#got hit from behind at a dead standstill :/ but all I have is a slightly sore neck

[summerlovingbaby]

Lost In Battle

Today was Y/N’s birthday and both Steve and Bucky insisted on celebrating it to the highest degree. They tried to convince her tp throw a Stark-esque party. But that was a no go. Y/N was a simple girl, and she hated people making a fuss over her. They tried to force her to have a party, but Y/N wasn’t budging. Steve suggested a surprise party but that idea was clearly a bad idea, given the nature of their jobs. So Y/N agreed that they could take her out shopping and for cake, she didn’t want to but did it to make them happy. Y/N hated her birthday, and not in the way most people say they hate their birthday but they just pretend to. Y/N actually hated it.

But regardless of that fact Y/N, Steve and Bucky were out and about. Y/N was alone at the moment because Steve and Bucky were getting Y/N a  chocolate cupcake. Suddenly Bucky’s phone rang, it was Y/N so he picked up.

“Sorry we are taking so long, you know Steve can’t hold his water. Do you think Wanda would want a cookie or a cupcak-” Bucky said picking up the phone.

“ Bucky I think someone is watching me. Where is Steve? Tell Steve to call Tony. I’m 65% sure that they are HYDRA.” Y/N said in one breath.

“ Okay. Stay where you are. ”

“Copy that.” Y/N said. There was a brief moment of silence of silence before Bucky heard her breath on th , before she broke the silence. “ Now I’m 98% sure it’s HYDRA. He’s armed.”

Y/N tried too look as inconspicuous as possible, which was working in her favor. She stood there on the phone with Bucky talking about a super secret nazi organization. Meanwhile in the bakery, Steve finally came out of the bathroom with his classic smirk. But that smirk darkened when he saw Bucky’s dark look on his face. 

“ You need to call the team. Right now.” Bucky told Steve once he was in an earshot.

Y/n could here a bit of Steve calling Tony, but didn’t here  much of the conversation. Y/N glanced over shoulder, to see the man that she thought was trailing her was looking direction. Looking directly at her, he waved at her and smiled. Y/N tilted her head in confusion, the man just pointed at his chest. She looked down at her chest and saw a red target. Crap. She looked back at the man, as he pulled out something that looked like a remote control for a racecar. Double crap.

“ Bucky, I can’t stay here. They got a line on me.” Y/N said to the phone. She looked like she was about to hang it up, but instead took off in a sprint. Bucky could hear her breathing hard on the other line. “ I think that there is a bomb, I’m pretty sure I saw a flip switch but I’m not sure.” 

Y/N was bobbing and weaving through the crowd of people. People looked at her in confusion but payed no real mind to her, they just thought she was late or something. She was scanning the top of the rooftops for the sniper and saw two familiar forms atop the roof running along beside her. Jumping from roof to roof. She smiled in relief, there were her super soilders.

“ I see someone.”  She heard Steve yelled through the phone.

“ That’s you right?” She asked just to be safe, and sighed when she heard a breathy yes on the other  line. She pulled her airpods out of her backpocket and shoved one in her ear. She shoved the phone in her back pocket, so she could run faster without having to keep the phone up to her ear. She could hear Bucky’s hard breathing on the other end of the line, it put her at ease to know that they always had her back.

Y/N could see the man that Bucky and Steve were chasing, he was running oddly slow, but that didn’t matter at the time to the trio at the time. Just before Steve caught up with him, he jumped off the roof, and to a narrow alleyway. Y/N turned the saw him jump off the roof and turn into the alleyway. She turned to see 3 masked guns all pointing at her. She muttered a quick.” DON’T MOVE”, causing Steve and Bucky to stop running, and watch from the roof tops. They couldn’t hear the conversation. They just saw Y/N put her hands behind her head like she was surrendering, but Bucky and Steve knew better than that. She put her hands behind her head and reached behind her hair, and pull out 2 small handguns, and shooting the 2 closest assailants.

She pointed the guns and the third person, and the third person pointed it at her, but they were both at a standstill. Bucky and Steve waited for Y/N’s signal, but instead herd her whisper a shaky hold. They that her chest was heaving and her knees were shaking ever so slightly. The man pointing at Y/N, dropped the gun and pulled off his mask.

Bucky and Steve saw Y/N drop the guns and stumble backwards. Bucky heard Y/N gasp loudly through the phone. Y/N saw the face of the masked man and felt her heartbeat quicken. She couldn’t breathe, or hear hear Bucky and Steve through the phone, or see Bucky and Steve coming to her aid. She could only know one thing at the moment. Run. It all happened far too quickly for both Steve and Bucky. By the time they had climbed down  the latter both Y/N and the masked man were long gone.

Y/N took off in the direction that she came. She ran through crowds of people nervously. She bumped into people and stumbled over but didn’t seem to care that much. To be honest she didn’t even know where she was running too, just that she had to leave. Her mind was spinning in circles, and her legs kept failing her. Her airpod fell out of her ear, and her phone fell out of her pocket a few blocks ago, so she was on her own. The only thing that she could think about was him being dead. He was supposed to be dead. There was no way in hell that he could possibly be alive.

Y/N ran for what felt like miles, though it was only a few blocks. She felt her legs growing weak and felt her feet slipping from up under her. She did her best to try and stay quiet. To give her credit she was, hot tears streamed down her face as she quietly gasped for air. Then she felt something sharp hit her neck and then the world went dark.

Y/N woke up in a white room with yellow lights. To her surprise she wasn’t tied up, or strapped down, or drugged. She was just there, a bit cold but that was just a nitpick. She looked around the room and saw a guy sitting at his desk, doing what looked to be paperwork. He stopped scribbling and looked up.

“ Glad to see that you are up.” He said.

“ Thought you were dead.” Y/N said. Her voice was softer than usual.

“ I could say the same to you.”

“ Why am I here?”

“ Can’t a father say hello to his daughter on her birthday?”

“ Odd way to wish someone a happy birthday. Where am I?”

“ I can’t tell you that.”

“What can you tell me?”

“ I can tell you you that AIM will kill you if you leave here. I can’t stop you from leaving, but if you join AIM and help with or projects I can protect you. “

“ What do you mean if I leave?”

“ Exactly what I said.”

“ I can leave?”

“ Yes you can.”

“ Will you kill me if I try.”

“ No. But just to be clear, if you leave, you will no longer be my daughter.”

“ You stopped being my father a long time ago.”

This seemed to anger the man, he stood up from his desk. His face face turned red like he was restraining himself from yelling. His arm extended outward towards Y/N. She gulped in anticipation, she knew what was coming. She felt herself flying across the room towards her. Her neck flew into his hand like a magnet. He squeezed so tight Y/N thought her neck would brake. She didn’t even fight  back, that would only make it worse. If she took her punishment then she would be okay. After a while he got lazy and gave up. He tossed her aside like trash. She tried to stand but collapsed from coughing and trying to regain any breath that she lost.

Her father walked towards her and kicked her in the chest. He muttered a get out under his breath and went back at his desk. He didn’t even look at her, or say goodbye. Just tossed her away like she was trash. After a few minutes Y/N regained her breath and left the room. The dark hallway was empty, the whole building was empty. She found the exit rather quickly, which would have made her second guess things had she been thinking clearly. But she wasn’t. She exited the building which now looked to be more of a bunker, and took off in a random direction.

“ 

She soon heard a familiar set of bike tracks , and breathed in relief. She started whistled for her super soliders to come save her. At the sound of her whistling the two men almost doubled their pace to save their girl. They saw her, running through the forest. They hopped of their bikes and ran into eachothers arms. They collapsed into each others embrace. Steve broke the hug to look at her, surprised to see that she looked mostly okay. She was favoring her left side a bit, but mostly okay.

“Tony, we got her.” Steve said through comms.

“Okay, were headed to your location” Clint replied back. “We are 16 minutes out.”

No bruises, or cuts, just fine. All of a sudden, she heard footsteps behind her crunching in the dirt. She knew those footsteps. They all turned around to see Y/N’s father standing in front of them, he was holding something, though everyone already knew what it was. 

“ You’re just like your brother.” Her father yelled, and without warning threw the grenade directly them. Y/N pushed both Bucky and Steve behind her, and took the grenade to the stomach. It exploded on impact sending her flying backwards and dozens of bits of shrapnel into her chest. Bucky without thinking shot the man in the head.

Y/N was on the ground, lying on her back, she was passed out, very much alive. But when she would wake up she would wish she were dead. Bucky and Steve ran over to Y/N. They looked at her lifeless shrapnel ridden body, unsure of what to do. Bucky picked up one of the only pieces of shrapnel not in Y/N’s body.

“ Steve.” He said tapping Steve on the shoulder, but he was too distracted taking Y/N’s pulse. “ Steve.” This one got his attention. “ Look at this.” He said holding up the piece of shrapnel.

“No..no,no no...this is bad.” Steve said looking between Bucky and Y/N, who was still passed out.

Both Steve and Bucky knew that grenade. They remembered it from the war. That grenade had special shrapnel. The shrapnel was soaked in some sort of fast acting poison, that killed you within minutes. The shrapnel was embedded+ with a biological agent, with expanding barbs, so once it hit something it would expand making it hard to pull out. The only way you would survive was if you had the antidote, or if you pulled them out. Needless to say every time they saw that grenade, they watched someone have a slow painful death.

“How far out are you guys?” Steve asked touching the comms. He sighed when he got the response. They didn’t have 10 minutes.

Steve took out his first aid kit, and so did Bucky. They hovered over her lifeless body and began picking the pieces of metal out of her chest and stomach. Suddenly Y/N awoke with a gasp, both Bucky and Steve heard, they felt her body tense. They could feel her writhing in pain, and shaking and kicking violently. She kept gasping for air and moaning loudly. She kept trying to sit up, she was moving so much they couldn’t get the shrapnel.

“ Buck keep her still.” Steve said, his voice shaken slightly.

“ Stevie is that you?” Her voice shaking and hot tears rolling down her face.

“ Yeah it’s me sweet girl, but I need you to try and hold still.” Steve said making himself visible, hoping it would calm her down a bit. And it did, she calmed down a bit. Bucky soon came into view, Steve looked at Bucky with sad eyes, they both knew what was about to happen. Steve left her view and got back to work. Y/N lurched upwards as Steve pulled a piece of metal deep from her skin. She moaned loudly as but Bucky gently held her down gently.

“ Its okay....its okay. I know it hurts doll, but you have to stay still.” Bucky said, pushing her back down causing Y/N to yelp in pain.

“ I’m sorry. I won’t tell anyone. Please stop.” Y/N moaned through yelling. “ I promise I’ll be good.” She said through loud sobs. She began to kick her legs and buck her hips to try to get them to stop hurting her. Steve sat on her thighs to keep her as still as possible. Y/N tried to fight back, but it didn’t work. Y/N worked about 100lbs soaking wet, and Steve weighed about 240 on a bad day.

Y/N started moaning and sobbing louder begging for the pain to end. She kept trying to left her chest but Bucky forced her back down. He was avoiding using his metal arm cause he promised he would never hurt her, and he felt that he was. He tried to keep her down with one arm, but with every piece of shrapnel Steve pulled out she fought back harder, and moaned louder.

“ Buck.” He herd Steve say, his voice quivering.

“Please stay still.” Bucky pleaded, “ Please don’t make me do this.” Bucky begged, but Y/N wasn’t listening. Bucky used his metal arm, to forcing her back down to the ground.

“ Bucky make him stop, please make him stop. Steve stop, please.” She begged the both of them. They tried to ignore it but the sound of their babygirl’s scream was boring through their eardrums.  Bucky looked away, he couldn’t look her in the eyes. His eyes where filled with white hot tears.He blinked them away and tried his best to comfort his girl. He used his human arm to stroke her hair.

“ You are doing so well. I’m so proud of you. I know it hurts doll but we are almost done, I promise.” He said, causing her yelling to quiet down to no more than a quiet begging. Steve could hear the quinjet flying closer.

“ Please, please, please, please, please, please. I’ll be good. I won’t do it again. Please make it stop.” She said through quiet sobs.

“ It’s okay, you’re okay. I know, I know it hurts doll. You’re doing so great, you are going to be okay I promise. Steve is almost done, and when we get home, we will get as many dogs as you want. I promise.”

Y/N nodded, and squeezed her eyes tightly, her lips clenched between her teeth tears streamed from the side of her eyes. They could hear the quinjet quickly approaching which gave Y/N an odd sort of comfort. Before she knew  it, it was right on top of them, Natasha jumped out attached to a wire and landed on the ground. She had a needle in her hand, and as soon as she landed she ran towards her and put it in Y/N’s neck. Y/N felt her body go numb, then she felt really tired, and she fell asleep. That is the last thing Y/N remembered.

PUT ON HOLD INDEFINATLEY 

#bucky x you #james buchanan bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #james barnes #bucky x reader #stucky x y/n #stucky x reader #steve rodgers imagine #sebastian stan #steve rogers #steve x reader #the avengers #the winter solider imagine #avengers imagine

[inhumanescreeching]

in which Dabi attends the meeting with the Shie Hassaikai, and things as we know it, turn out differently

because im bored as hell and i wanna see an au where eri gets raised by lov, also there'll probably be four?? parts to this, idk yet lol. oh and for this to work, twice tells lov that they're meeting w the shie hassaikai beforehand. just for a short time, like on the day before the actual meeting type of short ok? ok

tw: canon typical violence, swearing, mentions of/referenced child abuse

Dabi was never one for punctuality. He was his own boss, no matter what Shigaraki said about titles within the League

Plus, an alliance with the yakuza placed a foul taste in his mouth. He heard of the Shie Hassaikai family when he was young. They were bad news

Doing a background check on the current leader had been easy with Giran’s help and through that, Dabi learned all he needed to know about one Chisaki Kai

Dabi may have committed murder, arson, theft, and various other crimes but he draws the line on abusing children

Dabi has long decided that he was going to cremate Chisaki and scatter his remains on dog shit, regardless of Shigaraki’s approval of him as an ally. So when he sees Chisaki, in the flesh, up and attack one of their own, well. Dabi saw red

Blue flames flew towards Chisaki before he could take another step, pushing him back as Dabi slid in front of the group. “Don’t let him touch you!” He yelled in warning

Dabi met Chisaki’s eyes and glared. Twice stuttered, trying to ease the tension. Behind Dabi, he could hear Toga fuss over Magne, who’d nearly lost her life had Chisaki gotten his hand on her, and Shigaraki’s telltale sounds of scratching. Mr. Compress has hopped down from his seat to flank Dabi, hand at the ready

Everyone’s here, aside from Spinner- who was on guard duty for their base. They’re safe. Dabi made it in time. He stifles as a relieved sigh, instead looking at Chisaki dead in the eye as he ignites a flame on his palm. It’s a warning, a promise

The standstill drags on, as Twice’s attempt at peacemaking dies down and the room descends into silence

Shigaraki, eventually, starts moving. Stands between Dabi and Compress, and takes off the hand on his face. “I think that serves as our answer. The League will never bow down to you yakuza, and we’ll expand on our own. We won’t interfere with your business.” Underneath the hand, Shigaraki’s grin looked manic. “And you keep out of ours.”

“If you have no intention of becoming a subordinate of the League, then we kindly ask you to leave.” Compress added, calm as always

Chisaki scowled, hands twitching as if he was resisting the urge to scratch an itch, but otherwise dropped his defensive posture. “Very well, Shigaraki Tomura.”

“Twice, escort our esteemed guest out.”

That stumped Twice into action, muttering apologies and insults in the same breath as he urged Chisaki back to the door. With his back turned, Chisaki looked over his shoulder to them. “If you won’t contribute to the Shie Hassaikai’s advancements.”

Dabi did not like where this was going.

“Then suffer the shame of being our guinea pigs!” 

“Shigaraki, get down!”

It was fast. Like a bullet. When it hits Compress on the shoulder as he pushes Shigaraki to the side, Dabi realizes it was a bullet. They land behind him loudly, Shigaraki cursing about how he could have taken that hit, but Dabi’s eyes were already searching for where it came from

No windows, and no sound of broken glass so it couldn’t have been a sniper. Someone was on the ceiling, hiding in the dark. Luckily, Dabi could easily light them up. He shoots a few blasts, not quite hitting the mark but the person drops to Chisaki’s side nonetheless

“Who the hell uses guns anymore?” Dabi asked. “Unless you’ve got something up your sleeve? What was it, suffer the shame of being our guinea pigs? What the hell did you hit Compress with?”

“You’re surprisingly perceptive, Flame Villain Dabi.”

Dabi smirked. “Glad I can surpass your expectations, Chisaki Kai.” He visibly tensed at the mention of his name. “Compress, what’s your stats?”

“It’s been years since I was last shot by a bullet, but aside from the usual pain, I don’t feel much difference.”

The masked person beside Chisaki- who looked straight out of the Black Plague era- spoke up. “Try to use your Quirk.”

There’s scuffling behind him, but Dabi knew better than to turn his back to the enemy. Toga gasps, Shigaraki starts muttering. He asks “What’s happening? Talk to me here.”

“I can’t use it.”

“What?”

Shigaraki stands up, and very nearly attacks had Dabi not held a hand to his chest to stop him. He hisses instead. “Undo it.”

“You should’ve joined us, Shigaraki Tomura.” The masked person continues.. “Had you been in our ranks, you would’ve been helping us perfect this formula instead of being on the receiving end of its trial period.”

“What is it?” Dabi asked, a warning flare of blue on his palm.

“Nothing to concern yourselves with, should our truce stand.” Chisaki said. “It'll wear off in an hour”

They turn to leave

Dabi keeps his guard and his fire up. Shigaraki brushes him off and lunges for Chisaki’s throat. “You broke the truce the minute you shot Compress!”

Four more bullets fly, but Shigaraki dodges those with ease. Chisaki calls out as his subordinate steps forward to cover him. “Shield!”

Another person slides in, taking the hit of Shigaraki’s Decay. At that, Shigaraki jumps back, and Dabi moves forward in one smooth exchange as the victim melts into a grey lump. Just then, a giant that’s half the height of the warehouse breaks through the entrance wall, adorned in that uniform plague mask. Their guard dog, Dabi assumes

“We’ll stop here for now.” Chisaki said, faking nonchalance even though there was obvious fury in the way his fists clenched. “You owe me one corpse for this, Shigaraki Tomura, but for tonight that’s enough.”

“This isn’t over, Chisaki Kai.” Dabi returns the glare sent his way, undeterred. He continues. “Not until you free that little girl"

Chisaki laughs at that. Like abusing a little girl and exploiting her for whatever the hell Chisaki was doing was laughable. Oh, Dabi was going to have fun watching this asshole burn. “You keep surprising me, Dabi. I didn’t take you for the parental type.”

Dabi smirks. “Yeah, and apparently you’re a shitty parent.”

Their footsteps echo and die down into the night, along with Chisaki’s bemused laugh

Twice has relocated himself from the middle of the battleground to behind Compress, supporting him up, sometime during the fight. Toga was tying a handkerchief over the wound, hushing Twice’s bemoaning about bringing in trouble. Magne was on guard as Dabi drops to the floor, not minding the way the skin on his forearm smokes slightly

“Why were you late?”

“I didn’t wanna be here.” Dabi groans. “That bitch is bad news and now I wanna kill him even more.”

“You mentioned a little girl?” Toga asks, not looking up. Magne adds, “and something about being a shitty parent.”

Dabi winces. “Yeah, this isn’t gonna be a pretty story. Let’s head back to base first.”

next »

#bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #bnha spoilers #mha spoilers #bnha fic #mha fic #eri #bnha eri #mha eri #lov #league of villains #shigaraki #dabi #toga #magne #twice #spinner #mr compress #kurogiri #shigaraki tomura #shimura tenko #toga himiko #jin bubaigawara #sako atsuhiro #iguchi shuichi #shirakumo oboro #todoroki touya #reblogs > likes

[its-a-humanriot]

Common Language, pt. I

(This is the beginning to a bunch of Fallout 3 works I have knocking around my brain. I’ll post bits and pieces here and then post the full work to ao3 once it’s done)

(pt. I) / (pt. II)

---

Charon realises very quickly that he does not understand his new employer very well.

In the first instance, this is very literal.

Not many words were exchanged during her introduction as his new employer and him subsequently blowing Ahzrukhal’s brains all over the walls of the Ninth Circle. It’s not until after they make a very rapid exit and they are out in the quiet of the museum atrium catching their breath that he really pays any attention to her. Not much about his employer’s appearance immediately seems wildly unusual – she looks pretty healthy for a wastelander, if somewhat pale, and probably one of the youngest people to come through Underworld in several years. Her face is grubby with the expected dust and dirt of travel under her mop of short curly brown hair, slightly pink from sunburn across her nose and a clean strip of pallid skin around her eyes from the goggles that now hang around her neck (the look of it reminds him briefly of some small animal from before the war, though he can no longer recall its name). Although they look relatively well maintained, her armour and rifle have clearly been scavenged at least third-hand, and a faded red bandanna is tucked around the collar.

