly melted into one of amusement, the corner of his mouth turning up and a soft look coming into his blue eyes. “I don’t think I’ve ever met anyone like you before,” He admitted. His eyes roaming over her face. He seemed to come to a decision in that moment, because his next words were, “My name…my real one, it’s Clark.”

  “Clark,” Buffy repeated, testing the name on her tongue. A small smile playing at her lips. “I don’t think I’ve ever met a Clark before.” Her eyes studied his face. “It suits you. I would tell you my name, but I’m gonna go out on a limb and guess you already know it." She gestured with her chin. "And judging by the way your eyes keep seemingly monitoring my injury and heart rate, I'm guessing you have some kind of enhanced vision." She grinned at his stunned look, and shrugged. "So, let's see," she held up her hand counting off what his superpowers were, "Enhanced vision," she held up a finger. "Super strength," she held up another. "Those are two of the five senses." A third finger came up, "Enhanced hearing is probably the third." She frowned in thought for a moment, before saying, "Though you don’t strike me as someone who needs to stalk his prey, I’m betting you have that annoying ability to smell everything even if you don’t need to use it. So that’s four.”

  Clark slipped down to where he was fully seated, blinking in surprise. "How…?” He swallowed, shaking his head an impressed look coming over his face. “Did anyone ever tell you, you're incredibly observant?"

  "Kinda have to be in my line of work.” She shrugged, adding, “Though you did set off my spidey senses like a roman candle. A girl can’t really help but take notice when you register in the beyond-godlike-powerful status.” At his confused and worried look, she elaborated. “It’s part of the whole Slayer package, basically a long time ago a bunch of shamans used the essence of a demon to create a warrior. They chained a young girl to the earth and imbued her with it so she would have the strength and skill to fight all the wonderful things that go bump in the night.” She sighed, “For a long time there was only one girl at a time. One dies, another is called. That’s how it worked.” She gave him a small smile and nodded, “Until about ten years ago that is, me and some friends changed the rules.” She leaned her head back and closed her eyes for a moment. “So, there you have it, Clark. I’m the longest living One girl in all the world with the gift and skill to fight the vampires, the demons, and forces of darkness. Except, I’m not the only one anymore.”

  He blinked in surprise, studying her face more closely. “How old are you?”

  Buffy bit her lip, not quite sure how to answer that without bringing up her resurrection. She sighed meeting his eyes, there wasn’t much she could do about it now, “Thirty-two.”

  Clark sucked in a breath of surprise, “How is it that you—”

  “Haven’t aged since I was twenty-one,” Buffy finished for him. When he nodded, she avoided his eyes while saying, “That’s kinda what happens when your friends resurrect you with a powerful spell and screw up the balance between good and evil.” She shrugged looking anywhere but at his face, that old familiar longing for heaven playing at her soul. She loved Willow. She really did, and after the whole Angelus incident they had grown much closer than they’d been in years. The resurrection and the price that Buffy was still paying however, was far too great to ever fully forgive. “Long story short, I can’t age anymore and if I die, I can’t stay dead.”

  She coughed, the pain of the act making her vision narrow a bit. She could feel that her body was well on its way to mending itself but she had lost way too much blood. The familiar fogginess of a healing sleep was prickling her eyes and she widened them shaking her head to try and clear it. Cold dread filling her at the very thought of falling into a coma like sleep and having to relive all the crap she’s been through. It was one of the most horrifying feelings ever, to be trapped in her worst nightmares with no means of escape until her body fully healed. In a desperate attempt to keep herself awake she reached out and grasped Clark’s hand.

  ****<S>**<S>****

  Clark watched her eyes widen in fear, before she reached out with a bloody hand to grasp his. “Please,” She pleaded. “Please don’t let me fall asleep.” He could see the beginning of tears of desperation prickling her eyes, “I know I need to, but…but sometimes it’s worse than dying.” She sighed and leaned her head back against the ship hull. "It’s...it’s okay if you can't. Just...just try."

