#spinning it around and rolling parried hits into harder strikes

[the-punforgiven]

Y'know how people always talk about weed being a "gateway drug" that leads into doing heavier and heavier drugs as you go on?

That's what longsword was to me, I tried fighting with a greatsword yesterday and I can't go back, I need another hit already lol

[mynicosensesaretingling]

The Parc Fermé Spectacle

A Fernando Alonso crack fic

summary: After mistakingly being put in parc fermé , Fernando duels Brad in a wrench fight.

note: don’t ask me anything, this is an absolute crack fic written in my notes app.

ENJOY x

——-

It was a blistering day at the Hungarian Grand Prix, but the real heat was in the pit lane, where tensions between Fernando Alonso and Brad Pitt had reached their boiling point. What started as a simple misunderstanding with a movie car had spiraled into an all-out grudge match.

Fernando climbed out of his car, tossing his helmet aside as his eyes blazed with fury. Making his way over to the Apex car, he grabbed a massive wrench from a toolbox, twirling it like a seasoned knight wielding a broadsword. “You’ve messed with the wrong driver, Pitt!” He bellowed. “You better prepare yourself, because today you face the Matador of the Asphalt!”

Brad, never one to back down from a fight, grabbed a similarly oversized wrench, brandishing it with the confidence of someone currently filming their self-insert dream scenario . “Bring it on, Alonso! Let’s see if you’re as tough off the track as you are on it!”

Noticing the brawl between the men, mechanics and crew members quickly formed a circle around them, eagerly anticipating the duel of the century. Bets were placed, phones were out, and chants were started.

With a dramatic clash, their wrenches met in mid-air, the sound echoing through the pit lane like a thunderclap. Fernando moved with the precision and grace of a dancer, his wrench a blur as he launched a series of rapid strikes. Brad parried wildly, his eyes wide with a mix of determination and growing panic.

“You call that a swing?” Fernando taunted, easily dodging Brad’s clumsy attempts. “My grandmother could hit harder!”

Brad, now red-faced and desperate, attempted a spin move, only to lose his balance and stumble , face first, into a stack of tires. The pit crew erupted in laughter, but Fernando wasn’t done yet. He leaped onto a nearby crate, using it as a makeshift podium.

“Is this the best Hollywood has to offer?” Fernando shouted, dramatically pointing at Brad, before executing a flawless backflip off the toolbox and landing perfectly behind the actor. Before Brad could react, Fernando lightly tapped on his shoulder with the wrench. “Tag, you’re it,” he said with a smirk.

Brad whirled around, swinging his wrench with all his might, but Fernando was quicker. He dodged Brad’s wild swings with the agility of a cat, occasionally spinning around in a mock dance-like fashion.

“Careful now, Pitt,” Fernando taunted as he dodged another overzealous strike. “You’re making this look like a bad B-movie fight scene. Where’s the stunt double when you need one?”

Brad, fuming and clearly flustered, tried to recover his composure. “I’m just warming up!” he yelled, lunging forward again.

Fernando sidestepped effortlessly and used the wrench to gently tap Brad on the nose. “Oh, is that what they call ‘action’ in Hollywood? I’d hate to see what you call ‘drama.’ Maybe it involves a lot of falling down and looking surprised?”

The pit lane crowd burst into laughter, some doubling over as Brad, now red-faced and visibly irate, tried to mount a comeback. He lunged with renewed determination, only for Fernando to casually step aside and give Brad a playful pat on the back with the wrench.

“You know, I’ve seen more finesse in a bumper car derby,” Fernando said, barely suppressing his chuckles. “Is this your ‘intense’ acting face? Because it looks like you’re trying to remember your lines.” Brad, clearly frustrated and out of breath, made one last desperate attempt to regain control. He charged forward, but Fernando sidestepped with the ease of someone casually stepping around a puddle.