Charon takes all this in with a practiced eye, trying to evaluate what kind of person he is now bound to – as satisfying as it is to know that Ahzrukhal’s head is now spread all over the Ninth Circle, it has come at the cost of knowing his opponent. The girl in front of him does not look wealthy to be spending the number of caps he knows Ahzrukhal would have asked for his contract, nor hardened enough to have carried out whatever unscrupulous task he would have accepted as alternative payment. He can’t quite pinpoint it, but something doesn’t seem right. When she opens her mouth, his instincts are proved right.

“Well, fuck. I came to Underworld to cop a flop and a sling and hang loose for a while, maybe zee out for the night, and buddy up with you. I was not expecting to have to beat feet with a dead body behind us.”

Her accent is like no wastelander he has ever heard, and he doesn’t understand half the things that come out of her mouth. Charon can’t claim to be up to date with young people (as so few of them come through Underworld and most of Ahzrukhal’s associates were people who should absolutely not be allowed anywhere near children) but even among the various communities in the Capitol Wasteland there is usually a fair amount of common ground. This – whatever this is – is something else entirely.

His well-practiced poker face seems to keep his confusion hidden at least up until she turns to him with an uncomfortable smile on her face – she certainly has cleaner teeth than a lot of wastelanders, and not even any missing that he can see – and sticks her hand out in his direction.

“This isn’t how I was expecting to have this go but, uh, I’m Billie. Nice to actually meet you properly, Charon.”

He stares at it. A lot of people would avoid unnecessary physical contact with ghouls, even if they weren’t outright ghoul haters, and certainly none of his previous employers have ever tried to engage in something as cordial as a handshake. When he doesn’t react, she leans in a little sheepishly. “…I think you’re supposed to shake hands when you meet someone new, right?”

His stare moves up to her face. She looks about as confused as he feels. What rock has this kid crawled out from?

“What?” It’s hardly the first thing that he means to say to his new employer now they have time to talk, but this whole interaction is leaving him feeling entirely unfooted. She tilts her head at him and looks even more awkward, her outstretched hand dipping slightly before she withdraws it entirely and starts to comb it through her hair instead.

“Uh…I’m not used to meeting new folks? A couple of people have told me what passes for manners above ground but honestly, I’ve not had so many chances to try it on people who weren’t trying to vent me first.” Her face twists in an embarrassed grimace. “Is it the accent? I’ve been told it’s a little hard to understand. I can try, uh something else,” She drops her hand, brushes some stray curls out of her eyes and clears her throat. She offers her hand again and manages to take him by surprise yet again: saying clearly in an almost perfectly pronounced pre-war Transatlantic accent “Hello Charon, my name is Billie Morgan. Pleased to meet you.”

The sound hits Charon like ice cold lead in his stomach, a noise he hasn’t heard in decades beyond the occasional old holotape. It rings in his ears as fresh as it was then with all of the other memories he’d tried to bury - the cloying surgical smell of the lab in his nose, the claustrophobia of the sim pod – Scanning vitals… Welcome subject: 2875, identifier Charon. Beginning training simulation in 3, 2…

A hand touches his arm and the tension in his body spikes – Charon finds himself staggering backwards into a defensive stance. His hand, still moving on instinct, gets as far as the handle of his combat knife before his conditioning kicks in with a short shock of pain – the subject cannot harm the employer – and the opposing reactions form a strained stalemate and force him to a standstill, buzzing with adrenaline, as his presence of mind returns. His employer is now a few feet away, her brown eyes wide as she raises her hands.

“Woah, okay. Won’t do that one again. Sorry.” The artificial enunciation is gone and her original accent has returned, but she is speaking more slowly and clearly than before. He can’t tell if she’s just doing it to try and pacify him or if she is consciously trying to make herself easier to understand. Now that he has the frame of reference for it her natural inflection definitely has something pre-war about it, but it’s hard to pinpoint. “Easy there, big guy. I’ve got no scrap with you and I’m not gonna hurt you. Okay?”

Charon has at least a full foot of height on this kid, and while she looks healthy she does not look strong – the idea that she would be able to hurt him in a close quarters fight is almost laughable. Slowly, he forces himself to let go of the knife handle. The tension in his shoulders stays where it is.

“I am unable to harm my employer. Physical violence on your part invalidates our contract.” The default line gives him something to fall back on for a moment while he straightens back up to his resting position.

“That’s…something.” She doesn’t look reassured, but she drops her hands. “So we’re shiny? Cause you looked real ready to stab me for a second there.”

“I am unable to harm my employer.”

“…Right.” She appears to wait a moment for clarification that does not come before continuing. “So about your contract – it’s kinda hard to read and I didn’t really get the full shakedown before you greased Ahzrukhal so I don’t know what your rates are. I’m a little low on caps at the moment but I can pay you some upfront and then I can earn a bunch back from whatever scavving we do in the next few days to get you the rest of your cut, then we can work out an arrangement. Sound okay to you?”

“I do not require payment.”

“So what, I keep you watered and fed and breathing and we’re square? Seems like a pretty cheap deal to me.”

“I do not require protection and you are not required to provide for me, though several previous employers have chosen to do so.”

“Wait.” Her brow creases. “What does the contract say?”

“The holder of my contract is my employer.” The words come readily to his tongue after many decades of repeating them. “My employer has my services in combat and in any other duties as they see fit and I am honour bound to do as they command for as long as they hold the contract. The contract prevents me from harming my employer while I am in their service. Physical violence by the employer against me invalidates the contract.”

She stares at him hard for a long moment before she speaks again with horror in her voice.

“You’re a slave?”

“I belong to no one.” The response is automatic, the only protest he is able to make. The words taste sour in his mouth.

“You’ve just told me that you don’t require payment of any kind and that you have to do what I say. If that’s not being a slave, I don’t know what is.” She turns away and pulls on her curls for a moment while she paces before turning back to him, her face stormy. “If I’d know that skeezer was a slave owner on top of everything, I might’ve taken a pop at him myself before you ventilated his face. Fuck.” Her eyes widen again. “I bought you from him.”

“If you find the terms of my contract objectionable, you may pass it on to another.”

“I object to you being bound to the contract. Passing it over to someone else doesn’t fix that.” Pulling a face, she pinches the bridge of her nose and sighs, then pulls his contract out of her pocket. She looks over the worn paper for a moment, then a takes a single step closer to him and thrusts it in his direction. “Here.”

The ebbing tide of the adrenaline rush in his veins suddenly leaves all at once, and he is left staring at his employer’s hand again. There must a misunderstanding here. Again.

“You wish me to…hold the contract for you?”

She rolls her lips together before making deliberate eye contact with him.

“I want you to have it. Permanently, free of charge. The contract belongs to you - no more employers to boss you around.” Turning her eyes skyward for a moment, she takes a deep breath. “I’m hoping that greasing former employers of yours isn’t like a tradition or something, cause I kinda like being alive out here in the fresh air despite everything. And I have someone I really, really need to find.”

He stares at her for a long moment, stupefied. She stares back, with an expression that is perhaps supposed to be comforting despite the fact that her hand is shaking slightly. After the events at the Ninth Circle, she doesn’t have much reason to suspect that anything else will happen apart from her apart from the inside of her skull being spread all over the atrium.

“I cannot accept.”

At the sound of his voice she seems a little calmer, and gives him a warmer smile.

“Sure you can. No charge, no nothing, just like I s-”

“You misunderstand. I am physically not able to accept.”

“What?” The look of confusion is back.

“I am not able to hold my own contract. It is stated clearly in the contract terms.”

“You didn’t say that thirty seconds ago!”

“The contract terms are long. I paraphrased.”

“You paraphrased.” With a furrowed brow she pinches the bridge of her nose again with the hand holding the contract dropping to her hip, though her mouth pulls up at the corner – whether it’s from amusement or concealed frustration, he’s not sure. She takes in a breath, then drops her hand. “Right. Okay. And if I destroy the contract?”

“I am compelled to stop you from doing so, through any means necessary.”

“Even if you harm me? I thought you said you couldn’t do that.”

“Preservation of the contract takes priority over the life of my employer, though I must also take all possible actions to preserve your life.” Comforting people is not a talent Charon considers to be in his skill set. From the look on his employer’s face, he evaluates that this is still true.

“There must be a section in the contract for how it ends though, right? Surely no contract is gonna be able to hold you forever.” The naivety of the comment grates on his nerves more than he expects. Maybe it’s the aftermath of the adrenaline rush and the bewilderingly abrupt turn that this already baffling interaction has taken, but Charon’s response come out with more of a bite than he means it to.

“It’s not that simple, smoothskin.”

“But you don’t want to be bound by it, right?” Seemingly undeterred by the epithet or the warning in his tone, she continues earnestly. “If we just-”

“I said -” His voice is sharper than he would ever dared let it be speaking back to Ahzrukhal, louder than he has spoken in so very long, and he wrests control of himself back too late – his voice echoes back to him from the polished granite walls so that it rebukes him as much as it does the kid in front of him. Her eyes are wide, shoulders bunched up to her chin level, and he realises that he has unconsciously drawn up to his full height. The echo hangs in the air for a moment, and when it dies his words are back to their normal volume, even if the tone is strained: “ – it is not that simple.”

The moment continues to stretch out thin and the young woman doesn’t move or answer – just keeps staring at him. The silence leaves him feeling as unbalanced as the conversation did - worse now that he feels exposed in the wake of his outburst. Charon takes a rattly breath and fills his ravaged lungs to their full extent as he winds himself back under control – shoulders down, arms by his sides, he reverts to his typical guarding stance. When he speaks again, it in the direction of the young woman’s clenched hand rather than to her face

“For good or ill,” Charon says towards the faded scrap of parchment “I am in your service.”

#fallout 3 #fo3 #charon fo3 #lone wanderer #oc: billie morgan/hundred dollar bills (lone wanderer) #very excited to start getting this out there #nom writes stuff #common language

[ghostdrew22]

One Of Those Days || Draco Malfoy

Requested: No

Pairing: post-war Draco Malfoy x fem!reader

Warnings: Some police detective talk(not good but something) and a few mentions of murder and whatnot. But it’s quite fluffy in my opinion.

Summary: Draco and Y/N work as detectives in a muggle police department and she has a really rough day after it looks like one of her cases is about to fall through. Draco can sense that she’s had a bad day and offers to help her get her work done.

WORDS : 2001

~

Draco prided himself in knowing as much about you as possible- it was his hobby in fact. Draco could tell your silhouette through stained glass windows, he could tell your laugh from three storey’s above you, he could sense your footsteps from kilometers away and he could pinpoint whatever emotion you were feeling with just a single sound from you. Some people would find it creepy- the way he focused so intently on every detail of you like he needed to commit your entire existence to memory- but you loved it, relished it in fact, especially on days when it felt like the entire world was against you and all you needed was for him to comfort you.

That’s why when you’d come by his office to get him for dinner that night he’d known that you weren’t up for it. You were trying very hard to hold it together- it was date night with Blaise and Pansy after all- but he just knew that today had been one of those days, and he made quick work of getting you comfortable on the little couch in his office. It was in the heavy steps you took when you came in- like you couldn’t bare to carry the weight of your own body even though your own office was barely a few paces away from his- and the fake smile that didn’t reach your eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked once he’d finally got you seated comfortably- pulling your feet into his lap so he could start massaging them- and you tried your best to feign stability with a nod.

“Yes, just a long day.”

“There’s no need to lie, love.” He persisted and moved one hand below your chin so he could lift your head to look at him. “I know something’s up.”

And he was right, as usual, something was up and it had been bothering you all day. One of your cases just didn’t make sense, no matter how hard you looked there didn’t seem to be the missing string that would tie it all together. You knew who the murderer was, it was textbook really, but you just couldn’t find any evidence tying him to the murder no matter how hard you tried.

“Is it the case?” He asked- referring to the homicide case you’d been working at relentlessly for three weeks now- and you merely nodded meekly in response, feeling too hopeless and tired to manage more.

Both you and Draco had wanted to pursue law enforcement for as long as you could remember- particularly homicide investigation- but after the war neither of you could bare the idea of being aurors- the trauma deterring you both from wanting anything to do with fighting the dark arts- and so you decided that working as muggle detectives was the next best thing. And you loved your jobs, really, but it was a hard job to do when every other aspect of your lives benefitted from the use of magic. I mean, how would you explain to a jury that magic helped you track down a suspect in record time? It was absolutely outrageous and it made sure that you both stuck by the book. But it could be immeasurably exhausting despite your love for it, and today was one of those days.

“He’s going to walk.” You said before a sob escaped your lips and Draco was quick to grab you by the shoulders gently and pull you into his chest for soothing- knowing that all you really wanted was for him to listen to you complain and hold you tightly. So you began to explain your situation to him and he listened intently- absorbing every single detail that he could and running his hand up and down your arm to keep you at bay.

“Do you want help going over the files?” He asked once you’d finished explaining. The truth was that you did want help- particularly his help because he was the only person in the entire homicide department with an eye better than your own when it came to this kind of stuff- but you didn’t want to ask for it in fear of adding to his workload, and so you bit your lip and shook your head softly.

“It’s okay Drac, don’t worry about it.” You tried to brush it off, but Draco knew you too well to fall for your antics and he shook his head back at you.

“Nonsense love, I’ll help.” You opened your mouth to protest- already feeling guilty at making him help you- but he was quick to interrupt you, already knowing what you were going to say. “You’e not adding onto my workload Y/N, I’ve always got time to help you and you know that.”

You sighed in defeat- knowing that you weren’t going to win- and looked up at him with a pout, “Are you sure?”

“I’m positive.”

“Hey! Who’s ready to get-“ Blaise had barged into the office excitedly but stopped his speech immediately upon the sight of you and your husband on the couch. “What’s going on?”

“I don’t think we can do tonight mate, Y/N’s case has hit a standstill and I’ve offered her to help her go over the case files to find something that’ll help.” Draco answered his best friend with a solemn expression and Blaise nodded in understanding.

“Is it the Yarvis case?” Blaise asked and you nodded faintly with a sigh, “I could help too if you need an extra set of eyes.” Blaise had also decided to join you and Draco in the muggle detective business, but where you and Draco were homicide detectives, Blaise was focused on Narcotics. Ironic for someone who had been the biggest stoner in your year group.

“Blaise, you really don’t have to. I know you and Pansy have been looking forwa-“ You started but Blaise was already shaking his head and dropping his coat onto the hanger by the door before you could finish.

“That’s absolute nonsense Y/N, we’ve been looking forward to spending time with the two of you and this would count. Think about it, we can order Chinese food and crack into those files around the table like one of those cheesy muggle movies you love?” Blaise offered with a soft smile and eyebrow raise and you had to resist the urge to cry on the spot.

“That would actually be great, thank you Blaise.”

“Anything for a friend. Let me go ring Pansy and tell her to bring Chinese on the way.”

“Okay.” Draco replied to his best friend with a thankful smile.

“The usual?”

“Yes please!” You shouted back as Blaise made his way out of the office with a chuckle at your excitement.

And that is how date night turned into the four of you laid out on the floor around a little table in Draco’s office, eating chow mien and going over your case files- trying to find any inkling of evidence that could tie the suspect to the murder.

“Hey Y/N?” Pansy calls from across you as she strains her eyes at an image from one of the folders- although Pansy is an auror, she has a particular knack for muggle crime as well.

“Yes?” You hum as you slowly bring your eyes up to meet hers.

“What’s this in the corner?” She passes the image to you for you to see what she’s referring to.

“It’s just a photograph in a frame, I think it’s the parents and their children.”

“Okay, now look at this.” She passes you a second, almost identical, image of the scene and the photo frame is nowhere to be seen.

“Where’s it gone?” You ask in disbelief.

“I think it disappeared while you were on the scene of the crime, I think it was magic.”

“What?” You furrow your eyebrows at her as you look back down at the images.

“A delayed protection spell perhaps?”

Draco doesn’t say anything but moves closer so that he can also see the two images.


“Why magic? It could’ve been bagged as evidence.”

“No, there are no photo frames in this evidence log.” Blaise pipes up as he passes you the log to inspect yourself.

“Hmm.” You huff and narrow your eyebrows at everything you’ve been handed. “But I’m pretty sure that they’re a muggle family, what could magic have to do with this?”

Pansy shrugs with a thin smile and you sigh- realising that you’ve hit yet another stumbling block- as a silence encapsulates the room.

“Shit.” Draco mumbles as he drops the images onto the ground and quickly jumps off the ground to walk toward his desk his desk.

“Shit?” You ask as you observe his suddenly frantic state as he tries to find something- feeling excitement bubble up inside you at the prospect of him having a lead.

“Yes, shit.” He pulls out two large files from one of his desk drawers and drops them onto the surface, “That- that picture, look at what’s behind the family.”

You narrow your eyes at frame that’s in the evidence shot. “The park?”

“The man that’s on the bench in the park.” Draco responds as he shuffles through papers, “A few months ago I had a case to this where we couldn’t pin the murder to our prime suspect because it all fit so perfectly together but none of the evidence was sufficient enough to withstand trial.”

“Was that the-“ Blaise starts.

“The Hunter Street case? Yes.” Draco answers, “Then right before it looked like she was going to walk, some random evidence perfectly matched up and tied her to the entire thing. It was almost too good to be true.”

“Oh yeah, I remember how confused you were about that.”

“Now I remember why I was so unsettled by it, she wasn’t the culprit.”

“She’s been in jail three months now, a bit too late to be pointing fingers.” Blaise adds with an awkward chuckle and Draco’s lips draw upward slightly at the comment.

“Who did it then?”

“There was a neighbor, a man, who came out as a witness and claimed to have seen her on the night of the crime. I didn’t interview him but I caught a glimpse of him and he is that man in the photograph.”

“How can you be so sure?” Pansy furrows her eyebrows.

“I never forget a face.” Draco utters sternly as he looks Pansy dead in the eyes and you smile proudly.

“So how does he connect to everything?” You ask with furrowed eyebrows.

“He’s the missing puzzle piece, but I think he’s working with someone on the inside.”

“So you think someone discarded the frame for him? On the scene of the crime?”

“Yes! But it definitely wasn’t the photographer, and it means whoever did that arrived after everyone else.” Draco continues and you nod- digesting the information.

“Okay...” You agree with him- feeling a sense of relief wash over you at the fact that finally something is starting to make sense.

Yes, it had been one of those days but everything felt like it was worth it when you could watch your husband in action. You stared at him in awe as he rummaged through the pile of papers in front of him- already connecting the millions of dots that had started forming in his head- and you had to resist the urge to pull him into a kiss of adoration.

“Found it!” Draco explains as he pulls out a small piece of paper and squints to read what’s written on it. Without a second of hesitation he strides toward the door and pulls both of your coats off the hook then stands against the door frame and waits for you.

“Are you coming? We’ve got a murderer to catch.” He asks as he waits for you by the door and you quickly nod and hop off the ground to join him- feeling warmth consume you at the sight of the excited glint in his eyes.

Yes, it had been one of those days… But those days would always be easy to take in stride when you had Draco with you.

<~>

 I feel like I kind of half-assed this toward the end just because I needed to get it done before I lost the love for it, but I still love the general concept either way. I wrote this because I can see Draco wanting to solve crimes and be a detective but I can’t see him wanting to be an auror after the war because he’d be fighting the very same people he ‘worked’ with once and working with the very same people he ‘fought’ against once, and the trauma from the entire situation would be too much to handle and make him hate his job- so muggle detective Draco is born! :)

anyway, love you all,

jean <3

#draco #draco malfoy #draco x y/n #draco imagine #draco fanfiction #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy one-shots #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #harry potter imagine #harry potter x reader #blaise zabini #pansy parkinson #y/n

[stardust-walker]

High Hopes

Chapter 1: The Highway

Synopsis:  Dove Sawyer was more than happy going to her job, coming home, and maybe being able to talk to her sister if she was real lucky. None of that matters when the dead start to walk and she ended up in the woods with her older sister's family and a bunch of strangers. It's almost always been the two sisters but she never thought it would be so literal. Dove is sure in for a surprise when someone in the group starts to look after her family almost as much as she does.

Word: 1801

Author’s note: Ya girl is at it on tumblr now. The fic is also posted on AO3 here as well as on wattpad so I figured why not here as well since I’m posting Welcome Home mostly on here for now. I have 30 chapters up so I’ll be posting 2 or 3 a day until I’m all caught up! If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, just hmu.