  He squeezed her hand, his heart filling with so much sympathy for this brave young woman. She hadn’t shown any true fear until this moment. Not when she had fought the drone, not when she watched him destroy it, not even when she was binding her own wound and already figured out a few of his abilities. She had even made a few jokes at his expense, but she had done them in such a way that he couldn't really take offense. She was an enigma to him; out of all the humans he'd ever met—besides his own parents, she had to be the least judgmental of them all. The only thing that seemed to truly scare her was her own memories, and that truly did break his heart. No one should be that afraid of their own past.

  “How do you want me to help?” He whispered, as he watched her eyes begin to droop before flying open again.

   “Tell me about yourself.” She whispered, her words coming out a bit slurred. “W-where are you from? How long have you been on Earth?”

  He shifted, getting more comfortable before saying. “I grew up in Kansas, in a little town called Smallville. Beyond that, I don’t actually know. My ship landed on my parent’s farm when I was just a baby. They took me in and raised me as their own.” He told her a little bit more, about the farm, about some of the life lessons his dad tried to instill in him, why he was afraid of anyone finding out what he was, why he was on this ship in the first place.

  Buffy smiled dreamily and hummed, “Sometimes I forget there’s still good people in the world. Sounds to me like you got really lucky with who found you.” She yawned, her words becoming more slurred. “Once I’m healed, I can help you look for answers.”

  He blinked in surprise, a grateful smile coming on his lips “Thank you.” He said sincerely, adding, “And I did, my dad could be pretty hard on me at times, but—”

  “He was scared of anyone finding out what you are.” She finished, her voice growing softer and more distant. He squeezed her hand lightly and her eyes flew open as she shook her head again trying to force the sleep away. She continued, as if she hadn’t almost just lost consciousness. “Must have been pretty lonely, not having anyone to confide in.”

  “It was.” He agreed quietly, his eyes scanned her brain activity and seeing she was quickly losing her battle against sleep, he added, “I don’t think I’m going to be able to keep you awake much longer.”

  She smiled sadly, her eyes drooping to mere slits. “I know, worth a try though.” She sighed through her teeth. “Just do me a favor, don’t…don’t let me wake up alone. It’s worse w-when I–”

  She never finished, as her body and mind finally succumbed to a much-needed rest. Her heartrate dropped to what would be considered dangerous for a normal human. The blood slowing in her veins and allowing for the natural healing process that came with her abilities.

  He watched her for a long time. Too afraid to move for fear that if he left her side her heart would suddenly stop. Oh, he knew what she told him was the truth. It was just difficult for someone like him to believe. Spending most of your life being different and watching people die. Knowing you could do something but unable to for fear of the world finding out what you really are. It made him feel helpless more times than not. 

  Clark had spent a long time picking his battles. Deciding who to save based off of his ability to get away with it. He hated not being able to help everyone, and he hated even more that humans as a whole were so easily guided by their fears of the unknown.  It was more than that though, there was so much pain and suffering. He could hear it even now if he focused. Screams, cries for help that nobody heeded, laughing cruelty and hysterical sobbing. It was all there, the sounds of the world were filled with so much hate, anger, and sadness it was deafening.

  Maybe that’s why he was so taken with this beautiful girl in front of him. She didn't seem to possess the fears that so many of the people of this world did. The fact that she knew what he was and hadn't so much as blinked in surprise completely threw him. He knew it most likely was due to the life she lived and what she was, but it was such a refreshing moment. He reached out with his free hand and brushed a loose blonde strand away from her cheek. She was also incredibly sad and lonely. It was as plain as day in her eyes and on her face. She was worn down by whatever she had been through to the point that he imagined she tried not to sleep. The dark circles he could see under her eyes attested to that much.

  He scanned her injury again, relieved to see the artery had healed almost completely. He sighed and let his eyes wander for the first time since he noticed she was hurt, spotting a discarded backpack near the entrance of the ship. He frowned, scanning its contents before rolling his eyes in annoyance. There was a first aid kit inside. ‘Why didn’t she tell him?’