In a burst of creativity, Fernando grabbed a nearby spare tire and rolled it towards Brad, who tripped over it and went tumbling into a stack of toolboxes.

As Brad lay there, dazed and disheveled, Fernando couldn't help but notice his dramatic, almost theatrical fall.

With a dramatic flourish, Fernando raised his wrench high above his head and surveyed Brad with an exaggerated critical eye. He paused for a moment, then walked over to the checkered flag that had been left nearby, originally meant for celebrating race wins. He picked it up with a grand, sweeping gesture.

“This is truly a sight to behold!” Fernando announced loudly, waving the checkered flag like a matador ready to end a bullfight. “Ladies and gentlemen, we have a champion of the clumsy! An artist of the absurd!”

He circled Brad, twirling the flag with the precision of a seasoned performer. “Behold the dramatic pose!” Fernando declared, waving the flag dramatically above Brad’s head. “A true masterclass in unintentional comedy!”

Brad, still sprawled on the ground, glared up at Fernando with a mixture of embarrassment and fury. “Okay, okay, I get it!” he shouted. “You’ve proven your point. Can we call it a day?”

Fernando paused, striking a pose with the flag as if he were declaring victory in an epic showdown. Lowering the flag, Fernando extended a hand to help Brad up. “Come on, Pitt,” he said, his voice full of mock warmth. “Let’s get you cleaned up and ready for your next role—perhaps as a human prop in a slapstick comedy?”

[swan-of-sunrise]

Spellbinding (Chapter Five)

Summary: After a flirtatious sparring session with Loki and a troubling encounter with Peter Parker, (Y/N) confronts Tony and struggles to control her magic around the billionaire.

Pairing: Loki X Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

Warnings/Disclaimers: None

A/N: I hope that you enjoy!

Chapter Five June 10th, 2015 Avengers Tower, New York City (Previous Chapter)

The sound of the arrow hitting the edge of the bullseye was overshadowed by the loud applause filling the cavernous weapons training room. Grinning triumphantly, (Y/N) lowered her bow and headed over to the two figures standing near the doorway.

“Nice job, (Y/L/N)! You’re comin’ along pretty good!” Clint patted her on the back, a playful smirk on his face. “Not as good as me, obviously, but pretty good.”

Natasha gave him a small shove. “Clint, be nice!” He only giggled to himself and she gave (Y/N) a kind smile. “You’re doing really well, (Y/N). Maybe you could replace this idiot as the team’s resident archer someday.” Over the past couple of months, the two women had slowly gotten to know one another; Natasha was almost always away on missions but whenever she was free, they bonded over their training sessions and their statuses as the only female Avengers on the team.

(Y/N) chuckled. “That’s okay, I’ll let Hawkeye here keep his job; besides, I have a feeling I’ll be even more comfortable with a sword than a bow.” She set her bow back on the weapons rack and picked up a familiar blade. The hilt was decorated with intricately designed etchings, and it felt perfectly balanced in her hand; Loki, with Bruce’s help, had created it for her in the lab, explaining that it would be better to learn swordsmanship with a well-matched blade and that it would be easier to create one rather than search for the perfect fit. It really does feel natural, she thought with a smile, easily twirling the sword around in her hand. “Do either of you know when Loki’s coming down for practice?”

“Nope, haven’t seen him since breakfast.” Checking his watch, Clint’s eyes widened almost comically. “Shit, we’re late for that meeting, Tasha, Fury’s gonna kick our asses! We’ll see you later, (Y/L/N)!” He grabbed Natasha’s arm and began dragging her out of the room.

“Good luck with your first sword fighting lesson, (Y/N)!” Natasha called over her shoulder as she and Clint left and sprinted down the hall, desperate not to be reprimanded by Director Fury yet again. “Ow, quit trying to pull my arm out of its socket, asshat!”