____________________________________________________________

The young woman sat in the backseat of the Jeep Cherokee. She wished she'd had time to get her own car before her sister had panicked and basically dragged her out of the house with a half-packed suitcase, a few things already in her purse, and the clothes on her back. Ed was not happy about it and she could, for once, agree with him on that. It was a miracle they were both still alive 2 hours into a motionless traffic jam.

"Shouldn't they be saying something about this on the radio? What the hell is going on? Think you can change the station?" Dove finally spoke up for the first time in a half hour. The uncomfortable silence was broken by even more uncomfortable discussion. She could see the radio on but there was no noise coming from it since the emergency alert had stopped. She'd tried to be as delicate as she could with Sophia in the seat right next to her. Too bad her own father couldn't be so kind.

"Don't know. Guess a degree doesn't teach you everything." Ed snapped from the front seat and she noticed her sister tense up next to him.

"Jesus Christ, Ed. I was just asking you a question," Dove let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her door open.

"Where are you going," Carol's voice sounded slightly higher pitched than the last time she'd said anything.

"I'm just going to see if anyone else might know something. Maybe someone has a CB or heard from someone in the city. I'll be back. If I'm not back in a half hour, send a search party," she joked as she ruffled her niece's hair, not missing another snide comment about her being an uppity bitch from the man in the driver's seat. She hated leaving her family alone with Ed but right now she didn't really have a choice.

She felt like something was going on that someone else might know about and it was killing her not knowing. At least if no one else knew what was going on, she might be able to find someone actually intelligent to talk to. Anything was better than spending another minute inside the stuffy car in the Atlanta spring.

Part of her wished that she'd had time to change too. Damn Carol, she thought to herself as she pulled the fabric of her jean shorts back to their place an inch above her knee. Dove grabbed her sunglasses off the seat and slammed the car door shut as she started to meander her way down the freeway.

It wasn't weird to see an Interstate crowded or at a near standstill, but that was usually at rush hour with people going home or to work. Something about the way it was right now was eerie. It wasn't a feeling that was strange to her by any means, working in mental health will do that to you. Dove paused at the car up and over one from Carol's.

Her eyes lingered at the pistol on the man's hip before shifting upwards to his shirt. "Hey, officer. Any idea what's going on here?" She frowned slightly as she took a step forward, the man turned slightly to look over at her. A dark haired woman was sitting on the trunk of the car, a boy no older than Sophia perched up there next to her. The poor kid looked pale and stressed out. His mother didn't look much better.

"No clue. Maybe they're screening people on their way into the refugee center? Only thing that makes sense." The man looked concerned as he ran a hand through his hair. He seemed nervous. Dove nodded slowly and shifted her weight to her other foot.

"I hope you're right." She ran a hand across her forehead to wipe away the sweat. "I'm Dove, by the way. Dove Sawyer. Back there's my sister, Carol. She's got a little girl about your boy's age. Sure she wouldn't mind the company. Plus we might have some extra water in there if you're thirsty, bud." She smiled comfortingly in the direction of the little boy.

"Mom..." The little boy looked up at his mom. The poor thing looked so stressed out. She couldn't help but wonder what they'd been through before they decided to go to the refugee camp.

"We'll have to see, Carl." The dark-haired woman ruffled his hair before she kissed his forehead. "Thank you." Dove didn't miss the look she shot to the officer.

"Well, I'm Shane. That over there is Lori and the little man is Carl," Shane held his hand out and Dove shook it.

"Nice to meet you. I'm planning on trekking up ahead. Seeing if anyone's heard anything. People might have family in the city, you know? I'll probably circle back within the hour though. I'll be sure to let you know if I find anything out," she wished she could be a little more comforting especially with a little kid being involved. They did seem grateful for any information though. There was no doubt in her mind that the cop would try to figure something out just like she was.

With a quick wave, she bid Shane goodbye and started back off down the highway.

~

She'd definitely been gone longer than she told her sister and she'd gotten a quiet sort of hell for it when she got back to the car. Carol didn't want Ed to hear that she'd been worried about her. "Do you have idea how worried Sophia was?" Carol said through gritted teeth as the two women stood a few feet from the car. Dove frowned and shifted her gaze from the car to the ground. She was happy, at least, that Sophia seemed happy and distracted by Carl and his mother having joined them shortly after Dove had departed.

"Sorry, guess I just lost track of time," Dove couldn't shake the eerie feeling that still crept up her spine. The sun was had started to go down. "I didn't hear anything. From anyone else, I mean. Everyone's clueless. Something isn't right, Carol. People looked sick..." She trailed off as her brother-in-law glared in their direction. It was clear this conversation was over before Carol even took a step towards her husband.

Dove let out a heavy sigh. "Hey jellybean," she almost whispered as she walked up behind Sophia and ruffled her hair. Dove sat there with them for a while, Lori was pretty easy to talk to. She reminded Dove a little bit of Carol in that she could see the other woman was fiercely protective of her son just like Carol was with Sophia. "Shane hear anything?" She squinted her hazel eyes at the older woman who shook her head.

"No, they just keep playing the emergency alert over and over again now. Same one too. No updates or anything," Lori frowned as she leaned up against the car behind her son.

"Is that normal?"

"No it's not," Shane interrupted as he strolled up from the direction of his own car. Dove pursed her lips, any response lost as Shane pulled Lori away from the car. "We'll be back. I just want to go check something out."

Something was wrong. Something was really wrong. Dove's stomach twisted into a knot. She made a split second decision to pull the laces on her boots tighter before jumping off the trunk. "Where are you going now," Carol called after her as Dove started down the highway again. She needed to know what was going on. She had to.

Lori and Shane had disappeared behind the crowd of people that had started to fight on the highway before she even got within eyesight of them. "Hey!" Dove shouted as she came up closer to the fight. She stood up to her full height as she tried to get the attention of the group of men fighting. It happened fast, Dove had taken a step too close to the fight.

Next thing she knew was on the ground, her cheek throbbed where the stray punch had hit her. Dove pulled herself to her feet, a stream of curses ready to come out of her mouth when the bombs dropped. The sky lit up and buildings in the distance started to go down. There was no way this was happening.

A scream cut through the silence on the highway, followed by another. Cars were started up again, more fights were breaking out. Dove turned and started to run back to Carol's car. They had to go and they had to go now.

She caught a glimpse of something in a car she'd passed. The person who'd looked sick was leaned over the person in the driver's seat, their teeth digging into the neck of their partner as blood covered their face. The blood drained from her face and a feeling of intense panic made her blood run ice cold.

The rest of the run back to the car was so fast, she could've sworn she teleported. Lori and Shane were already back trying to wrangle everyone up. "Get in the car, Ed," was the first thing that Dove said as she ran right past the door to the backseat and attempted the trunk closed as Ed was looking through his things. Probably making sure the little boy hadn't taken any of his food.

The anger was evident in his eyes but she was powered by nothing but fear right now and that was a powerful thing. "You trying to tell me what to do, huh?" Ed was too close. She tensed up, ready to throw a punch if she had to when Shane called out over the chaos.

"Just get in the car, man. Shit's going down, bad!" There was something in the other man's voice that actually made the other man listen. He didn't look too happy about it but when a cop sounds scared, it's safe to say you should probably listen.

Dove practically jumped into the backseat and slammed the door behind her. Sophia scooted closer to her in the backseat and wrapped her arms around her aunt. "What's happening?"

Carol glanced back at them, a worried look on her face. Dove started to feel the pain on the side of her face as she stroked Sophia's hair, her hazel eyes locked with Carol's blue ones. "I don't know but don't you worry. You're gonna be just fine."

They'd ended up following Shane, there was no wonder about that in her mind. The line of cars following behind them made her feel a little bit safer too. People made it out but she had a feeling in her gut that there was no way this would be over soon. Life was going to be very different and she hoped she wasn't lying to Sophia when she said she would be fine.

_______

If anyone wants to be added to my taglist, comment or send an ask!

@crossbowking​

#daryl dixon #daryl dixon imagine #daryl dixon fanfic #daryl dixon fanfiction #Daryl DIxon fic #the walking dead fanfiction #The Walking Dead #twd fanfic #twd fanfiction #carol peletier #daryl dixon x oc #daryl x oc #my writing

[paperbagpetrichor]

Hey, I was wondering if you could do a Kakyoin x female reader, but it's "Rubber Soul" Kakyoin. Like with his strange behaviour and that, the reader notices something's wrong with Kakyoin and tries to figure it out? I thought it would be interesting and I know you would do an amazing job. Thank you.

[ I’m so so so sorry for the wait that this took;; I really hope you enjoy. ] You knew something was off the instant you felt a sudden wind blow past you.  At first, you had no idea where it had come from.  Jotaro and Anne were still in front of you, and Kakyoin hadn’t moved - yet.  Stand still far ahead of him, he tripped a strange man, moving so quickly it was like the cherry-haired boy had teleported rather than ran.  If you’d blinked, you were sure you would’ve missed it.  You had no idea what was going on, and your confusion was only heightened by the menacing threats Kakyoin suddenly started hurling at the man.  Eyes shifting from Kakyoin, then to Jotaro, then Anne, didn’t show much of anything.  It looked like the young girl and stoic boy were both shocked out of their minds.  Granted, so were you.  Within seconds he’d lifted the man above his head, arching the stranger’s back and beginning to...what the hell was he doing?  “Kakyoin!  Let him go!” 

Voice ringing in tandem with the stranger’s screaming, you raced over to your seemingly possessed friend only for Jotaro to overtake you and slug him across his shoulderblades.  “Hey - what the hell was that?” you demanded, letting the black-haired teen take care of the strange man and leaving yourself to care for the one who’d seemed to go through some sort of psychotic episode.  Instead, he completely ignored you, attempting to explain his actions to Jotaro and Anne, back facing you as his voice, oddly cold and nearly robotic, was interrupted by the laughter of excited children.  Still, you were focused on Kakyoin despite the distraction, especially as he let out a humorless chuckle.   

The talk of being exhausted worried you, though.  It wasn’t like this was easy.  You’d already seen (and participated in) countless battles with the others, and with the sun pulsing down on you all like a giant flame, it would’ve made sense if he’d had some form of heat stroke.  But...if that was the case, it made no sense that he could’ve taken that man down so effortlessly.  As Jotaro started to head off, you approached Kakyoin, putting a slightly-shaking hand to his forehead.  “You feel hot.  Maybe we should head back to the hotel for now.”  You attempted a smile.  “After all, we’ll still be here for a bit tomorrow.  We can come enjoy the scenery then.”

It was like he hadn’t heard a word you said.  Mechanically, he turned on his heels and headed towards the tree that the children had been playing around just moments earlier.  Feeling out of place, you began to follow after Jotaro, only for Anne to point out that Kakyoin wasn’t following.   

The instant you saw the beetle clenched in his jaw, you practically shoved Anne in Jotaro’s direction, blocking his view of her and steeling yourself.  Had - had that really been a beetle?  Why would he…? 

“This coconut juice is delicious.  Why don’t you try it, [y/n]?”  His eyes, so devoid of the usual life within them, shining only with what seemed to be some invisible haze as he stared at you, smile more like a sneer, he handed you his drink, following after Jotaro. 

Something in your gut screamed suspicion and the instant Kakyoin left you dumped the coconut in the nearest bin. 

When you arrived to the party, Anne was screaming, and Jotaro was nowhere to be seen.  Before the question could even rise in your throat you saw a hand clinging onto the balcony, body dangling down dangerously above a staggering drop that surely no one could survive, even if there was a lake below.  Your stand was out in a flash, helping Jotaro back up, and in the instant you did you shared a nonverbal agreement.  While Jotaro spoke with Kakyoin, you and Anne fell back, crouching to her side with your hands on her shoulders.  “Get to a phone.  Call Mr. Joestar and Avdol.  Tell them it’s urgent.”  The small girl nodded, a whole new form of fear flashing across her features. 

You didn’t stop to look back as you rushed over to the remaining two.  It was painful to watch Jotaro pack such a punch into the man you’d begun to develop feelings for, but that didn’t matter.  Both you and Jotaro knew better.  This wasn’t Kakyoin.  Not mentally, at least.   

No.  This was someone entirely different.  Something entirely different. 

Surely enough, the instant he’d recovered himself from being thrown into the cable car, he refuted, in a voice as though two people spoke through him at once, “‘Possessed’ isn’t quite right.”  Before he even mentioned it you stepped back involuntarily as you saw his head rise to the top of the car, body suddenly somehow larger than Jotaro’s.  This had to be the work of the stand. 

“Listen to me.”  You cut off whatever Jotaro was about to say, shouldering in front of him.  “Kakyoin, I don’t know what the hell is happening here.  But I do know that this - ” you gestured back to the drink vendor, then to Kakyoin’s gigantic body, “ - is not you.  I don’t know what’s going on, but you have to listen to me.  Doesn’t my voice sound familiar?  Doesn’t Jotaro’s, and Anne’s?” 

For a moment the man looked puzzled. 

“If you won’t believe in them, you can believe in me.”  You slowly approached him, hands out in front of you, stand cautiously at your side, continuing, “It’s me.  It’s [y/n].”  To your relief something like recognition snapped both his eyes and mouth open, staring wordlessly at you.  The two of you were at a standstill, both now in the small cable car.  “Nori, I know you’re somewhere in there,” you whispered, “you can fight this.  Just like you fought against Di--” and then a sharp sound, an agonizing pain ripping through your arm, and your world went black. 

When you came to, Kakyoin was gone.  Completely.  You could’ve spotted his red hair from a mile away, and it was nowhere to be found.  What you saw instead, as you slowly tried to raise yourself up, fire shooting through your arm and forcing you to let out a gasp of pain, was a shirtless man, now staring down at you, with a mass of rippling, yellow sludge draping across his neck like a cape.  Within an instant the man had you by the neck, running his fingernail absentmindedly across your throat. 

“What did you do with Kakyoin, you bastard?” you shouted, using your good shoulder to shove him against the wall of the car and giving you enough time to pull out your stand.  “What did you - ” 

Something filled your throat.  It was burning like acid, pulsating against the roof of your mouth and tongue and teeth as you doubled over, coughing, hacking into your hands only for them each to become coated in the yellow surface.  You tried to speak but the stand user had no such intentions of allowing you.  “That’s right,” he began slowly, a satisfied look growing on his face as the yellow mass began to consume you, slowly but surely, “I almost forgot about you.  I thought you were dead.”  In a bone-chilling murmur, he added, “The good ones know when to stay silent.  But no matter,” he threw his hands up.  “You’ll be dead soon either way.  And as for that?”  Suddenly you felt a sharp pull jerk you forwards, nearly slamming you into the man’s chest, taking you a moment to realize his hands weren’t on you but rather your stand, breathing irregular and body tense.  “You may as well put it away.  My stand has no weaknesses, after all.” 

“Ka...Kakyoin,” you sputtered, “what the hell did you d-do to…?”  But the yellow mess had stuck your mouth together before you could finish. 

The man paid you no attention.  Rather, he glanced at something behind you, something you couldn’t see.  “Ah, it appears your friend still doesn’t quite grasp the situation.”  Jotaro?  “My stand’s got a hold of you that you can’t escape, and you say you’ll - ” 

He wasn’t able to finish his sentence because you knew you were at an almost, if not definitive, fatal disadvantage.  You didn’t have the energy to spare to look for Jotaro, but if he was in any condition like you, there wasn’t much he could do, either.  But every stand had one weakness.  Something in common.  Something very, very simple.

Death.

Even if it meant taking yourself down with him.

You didn’t care when your hands became completely immersed in the lightning that was the yellow monster.  All you did was push. 

In what appeared to be a moment of panic he somehow increased the agony that his stand spread across you, but when the shards of glass punctured straight through his temple from the fall into the water, after your body being encased in an unbearable layer of pain from hitting the lake with such velocity, as soon as you could, you were once again able to move.  Even with an injured arm, you’d managed to break the glass of the car with his head, sending him - and consequently you - both flying to the lake down below.  There wasn’t much time left.  Only the upper portions of your head in addition to your lower body remained untouched by his sludge, and the density of it sent you sinking far lower and faster and deeper into the water than him.  But your stand managed to snag his foot, and as you sunk, he sunk with you.  Something else hit the water behind you, forcing your grip on the man to let go no matter how hard you fought back with what minimal remaining strength you had.  It was all but useless to think that the other splash was made by Kakyoin.  But you were shoved away by a hand you couldn’t quite see, pushing you up with enough force to combat the weight swallowing your body, and by some miracle when you thrashed your legs, you found your head bobbing above the water, gasping for air and nearly choking on the amount of water you’d swallowed.  Salt and blood and agony ran across your tongue - and then something vanished. 

You were able to keep yourself afloat. 

Senses slowly returning to you, you pushed off in the opposite direction, relieved at how easily and quickly you’d spotted the other side of the water.  Whatever had shoved you had done so with incredible strength.  Desperate, you just barely managed to worm your way out, onto the concrete, heaving.  It took a solid few moments for you to regain your senses.  By the time you had, you just managed to lift your head and face down whatever awaited you on the other side. 

Jotaro…? It must’ve been Star Platinum that had hit you, because, in an instant, a flurry of unrestrained purple punches flew from Jotaro onto the bloody stand user, water staining dangerously red around him as Jotaro sent him flying back, with a final hit, landing with a sickening crack on the pavement just behind you.  You wasted no time checking if the man was still alive.  For now, you had to escape.  You had to find Kakyoin. 

You struggled with only being capable of using one arm to swim.  Your chest burnt and you were all but doubled over into yourself from the land, one leg hardly capable of thrashing at all.  It was undeniable that the other was broken, just beneath the shoulder, and as the water shaded scarlet, you began to feel the weight of your injuries.  The only thing that kept you going was the beating of your heart and pressure in your soul to find Kakyoin. 

Thankfully, about halfway in, Jotaro met up with you, hauling you back out of the water with him.  He inspected you - a few glass shards dotted your hands, arms, and face, and of course the way one of your arms hung disjointedly at your side was unmistakable.  “You have to get to a doctor.” 

But before you could so much as think about Jotaro’s words, you heard your name being called, louder and louder with each passing second, and as you propped yourself up into a sloppy stance, still struggling with your balance and barely able to hold yourself upright, the sight that you’d so perilously fought for came into vision, slowing down and face straining with shock as Kakyoin took in the sight of you in. Bloodied and broken, but still beautiful, clearly unsteady and swaying dangerously from side to side, he reached out for you, careful to avoid what looked like a fractured arm and punctures of glass, pulling you softly into his arms, heart racing out of his chest.  “[Y/n]?  What happened?  Are you alright?” 

“I’ll...I’m gonna be okay,” you sputtered, falling limp against him, grateful for the support.  “Just glad you’re okay.”  After a moment of silence, still fighting for air, you asked almost hopelessly, voice cracking, “You’re okay, right?  Please just...be okay.” 

He had absolutely no idea what you were talking about, but as his eyebrows furrowed in even more concern as he vaguely spotted Jotaro approaching the two of you, he nodded, completely uncertain, placing his best attempt at a reassuring kiss on your forehead.  “Yes.  Yes, I’m alright, of course I am.”  His fear-stricken face said otherwise, but physically, he was fine, much to your relief.

“We have to get her bandaged up,” Jotaro interjected.  “She’s gotta get to a hospital; the old man - probably everyone - won’t know what to do with her.”   Kakyoin sent him a silent glance, but it was one he’d seen before, only cast when Kakyoin was with you.  The black-haired teen took his leave to the phone where Anne stood, petrified, to call for an ambulance.  

Kakyoin held you close for a few more moments, silent, one arm around your waist and the other cupping your predominantly non-injured cheek, trying to calm himself and quell his fears - both for Jotaro and himself, but mostly for you - as he felt you against him.  When he pulled away, you thankfully seemed to be back on your feet, at least as much as could be expected.  He didn’t mind for a second that you still leaned against him, good arm clutching his tightly.

You coughed, still feeling the pain down your throat even though its origin had long since gone.  Kakyoin put something in your hand.  One of the coconut drinks you’d been planning on trying earlier. 

“It’s not much, but you should have it,” he urged, offering as reassuring of a smile as he could.  “I was surprised at how good they are.  Oh, and those cherries are delicious.” 

As you downed the drink slowly, still out of breath, Kakyoin taking you in his arms once more for support, you nodded, the first genuine smile of the day spreading across your lips as you managed to fall back into some sort of normalcy, or at least the ability to properly hold your own.  There was nothing but the cherry left, and you presented the coconut back to him.  “Here.  You can have it.” 

“As tempting as that is, it’s all yours, [y/n].”