  Clark retrieved the pack and proceeded to dress her wound as best he could, disinfecting then using gauze and medical tape to secure a makeshift bandage. He undid the belt across her torso, no longer worried about her bleeding out.

  He noticed her discarded weapon next. The strange looking axe he had seen in her travel bags. A child like curiosity he didn’t even know he still possessed came over him and he picked it up. It was surprisingly light and well balanced, the end of the handle itself was cleverly carved into a stake. He swung it a few times, smiling to himself at the way it easily sliced through air. He ran his finger gently along the blade and hissed in surprise, dropping the axe and taking several steps back, staring at the blade in a mixture of horrified disbelief. Blood welled up in the cut in his finger and he couldn’t help but study the red substance in fascination. He looked from the small cut to the axe several times, not quite processing what just happened.

  “There is an energy source unknown to the Kryptonian Archives imbedded into the elements of the weapon.” A new voice spoke from behind Clark.

  He quickly turned, coming face to face with an older man wearing robes. “Who…who are you?”

  “There will be time for that later Kal El. First, we must get you and your friend away from human meddling. We’ve much to discuss.”

  The man disappeared the next instant and Clark heard the engines fire on. He reached for the pack, throwing it over his shoulder. He picked Buffy up next hoisting her into his arms and grabbing her weapon at the same time. He didn’t really like the idea of it being near him considering what it was capable of, but he didn’t think she would like to wake without it nearby.

    ****<S>**<S>****

  She was on the tower again. 

  "Dawnie listen, listen to me. I love you. I will always love you, but this is the work that I have to do. Tell Giles... tell him I figured it out and...and that I'm okay. Give my love to my friends. You have to take care of them now. You have to take care of each other. You have to be strong." Buffy reached out her hand cupping her sister cheek, tears welling in her eyes. "Dawn the hardest thing in this world...is to live in it. Be brave. Live...for me" 

  She turned running, not giving her sister another chance to object, and as she dove off the platform another voice penetrates her mind.

  "I am your father Kal. Or at least a shadow of him. His consciousness."

  Another voice, this one more familiar to her. "And Kal? That's my name?"

  *FLASH*

  She couldn’t breathe, everything smelt of decay and earth. She cried out in fear, paper thin skin breaking on hands as they assaulted her tomb. Satin tore as ragged nails snagged, wood splintered as her hands scrabbled for an escape, any escape. Dirt and soil rained down on her and she cried out again, choking and gagging as her mouth filled with the substance. She had to get out, had to push through. If she didn’t, she would never get out. She climbed, pushing through packed earth with strength. Strength, she remembered, she had strength. Always meant to be strong. Not allowed to break, because breaking means death.

  The voice was back, the one from before, or was it after. She didn't know. She listened; it was easier to listen than to think of where she was. To remember the truth. She broke the surface, vomiting on the ground and squeezed her eyes shut forcing herself to listen to the voices, both of them soothing and quiet.

  “You came from Krypton. A world with a much harsher environment than Earth’s. Long ago, in an era of expansion, our race spread out through the stars, seeking new worlds to settle upon. This scout ship was one of thousands launched into the void. We built outposts on other planets, using great machines to reshape environments to our needs. For one hundred thousand years our civilization flourished, accomplishing wonders”.

  “What happened?

  “Artificial population control was established. The outposts and space exploration were abandoned. We exhausted our natural resources, as a result our planet’s core became unstable. Eventually our military leader, General Zod, attempted a coup. But by then it was too late. Your mother and I foresaw the coming calamity, and we took certain steps to ensure your survival.”

  Mommy, she had a mommy once. Her eyes opened focusing on her headstone and she screamed.

  *FLASH*

  She walked into the living room and froze. Her mom was on the couch unmoving, eyes opened. She remembered this. Her legs carried her over to the couch, but she didn’t panic, not like before. She fell to her knees grasping her mother’s cold hand. Tears welled in her eyes as she studied the lifeless face. “I’m so sorry mommy.” She whispered. “I should have been here. I’m so sorry.”