Giggling, (Y/N) wandered around the room and occasionally swung her sword, silently enjoying the sounds it made as it cut through the air. She was excited when Loki and Steve told her she’d begin training with a bow and sword; she’d never told anyone before, but guns made her nervous and she was glad she’d never have to use one. And she couldn’t help but feel that learning to use the weapons of her mother’s culture would bring her closer to her somehow, but she was too embarrassed to say it aloud. The others might scoff at her sentimentality, but she knew that Loki would never do that.

At the thought of her best friend, she sighed in frustration and began pacing around the room with more purpose. It was becoming harder and harder to suppress her feelings for him, especially after he helped her through that horrible day two weeks prior, but she was determined not to lose the fight for their friendship. Shifting his focus from romantic literature to mystery novels certainly helped; it was easier to set her feelings aside as he read aloud from novels such as The Hound of Baskerville than when he read aloud from ones like Sense and Sensibility. Maybe I should have him read Mary Shelly next, she thought with an amused smile, that’ll really calm the romantic thoughts.

But just as she reached the opposite side of the room, an unsettling feeling put her senses on high alert. Quickly spinning around, she brought her sword up just in time to meet her attacker’s blade with a reverberating clang.

“Your senses are improving, Lady (Y/N),” Loki grinned, pushing her blade away with his own and stepping back. “I’m impressed.”

Before she could reply, he swung his sword at her abdomen and she was quick to clumsily swipe the attack away and block his next from clipping her shoulder. “I thought we were having a formal lesson today?”

Her best friend shrugged as they started to circle one another. “We were, but I concluded that unlike magic, swordplay doesn’t need to be taught formally. You have generations of Light Elf blood flowing through your veins, which means that you already possess a natural skill with swords; besides, I feel that using weapons takes considerably less concentration and caution that using magic.”

“Oh, I don’t know, if I wasn’t concentrating right now I’d never realize that you’re only trying to distract me.” She suddenly raised her sword and swung, but Loki disappeared as soon as the blade made contact with his; a heartbeat later, the cool edge of a training knife was at her throat and a sword-wielding arm was wrapped tightly around her waist, holding her securely against a strong form. “Clever, Loki…”

“My brother isn’t the only Asgardian-trained warrior in this tower, you know.” His warm breath tickled the side of her neck, and (Y/N) swore she could feel his nose nuzzle into her hair while her heart fluttered in her chest. “Now, try and break free of-”

Before he could finish his sentence, she elbowed him hard in the stomach and used his surprise to duck under his loosened arm, quickly straightening and parring away his fast sword strike. “You mean like that?”

“Precisely,” Loki sheathed the dagger and twirled his sword in his hand, an amused gleam in his green eyes. “Now, let’s see what else you can do.”

For the next half hour, they were at a stalemate; neither of them had been able to disarm or knock the other down, no matter how hard they tried, but (Y/N) knew she was tiring. Her strikes were becoming slower, it was becoming much harder to dodge his attacks, and she had a nasty feeling that Loki would quickly take advantage of her weakness at any minute. In desperation, she parried his sword away and swung hers at his head, but she immediately regretted her action; Loki easily blocked the strike and used his sword to twist hers out of her hand. It landed on the ground with a loud clang, and before she could reach for it, he kicked her leg out from under her and she landed harshly on her back. A moment later, he was hovering above her, one hand pinning both of hers above her head and the other holding his sword to her throat. The sounds of their heavy breathing filled the silence of the room, and (Y/N) couldn’t help but giggle in equal amounts of amusement and embarrassment.

“Well, it looks as though you’ve won fair and square, Loki. I’d shake your hand, but they’re a little preoccupied at the moment.”

Loki’s triumphant grin widened at her joke. “Your apology is accepted, Lady (Y/N), though I personally prefer your hands right where they are.” When she gave him a questioning look, he continued. “Now I can finally enact my revenge upon you for your heinous crime. You know which one, of course.”

(Y/N)’s eyes widened and she began struggling against him. “L-Loki, I told you, it was a complete accident, Steve and Bucky were there, they’ll tell you the exact same thing…!”