#jjba #Jojo’s Bizarre Adventure #jojo #jjba part 3 #jjba p3 #jojo part 3 #jojo p3 #kakyoin #noriaki #kakyoin x reader #noriaki x reader #noriaki kakyoin x reader #rubber soul kakyoin x reader #x reader #jjba x reader #jojo x reader #jojo's bizarre adventure x reader #stardust crudaders #jojo stardust crusaders

[imagine-loki]

The Better Man

TITLE: THE BETTER MAN

CHAPTER NO./ONE SHOT: SUBMITTED ONE SHOT

AUTHOR: amaru163

ORIGINAL IMAGINE: Imagine that you want to pursue Loki, but have no idea what to do to make him see you as more than a friend. Thor inadvertently finds you looking at Loki from a distance with lovestruck eyes. He decides to get himself involved in helping you pursue Loki. Hijinks ensue.

Possible situation: Loki notices that you and Thor are spending more time together, and feels somewhat left out/suspicious that you and Thor are in a relationship.

RATING: FLUFF

NOTES/WARNINGS: none really, brief mention of fighting, one curse word (I know, scandalous, right?)

When Loki breezed by you in the hallway on his way to the kitchen, you couldn’t help but turn to watch him for a moment. The scent of the subtle cologne he wore caused you to take several deep breaths, just so you could commit it to memory. You resisted the urge to close your eyes, though, but when the smell dissipated, you sighed and started toward your original destination, which was your own apartment. Once there, you’d probably take a moment to compose yourself before leaving again.

When you did face forward, you were startled to find Thor standing a few feet away, silently watching. You couldn’t stop your face heating up in embarrassment, and you dearly hoped that he hadn’t seen you mooning over his brother.

“Hi, Thor,” you greeted him softly, mentally begging him not to say anything to you, or more importantly, to Loki.

“Good morning,” he replied, smiling at you. “Were you coming to breakfast?”

“Yes, I just needed to take care of something really quick. I’ll be right there.”

“Good. I’ll save you a seat.” He nodded slightly before continuing on his way.

Ten minutes later, you returned to the kitchen to find that Thor had indeed saved you a seat, right beside him and opposite Loki. You usually sat on the same side as Loki, with someone between you so that you weren’t tempted to steal glances at him, and so that he wouldn’t be witness to any clumsiness on your part if he were to look your way.

Thor stood to hold the chair for you, and then helped to slide it forward. He’d never done that before, since meals together were always pretty casual, and you wondered why he did it now. He made a show of serving your plate as food was passed around, and would lean over to say something in your ear, making sure that no one heard him. All the while, the heat never left your cheeks. You also noted that Loki would give you two just the barest of glances. When his eyes landed on Thor, they hardened before he turned his attention to his plate.

From then on, Thor made a point to be near you when in the common rooms, or even during missions, which everyone noticed. After a time, your embarrassment eased because Thor was simply too likable and approachable, like a big ol’ puppy. The only person who *could* stay angry at him was Loki, who made it a fine art.

— — —

Today, about a week after Thor had caught you ogling Loki, you had made banana nut muffins, and they were just out of the oven. You were just taking them out of the pan when Thor sat at the breakfast bar to watch.

When you had time and the ingredients, you loved to bake and would often have cakes, pies or even homemade bread in the oven. Once, you’d made a banana pudding, which Steve and Bucky went nuts over simply because it reminded them of their younger days. You’d learned then to double up on most of the baked goods, because a shortage caused good natured elbowing between them.

“What kind of glorious treat do you have for us now?” He asked, his gaze intent on the muffins.

“Banana nut muffins,” you replied, putting one on a napkin in front of him. “It’s still hot, be careful.”

— —

The smell of the muffins caught Loki’s attention when he stepped off the elevator after he returned from the training room. He started toward the kitchen, but paused when he heard you and Thor speaking. No one else was there, so he was certain that Thor was looking at you with doe eyes, and going overboard with the chivalry.

That thought caused him to scowl for a moment before he schooled his features so that his face wouldn’t give away his churning thoughts. He hated it when Thor found a new love interest because Thor would always extol about said interest’s charms, and about how clever they were, or even other things that were simply TMI.

When they were younger, there was a rivalry between them, causing them to try to steal the other’s current interest. He liked you too much to play that type of game. He also didn’t want to hear anything about you from Thor’s lips, because now he was resigned to watch from the sidelines, and try to bear it now that Thor had shown an interest in you.

When Loki walked into the kitchen, you were leaning forward on your elbows, with your face mere inches from Thor’s. Loki just barely managed not to growl when he walked through to get bottled water. He was gone in the few seconds it took for you to turn, muffins in hand, to offer him one. Only Thor noticed that your shoulders dropped slightly, and he averted his gaze when you turned around again.

“You like him, don’t you?” He asked, while selecting another muffin. He’d nearly eaten them all by now, and you hoped that they were gone before Steve or Bucky returned, or that he’d save some for the others, which seemed unlikely.

“Wh-what?” You asked, surprised and wary of the question.

“I’ve seen you watching him,” he replied, his gaze never leaving your face.

“You’re mistaken,” you responded, while taking the pan to the sink in order to wash it.

“I don’t think so.”

His voice came from directly behind you, and when you jumped and turned around, you collided with his broad chest. He quickly caught you by the elbows to keep you from hitting the floor.

“Sorry about that,” he said, but didn’t let you go.

“For a big guy, you sure are quiet,” you told him, as you looked up, your eyes meeting his while he continued to hold onto you.

That prompted him to wink and squeeze your arms slightly. You stayed still, not wanting to hurt his feelings if you shrugged out of his grip. Thor then turned his head slightly, as if listening for something, before he picked you up effortlessly and set you on the countertop so that your eyes were level with his.

You started to say something, but then Loki walked in. He faltered before coming to a dead standstill. Once he gathered himself, he turned and left. Thor chuckled softly while you just dropped your head in dejection.

“I will help you.” His hands rested on your shoulders for a moment before he rubbed your arms gently.

“He’s not very tolerant of humans, and I’d rather just leave him alone,” you replied.

“Loki says many things that he doesn’t mean,” Thor commented. “You shouldn’t take it to heart.”

You shook your head with a shrug and started to slide off the counter, but his hands on your knees stopped you. Before you fainted from the shock, he tilted your face upwards so that your gaze met his.

“I believe he will come around, just follow my lead, hmmm?”

— ——

Three weeks later, Loki was almost ecstatic when a mission came up. He’d had to witness Thor showing you all kinds of attention, and was quite ready to blow stuff up, or get stabby with someone. His temper got the best of him, and almost everyone felt the sting of it. Except for you, he couldn’t bring himself to snap at you, so he limited his contact to avoid doing it.

First, there was movie night, when his brother sat beside you (too closely in his opinion), and shared your popcorn bowl. Then, during an outing at a nightclub, hosted by Stark, he’d watched in silence when Thor guided you to the dance floor. He took a small amount of comfort in seeing that Thor struggled with the Midgardian dances, but the fact that his brother held you in his arms (again, *much* too closely) nearly made him lose control.

Finally, there were the flowers that Thor gave you, apparently not knowing that you were allergic. You had sneezed violently for several hours before the vase was “accidentally” knocked off the dining table and to the floor, where it broke. The flowers ended up in the garbage, and Loki felt much better after that.

Now everyone was on the quinjet, with Thor inevitably beside you. For the most part, the trip was silent and allowed everyone to check their gear and to get their minds locked into what needed to be done.

A Hydra facility had been found, which needed to be neutralized, and any data retrieved from the computers. That task fell to you and Natasha, so she handed you an encrypted thumb drive, which you carefully secured in a pocket. Together, you both poured over the map of the facility, plotting the quickest way in and out once you had what you’d been assigned to get. You’d take separate routes so that if one couldn’t get there, the other could get the data.

— —

Loki was to meet up with Steve in a tunnel close to the computer rooms, so he silently slipped past other rooms and entrance points, taking care not to make any noise. When he drew closer to the target, he heard fighting up ahead. He grew even more cautious as he moved toward the sounds.

It only took a split second for him to recognize that you were fighting with a Hydra agent, and that two more of them were on the ground, quite still. You fought with a sharp dagger in each hand, and held your own against the larger man. As he watched, he thought that the way you moved, with conservative motions that saved your energy, was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen. He had watched before while you trained, or even during other missions, but he’d never actually *seen* you. Now, though, he was ready to toss Thor aside in order to take his place.

You’d defeated your opponent, and now stood looking at the three men on the floor in order to make sure that they were out of commission. A movement in your peripheral caught your attention, and you turned quickly.

“Loki! I’m—“

You were interrupted when he snaked an arm around your waist and lifted you off the floor. His lips found yours in a fierce kiss, surprising you by the move. After a moment, your arms slid over his shoulders as he pulled back to look into your eyes.

“What was that for?“ you asked, breathlessly.

“So that you will *forget* my brother,” he growled.

You blinked before you kissed him back with an intensity that matched his.

“Forget who?” You asked.

“Minx,” he said, rolling his eyes.

You couldn’t help but laugh, which drew a smile from him.

“I suppose that I should give him the bad news,” you remarked.

“The sooner the better,” Loki told you, firmly.

“Have I ever told you just how *hot* you look in your armor?” You asked, deciding just to go for it.

“No, I don’t believe so,” he replied, pretending to mull that over.

Before you could respond to that, there came a reminder that there was a job to do.

“Hey, you two, this is not the time nor place to play kissy face!” Tony’s voice came over the comm units.

Loki rolled his eyes again before setting you on your feet.

— —

After the facility had been secured and left in the hands of the support unit, the quinjet carried the team home. Before take off, Loki guided you to a seat, and sat down beside you. When Thor sat across the aisle, Loki put an arm around your shoulders in order to pull you closer, all the while staring at Thor, daring him to say or do something.

When your head fell against his neck, Loki’s attention moved to you, and he found that you’d fallen asleep already. Thor still watched the two of you, with a slight smile on his face.

“It seems that the better man has won,” Thor finally commented.

*Damn straight,* Loki thought.

#Loki #Others #Submission #Submitted one shot #the better man #amaru163 #submission

[mandrs-writes]

Hello! I just have a suggestion for a fic! But first, thank you for being here and I am sure you will be a treasure in this world and I love you already ❤🥺! Now because as I can see you are new here I would like to give you some challenge! Ok they are in a very intense battle and sort of difficult and Levi somehow confesses in the middle of it, they kiss but Mikasa sees them and now she is mad af! Thanks! Have a great day! ❤❤❤

Thank you for the kind words and request anon! This was definitely a challenge for me to write, so thank you~ I love being able to explore new ideas and seeing how things turn out.

I did end up diverting a little bit from your ask because Levi resisted me in confessing his feelings to Eren. The man has a will of his own and he would’ve much rather show Eren how he felt over telling him. Silly boy. Anyways, I hope you like (:

Levi’s world came to a standstill as he watched his worst nightmare become reality.

A horde of Titans were overpowering Eren, swarming him to the ground as they bit at his Titan’s flesh. Levi looked on from a distance, spotting half-eaten corpses littering the ground, his stomach sinking with dread. The squad that was supposed to be protecting him had been completely wiped out and all that remained was Eren. It would only be a matter of time before those hungry teeth reached his nape, ripping him from his Titan as they swallowed him whole.

That image alone was enough to make Levi’s heart drop into his stomach as hot adrenaline shot throughout his entire body, driving him to spring into action. Fear gripped his chest, his heart soaring faster than the wind he flew through as he tried to get to Eren’s side as quickly as possible. A voice called after him, but he was drowning in his instincts, his body flying through the air as he latched on to anything he could--trees, Titans--whatever would help him propel faster towards Eren.

Everything that happened from there on out happened on instinct alone. His body moved before he could think, his blades slicing through Titan flesh, steaming blood splattering across his face as he carved out their napes. He spun around the swarm of giants that were feasting on Eren, the whirring of wires and slashing of blades drowning out his senses as they crashed to the ground. He sliced through the last remaining Titan, its body falling across Eren’s back, and all that remained was a mound of steaming pale flesh against a green and bloody earth, a dozen limp bodies circling Eren’s half-eaten Titan.

Levi jumped from the Titan’s neck onto Eren’s back, his blades digging carefully into his nape as he tried to cut him out without harming his human body. He desperately pulled back the flesh, tearing through muscle and nerve until he reached Eren’s unconscious body, his heart fluttering in his chest at the sight of him. He was still whole--he was okay.

“Eren,” he breathed, pulling him out of the pile of tendons that clung fervently to his skin.

Green eyes fluttered open as the tendons snapped from his face, leaving behind red scars across his cheeks. Relief flooded through him, and without thinking he engulfed Eren into his arms, burying his face in the crook of his neck as he tried to hold back the tears that burned in his eyes.

“Captain?” Eren whispered, his body limp. He stood there in shock as Levi held him close but after a short moment, his hands came up to wrap around his back, Eren’s hands balling into fists as he clung to his cloak.

“Don’t scare me like that, brat.” Levi pulled back, holding Eren at arm’s length as he narrowed his gaze at him.

“I’m sorry,” he muttered, looking down at the deteriorating Titan corpse below them, a deep frown creasing his brow.

“What’s with that shitty apology?”

“I failed them…”

A single tear fell down Eren’s cheek and Levi hesitated, unsure of what to do or say. It pained him to see Eren so upset, to hear the despondency in his tone. And even though Levi’s heart ached for all those that had been lost, he wanted nothing more than to steal away Eren’s sadness. He reached out to wipe away the tears from his cheeks, his fingers lingering on the raised skin of his shifter marks.

Eren’s eyes snapped to him, wide and glistening as a soft gasp left his slightly parted lips. Levi was absolutely transfixed by his beauty, and he was unable to stop himself from staring. Even amongst all the blood and bodies and steam, Eren looked like a dream that he wanted to stay lost in forever.

“You’re okay, Eren,” Levi said, meaning it in more ways than one. He couldn’t take away his failings, couldn’t bring back the lives that had been taken, but he could help Eren move on, help him keep moving forward.

Eren just stood there, staring at him with those wide eyes of his. Even in the aftermath of the battle, even in the silence of their moment, there was the quiet buzz of adrenaline underneath Levi’s skin. The instincts that so often drove him to act took control, and he stepped forward, his hand reaching out for the back of Eren’s neck. Without thinking, Levi pulled him down as he claimed Eren’s parted lips with his own. They felt so soft and warm against his mouth, and his heart swelled with so much affection that he thought it would burst. And when Eren’s hands tightened in his cloak, pulling him closer as he returned Levi’s kiss, he was sure he was dreaming.

Was Eren really kissing him back? It felt so surreal that Levi got lost in the moment, his hand sliding into Eren’s hair and pulling him closer as he deepened their kiss. If he could just stay like that forever, he was sure he would let himself get lost in the sweet taste of Eren’s mouth. But life wasn’t that kind--it was cruel and unforgiving. And it wanted to steal away the moment before it could flourish into something more.

The harsh sound of wires whirring against the quiet air snapped Levi out of his thoughts, and he pulled away from Eren, peering up at him as uncertainty weighed heavy in his chest. And yet, there was so much warmth in his gaze that it made Levi’s skin tingle. Did Eren really feel the same way? God, he hoped so.

But before he could say or do anything more, a blurry ball of black and green came spiraling into him, knocking him away from Eren. He stumbled backward, catching himself before he fell on his ass. Mikasa stood mere inches away from him, her shoulders rigid as she scowled at him.

“What do you think you’re doing?” she hissed, her chest rising and falling in obvious anger.

“Preventing your friend from becoming Titan food,” Levi said, scowling in return. It was clear that she was talking about his spontaneous kiss with Eren, but he didn’t want to talk about it, especially not with Mikasa. Of course, he wasn’t so lucky that she would simply drop it.

“I’m not referring to that. I’m referring to you defiling Eren with your mouth,” she growled, her fists clenching at her side. There was a hard glint in her dark grey eyes, the desire to hit him written all over her face.

“Mikasa--” Eren tried to interject but she pressed forward.

“Keep your creepy hands off of Eren.”

“Stop it, Mikasa,” he tried again.

“If you even think about touching him again, I’ll cut your tiny little hands off.”

“Mikasa, stop! I liked it!” Eren shouted, his booming voice making Mikasa and Levi jump.

He what?

“You what?” Mikasa turned, looking at her brother with wide eyes.

“I liked it and maybe I want him to do it again.”

Levi froze as his heart fluttered wildly in his chest. The kiss had been impulsive, something he’d always wanted to do but was too afraid to ever cross that line. But in the heat of the moment, he had slipped, giving in to his deepest desire. Not in a million years had he anticipated Eren wanting it, let alone liking it.

“Seriously?” Mikasa asked, just as shocked as Levi was. “I can’t believe this.”

Me neither. Levi wanted to say, but couldn’t find the voice to speak. Not that he would ever say that but he was having a hard time wrapping his mind around all of this.

Eren looked at Mikasa and then turned to him, a soft smile curling his lips. Levi couldn’t help but return the gesture, his lip curving into a subtle smirk. Well shit, this changed everything.

Mikasa turned back to Levi, her scowl returning. “If you do anything to hurt him, you’re dead.”

Levi nodded, understanding all too well her desire to keep Eren safe. That’s all he ever wanted for him. “I won’t.” And he meant that with everything he had.

#ereri #ereri fanfic #riren #eren x levi #my writing #im not used to writing young eren #hes such a lil peanut

[98prilla]

To The Dead

Previous

Next

AO3

TW talk of death, injuries, violence, blood, emotional manipulation

...

It was Roman, who had the next encounter with the newest ghost. He was drawing in the living room, when he heard a soft noise, a soft whoosh, the sound that usually accompanied one of them entering the space. He didn’t think anything of it, assuming it was just Logan, who tended to be quiet, or Remus, trying to sneak up on and startle him.

 After a moment of no other noise, he turned around, brow creasing as he saw no one there. He shrugged and went back to his drawing, only stopping when he heard another small sound, and he froze, catching a flicker of shadow out of the corner of his eye, from behind the couch.

 “Virgil?” He asked softly, careful not to turn his head, not to look directly at his hiding place, the shadows sparking slightly faster at his words. “Hey, hey, it’s ok. I’ll stop talking to you, I didn’t mean to scare you.” The shadows started to calm, and he could see his outline slowly stabilizing. He went back to drawing, letting the silence linger, letting them both settle, before he grabbed a pen and piece of paper, and slid it backwards, under the couch to the edge of the wall. “I know you like to draw. I always loved watching you. You made amazing things, Virgil.” He said gently, kindly, trying to convey all the warmth and empathy he felt for him in those simple words, wishing he could reach out to him. But that would only make him run.

 Instead he turned his attention back to his own drawing, those his ears were attuned to behind the couch, smiling slightly as he heard the tell tale scratch of pen against paper.

 It was hours later, when he felt something hit his leg. He looked down, seeing the pen and paper, hearing whoosh of Virgil vanishing as he picked up the ink drawing, if he had any breath, it would have been taken away. It was a portrait, of himself, his face drawn and serious, his cavalry sabre drawn and pointed skyward, eyes reflected in its sheen. He pressed it to his chest, smile tugging at his lips. Quickly, he scribbled a small thank you, and tucked it back behind the couch. Hopefully, Virgil would find it there, the next time he popped in. The drawing now hung front and center above the desk in his room.

Their astral space had shifted to accommodate a new ghost, of course. They did all still like a little privacy, a quiet space to call their own, to decorate with items summoned from memory, or copies of things that resided in the actual physical space of the house that they’d interacted with or seen, and their abode reflected that, creating rooms for each of them. A sixth now lined the hallway.

 The change was slow, at first, but by the next week, it was plain to see. The door was darkening, changing, a deep violet color creeping up the previously plain paint. It could only mean one thing, and that was that Virgil was actually using it, spending time in there, the space being influenced by his presence.

 But he still hadn’t come out. He refused to respond to them, no matter who it was at the door. Janus’s gentle words, Patton’s soft kindness, Roman’s stubborn talkativeness, Logan’s calm tone, did nothing to coax him out of the room. Sometimes, they heard him moving inside, heard him sniffling or crying, and it broke Patton’s heart.

 Virgil had been so young, just twenty, he’d had his whole life ahead of him, and one person had made him so sure he was an utter waste that he was convinced he’d done the best thing by dying. All he wanted was to hold Virgil in his arms, comfort the poor boy, his paternal instincts were kicked into overdrive and it was driving everyone, including himself, mad. It certainly didn’t help the tense worry that had settled over their odd little household.  

 Virgil was curled in the corner of what he supposed was ‘his room’, now. It was dark, deep shadows cloaking every corner of the space, walls a deep violet that was nearly black, ceiling unviewable through the cloudy smog that hovered up there constantly. A bed had formed against one wall, and he was wrapped in the thick purple black plaid comforter.