  “Why don’t you put her in one of the resting chambers.” A voice said, causing Buffy to turn away from her mother’s body. Her eyes searching for the source.

  “She asked me not to leave her alone.” A familiar voice replied. Why did she know that voice?

  “Very well.”

  *FLASH*

   There was a leaky pipe somewhere in the factory. She could hear the drip…drip…drip as she stared in shock at what her own hands had done. The mutilated vampire on the table was barely alive. She had made sure that she had taken everything from him but his heart. She wanted to save that for last.

   Her hands began to tremble in fear of herself, the blade she’d been using to carve him up slipping from her grasp. She stumbled over to the table on weak legs, reaching behind her and pulling out her stake.

  “I guess you won after all.” She whispered, before driving it deep into his heart.

  When the dust settled, she fell to her knees and vomited, unable to move. The voices were back and she closed her eyes trying to focus on the words.

  “This is a Genesis Chamber. All Kryptonians were conceived in chambers such as this. Every child was designed to fulfill a predetermined role in our society; as a worker, a warrior, a leader and so on. Your mother and I believed Krypton lost something precious, the element of choice, of chance. What if a child dreamed of becoming something other than what society had intended for him or her? What if a child aspired to something greater? You were the embodiment of that belief, Kal, Krypton’s first natural birth in centuries. That’s why we risked so much to save you.”

  “Why didn’t you come with me?”

  “We couldn’t, Kal. No matter how much we wanted to, no matter how much we loved you. Your mother Lara and I were a product of the failures of our world as much as Zod was. We were tied to its fate.”

  “So, I’m alone.”

  Alone, just like her.

  *FLASH*

  She couldn’t move. All she could do was stare. Her Watcher was dead, his neck bent at an odd angle. Her legs went out on her and she fell to the ground as the sounds of battle played out around her.

  “Buffy!” A familiar voice called; one she hadn’t heard in a long time. “Buffy, love, we gotta go.”

  “But…but Giles?” She whispered weakly.

  “I know Slayer, I know.” He sighed sadly, as he reached down and hauled her to her feet. “But he’s already gone. We can’t help him anymore. We need to get out of here, Red set the whole place ablaze.”

  She looked up meeting bright blue eyes, “Spike?” She asked in confusion, before an arrow pierced her back.

  *FLASH*

  They were trapped. The wards broken enough to smoke them out, but not enough for them to leave.

  “I’m not leaving you!” She argued.

  “Bloody hell, why do you have to be the most difficult chit in the bloody universe! We don’t know if you can even survive fire and I’m sure as hell not risking it!” Spike yelled.

  “Well, I know you can’t survive fire so I sure as hell am not leaving you to die alone!” She snarled. “We did this already, remember!”

  He roared in frustration, kicking a nearby chair into the wall and it shattered into kindling. “I won’t let you die!”

  “You don’t have a choice!” She fired back.

  He stared at her in disbelief, before his expression melted into passionate rage. “The hell I don’t!” And then he grabbed her by the shoulders and smashed his lips against hers.

   It only took a few seconds for her to respond and she melted into him. Her mouth opening, tongues caressing. She moaned, bringing him closer to her, remembering their dance, missing it.

  He pulled away with a gasp, both of them panting for breath. “Now you listen to me! I love you; do you hear. I never stopped and never will. I will not watch you die. So, if today is my day to die, I’ll be damned if he gets to choose how.” And then he was kissing her again.

  Unbeknownst to her he activated her emergency portal. The one that only allowed Slayers to travel through. He walked her backwards, without breaking contact and before she realized it, they were both inside. She pulled back in shock as she realized where they were. The familiar feeling of being sucked into nothing filling her. She screamed as she felt him dust.

  *FLASH*

  The abandoned home smelt like old urine and vomit, but she was much too tired and weak to care. She didn’t remember the last time she ate or drink anything, not that it really mattered. She was starting to become convinced she couldn’t die this way. It didn’t matter though, nothing did. She was a monster, just like her prey. Make a monster to fight a monster, that’s what the shaman did.