 Janus was right. It was easier to hold his form in this space, the astral plain, he’d called it. Whenever he did slip back to the physical plain, he turned into a pulsing orb of darkness, which was weird, and definitely would take some getting used to. It didn’t feel… bad. Just different. It was like his mind and thoughts and consciousness were all that he was, like he could see 360 degrees, everything around him all at once, but it wasn’t disorienting or overwhelming, like he would’ve thought. It was like his mind was in overdrive, processing everything, and he couldn’t focus on forming his limbs, making himself any kind of presentable. Not that he cared. Was easier to hide, keep out of the way, as a blob of shadow, anyways.

 It was quiet outside his door right now. They must have given up, for the moment. Hopefully for good. He wished they’d just stop trying. He didn’t deserve their care and attention, he wished they’d stop wasting their time and effort on him.

 His body was gone. He didn’t know by who or how it had been found. He’d probably been missing long enough He had called the police, or come looking, he hadn’t cared to check. He’d heard the disturbance, felt it, but he ignored it. It didn’t matter. They could throw his body in the dump for all he cared, it wasn’t like it meant anything, anymore.

 Not like anyone would come to his funeral, anyway. His family was all dead. He didn’t have a job. When he was in school he’d worked a few part time ones, but his anxiety kept getting him let go. And when he was with Him, he wouldn’t let him get one. Didn’t want him screwing up and having it all come back on Him. Of course, He’d also always complained about how little he contributed to their relationship, then got angry when he brought up the job thing, so he’d just stopped mentioning it, after a while.

 Just another proof of his cowardess.

 “Watcha doin?” He hissed, jumping five inches in the air, form wavering for a moment at the spike in fear, nearly slipping back to the physical plain from the startle. After a moment, he stabilized, glaring up at the ghost hovering upside down in the air, walking along the foggy clouds of the ceiling, green eyes aglow.

 “Which one are you?” He asked, and the ghost tsked.

 “Nuh uh, I asked you a question first, my miasmic musketeer.” He ran a hand through his hair in frustration, tugging on the ends.

 “Question for a question? Fine. But I reserve the right to pass on anything.”

 “Fine, but if you pass, I get a free pass on whatever question I want. Now spill it! Watcha doin? Cause it looks a loooot like moping.” He spluttered at that, scowling.

 “I’m not moping. I’m just… thinking. Now, who are you? I haven’t heard your voice through the door.”

 “Remus is what I go by. Don’t remember why I chose it. Probably just liked the sound.” Remus shrugged, slowly cartwheeling through the air. “Why haven’t you opened the door?”

 “Pass.” Virgil choked out, shadows sparking off his edges.

 “Boo, already? You’re no fun.” Remus pouted.

 “How’d you get in here? I thought no one could get in.” Remus shrugged.

 “They can’t. I can go wherever I want. And I wanted to see what you’d done with the place, so I came in.”

 “Wait, why can you-”

 “Uh, uh, uh, not your turn!” Remus sing songed, and Virgil groaned, sinking further into his blanket. “Now, why won’t you go meet the rest of them?” Virgil’s eyes flickered, voice echoing as he answered.

 “Pass. Why can you get in here and they can’t?”

 “They’re ghosts. I’m a poltergeist.” Virgil’s brow furrowed, and he opened his mouth to ask a question, surprised as with a flick of Remus’s wrist, his jaw clicked shut, stuck that way.

 “You are terrible at following the rules. Logan would like you, all those curious questions rattling around. He knows all about ghosts and poltergeists, if you’d talk to him, he could answer all your questions. Wouldn’t even make it a game. So. Why won’t you talk to him?” Virgil glowered for a moment, before Remus grinned, teeth sharp and eyes swirling, as he flicked his wrist once more, unclenching Virgil’s jaw.

 “Don’t do that again.” He growled, Remus’s smile growing. “and what do you care, whether I speak to them or not?” He asked, barely containing the whispering chorus behind his words.

 “I don’t, really. But it’s no fun playing by myself, and they’re all too torn up about you to pay any attention to me. I’ve made the walls bleed, ooze sticky black ichor, tentacles come out of the toilet bowl, flies hatch out of the floors, and nothing! Not a single scream, or scolding, or lecture, or anything! Do you know how frustrating that is? These things take time, people, is too much to ask for a little acknowledgement?!” Remus bemoaned, landing on the floor, angry scowl on his face. “And it’s all because you won’t stop sulking.”

 “Well I’m sorry I don’t feel up to socializing at their pity party for me, I don’t want their attention, and the sooner they get that and give up, the sooner everything can go back to normal for you!” They both paused as they heard a noise outside the door, likely Logan, based on the quiet hum of thought and sound of page turning. Virgil yelped as Remus’s eyes glowed, and he found his body moving without his permission.

 “What are you doing?” he hissed, feeling like a clumsy marionette.

 “If you won’t open the door, then I’m opening it for you.” He sucked in a breath as he took a stumbling step forwards, fighting the control.

 “Remus. Stop.” He gritted out, feeling dizzy.

 “Ummmm, let me think about it. No. Unless…”

 “Unless what?”

 “Unless you give me a good reason why.” He growled, trying to spin back around to face Remus, only succeeding in forcing himself to a standstill, his anger countering Remus’s power, his shadows finally exploding outward in rage after a long moment of silent battle as he rounded on Remus, sparks flying off him, his form growing and shifting, becoming a void of light as he glared, bared his teeth, growls and hisses and distant distorted screams echoing from deep in the growing shadows.

 “I don’t need a good reason. I don’t need to justify myself to you. I don’t need to justify myself to them. I don’t need their pity. I don’t need their care. I don’t want it. I don’t deserve it. So if you could tell them all to shut up and leave me alone, that would be great!” Virgil screamed, a thousand voices bouncing off the walls, the noise overwhelming, deafening, the growls turning to roars.

 Not much could overwhelm Remus. Not much had the power to. But the darkness that swept him up, consumed him in twisting, fracturing nothingness, the endless noise so loud it was silent, the empty, swirling void of dread that filled his stomach, clouded his mind, sunk into his soul, scared him, and with the force of a hurricane, he let the dark tide carry him, spit him out, hearing a yelp from Logan as the door slammed open, the tide smashing Remus against the wall before retreating, retracting, vanishing back underneath Virgil’s skin, his form solid despite the fear and anguish rolling off him, strong enough it made Remus shudder and Logan recoil.

 “what’s wrong, Remus? Am I scaring you?” Virgil asked, voice a duet of deep bass and high keening, darkness swirling just below his paper pale skin, his eyes dark voids of emptiness, head tilted to the side, a dark smile on his lips as he stepped forwards, tilting Remus’s chin up from where he had slumped against the wall. “Can’t take what you dish out?” Remus shuddered again at the wash of desperate fear that clouded his mind, transferred from Virgil to him.

 It set his mind aflame. It burned him up from the inside out, images and thoughts flashing through his mind so fast he could barely keep up with them. Fears, he realized. His fears. Roman, bayonet through his stomach, gurgling on his own blood as he slowly drowned on dry land. Janus, hands wrapped around his throat, crushing it, breaking it, until his airway collapsed and his eyes closed, lips turned blue. Logan, neck bent at an unnatural angle, eyes open and glassy, a trickle of blood escaping the corner of his mouth, body twisted and bruised and bleeding. Patton, his spirit slowly breaking, his heart cracked in two as his life faded into grays, colors draining out of his life, phantom laughter of a little girl echoing in the emptiness, cold emptiness beside him in a too large bed, until it devoured him completely and he took the pills, gave in to the darkness, clutching a family photo to his chest.

 “please. Virgil, stop. Please.” His voice was hoarse. He wasn’t sure if he’d been screaming or not, but it certainly felt like he had, gasping as Virgil’s hand drew back as if burned, tears tracking down Virgil’s face, mouth opening and closing several times, before he staggered backwards, clutching at his own head, shaking it vehemently.

 “you wanted to know why I wouldn’t open the door.” Virgil choked out, shaking as his eyes returned to their normal dark violet, arms wrapping around himself as the roaring, raging shadows vanished back to the corners of his room. He felt about two seconds away from collapsing, dizzy and weak, trembling from the tips of his toes to the top of his head. “well, now you know. I’m just… just a monster. Just… just stay away. It’s safer for everyone. Just leave me alone.” He near begged, feeling sick, at what he’d just done, what he’d made Remus see, what he’d seen from Remus, it was stuck on repeat in his mind, stuck on a loop, and his not necessary breathing hitched in response to the panic creeping up his spine. “I’m sorry.” He whispered, slamming the door closed, collapsing onto his bed, weakly managing to summon the comforter to him from where it had been discarded on the floor, curling into a tight ball underneath it, too numb and drained and dizzy to do anything else.

 Silent tears slipped down his face as he closed his eyes, dread haunting his every moment as the shadows of the room descended upon him, wrapping him in their cold embrace, purposefully drawing them to him so they wouldn’t slip under the door and go torment the others. He wouldn’t let them do that. They didn’t deserve to deal with his bullshit, if he was going to be the monster, the villain, the bad guy, he was going to be his own worst enemy. He was not going to hurt the others, not even Remus, not ever again.

#Sanders sides #tss #ghost au #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic virgil #sympathetic patton #sympathetic logan #sympathetic roman #sympathetic remus #ghost virgil sanders #ghost logan sanders #ghost patton sanders #ghost roman sanders #poltergeist remus sanders #past abuse #past emotional abuse #past emotional manipulation #past car accidents #self deprecating thoughts #virgil angst #virgil angst for days #endless virgil angst #remus angst #angst #lots of angst

[ngeibheann]

Nobody Needs to Know

don’t ask why i’m doing this just [john mulaney voice] go! FETCH!

For the record, medicine isn't miracles. He's not really sure what it'll take for other people to get that through their thick skulls.

A re-write of The Oaths They Take, almost five years later.

Read on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27880353

When shit goes south with a dullahan, Worth spends about two hours cleaning wounds, applying runes, and swearing at any little thing that moves. Hanna’s out for the night, medicated to a comfortable sleep on Worth’s insistence that he needs to be asleep unless he makes a break for it to go chasing after the monster again. He puts tall, dark, and dead in charge of making sure he stays asleep, but leaving the room gives him the perfect opportunity to start antagonizing a vampire the second he starts asking questions.

 It’s an awful goddamn pantomime they’ve got going on. Someone gets hurt, someone starts yelling, someone starts punching. It’s a social re-run, with the dialogue blurring together with past arguments. It’s remixed and retooled, and suddenly calling someone a cunt seems fresh and exciting. What’s less fresh would be the right hook to the jaw, knuckles scraping just barely against teeth.

 In their equal defenses, bickering about how much effort Worth had put into stabilizing Hanna probably was going to end with someone swinging. A lot of bloody rage for his apparent ineptitude as a medical professional, a lot of misplaced wish-upon-a-star bullshit about what medicine can do and how fast it works.

 “Medicine ain’t magic, an’ I’m not some fuckin fairy. You, maybe. Not me.”

 The comment is spat out with a tall leer and a bandaged hand running across his face, attention paid to a busted lip. The indignant look Conrad gives Worth isn’t anything new, but there’s a flash of what, regret? That maybe behind all of the bastard bravado there’s something that makes him feel some kind of guilt for hitting him? Shame isn’t tolerated in the clinic, usually.

 Worth crosses his arms over his chest when he realizes the silence is punctuated by that stare. “He’s gonna be out fer awhile. Y’can leave if yer gonna just stare at me like that.”

 Conrad blinks himself out of the daze, mirroring the crossed arms in a bout of defensiveness. “I expected you to punch me back.”

 He doesn’t expect the doctor to roll his eyes, a sigh like a heavy hiss before moving away from his position in their little stage at the center of the clinic, meandering back to a filing cabinet behind his desk. Conrad follows, if only out of morbid curiosity when he hears him mutter don’t feel like it as a response.

 “Wait, wait,” Conrad says, hand dropping onto the scuffed surface of Worth’s desk, only to immediately retract it when he comes into contact with some sort of slick substance that sticks to his hand for a moment. “You’re pissed.”

 Worth doesn’t dignify the analysis with a response, hissing and cursing at the filing cabinet when he rattles it loose on its bearings. It groans and screeches on the rails, metal screams against metal— the contents inside clattering with a glassy clatter and wet noise. It’s enough to cause some flinching on Conrad’s behalf, vampire senses be damned.

 When Worth turns around, he’s got a handle of tequila in hand and a neutral glare on his face. He sidles closer to Conrad, lean-sitting against the edge of the desk and unscrewing the cap of the bottle with deadened abandon. It’s unnatural, his silence stilted and the level of visible malice in him dropped to a complete standstill. It’d be pleasant if it didn’t manage to fill Conrad with curious dread.

 “Don’t tell me you grew a conscience after I decked you,” Conrad says, if only to goad Worth into acting more like himself and less like a haunted mannequin. “I might think you actually—“

 Worth cuffs him in the back of the head, his free hand delivering an open-palmed smack while he takes a belt from the amber bottle. It’s a sharp hit, enough to earn an ow, fuck in response. The look he gets is incredulous, offended, and yet somehow died back to a state of bewildered mystery.

 “Fuck yer conscience bullshit,” Worth finally bites out, bottle hanging loosely from the neck in his grasp. “Yeh wouldn’t be in here pissin’ an’ moanin’ about m’ bedside manner if yeh actually had an ounce a’ competence in your body. All of yeh, fuckin’ amazing.”

 “Oh, so Hanna being attacked by some weird horseman thing is my fault, now?” Conrad asks, and his fists curl at the nod he receives in return to the question.

 “All of yer faults. Stupid as sin, can’t keep that kid outta trouble, then yeh come in and have me patch Little Red Ridin’ Rune back up—“

 “Keeping him out of trouble is like keeping you out of a fucking liquor store, jackass.”

 The interruption earns another swat, only to be stopped mid-swing when Conrad swivels to grab his wrist with some degree of bruising force. Worth swears under his breath, sucks in air through his teeth, and takes another drink.

 Conrad glares back at him, bony wrist still in hand. “So were you always this much of a callous douche, or do you just need therapy and an AA meeting?”

 “What is this, a first date?”

 “Always a dick. Got it.”

 There’s a long pause before Worth thrusts the bottle of tequila in Conrad’s general direction, the tension in his shoulders dropping when he gives a protracted sigh. Conrad doesn’t take the offer, which then lets Worth remember that right, he is a vampire. No matter how much tequila is in his bloodstream, there’s no blood in booze.

 “Take a wild guess why I dropped out.” Worth says, an exhausted command. The bottle sits on the last remaining free space on the desk, atop a stack of messy papers. Conrad finally lets go of his wrist, only to cross his arms and close his eyes in an overblown act of thought.

 “My money’s on illiteracy or completely flunking out.” Conrad says, finger tapping against his arm. He opens his eyes to look back at Worth with a smug grin. “Am I right, or am I painfully right?”

 “I’ve got a BS in pre-med, dickhead,” Worth says, but there’s some degree of a smile on his face. It’s weird, Conrad admits to the existence of some positive expression on Worth as a bizzaro hex, but it’s more welcome than whatever hollow demon was possessing him moments ago.

 “You’re bluffing.”

 “I went t’ fuckin’ NYU. Grossman.”

 Conrad stares back at him, knowing full well the insinuation is that Worth did well, and at some point, had an obscene amount of money. Certainly passed an MCAT along the way, which is possibly the most un-Worth thing he could have ever guessed. But, by the venom in the way he says Grossman, Conrad knows it’s not a lie.

 “So, why’d you leave, then? Money run out?” Conrad asks, and Worth makes a point of looking back to the exam room, as if he could somehow see everything behind the wood of the door. His hands tent together before picking at the gauze on his arms.

 “Yeh ever think about how patient info sounds like bible verses?” Worth asks, which gets a blank stare if only for the insane revelation that Worth gives enough of a damn about the bible to draw that conclusion. “John, 19. Claire, 28. Steven, 14. Like that.”

 Conrad clears his throat to absolve him of any lingering ogling of the way Worth seems to quiet himself when he brings up the suggestion, fixated on his own arms. “Can’t say I have.”

 Worth looks up from his wrists, head slightly tilted. There’s exhaustion in his expression that his voice barely carries. “Y’think about it more when they die.”

 “You dropped out because—“

 “I didn’t have th’ balls t’ watch people mistake medicine fer miracles every night a’ my life? Or maybe it was watchin’ people die?” Worth answers with a question that’s not quite a question, pushing a hand through his hair with a ragged sigh. He taps the pockets of his coat, quick to fumble through getting a cigarette and jamming the filter between his teeth.

 There’s a dead silence between them and the click of the lighter, and Conrad finally notices the flecks of red on the gauze covering Worth’s arms. He hadn’t been picking at his skin, but if blood was— jesus christ. Leave it to him, really. Walking around with someone else’s blood on him, despite an apparent attempt to have washed it off if his hands are any sure sign of concern. It’d be poetic if it weren’t so fucking morbid.

 Instead, Conrad opts to put a hand out. “Pass me one.”

 Worth gives him a side eye of insane proportions. “Since when d’ya smoke, princess?”

 Conrad rolls his eyes at the nickname, instead leaning over and taking a cigarette from the coat pocket himself. It’s a risky move, it’s a little too weirdo-intimate, but judging by the lack of protest, it’s probably fine. He mentions something about a metric fuckton of weed in college- art school bullshit and all that jazz. It’s enough of an answer to get Worth to give him a light at least, the two sitting on the table and taking silent drags.

 It was stressful, the bad shape Hanna had been in, and Conrad doesn’t exactly get Worth’s opinion on Hanna, but he knows he has to care somehow. In his own insult you on the operating table sort of way, but it’s still giving a shit. Seeing him visibly shaken feels cruel, almost. Any other day he’d be reveling in the way Worth’s been knocked off his hostile high-horse, but now it’d seem evil. A trespass of some kind.

 He doesn’t know when he started leaning against him, maybe an instinct to hunt for some extra bodily warmth in the chill of the clinic. It’s a bitter late November, and being undead doesn’t do Conrad any favors in the cold.

 He figures it can’t hurt to ask another question, that maybe Worth actually brought it up because he wants to talk about what the hell happened in New York. That maybe he’s moved on from being a petulant child and learned to use his words.

 “Why’d you tell me this?”

 The question is quiet and gets a huff in response, a slow drag hazing the air around them. Worth puts a free hand on Conrad’s shoulder, slowly slinking down his back to give a firm clap against his shoulder blade.

 “Cause,” He says slowly, staring at the front door of the clinic. “Nobody’s ever gonna believe ya if yeh squeal.”

 Of fucking course. Conrad can’t quite make out the tone, if he’s been bluffing the whole time or just pointing out that nobody in their right mind would ever believe he’d ever admit to that, especially to him.

 “Fucker.” Conrad says under a smoke-laiden exhale, opting for the response that gives Worth some plausible deniability to keep up the unshakeable asshole facade.

 “Bitch.” Worth mutters back, hand still idly moving against his back, personal space entirely forgotten in that moment.

 It’s going to be a long night.

#hinabn #conworth #conrad achenleck #doc worth #to all of my followers wondering where the hell this spark of insp came from #mind ya business

[lover-of-midnight]

Is there a way out -Chapter 7

Rating:

Explicit Archive Warnings

Graphic Depictions Of Violence Rape/Non-Con Categories:

F/M M/M Fandom:

Merlin (TV) Relationships:

Arthur/Original Male Character Merlin/Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Merlin & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Leon & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Leon & Morgana (Merlin) Leon/Morgana (Merlin) Gaius & Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Balinor/Hunith (Merlin) Characters:

Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Merlin (Merlin) Leon (Merlin) Morgana (Merlin) Gaius (Merlin) Balinor Additional Tags:

Alternate Universe - Dark Dark fic Dead Dove: Do Not Eat Rape/Non-con Elements Rape Recovery domestic abuse Suicide Attempt Depression Arranged Marriage soul mates Non-Traditional Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics Non-Consensual Touching Omega Arthur Pendragon (Merlin) Alpha Merlin (Merlin) Alpha Uther Beta Morgana Beta Leon Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics forced bondage

The guard could feel that something is going to happen today, what it is, well he does not know. He only knows that the King had word, that the Prince of Mercia was on his way. The reason they did not know.

From the gossip that was going around the castle, everyone seems to think it has something to do with Prince Robert.

For a moment, his face scowled, nobody liked the prince and with good reason. He would flirt and try to marry anybody he thinks would future his position.

And the fact that there were rumours about him, how he would force the servants to lay with him, not that he would ever be charged with that. There is only one option if you decided to lay a charge against him and that would be death.