  She was filthy, her hair greasy and limp, her eyes dull and lost, dirt coated her face and hands. What was the point of life if all it ever caused you was pain? She just wanted to go to sleep and never wake up, or maybe just melt into the disgusting mattress she was laying on and forget that life existed. She had lost all hope, in fact she didn’t remember the last time she felt it. Had she ever? She heard the voices again, focusing in, trying to pull herself out of this pit of despair.

  “No. You are as much a child of earth now as you are of Krypton. You can embody the best of both worlds. A dream your mother and I dedicated our lives to preserve. The people of earth are different than us, it’s true. But ultimately, I believe that’s a good thing. They won’t necessarily make the same mistakes we did. Not if you guide them, Kal. Not if you give them hope. That’s what this symbol means. The symbol of the house of El means hope. Embodied within that hope is the fundamental belief in the potential of every person to be a force for good. That’s what you can bring them. You will give the people of earth an ideal to strive towards. They will race behind you, they will stumble, they will fall. But in time, they will join you in the sun, Kal. In time, you will help them accomplish wonders.”

  Buffy clung on to the words, trying to pull herself free from the dream. A man of hope, a symbol of goodness. She needed that, she desperately needed goodness and hope. She was close to breaking through the surface.

  She heard Clark–now she remembered his voice, “Why am I so different from them?”

  “Earth’s sun is younger and brighter than Krypton’s was. Your cells have drunk in its radiation, strengthening your muscles, your skin, your senses. Earth’s gravity is weaker, yet its atmosphere is more nourishing. You’ve grown stronger here than I ever could imagine. The only way to know how strong is to keep testing your limits.”

  ****<S>**<S>****

  Buffy awoke with a gasp, her hands scrambling against the chest she was nestled against. The memories of her past still playing out in technicolor and surround sound.

  "Hey, hey," A soothing voice said, gently lowering her to her feet. "It's okay, you're okay."

  She stumbled away. Her eyes still not able to focus. The trembling in her limbs causing her to fall on all fours. She dry-heaved as a broken sob tore from her lips. She felt a warm hand gently rub her back, and she closed her eyes enjoying the comforting feeling.

  "Will she be alright?” A new voice asked, the one from her dream.

  “I don’t know.” She heard Clark answer, panic clear in his voice. “Buffy are you okay?”

  "No," She answered, swallowing back another sob, breathing slowly through her nose. "But I will be, just…just give me a minute."

  Just then a swirling portal opened up and an incredibly pissed off Witch in straight up Eskimo attire stepped out. She took one look at the blood covering Buffy and the distressed look on her face and came to a completely wrong conclusion. Her eyes went black and she snarled, “What the hell did you do to my friend, you son of a bitch!”

  “No!” Buffy shouted as purple tendrils of magic shot from her friend’s fingers, hitting Clark square in the chest and knocking him on his back. He groaned in pain rolling onto his side in a fetal position. Buffy was up the next instant, charging Willow and breaking the spell.

  “No Wills,” She panted grabbing ahold of her friend. “He’s a friendly.”

  Her friend’s angry eyes faded back to green and she turned on Buffy, breaking her hold. “A friendly,” She said lowly, her eyes narrowing. “A friendly! So, what, you meet tall dark and powerful over there and think, ‘Oh, wouldn’t it be a great idea to fly away with him in a spaceship to the North Pole?’ Do you have any idea how worried we were?”

  Buffy frowned in confusion, “The North Pole? Fly?” She turned and looked at Clark in bewilderment. “You flew the ship?”

  He shook his head, slowly getting back to his feet. “No,” He said, his voice coming out strained.

  “I’m afraid, that was my idea.” A fatherly gentleman in robes said. “I didn’t want the people of Earth to commandeer the ship. I did not realize you had other methods of finding us.”