The king would not believe a mere servant that his son would force anyone to lay with him.

The guard startled slightly when he heard the warning bell suddenly going off. That could only mean one thing. With a slight strain to his eyes, he scanned the air. It took a few seconds before he could hear the beating of wings, after a full moment, a beautiful light blue dragon flew over.

For a second his heart almost fell into a complete standstill.

He could distantly hear people screaming, as the dragons readied to land. With a deep breath, he rushed up into the citadel. Several dragons were spread out on the ground as knights jumped down. As soon as the knight’s feet hit the ground the dragon would take off to the air again.

Merlin easily slides off the dragon. The dragon gave a puff of smoke before he took off into the air.

The atmosphere was tense, two guards rushed off to get the king, while another guard walked closer. The guards made sure their weapons were position in such a way that they would not be a threat.

The knights easily fell into formation behind Merlin. It was not an attack but if it is necessary, they would be able to react.

The doors to the citadel open forcefully before the guard that went to Merlin could say a word.

An old man walked to them. He held himself with grace. His beard almost touched his stomach. Merlin could easily see that he has a friendly face. He was a wise man.

Merlin gave a nod to him. “Welcome, Merlin. I wished we could have met under better circumstances. We have a lot to talk about.” The king tried to hide his own troubles off what happened.

“Shall we?” The king moved his hand in the direction of the council room.

Merlin gave him a tight smile. “Yes.” A small hand movement showed the knights that they would not be allowed to join in.

The walk to the council room, was done in silence. Merlin could see that portraits were removed from the walls in the hallway they were in.

For a second, he feels sorry for the king. He lost a son; with he would have to execute to make sure that it does not happen under the common people.

The council room was empty. Only a long dark wood table and its chairs.

“Sit down.” The King’s voice was heavy.

“Thank you Sire Loarn.” Merlin’s voice was quiet. He knows there is no reason to be mad at the King, expect if he knew something and he did not stop it.

There was a moment of silence. “What happened, from the start please?” Merlin made sure to keep his voice respectful.

“A week ago, a physician from Robert’s estate arrived at the castle at midnight. He had an unconscious omega with him. He begged the guards to get the omega to the court healers. He had cut both wrists.” There followed a moment of silence as the king tried to gather his own thoughts.

“One of the other guards woke me up and told me that the physician had important information he needed to give.”

“Sire, there is someone here who says he needs to talk to Sire immediately. It is about treason.” The guard voice trailed off slightly.

The king gave his chamber door a slight glare. But if it is something import, he knows it would be better to just go and deal with it now than wait.

With a groan he quickly got dressed, the guard waited patiently outside, before he followed the king down to the courtroom. A slightly older man was pacing the room, while two guards stood there.

The guards immediately bowed when they saw the king. Without stopping to murmur the man turned around to the king. His eyes were widened, and his tunic was covered in blood.

The king could feel his irritation building. “What is it?” His voice was slightly gruff.

For a moment he thought he would not be answered when the silence started to stretch.

“I am Osgar, the physician from the estate of Prince Robert. And I have done terrible things Sire.” The madding laughter that broke from his lips made the King froze slightly. What if he had done something to his son and daughter-in-law.

Loarn took a deep breath. “What did you do?” The king tried to keep his tone even.

Osgar looks down to the ground. “I helped Robert to rape an omega. The one I bought here tonight.”

The king could feel a sense of dread going down his spine. Why would he have done that?

“What do you mean?” Loarn could feel the urge to punch the man in his face and be done with it.

“Robert went to Camelot, to try and make arrangements with King Uther, for what they wanted to do I don’t know. In the end, they agreed that Prince Arthur would marry Prince Arthur, but he has a soul bond. The marriage would never be able to work since he can only be with his true partner. Robert knew this and asked me to make him a potion that would force Arthur into heat, to get him pregnant. Only that did not work at all.” Osgar took a breath.

But before he could continue the king did punch him in the face.

Hard.

“Of all the bullshit that he has done over the years, this has to take the cake.” Loarn turned to the guards. “Arrest my son before he finds out that the omega is here.”

“At least you tried to right the wrong, he did Loarn. That is more than most kings would have done.” Merlin’s voice was soft.

“How is Arthur?” Merlin could not help but feel a sting of panic.

“Not good, he tried to posion himself, when Aceso was busy with another patient, she managed to stabilize him, but he does not want to live. Not that I can blame him.” Loarn voice had quieted down slightly.

Arthur had more bruises and cuts on him that Aceso was busy to heal him for over five hours before she could confidently say she had everything covered.

“I will get her; she would be able to give you more details about him.” Loarn pushed himself up from the chair, glad that he had a chance to catch his breath before they start to talk about punishment for Robert and how this would influence their peach agreement for the future.

#arthur pendragon #merlin #leon #morgana #gaius #balinor #alternate universe-dark #dark fic #dead dove do not eat #rape/non-con elements #rape recovery #domestic abuse #suicide attempt #depression #arranged marriaged #soul mates #non-traditional alpha/beta/omega dynamics #non-consensual touching #omega arthur #alpha merlin

[the-gedonelune-times]

Proof Of Innocence Ch. 3

Chapter three is finally up! The final chapter for the small series will be getting posted in a couple of hours, followed up by a special epilogue that will foreshadow another small series that’s to come at some point in the future! I have to go ahead and state that this chapter will have different points of views, one in third-person and one in first-person. Anyways, I’m rambling, so without further ado, here’s chapter three! I hope you all enjoy.

You can read the previous chapters down below:

Chapter one

Chapter two

(???)

Was that girl clumsy or was she truly stupid enough to think that I wouldn't notice her following me? The cloaked man chuckled to himself coldly before walking. This was exactly what he wanted, although, he hadn't expected her to break out so easily, she truly was a-

Just before he could finish his thought, the gem on the necklace he was wearing began to glow dimly and angry voice immediately yelled out him.

"Draven! Where the hell are you?! You should have made it back to base by now."

"Calm down, brother, don't get your panties in a knot. I'll be there soon, I still need to take care of one thing."

"What in the world could be so important?"

"There's this girl--"

"For fuck's sakes, Draven, we're supposed to be taking over the world, not hitting it on with girls!"

"Would you shut up!" 

Draven growled at the gem and soon realized that he had been drawing a bit of unwanted attention. He hastily made his way to a dark alley before resuming his call.

"Now listen to me, this girl is a valuable asset, have you ever heard of the name Maximilian?"

"Of course? How couldn't I? He was one of the greatest leaders that Hawkeye ever had. Last I heard, he went on a mission in Graceus and never came back and was later found dead."

"Yes, well, it appears he had children and one of them, that girl, she has the same energy as her father."

"So this is what this about....you're out recruiting, while I'm stuck here, building these blasted magical tools that will help us in an impending war!"

"Pipe it down." Draven hissed. "Listen, I'm going to cut the call now, we'll talk later when I'm back at the base. I can feel the girl's presence."

Ending the call, he narrowed his eyes and noticed a figure clad in a black and blue cloak wasn't far behind him. His lips curved into a smile before he disappeared with a puff of smoke.

--------------------------------------

(Persephone)

"I swear he was right here..."

I looked around only to see an empty alley. After having narrowly avoided that man from seeing me, I had hurriedly got back to my feet and was in pursuit of him. I was certain he had come down through this alley, but there was no evidence of him even being here. I was at a dead-end.

"Great, looks like I'm back at square one."

I pulled the hood over my head even more and left the alley, making a left and turning back out to the main street. It had once been bustling, but as the rain began to pour down on the town, the citizens fled to seek shelter, leaving only me and few other people alone in the cold. 

After a while, it was only me left out in the rain, the sound of my heels clicking against the ground and in the occasional puddle would be the only things that filled my ears. Even then, it was nothing more than a dull buzz compared to the loud thoughts that were blaring in my mind. I was worried about Viggo and I hoped that he was doing alright. I felt bad for not breaking him out as well, but...that would have drawn a lot more attention. 

"Miss?"

I stopped in my tracks and turned around slightly to look back at where the voice was coming from. An elderly man and his wife were standing out in the doorway of what looked to be their house.

"Miss, it's cold outside and raining, you'll catch a cold if you stay out here for too long. Please seek shelter in here for a little bit, until the rain dies down a little bit."

"I shouldn't, it would be rather bothersome."

"Not at all! In fact, you'd be the second traveler we've brought in today. He was wearing a cloak, much like yours."

My heart skipped a beat as I turned around fully to look at their faces. I hated having to ask for help, but I...I needed to know. Hesitantly, I moved my legs towards them, where they warmly welcomed me into their house and even offered a seat to me, but I wasn't here to relax. 

"Please, can you give me a description of the traveler?"

"Oh, well, now let's see." The elderly man put his hand to his chin. "Well, he was rather tall and had dark hair, almost black, I believe."

"Oh and he wore a rather strange looking pin on the cloak he was wearing. I don't think I've seen it before, it almost looked like a crest of a noble family."

"Well with his attitude, you wouldn't think he was one of the noble families from here. He was rude and demanding."

"Oh dear, now come on, he wasn't that bad."

The couple was soon beginning to bicker and I cleared my throat.

"I know this might be a lot to ask, but please, can you tell me where he went?"

I watched as the two of them exchanged worried looks.

"Well dear, he went to the ruins, he said he was there to investigate."

"Ruins?"

"Yes, it's supposed to be remnants of a city lost to war ages ago. Not many people know that it's right under the city itself, but he did, so he must have been sent out by someone."

"Perhaps the ministry?" 

"No...I don't think so."  I mumbled

"What was that?"

"Oh, sorry, I was just thinking to myself. Could you please tell me where the entrance to it is? Or how I could get in?"

"Do you see that picture right there on the wall?"

The elderly man pointed at a medium-sized looking picture that looked to be a map.

"I drew that when I stumbled upon it many many years ago. Before the Ministry shut off any entry through a strong magical spell."

"They blocked it off?"

"Yes, because it was so dangerous. The ruins are nothing more than a graveyard now and it held many dangerous beasts that lurked in its shadows. Many curious adventurers would go in, but few would make it back out, so the Ministry decided that the best course of action would be to block it off so that no one could get in."

"So there's really no way to get in?"

"Not unless you have enough power to bypass the spell they have on the entrance. But even then, I advise you not to go down there or it may be the last time that you'll be seen alive."

"I understand the risks, but please, I need to know how to get there, it's an emergency."

"Is that why you've been wandering the town in this dreadful weather?"

"I suppose that's one way of looking at it. Just tell me, please!

Perhaps it was the urgency in my voice that made them both realize the significance of the situation, but they looked at one another again before the man began to explain where to find the entrance.

"Now remember, it's hidden there to blend in, just look carefully at the ground and you'll find it eventually, oh and don't forget about the map I gave you! Use it wisely!"

"I understand!"

I waved off the elderly couple as I took off down the street, quietly whispering the directions that were given to me so that I wouldn't forget. Who would have thought that there were so many twists and turns in this city that could send you into places you never thought existed. Actually...come to think of it, I got lost in this town when I first arrived.

Despite all this, I had made it to the place that supposedly had the secret entrance. This was going to be a bit of a challenge considering the area was covered in so much vegetation. I had to resort to actually moving my hand around on the ground and after doing this for a few seconds, I was shocked...literally.

I quickly pulled my hand away from the ground and peered at the ground and noticed a strange marking that looked to be burnt on the ground itself. It was in the shape of the Ministry crest, or at least it looked like that from the angle I was looking at. Besides, after the shock I had just gotten, I don't think I wanted to get closer to it then what I had to.

But this now left the question as to how I was going to unlock it. The man back in town had told me that it would open if you knew the code, or if I had enough magic to surpass the spell itself. Both of those things left me at a standstill. Not only did I not have the password, but I also wasn't sure about the strength of my magic. I still considered myself a somewhat novice in many fields of magic.

But...I couldn't just give up, if I did, then everything I've done up until now, will all just go to waste!

"Please...please, I need to do this."

I held out my hand and tried pouring my magic energy into the crest in an effort to break it and yet, nothing happened. But I didn't give up! I tried again and again, without end until I was certain that I was going to pass out from exhaustion. I couldn't even tell how long I had been doing this, but the sky was pitch black right now, so I could only assume that it was rather late, which meant a couple of hours had to have passed by. 

"I have to keep...going."

I hovered my hand over the crest one last time.

"I promised Viggo...I can't give up, I-" 

I quietly looked down and felt a single tear fall begin to form and proceed to fall silently on top of the crest. 

I watched as the small blotch of water from my tear dry up rapidly as the surrounding area began to glow dimly. Vines began to wrap around and soon the ground began to shift quietly; revealing a secret stairway into pitch-black nothingness.

I advise you not to go down there, it could be the last time you'll be seen alive.

The old man's words rang in my ears and I only smiled. Sometimes, risks are worth taking and this was one of those exceptions. No matter what happened down here, I'd be ready to face and conquer it. I'd be the one coming out of this victorious. Besides, if this guy was still down here, then I needed to stop him.

Suddenly, there was a loud noise followed up by dust. There was now a small opening in the ground and inside were a pair of stairs that descended into darkness. I wasn’t sure who or what I was going to encounter when I went in, not like it mattered though, I had no intention of backing out now, no matter what, I was going to prevail.

Filled with determination, I began to descend the staircase, I had to tread carefully since there wasn’t any source of light, at least not until I got closer to what I presumed was the bottom of the staircase. Along the walls, there were a few torches. I could only assume that someone else was already here and I had a pretty good feeling I knew who it was.

I had reached the last step and grabbed one of the nearby torches. The moment I did, I could hear a rumbling come from above.

“Tsk, must be the entrance closing up again.”

Now there really was no way of going back, I would just have to press on forward. I gripped the torch I had in my hand tightly as I proceeded down a narrow path, vines had taken up much of the wall, along with spiderwebs and a terrible musty smell that was enough to take anyone’s breath away for a few seconds.

I was finally nearing the end of it and then proceeded down some more pathways until I came into a very spacious clearing. The place was dimly lit by a bunch of glowing crystals which was radiating off some pretty ancient magic. They allowed me to get a good look of the place which looked like nothing more than a graveyard for ancient history. Rubble, pillars and even bones, or either beast or man littered the area. As I looked on, I could feel my heart grow heavy.

“Sad, isn’t it?”

*That voice…*

I looked around and found the source of the voice, sitting atop a pile of rubble.

“You…”

“I’m so glad you could join me, Persephone, we have so much to discuss.”

I could see his sharp eyes pierce right into my soul and that smile he wore was a sign that nothing good was to come...

#wizardess heart #wizardess heart oc #persephone onyx #viggo wh

[eirianerisdar]

Red-Blue, Red-Black

Summary: Spider-Man into the Spider-verse. With great power came great responsibility, yes - but from great responsibility, grew love. Nobody loved New York more than Spider-Man, and nobody loved Spider-Man more than New York, no matter what spiders follow.

Spoilers for the movie. Written in snapshots from multiple perspectives.

I put this under a read more, but it might not be working on tumblr mobile.

>It was supposed to be just like any other early-morning start.

Despite the rumoured dimension-warping event that shook New York to its core barely a few hours ago (there was a light pole somewhere that now looked more like a Christmas tree) Henry got up at his usual time. Slipped on his uniform, went down to the refuse station. Said hello to the other guys coming in, grabbed his keys, started up his garbage truck.

A 4 a.m. start, six days a week, as he had been doing for forty years. He couldn’t afford not to. He had a grandchild on the way, unplanned. His daughter was going to need all the help she could get.

Frost had grown on the streets even in the three hours since they had warped and reverberated back to normal again. Henry took his time, started his usual route down along 12th avenue, the Hudson a dark shimmer between the riverside buildings. His first stop was an industrial warehouse right on the edge of the Hudson; the usual security guard that waved him to the riverside warehouse proper didn’t come out of his little hut to greet him, so Henry, grumbling a little, got out of the truck and jogged along the wharf towards the gate.

And then he saw it.

The body was floating face-down in the Hudson, a shock of blond hair bobbing in the slick water where the garbage truck headlights lanced into the murk.

But that wasn’t what made Henry gasp in a breath of winter air so cold it seemed to strike all the air out of him instead.

It was that red spider insignia, a sanguine image surrounded by blue - like the body in the river, this cold winter morning before sunrise.

The spider that was hope, for so many New Yorkers - had been for over ten years.

Before he was aware of what he was doing, Henry had shed his coat and dove in.

He wasn’t a good swimmer, and he knew it - his mother had always said the family’s swimming genes were all inherited by his brother. But Henry cut through the freezing water with desperation in his lungs - grabbed the body by one arm, dragged it through the seeping cold towards the stairs leading up to the wharf, water stinging his eyes.

A flashlight, far above.

The security guard.

“Hey, man, what’re you-”

Henry heaved the body up the stairs by its armpits, his own arms strong and steady through years of hefting heavy garbage bags - and it was only when the body was up on the wharf, with the harsh white lights of the truck illuminating the broken bones and the bruises and the too-pale features of a the man with the torn spider on his shattered chest, did Henry begin to shake.

“Oh.” the security guard was saying behind him. The flashlight had fallen to the ground - the crack of plastic on concrete horribly like a snap of breaking bone. “Oh. Oh no. Please, no.”

Spider-Man’s eyes were still open, blue as the colour of a New York summer sky - an endless open arch that New Yorkers would look up to, smiling, whenever they heard the swish-snap of webbing and an exhilarated whoop above.

He’s so young, Henry thought, numbly, as snow began to fall in earnest - feather-light touches against the bruised cheekbone of the young man on the wharf. My daughter isn’t much younger.

Henry was shuddering badly, now - the security guard was holding out Henry’s earlier-shed coat at him, telling him to warm up before he froze - and Henry took it, stared down at its high-visiblity stripes in his brown-skinned hands, then back at the young man’s face.

Spider-Man’s face.

The spider-suit was torn, rent in places where blood had no time to flow.

Henry was gratified to know it must at least have been quick.

He reached over with a shaking hand, closed Spider-man’s eyes - shutting away the blue irises forever.

The coat Henry placed over him like a shroud - the only shroud Henry could afford, a high-visibility jacket with the letters DSNY on the back.

“Yeah, send- send someone quick. Spider-man’s...Spider-Man’s dead.”

The security guard lowered his mobile, and Henry looked up.

They shared a single stare that encapsulated all the words that surrounded their mutual understanding.

The security guard nodded once, shed the jacket off his own back and wrapped it around Henry’s shoulders.

“I-I’m s-sorry,” Henry gasped, the transferred warmth hitting him like a blow - a blow that thawed the shock in his chest and moisture to his eyes, melting away the cold river water with warm, salty tears.

The security guard shook his head, one arm still slung across Henry’s shoulders.

They stood like that - two half-strangers bonded with surprised grief, staring down at the covered body of their city’s hero - until the police came with their flashing lights, and the body on the wharf was once more and for the last time illuminated in red and blue.

>MJ had known before the knock on the door.

Peter had a vitals tracker in his suit that fed right into his workshop below the shed in May’s backyard. When the screen displaying his vitals had suddenly snapped to SIGNAL LOST May had called MJ immediately.

MJ had held on to the hope that the vitals tracker had simply been destroyed in some particularly rough fighting. It was the only possibility she could accept.

But hours passed, and Peter didn’t call.

Her Peter always called the first chance he got, if the vitals tracker was shot. It was a promise he had made to her years ago.

And so when it was the doorbell that rang instead of her phone, MJ stood up - she was fully dressed, and had been the entire night - grabbed her coat, and opened the door.

The Police Commissioner stood on her doorstep.

His hat was in his hands.

It was this fact, and that he was looking at her with such heartfelt respect in his eyes - that MJ knew for certain.

“He’s gone, isn’t he,” she said. There was nothing in her voice at all. It shocked her. She had wondered in the past hours what would happen if the worst came to pass - how her own body would react.

It appeared her body had decided not to react at all. Perhaps to do so would be her utter ending.

“I’m afraid so, ma’am,” the Commissioner said. His eyes were shiny in the faint light of sunrise, a film of moisture held back by years of experience. “I’m so sorry.”

MJ swallowed. “Do I- do I need to-”

The Commissioner nodded. “I’m sorry.” He took a breath. “We have a car that can take you to the morgue. Do you need a little time? Is there anyone else you need with you?”

“I-” MJ began. Stopped. Her vision was darkening at the corners. Something like horror was slowly clawing its way up her throat. I need my husband, she wanted to say. My husband is supposed to be with me- Peter-

Eye-blink. Automatic motions.

Her coat was on and her keys in her hand the next moment, and the Commisoner’s steady hand on her arm as he helped her down the stairs to the street.

Did she need to be helped?

Were those her knees that were shaking?

“Mrs. Parker,” the doorman said. “I’m so sorry.”

MJ jarred. Looked up.

Beyond the frosted panes of the apartment building doors, it was snowing.

Christmas lights, on the opposite side of the road.

Her - their, hers and peter’s both - doorman was crying as he opened the door for her.

Mrs Parker.

The car door closed beside her, and MJ took a breath.

Then all too soon the car stopped and the morgue doors opened and the attendant led her inside and she saw the shape under the white sheet and the man said “Take all the time you need,” and folded back the sheet and-

-MJ ceased to exist.

Her Peter. Peter Parker. Her husband.

She might have screamed, if the sobs didn’t come first.

She cradled Peter’s head and wept over the bruises and the broken bones and the cold, cold touch of his skin, her face buried in his hair, until the doors opened behind her and a warm, wrinkled hand wrapped around her shoulder.

May didn’t say anything - just gathered MJ in one arm while her free hand ran through her nephew’s hair.

They wept together over the nephew and husband they had both loved, until even the tears ran dry.

>New York stopped.

People halted mid-step on their morning commute to work, coffee splashing across pavements and staining the stones. Times Square came to a standstill, every screen plastered with the same, horrible news.

It was Peter Parker, the people said.

Peter Parker, from Queens.

Our friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man; our hero.

New York mourned.

The days that followed were strange imitations of Before.

People went to work. People ate, people walked, cars still moved and traffic still jammed. But the skies were empty; the last pieces of remaining webbing had dissolved off the buildings days ago, and though people stopped and looked up, there was never that familiar figure swinging through the skyscrapers along the boulevards and avenues of the city.

People still did the things they did before. It was just...subdued.

May had to ask for help from the Police to stop well-wishers from turning up at her door anymore.

MJ did the same.

Then, the crime rate started to climb - slowly at first as though the criminal underworld was testing the waters, and then climbing rapidly as it became obvious Spider-Man was no longer a threat.

So when the first reports of spider-people came, mere days after Peter Parker’s funeral, nobody quite believed it - until suddenly, a shaky mobile-taken video surfaced from somewhere in Queens - a trench-coated spider-man in black grappling with a human scorpion, a robot and a pig decked out in webbed red and blue, a graceful, hooded spider-girl who slipped between these three like a lethal dancer - and a (slightly pudgy-waisted) spider-man that moved so much like New York’s beloved Peter Parker that a hundred conspiracy theories popped up on social media in the same number of seconds.

And with them, a gangly-footed young Spider-Man (spider-child?) in what looked like store bought gear and high-tops.

New York saw. New York waited. And New York hoped.

Then the next night, downtown, a black-and-red suited form leapt out of the sky, accompanied by a laugh of sheer exhilaration.

It was not the same laugh, not the same form. This new Spider-Man had a the fresh-faced air of youth, and swung with the eager excitement of a first flight. There was something in the slight edge of mingled fear and exhilaration in those close-called movements that spoke of one yet untrained.

But it was enough - there, that slight red-black form was a new generation.

People screamed, first out of shock then out of delight. It did not erase Peter Parker from their hearts - Peter Parker was their first Spider-man, and there was none that could replace him - but Spider-man was back.

So even when New York warped again, worse this time, a hundred times worse than the last - people did their jobs. Helped those more in need to get to safety, protected those who could not protect themselves.

It was what Peter Parker would have done, Spider-Man or not.

And when new Spider-Man climbed out of the hole that was apparently once a secret inter-dimensional laboratory - people began to cheer.

Then Spider-man leapt into the sky and the thwip of web-shooters sounded again - and people cheered louder; a wave of joy that exploded outwards from an epicentre, like the force-wave from the exploding lab just minutes previous.

This Spider-Man sounded different, yes - an immature tilt to his voice that suggested he wasn’t quite done becoming an adult yet - but he was Spider-man.

And he loved New York, as was plain to see.

New York saw this, and, collectively, decided he was theirs, too.

This was Spider-Man. And New York would love him and protect him with all its heart - even more so, for his predecessor.

>When MJ got home from the function, she sat down in the dark living room - she didn’t quite want to face the empty bedroom yet, as she did every night she returned and found the apartment empty - and thought.

She thought of the waiter.

The more she remembered, the more she was quite sure that he hadn’t been a waiter at all - that awkward, dorky movement of the shoulders, the slight slouch and scratch at the back of his neck - that was her Peter, through and through.

But he had sounded so much older. And so much more tired, and sorry, and grieving.

Then the phone rang, and MJ picked up.

It was May, with instructions to turn on the TV; and with other news to tell, besides.

And MJ began to smile.

>Henry took a day off work for the first time in almost ten years to be present at the birth of his grandson.

He was beautiful - had Henry’s late wife’s nose, which their daughter also shared.

“Have you thought of a name?” the nurse said, through the beeping of the instruments and the quiet, happy tears of Henry and his daughter.

“Go on, dad,” his daughter said. “You always had a flair for bad poetry.”

Henry laughed, breath hitching. “That I did.”

He looked at the form in the nurse’s hand, then back at the beautiful baby boy in his daughter’s arms.

Then through the newly-opened hospital drapes and out the window - where the tell-tale silver of webs still hung. Spider-Man must have swung past barely an hour previous.

“Um,” he said, swallowing against a bout of fresh tears. “I’m sure this has been a popular choice these past few weeks, but I thought- I’ve always thought Peter was a good name.”

The nurse smiled at him. She didn’t mention the dozens of newly-born Peters all across the city. This was this family’s joy.

“I like it,” Henry’s daughter smiled.

“Hello, Peter,” Henry said, leaning over her daughter’s bedside. “Welcome to the world.”

Outside, there was a flash of sable and crimson, into the azure sky.

END

Thanks for reading, guys! I’ll be cross posting this to FFN, and links to that and my masterlist will be in replies below, since tumblr doesn’t like links now. <3

#into the spiderverse #spider-man into the spider-verse #peter parker #miles morales #spider-man #spiderman #mj watson #my post #fanfic #not sw #(that's not star wars if you're new to my blog!)

[prismarine-parrots]

Tree of Life Pt. 3.5

I wrote this as a special thing for Tumblr, just because I felt like it. It’s not one of the original 5 parts, hence the 3.5

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 (1) Part 5 (2)

Fair warning: you’re probably going to be mad at me, but I’ll be posting the last parts right after so...

TW: character death, killed by another character

There was nothing but ocean for miles around the group of boats. It would be faster to go by elytra, but no one wanted to get separated and lost because they're too fast and bad with coordinates and then crash into the ocean and drown.

So the group rowed along, skimming the ocean surface heading to their unknown location from the coordinates they had found.

"There's an island up ahead!" Iskall yelled, pausing to point at the landmass. Tango scanned against the harsh sunlight, glad that his demonic eyes weren't as affected by harsh light as the other humans' were.

One of the good things about being from the Nether, he thought to himself. Thinking of the Nether he was technically born in, there was a weird feeling that arose in his chest. He ignored it, not caring about that, whatever it was, as he had learned long ago that not being human meant literally nothing to anyone but himself.

"Should we rest there for a while?" Stress asked, sounding rather exhausted herself.

"I second that," Ren groaned loudly.

"Alright guys, let's take a break," Xisuma called. Tango frowned at how tense the admin sounded. Yes, he was server admin, but was he really the leader here? He was never really too outgoing, preferring to keep to himself and watch everyone else go crazy. While yes, he probably had a brain cell or two more than the rest of the whitelist, this entire situation was pushing everyone to their emotional and mental limits.

I could dispatch them. Have a little fun before putting them out of their misery.

Tango lurched at his own thought that didn't even seem like his own.

"What did I just think? Oh my god, no no," he whispered to himself in shock. How would that help at all?! Where did that come from?! I-I couldn't kill them...

"You alright there, Tango?" Doc asked. Tango stiffly nodded, still not quite out of his head. He had stopped rowing and was coasting, losing speed as the quiet Impulse stopped for his friend.

"Come on, Tango. Let's get to land," the dark-haired human encouraged. He hadn't raised his voice above a quiet breath since Zedaph died. Tango had been shocked as well, but if Impulse was hurting and Zed was gone... someone had to be the strong one and take the blows for Team ZIT. Interestingly enough, while he had shed some blood, there was a strange thrill to it that also scared Tango. Seeing ruby red zombie blood mixed with his own onyx black... there wasn't supposed to be any satisfaction in killing.

But blood is such a pretty color... red like netherrack, black like the void... Tango's thoughts continued after that, but he was not registering them anymore. His actual mind had gone blank, with a small question in the back wondering what was going on brushed into the cobwebs of old memories. Now there was only a feeling. The feeling Tango had felt before in the boats. An instinct, if you will. One that pushed aside Tango and replaced him with a single thought.

Kill.

——————

"Tango? Are you alright?" Impulse asked warily. Something was wrong. Tango had stopped moving, standing like a statue on the beach they had landed on. A wide smile had grown on his face and his ruby red eyes were bright but unseeing.

"Tango...?"

Suddenly the demon man lunged, enchanted diamond sword appearing in hand out of nowhere. Impulse yelled as he jumped out of the way and the other hermits immediately turned to see what the commotion was.

"The heck, Tango?" Iskall demanded, readying his own sword confidently to face off.

Tango didn't reply. That malicious smile was still on his face, showing off his fanged canines and slightly pointed teeth. He glanced around, sword still in hand, and Impulse noticed with a sickening jolt that the gloves that Tango normally wore to cover his finger were gone, showing off wicked hooked fingernails that no matter what he did always grew back as claws that got redstone dust under them. His eyes were alight with a look Impulse had never seen on his friends- where there was normally a happy, warm, excitable energy, there was now a terrifying thrill that even enderman or blazes did not possess.

Tango took a step forward and other hermits took a step back, except for Iskall and Doc, who had readied his trident.

"Not a step further, Tango," Doc growled.

"We don't want to hurt you," Iskall added.

"Tango, calm down love, i-it's alright. Whatever's bothering you, we can talk it ou'," Stress said, slowly moving forward but being held back by the Swede with the sword.

"I don't think he's going to listen," Iskall said quietly to her.

Impulse grimaced as they came to a standstill. The other hermits versus Tango, one of his best friends, who they all knew was not dangerous... except right now he was. Tango swayed on his feet, light on his feet, and Impulse knew from the amount of roughhousing they did that the demon packed a punch when not holding back.

Xisuma sucked in a breath from behind Impulse.

"What is it?" Ren asked, not taking his eyes off the showdown.

"It's his tree," Xisuma breathed, "It's affected now as well."

"So it made Grian sick, Wels exhausted, and now Tango... demonic?" Jevin summarized cautiously. "This is horrible..."

There was a hum of agreement.

Impulse stared at Tango in pain. In front of him was this prowling, maniacal version of one of his best friends, who they had no way of returning to sanity without a cure to the trees but also obviously couldn't handle in this state.

Python stepped forward. "I want to try something. Doc, put your trident down. Maybe he'll respond better to us if we don't threaten him, and because we're not human."

There as a muttering from someone saying that Tango looked more human than not, but was quickly hushed by Xisuma.

Doc glared at the passive-aggressive demon, but slowly placed his trident on the ground. Iskall backed up, but didn't lower his sword by any means. "Alright, Python, don't get yourselves killed," the hitman muttered.

The red creeper laughed nervously. "Yeah, sounds like a plan." Then he turned fully to Tango.

"Hey man. I know we don't know each other that well, but we're gonna figure this out, alright? It's just us. No need for weapons," Python said slowly, gesturing to Doc's trident on the ground.

Tango's eyes flicked to the trident. Python took another step forward, and Doc slowly moved to the side, giving space between himself and the other creeper hybrid. Impulse wondered if the others noticed Tango's subtle movement. With the red-on-red eyes, it was hard to notice the small changes, but being friends for as long as the golden boy had been with the demon, Impulse read him like the back of his own hand.

He's still looking at the trident. I think Python thinks he's still watching him-

Tango's slit eyes rapidly scanned over the rest of the group and made eye contact with Impulse. Pausing before narrowing and glancing down at the pale blue weapon once more.

He's going for it!

"Look out!" Impulse yelled right as Tango sprung into action. He leapt forward and slid to his knees, arching backward underneath Iskall's diamond blade, rising to one knee in a fluid motion and scooping up the trident.

"Well now we're done for," Joe groaned and pulled out a shield. The other hermits prepared their weapons, regretfully realizing they're going to have to fight. All eyes were on Tango now, waiting to see how the outnumbered one would react.

What do we do? Tango's still in there. What if we can't bring him back? Any of them? What if the trees are permanent and they're all dead and now Tango is... feral? Impulse was scared. Scared of that word, of what it meant, and what would happen to his friend if they act and what would happen to them if they didn't.

This is a no-win situation.

Tango raised the trident and was immediately met by Iskall's sword, the Swedish hitman reacting the quickest with his decent PVP skills.

And just like that, the fight against one of their own was on.

The trident swung around in a wide arc and everyone jumped back, before Tango jabbed the long weapon and Joe stepped forward and ducked behind his shield. The tips of the pronged weapon got stuck in the soft but reinforced wood, and Joe sent a wild look over his shoulder as Tango grunted, trying to pull back the weapon.

"Some assistance would be greatly appreciated so I don't get run through work a fork?"

"On it, Joe!" Cleo gave a battlecry as she did an understand swing, dislodging the trident from the poet's shield and from the demon's grip. It flipped in the air and landed in the long grass of the tiny island.

Doc, seeing his weapon free, made a dive for it. Iskall charged and took another strike at Tango, but his adrenaline was faster and he slid to the ground, grabbing his trident and letting Doc hit the ground harshly, a dull thud and "oof" coming from the cyborg as the air was knocked out of whatever lungs he had that wasn't machinery.

Tango twisted his body and braced the trident above his head just in time to meet Iskall's blade once more. They both grimaced as the forced against each other, trying to get the other to buckle.

Impulse was frozen watching the fight unfold in front of him. Stress and Xisuma seemed to be in a similar state, too scared and worried to know how to react. Ren was antsy watching Doc's and Iskall's moves, clearly wanting to help but not sure how. Jevin and Python has crept away and were making silent eye contact and single hand gestures.

What are they doing? Impulse wondered, but shook his head, keeping his focus on trying to figure out how the heck he was going to help Tango.

"Tango! This isn't you, dude!" Iskall said. The blonde only grinned.

With a powerful surprise shove of his trident Tango pushed Iskall back where Jevin reached out and caught him, then quickly spun the staff to regain his grip and raised the handle above his head, prongs pointed at the ground where Doc had finally recovered enough to be slowly lifting himself to his knees.

"NO!" Ren yelled out and surged forward, fists raised to go into hand-to-hand combat to protect Doc.

Doc had gotten himself oriented enough to see Ren coming and roll out of the way, propped up on one knee as the werewolf flew past.

At the same time, Python jumped into action, grabbing the trident staff himself from behind and restraining Tango.

Ren tried to skid to stop before he hurt Python, but ended up ramming into Tango.

Impulse watched in horror and the blonde demon's head jerked back from the momentum. His horn that extruded from the left side of his forehead and was just longer than his head that Impulse and Zedaph had learned to avoid knocked into Python's head, the soft, wrinkled, red flesh immediately blooming into a dark maroon. The red creeper let go of the trident and stumbled backward, gripping his head where it had been punctured.

"Python!"

Stress shrieked and coveted her mouth. Joe dropped everything and went into medic mode, scrambling to pull out a healing potion and Cleo was not a second layer pulling out string she kept on her in case she needed to do repairs on her tattered clothes.

Xisuma covered Doc and got him to his feet finally. Jevin was tending to Iskall, who seemed to have been wounded somewhere along the way in the fight and was downing a healing potion himself. Ren was staring in shock at Python, who had grown to a dulled pink color and eyes were fluttering. Joe and Cleo were talking urgently to each other.

"He's not healing!"

"His tree isn't regenerating..."

"There has to be something we can do, Joe!"

Joe silently shook his head. "Just try to stop the bleeding. Creepers don't have strong skin."

Cleo stared at him, a silent conversation happening in seconds between them before they both went back to work.

The only ones left were Impulse and Tango. Tango was staring at Python as well, the tension having left his stance and the ironically clean pronged weapon held loosely in his hand. His left horn was stained red, and there were a few speckles of crimson on the ends of his hair. He didn't seem be as alert anymore, he could have attacked anyone else by now, but he just... stood there.

I really hope that's Tango in there, resisting, and not him being a sadist and watching his victim die.

"Impulse," Xisuma approached. Doc had joined Jevin and Iskall, glancing over his shoulder and eyeing his weapon with a dark passion. Impulse gripped the unused sword in his hand, a grim feeling settling in his stomach seeing the admin's expression.

"We can't help him right now..."

The dark-haired man shivered as that was said. He grimaced and blinked away the tears and horrible feeling as he knew what had to be done.

"I know," Impulse whispered. Xisuma has the same expression that Impulse felt. Their eyes both slowly fell to Impulse's sword, a guilty silent agreement coming to them.

"I'm sorry," X choked, pulling out his own sword. Impulse shook his head and readied his own weapon.

"No. I will. I know how to fight him."

"But he's your friend!"

"And we can't risk losing you as admin," Impulse reasoned. X was surprised by this, jumping at the statement, before giving in.

"I hate that title, you know."

The gold man gave a single, cynical laugh. "I would too."

Then Impulse turned away from Xisuma and stepped forward. One step, two steps, then he called the name.

"Tango Tek!"

The demon at least responded to his name and faced Impulse. He glanced up and down at the human, eyes lingering on the sword and his face. Slowly, Tango started to raise the trident.

Impulse didn't give him the chance to fight back. He thrust his sword up, and it slid smoothly into the warm flesh in front of him. Tango cried out and sucked in a breath of air.

"I'm sorry," Impulse whispered.

"What's happening? What did I do...?" Tango asked, the first words he had spoken since Impulse had first realized something was wrong. Impulse pulled out his sword and Tango crumpled to the ground.

Two consecutive server messages came in on his phone in his cargo shorts pocket. He didn't need to look to know who it was as the realization of what he had just done set in. The sword slipped out of his hand, no longer feeling like a his main weapon now some sort of evil tool, despite having killed players with it before.

But everyone came back during the war. There was no question everyone would respawn. Tango's GONE now....

Joe and Cleo leaned back, giving up in their work at the still Python. Jevin helped Iskall to his feet, and Doc and Xisuma just observed their grief-stricken group.

Stress was quietly crying on the side, eyes wide and hands covering her mouth. Impulse slowly walked over to her, giving her the hug he so desperately wanted himself.

"This is too much. It's not supposed to go like this!" Stress breathed between sobs.

"I know."

They sank to the ground and Impulse cried.

————————

Word count: 2800

#hermitcraft #tangotek #impulsesv #xisumavoid #joehills #renthedog #docm77 #stressmonster #zombiecleo #ijevin #iskall85 #tree of life au #ToL #thats two deaths in one part oof #becca writes

[canyousevmyheavydirtysoul]

Bodyguard III: Avengers Assemble (Chapter 7) (B. Urie x Reader)

THE HARD-PACED, rhythmic thumping of your heart filled your ears, drowning out any and all ambient noise from your surroundings. Your lips parted, a scream forming at the back of your throat. The ground vibrated with every harsh step you took, your combat boots propelling you forward each time it hit the ground.

Your entire world had been brought to a standstill in a matter of seconds, and each passing moment only worsened the awful feeling in your chest.

Dropping down, you kneeled next to Aaron's limp body, your laboured breathing drowning out the sound of your heartbeat as you cradled his head in your hands.

Brendon stood to the side, looking on distastefully. He didn't interfere, allowing you to have a moment; he spoke only when you addressed him.

Fire swirling in your eyes, you glared at the agent. "What the fuck is wrong with y-"

"Relax," Brendon shut his eyes in annoyance, holding out one hand, "He's not dead. Just knocked out."

A wonderfully soothing relief exploded inside of you and you too closed your eyes for a couple seconds, gathering yourself. Brendon treaded over and kneeled on the other side of Aaron's body.

"We need to get him to the infirmary," the agent said, starting to lift the doctor up.

You helped, transferring Aaron fully over into Brendon's grasp once he was upright. Both of you started down the corridor.

"Then what?" you queried, giving the smallest of frowns as you noticed the blue tinge in Aaron's skin.

"I'm gonna recalibrate him."

✧ ✧ ✧

Lower equipment room.

Natasha squinted in the dim light, staring at Bruce as he struggled to suppress his rage. His face was growing, changing slowly.

The redhead grit her teeth as she made another painful attempt at pulling herself free from the pipe crushing her leg. Trying to distract both of them from the precarious situation, she began talking to her hulking counterpart.