  “Most humans don’t.” Buffy agreed, moving to check and see how hurt Clark was. “Willow’s special.”

  She ran her hands down Clark’s chest looking for any serious damage. Thankful when she could find none. “You okay?” She asked him quietly, at his nod, she sighed. “Sorry about that. I have over protective friends.”

  His lips quirked, “I noticed.” His eyes sparkled a bit. “It’s kind of funny actually. I’ve gone my whole life thinking nothing could hurt me physically and after just a few hours of meeting you, I find two things. That crazy looking axe of yours and as it turns out, your friend.”

  Buffy’s eyes widened in disbelief at his words. “Wait, go back. Like nothing?”

  He shrugged, “I had an oil rig fall on me once while I was rescuing some people. It managed to knock me out.”

  Okay, so not just superstrength, more like godlike strength. She suspected as much with the vibes she got off of him, but it was still almost too much to believe. “Define what an oil rig falling on you means?” She said a bit light headed from the thought of just how strong that could be.

  He cleared his throat, looking at the ground bashfully. “Well, it was on fire and the workers were trapped. Fire doesn’t hurt me, so I was able to get to them and get through the steel door they had locked themselves behind. I got them out and onto the helicopter, when the tower started to collapse. I was able to hold it up long enough for them to get away before the steel melted and the whole thing came down on top of me.”

  Buffy looked at him in absolute wonder. “That’s…Holy shit!”

  “Wait,” Willow swallowed, her face losing color. “Did this happen last year?”

  “Yeah,” Clark said, eyeing Willow suspiciously.

  “Oh Gods, I think I may have just attacked the Power’s new Champion.” Willow breathed, looking like she might actually faint.

  Buffy frowned in confusion, “Wills, what are you talking about?”

  Willow swallowed, looking suspiciously guilty. “About a year and a half ago me and Wes were digging through the old archives. We…we stumbled on a prophecy, a…a prophecy about a Champion. It said he will have the powers of a god with the soul of a man, but he will be neither.” Her eyes met Clark’s. “We came looking for you after we heard about the oil rig, we umm…Well, we were going to offer you a job, see if you were the real deal.” She shook her head, “But you had already disappeared.”

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Buffy asked, her eyes moving between Clark’s stunned expression and Willow’s nervous one. ‘How could they keep something like that from me?’

  If anything, Willow looked even more guilty now. A sure sign that Buffy was not going to be pleased with her next words. “We umm,” Willow fidgeted with the sleeves of her coat, not meeting Buffy’s eyes. “We decided not to tell you because you…well, umm…you’re kinda in it too.”

  “What the hell, Willow!” Buffy reeled as if slapped. “And you didn’t think telling me was a good idea?”

  “W-we wanted to be sure. A-and there’s some other stuff in there. Stuff we thought might seriously wig you.” Willow said nervously.

  Buffy raised an eyebrow, not at all impressed with the explanation. “Such as?”

  At that moment a look of relief crossed Willow’s face, and she clicked on her headset. “Wesley, yeah, no she’s fine. Look–” But she never finished what she was going to say because Buffy marched over and ripped the earpiece out of her ear none to gently. “What are you…ow!”

  Buffy turned and stared at Clark. The poor guy looked all sorts of confused. “Wesley,” She began sweetly. “Mind telling me what this lovely prophecy is about, and why you felt the need to keep it from me?”

  There was a long silence on the other end of the line, before an irritated sigh reached her ears. “I’m not sure this the appropriate time–”

  “The hell it’s not!” She barked. “That guy you and Willow were secretly looking for last year is standing right in front of me.”

  There was another long silence, before he sighed again. “So, it’s happened then.”

  “What’s happened? What the hell is going on?” She ground out, getting really fed up with the cryptic.

  “Look Buffy, I promise to explain when you get here.” He paused, “But in the meantime I have both the U.S Government and Canadian Parliament threatening to go to war with us if they don’t find out what the hell happened to you and that spaceship.”

  She groaned in frustration, pinching the bridge of her nose, “Shit!”

  “My sentiments exactly.” He replied sarcastically.

  “Okay,” She started pacing back and forth. “Okay, this is what were gonna do. Get Willow some coords in between here and the camp, preferably closer to the camp. Make it rural enough that any search and rescue they sent out could have easily missed it. Willow will port me there and we’ll leave evidence that I was dumped there.” She looked at Willow, who nodded in agreement. “I’m covered in enough DNA to make it plausible anyway–”

  “Are you alright?” Wesley cut in; the brotherly worry strong in his voice.

  “I’m fine Wes,” She sighed. “There was a security droid on the ship that wasn’t too happy with me boarding armed. Besides losing a lot of blood and a bout of crappy memories, I’m peachy with a side of keen.” She immediately noticed Willow’s kicked puppy look and rolled her eyes. Oh, that ever present black mark on their friendship. Always there but never talked about.

  Wesley cleared his throat changing the subject, because that’s how the modern day Scoobies dealt with her immortality. Not that she blamed him. He’d been an outsider when she had been brought back. He hadn’t understood the extent of the damage Willow had caused until much later and even then, he didn’t understand. None of them could know what she’d lost. “It’s a sound plan, Buffy.” He paused, before asking, “And this mystery man of yours, do you think you can get him to come with you?”

  Buffy met Clark’s wary eyes and shook her head. “I’ll talk to him, but I’m not forcing him into anything.”

  “Of course,” Wesley agreed.

  Buffy handed the earpiece back to Willow and approached Clark. “So, umm…I guess this is goodbye.” She looked at her feet fidgeting nervously, before adding, “I wanted to tell you…well…that I heard what your dad said while I was asleep, about why you were sent here.” She swallowed, meeting his curious gaze. “I don’t know if you’re this Prophesized Champion or not, but even if you’re not I…I think you could make a difference. I know humans are, well we’re stupid really. We’re selfish and prejudiced. We make mistakes and screw up. We hurt each other, even the ones we love, but we’re capable of much more than that. We love, we laugh, we learn and we grow. We are capable of change and acceptance; it just takes some of us time.”

  She swallowed looking down, “But I also think this world desperately needs hope.” She felt the prickling of tears as she remembered how the thought of hope had been what finally pulled her out of the nightmare.

  “I know I do.” She whispered, voice cracking as a tear slipped down her cheek. She felt a finger hook under her chin, gently lifting it so she was suddenly staring into warm blue eyes.

  “Okay,” He said simply.

  She blinked in surprise. “Okay?”

  His lips quirked into a half smile. “Okay,” He repeated, before his eyes became serious again. “But I need you to promise me something. I need you to promise me that I’ll never be used to hurt people. I don’t think I could handle that,” He shook his head.

  Buffy agreed immediately, “Of course, we’re not in the habit of killing humans. Demons and vamps sure, but humans we try to keep off the table.”

  Clark nodded, “I assumed as much when you refused to give Hardy the program you guys use to monitor military chatter. You said you were here to protect humanity and not get involved with petty wars.” He rubbed the back of his neck, “I feel the same, I just want to help people.”

  Buffy nodded in understanding, reaching in her back pocket for her wallet and hoping not all her business cards were ruined. “It’s hard to refuse the call, when you know you can help, isn’t it?”

  “Very,” He agreed as she found a card that hadn’t been soaked through with blood and handed it to him. Clark took it and put it in his pocket. “There’s one more thing,” He added. “I would like to keep my anonymity for the time being. I don’t think I’m ready for the world to know who I am yet.”

  She smiled softly. “I don’t think that will be a problem.”

  He smiled then, a real genuine smile that seemed to light up his whole face. “Okay,” He agreed again.

  “Buffy,” Willow interrupted. “Wes has a place.”

  She sighed, part of her reluctant to leave. “That’s my cue. Call me when you get back to civilization okay?”

  “I will.” He said with a nod as he watched her grab her axe, before she and her friend stepped through the portal and disappeared.

[Chapter One]

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