"Doctor?" she started shakily, breathing shallow, "Bruce, you gotta fight it. This is just what Loki wants. We're gonna be okay. Listen to me-"

On the other end of the room, Spencer ran in, eyes searching the room. They landed on his colleague and the doctor, and he called out.

"Romanoff, you hurt?"

Natasha waved him away frantically, wanting to minimize the potential damage. Hesitantly, Spencer backed away and ran off to help somewhere else.

"We're gonna be okay, alright?" she continued, "I swear on my life I will get you out of this, you will walk away, and never ever-"

"Your life?" Bruce growled, the Hulk pushing through.

His voice had the change in it – the bitter amusement was morphing to a growled threat. He began fully transforming into the Hulk, shirt tearing, as he threw himself away from Natasha. He turned to look at her, changing – just as the lights went out.

"Bruce."

The transformation was complete. The Hulk rose unsteadily to his feet, and roared. Natasha wrenched her foot free and stood, observing. The Hulk turned to look at her, and she knew.

Spinning on her heel, she began sprinting up the catwalk stairs as the Hulk chased her. She swung from one catwalk to another and rolled under a steaming turbine, as her persuer tore down the stairs. Jumping through a small opening, Natasha crawled away under some pipes as he grabbed after her, roaring loudly.

In his cell, Loki heard the distant roar of the Hulk, and gave a sadistic smile.

✧ ✧ ✧

The bridge.

Fury entered the open space, yelling orders as he ran.

"Bring the carrier to a one-eight-zero south. Take us to the water."

Dallon answered back from his seat behind one of the monitors. "We're blind. Navigation re-calibrated after the engine failure."

The Director looked at the techie in disbelief, taking one step forward. "Is the sun coming up?"

"Yes, sir."

"Then put us on the left. Get us over water. One more turbine goes down then we drop."

✧ ✧ ✧

Engine 3.

Steve arrived at the damaged engine. "Stark!" he called out, looking around, "Stark, I'm here."

Tony, in full Iron Man armor, flew up to the engine. "Good. Let's see what we got."

He began examining the engine, his suit scanning through the different levels of machinery. Inside the helmet, he spoke to himself softly, mentally fixing the problem.

"I gotta get this super conducting cooling system back online before I can access the rotors, work on dislodging the debris." He then turned his attention to the Captain, pointing his finger as he directed. "I need you to get to that engine control panel and tell me which relays are in overload position."

With a fleeting glance at the suit, Steve jumped up and used the exposed infrastructure to swing himself over to the control panel. While he opened it up, Iron Man got to work on the engine.

"What's it look like in there?"

Steve sighed. He knew nothing about these things. "It seems to run on some form of electricity."

"Well, you're not wrong." Tony blasted away debris from the engine with a beam from his suit. "'Kay, the relays are intact."

Steve pushed the engine control panel back into its slot. "What's our next move?"

"Even if I clear the rotors, this thing won't re-engage without a jump... I'm gonna have to get in there and push."

"Well, if that thing gets up to speed, you'll get shredded!"

"Then stay in the control unit and reverse polarity long enough to disengage-"

"Speak English!"

Tony sighed, then dumbed down his explanation. "See that red lever?"

Steve looked to his side, eyes landing on the object to his left.

"It'll slow the rotors down long enough for me to get out," Tony continued, "Stand by it, wait for my word."

Obeying, Steve made his way over to the lever.

✧ ✧ ✧

Infirmary.

Standing to the side, you folded your arms across your chest as you watched Brendon place Aaron down on the cot. Brendon started fastening the restraints around the doctor's limbs; you winced as your bodyguard pulled the straps tighter, causing the hard leather to cut into Aaron's soft skin.

In the distance, the Hulk roared, and as the sound carried through the air towards the two of you, you looked at each other with frowns.

"Go," Brendon instructed immediately, "They'll need you."

You nodded and took steps to the door, but hesitated slightly as you glanced at Aaron, still unresponsive. Brendon rolled his eyes.

"I'm not gonna kill him. Just go."

With one last look at both men, you vanished down the hallway.

✧ ✧ ✧

Lower engine room.

The place was dark. Natasha snuck underneath an engine, further hiding herself from the Hulk. She heard the footsteps. Pulling her gun, she held it ready and moved out from the engine.

Suddenly, the Hulk jumped at her, roaring. Natasha fired at a pipe over his head, casuing gas to shoot out. She took off down a narrow passage, the Hulk crashing through behind her, destroying everything in his path. He came up on her fast, catching up just as she was about to run off into another passage.

He backhanded her into a wall.

Natasha was groaning, unable to move, scared. Hulk raised a fist, about to strike, when he was tackled through a wall by Thor.

The two rolled into the lower docking area where the quinjets were stored. S.H.I.E.L.D personnel scattered, running from the area in terror as you ran in.

The three of you circled one another, then the Hulk struck. You stopped him by freezing his feet into place. His hands still thrashed about wildly, preventing you from getting a solid shot at them. He threw punches at you and your cousin, as you ducked and weaved to avoid them.

Hulk brought down a fist, but Thor caught it and held it above his head. "We are not your enemies, Banner!" he groaned, fighting to hold the Hulk's fist up.

"Try to think, doctor!" you tried.

With a single, fluid motion, Hulk broke free from the ice grounding him and punched both you and Thor across the room and through a container.

_______________________________

Thank you for reading x

Taglist:

@arosebyname @avengertrash21 @tiffisnotnormal  @darknessdancing @raversam @theieroenthusiast @the-ghost-of-hemingway @laerkers @peters-vlogs @hockeyswag-boll  @username-number-01834 @untilyouburnallofthewitches @underscoredarcy  @aminasmells @becausebands @converseskyline  @vinyloider @attractiveugly  @twentzyonepirates  @tegan-eva @i-only-date-flower-boys @jishwatylrandtop  @blueskiesbleakeyes @robinruns @hi-ho-and-hello @svintsandghosts  @iamafishandigosplish  @sunshineandapplepie @kealohilani-tepise  @bookworm104 @sheridans-dynamos @justawriterinprogress  @anotherwriterinprogress @sillylandcalzonespy

#brendon urie #bodyguard!brendon #brendon urie x reader #bodyguard #marvel #Marvel AU #patd #p!atd #Panic at the Disco #Panic! at the Disco #emo #EMO TRINITY #emo quartet #band #bands #Band Members #band imagines #band member imagines #fanfic #fanfiction #imagine #imagines #music #celebs

[silversablinovaallday]

A Slice Of Pizza

Description: After the events of the Spider-man ps4 game and it's DLC's Silver Sablinova actually decides to take Peter up on his offer to get pizza. 

Read it on A03 Here

Hammerhead was finally down. With all the flames and sparks licking at his metal body, it was hard to be sure that he was really gone; but after a few long moments of locked servos and unseeing eyes remaining motionless, they knew they had accomplished their goal. It was almost sad to see the lump of robotic parts, hunched over themselves in an ocean of fire, while the barely visible, still flesh covered face was charred by the inferno. He had a rule against killing, but this time it may have been the only way. Hammerhead was too strong and if allowed to come back, would; no doubt, be near impossible to beat.

Attempting to use that fact to block out the terrible feeling of watching a man die at the hands of his partner; or rather, her jet, he instead used his regular wit to defuse the situation. “Huh, that was fun,” he beamed, turning to look at Sablinova. “Hey, do you have dinner plans? I know this great pizza place.”

She seemed taken aback by the invitation, standing still, thinking about it for longer than Peter would have expected. She hadn’t said yes but she hadn’t said no either. After the longest minute of his life, she sighed. “I cannot. I must return to my home country.”

“Oh, right. I know you’ve got a war but can’t you spare ten minutes? Send your men back and get some good food. You deserve it, you know? After everything.”

She began walking towards one of the jets left untouched in the hangar after the battle. The cockpit door lifted open as she got closer but she stopped before hopìng in. Not turning around fully, only tilting her head slightly towards him she calmly asked, “how close is this pizza place.?”

Peter perked up significantly. “Oh, it's super close! Especially for your jet! It's the best! You’ll love it!” He ran over, jumping in the pilot's seat before she could. “I’ll drive. Fly. I’ll fly!”

“You absolutely will not,” she protested.

“I’m already in here. What are you going to-” She lifted him right off the seat by the collar of his suit before he could even finish asking his question. “Oh, I guess that's what you'll do.”

“You are much lighter than I thought you’d be. I am concerned about how you deal so much damage in combat.”

“Well placed hits more than anything. Can you put me down now? This is kind of embarrassing.” She gave him a half-hearted smile that he had never seen before just as she threw him off the jet and back to the cold, hard, metal floor of the hangar. He recovered quickly, jumping back onto his feet with little effort. “Thanks, that was really uncomfortable. Come on let’s go! My treat! But we should keep out of the public eye so I’ll have them deliver to a rooftop. I’ll call, you fly.”

She rolled her eyes, jumping down into the cockpit. “Input the coordinates in the terminal. Then hop on and we can go.”

Peter did as he was told, already getting Eddie on the phone to order to the usual location. It only occurred to him as Sablinova took off, that he had no idea what type of pizza she would like. “Hey Eddie,” he yelled over the roar of the engine as it pushed off of the ground. “It’s me, Spidey! I’d like to order my usual and like two or three other pizzas. I’m with a friend and I don’t know what she likes so can you make a couple different ones. Like a cheese, veggie and maybe a meat lovers? That covers all the bases right?”

“Sure Spidey! Anything for you and you’re in luck; we’re not busy over here tonight so it’ll probably be really quick. Ten, maybe twenty minutes.”

“Thanks, Eddie! See ya then!”

He hung up just as the jet set down on the all-too-familiar rooftop. Peter walked along the wing waiting for Sablinova. Through the glass, he could see her fidgeting expertly with the controls. Suddenly, he was very thankful she didn’t allow him to take the controls. He may be a scientist with a degree in chemical engineering, but that didn’t mean he knew how an advanced fighter jet worked; or how he could go about figuring it out.

“We got some time to kill before the delivery. Want to play a game,” he asked when the door opened.

“How old are you,” she asked sarcastically.

“Old enough to drink, not old enough to like it; know what I mean?”

“No.”

“Alright well I’m older than 21,” he laughed.

“I find that hard to believe,” she scoffed at him in a slightly more playful tone than usual. It was still forceful and direct but had a hint of humour in the tone. “I’ve done some research on you. You’ve been in the news for eight years.”

“Yeah? So,” he asked, extending his hand to help her step down from the jet and onto the rooftop.

She neglected it of course; leaving him hanging as she jumped down on her own. “Why then? Why did you suddenly appear then?”

Peter sighed and took a seat on the wing of the jet, leaving his legs dangling over the edge; watching as Sablinova paced with her arms crossed in front of him. She was waiting for an answer and; knowing her, would not let it go until he answered. “It’s when I got my powers. I wasn’t born with them, it just kind of happened one day. Long story.”

“How did you do it?”

“Now that’s classified. Forgive me but I’m not exactly planning on giving my secret of superpowers to anyone; especially violent mercenaries who have tried to kill me. And a few times at that. Besides,” he continued; his voice getting a little cheerier. “You can't anyway. The spider is dead and it's a complete fluke that it didn't kill me in the first place.”

“How old?”

“Fifteen when I started.”

She stared blankly at him for a moment with almost a hint of concern in her eyes. “You are a child. Twenty-three is far too young to be involving yourself with such dangers; spider powers or not.”

“You couldn't have done it without me.”

“We could and would have.”

“Yet I did all the work while you chased me like I was the criminal.”

“You were are a criminal.”

They reached a standstill. Conversation stalled, filling their air with the noises of the city once more. It was awkward and unnerving.

Her gaze never broke, and even through his mask, he felt as though she could see right through him. Perhaps she could. In all of a second, he realized just how oblivious he had been. He changed into and out of costume in alleyways and rooftops all in the time and her men were on surveillance duty. Perhaps one had managed to find him in one of these inopportune and compromising moments. Oh god, Peter thought. What if she’s seen my Spiderman briefs?

Peter tried to shake the thought and blurted out the first thing he thought of. “I feel like there's a ‘but’ coming. I was a criminal; but…”

She took her time responding. “But,” she continued. “I am thankful for your help in the end. You kept my client alive and I do believe you were the one who put my rogue outpost in their place during the devil's breath incident, and that; I have to thank you for.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Peter chuckled softly. “Oh, our pizza’s here. I can hear Eddie climbing the stairs.”

He jumped down from the wing and ran to the side of the building where the short but ever cheerful pizza shop owner was trying desperately to navigate the bulky pizza boxes through the narrow fire escape. Without a moment's hesitation, Peter lept from the building's edge, easily catching the railing on the balcony Eddie was standing on. “Hey, Eddie! How you been?”

“Better since you’ve given my place a shoutout. Thank’s for that Spiderman. Here’s your pizza.”

“How much do I owe you?”

“Nothing. Anything for you.”

“No, no. I can’t do that. This is four pizzas.”

“How about a picture of you eating it then for the company website?”

“You got it, Eddie. I’ll send it your way later tonight.”

“Thanks, Spidey. Enjoy your pizza date,” Eddie laughed pleasantly while handing over the pizzas and beginning his climb back down to the alleyway below.

“Ding, ding! Soups on,” Peter shouted as his head popped over the ledge. “I got a bunch because I didn’t know what you liked and I thought you’d kill me if I interrupted you when you were flying. So we got cheese,” he tossed the box like a frisbee at her; which she caught easily. “A meat lovers,” again tossed lazily to her. “Veggie,” another one on the pile. “And double pepperoni but that's mine so I’ll keep that.”

“You are not keeping the best to yourself.”

“And; let me guess, you'll fight me for it?”

She smirked at him, “you are learning. Very good.”

He laughed and passed the final box to her; topping off the pile like it were a layered cake. “Care to join me on the edge?” He lightly patted the railing beside him as he took a seat. “Second best view of the city from here.”

Sablinova took his suggestion and sat down on the railing; having to keep most of her focus on staying centred on the slim metal bar. He; of course, didn’t have to worry about that. He stuck firmly to any surface and didn’t need to worry about falling to the cold pavement below. Because of this, he seemed to be in better spirits than her; folding his mask up just above his nose, exposing most of his face making it easy to shove nearly the entire slice of pizza into his mouth without hassle.

She was shocked. Not surprised that he would do this: he had to eat somehow, but amazed that he would show her this with no hesitation. He was far more open and exposed like this. Was it possible that he trusted her that much?

For the first time, she could see the smile that she could only have imagined before; only it was nothing like what she imagined. It was much more full and sweet; curving lopsidedly whenever it wasn't being stuffed with greasy, cheesy, bread piled high with pepperoni. It was warming and comforting; reminding her that there was; in fact, a person behind that mask. Someone who had a life outside of being a vigilante. A man who had hopes, ambitions, family. For a moment she regretted all of the things she had done. How her men had hunted him. How she had given the command to bring him down no matter the cost.

A quick memory of her home country and how the money from Osborne would aid her cause reminded her that she had no choice but to follow orders and her feelings were mutual again.

Trying to break the silence; and hopefully, her unblinking stare, he took out his personal cell phone rather than his suits built in phone and snapped a selfie. “For Eddie,” he clarified as if she was confused. “Want to get in on a pic? I won’t send that one to him though.”

She was still mesmerized by the half-masked face. “Why take it then? If you aren't going to do anything with it?”

“Oh, I will! It’s gonna be my new phone background. Proof that you like me now.”

“I don't like you.”

“Oh really?” he smirked, raising his arm to take the picture. “Come on, smile! Turn that frown upside down.” She didn’t, so he raised his opposite, grease-soaked hand to lightly grip either side of her cheeks and pushed them into a chubby-cheeked smile. “There!” He snapped the picture before she could swat his hand away, violently grabbing his wrist in a death grip.

“Do not touch me like that again!” There was a new-found softness in her voice; matched with the residual smile that stayed after his fingers were removed.

“Lesson learned! My bad,” he laughed. “But I did get the picture.”

The phone was pushed closer to her and to her surprise, it depicted not her with a forced smile, but instead; the aftermath of his childish antics. She was smiling of her own free will, and so was he. Their hands a blur as she swatted him away. It looked almost friendly.

“That's definitely one for the scrapbook. At least it would be if I still had it. But that's fine; phone background it is. Do you like it?”

“I do,” she answered honestly; a soft smile creeping back on her lips. “You are a remarkable man, Spider. Something else entirely. How do you do it?”

“Do what? I already told you I'm not going to explain my powers.”

She took a slice of pizza and ate it while her eyes traced the skyline. “No. Not that. How do you manage your life? You must have a job, family, friends.”

“Oh, that. Well, it was really difficult when I first got my powers. Between learning how to control them, designing my suit and web-shooters, family, school, friends. To be fair though, I only had two friends so it kind of worked out on that end. Not too much obligation. Then one… he went away for a while, and the other became my girlfriend who broke up with me not long after.

“After the Devils’ breath incident I lost the only remaining family member I had. She was a wonderful woman. I wouldn't be anything close to the man I am today, had it not been for her.

“With her estate, I was able to get an apartment; I’ve been homeless for a while you see. Couch surfing; not that I sleep that often though. Not with being Spiderman. Oh, and my job doesn't exactly help either.”

“Nothing you are saying makes it sound like you are doing well.”

Peter huffed, “yeah. Saying it out loud now makes it sound a lot worse.” He scratched his chin absentmindedly. “I’m doing alright. It just sounds bad. I just need a job that forgives me being late and absent a lot.”

“I will add you to Sable's payroll.”

He choked on his pizza; and kept choking until he slapped his back hard enough to dislodge the hunk and send it falling to the ground below. “I’m sorry what?!”

“I will add you to our payroll. In exchange, you will continue to keep New York; and more importantly, Norman Osborne safe. And report directly to me at least once a week.”

He was still recovering; breathing heavily. “Is-uh, is this just a macho way of asking me to keep in touch?”

“It’s a business proposition.”

“Well; in that case, I accept. Even if it’s just so you can talk to me more. This has been nice. I always said you guys should pay me for my work. But wait,” he paused. “Don’t you need all that you can get to fight the war?”

“It’s worth having a strong ally in the wings in case we need them. That is if you'd be willing to come to Symkaria if your help is necessary.”

“Absolutely. Actually, I'd like that. Someone I care about is a reporter and she's going there soon to do media coverage and I’d prefer to keep her safe.”

“I will keep an eye on her. Mary Jane Watson correct?”

“Y-Yeah. How’d you-”

“I had this entire city under personal surveillance. I know everything, Mr. Parker.”

He choked for a second time that night, sending another chunk of pizza to the dirty alleyway beside the other. “You know who I am?!”

“Yes. Do not worry; only I know. None of my men are aware of your true identity.”

Peter could feel the anxiety rising in his chest. “How do you know?”

“I was given; no I should not say it like that; I took the surveillance tapes of the fight with Doctor Octavius. Oscorp has some of the most advanced surveillance technology in the world. Not only did I have multiple angles of your face once you removed your mask; but I also had clear audio of him calling you ‘Peter.’ Not much digging and research lead me to the one and only Peter Parker. Orphaned as a young boy, raised by an aunt and uncle until the uncles unfortunate passing. A genius; soft-hearted by nature with an outstanding lust to help people. Friends with a reporter named Mary Jane Watson at the Daily Bugle, who just so happens to have a history of working with Spiderman. I cannot say it was entirely too difficult to piece together who you are.”

“You never said anything,” Peter sighed. “I would've thought you’d out me when you came back.”

“Personal lives should be left outside of work. Secret identities are no different. I would gain nothing from revealing who you are to the public.”

“I guess I should thank you then.” Slowly he peeled away the mask revealing the blushing babyface underneath. “It’s nice having someone I can show my real self to. It’s lonely being behind a mask all the time.”

She seemed somewhat taken aback. She already knew what his face looked like, but there was a distinct difference between the grief-stricken and injured man in the video, and the sweet grin of the child-like boy in front of her now. “I can imagine your struggle.”

“Well since you already know, I think its time for a real introduction.” He extended his hand towards her, “hi! My name is Peter. Nice to meet you.”

She rolled her eyes; taking the hand nonetheless. “You may call me Sablinova or Sable if you wish. It is good to meet you officially.”

“You too!” He shook hands over enthusiastically and with a rockhard grip that may just leave bruises. “Now may I offer you some of the cold pizza that I can't seem to get a bite of? We have four after all.”

“I would like that very much.”

They spent many long hours up on the rooftop chatting, with only a few one-sided threats thrown in for good measure. And even though she hated to admit it; she was grateful for his unwavering kindness.

#spiderman #spiderman ps4 #silver sable #silver sablinova