“I’m not quite sure that I believe your story; you’re telling me that the other day at dinner, you accidentally tripped over Steve’s foot, you accidentally fell on me and you accidentally began tickling me? You have to admit, it doesn’t sound very convincing.”

She tried in vain not to smile guiltily as he spoke. The truth was that she was curious whether the Asgardian was ticklish or not, so when she noticed Steve’s foot sticking out from under the table she decided to test out her theory. It turned out that the Asgardian did make the same sounds as the Pillsbury Dough-Boy when tickled, just as she suspected. “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about, Loki!”

“Lady (Y/N), you should know by now not to lie to the God of Mischief.”

In one quick movement, he tossed his sword to the side and attacked her stomach with his free hand. She shrieked with laughter, tears rolling down her cheeks as she squirmed under him. She felt his hold on her wrists loosening, so she hurriedly tugged a hand free and began tickling him back. As expected, he laughed loudly, the cheerful sound mingling with hers and echoing off the walls as they rolled across the floor.

“Miss (Y/L/N), is something-? Oh man…”

They immediately stopped, Loki quickly rolling off her and helping her back on her feet when they noticed a familiar figure standing in the doorway. “Hello Peter, um, Loki and I were just…practicing our sword fighting.” (Y/N) blushed scarlet, embarrassed at having been caught in such a compromising position by the fifteen-year-old.

“Yeah, um…sorry if I interrupted you guys, I’ll…just…come back later, I guess.” Peter Parker’s eyes were flicking nervously between her and his black Converse sneakers, his hands shoved deep into the pockets of his jeans and a light blush spreading over his ears.

“Actually, I need to…I need to speak to my brother about our, um, mission tomorrow. I’ll see you later, Lady (Y/N).” After she murmured her goodbye, he gave Peter a nod as he brushed past him and left, his usually pale face turning more and more crimson by the minute.

(Y/N) picked up their swords and placed them back on the weapons rack. “So, what can I do for you, Peter?” During her two months in the tower, she’d only spoken to the teenager once and that was when Tony briefly introduced them; the billionaire had infuriatingly introduced her as ‘Galadriel, but if Galadriel was a total book nerd,’ something he was extremely lucky he said when Loki wasn’t around to hear. The teenager was in awe of her magic and heritage, and she was equally impressed with his incredible knowledge of math and science and how he applied his skills to his intriguing powers.

Peter shuffled from foot to foot and briefly made eye contact with her. “Well, I-I was just talkin’ with Doctor Banner and he mentioned you used to be a librarian before joining the Avengers, and…I was wondering if you could help me write my final paper for my English class?”

“Of course, I’d love to!” She led him out of the weapons room and down the hall to the elevator. “What’s the topic of the paper?”

They stepped into the elevator. “That’s actually what I’m having trouble with. We were supposed to read The Great Gatsby, but I never got a chance to, and now we have to come up with our own topic and finish the essay by Friday, and I’ve got absolutely nothin’.” He sighed and slumped against the wall of the elevator as it rose. “I understand if you’re too busy training for a mission or something, I know it’s a lot to ask but it’s worth like twenty-five percent of my final grade…”

“It’s okay, Peter, I said I’d help you; I haven’t been assigned a mission yet, so my schedule’s wide open.” The doors opened and she led him down the hall to the dining room table next to the kitchen. “Besides, I loved helping people with papers when I was a librarian, and it’ll be nice to continue using that college degree I paid a lot of money for.” Peter laughed and sat down next to her. “All right, since you haven’t read the book and you only have two days to write this essay, I’ll start by giving you a short summary…”

(Y/N) had absolutely no idea how long she spoke for; explaining the plot of F. Scott Fitzgerald’s most famous novel reminded her of how much she missed being a librarian. Not that she regretted joining the Avengers, of course, she just missed being able to use her extensive knowledge of literature to help people. She was glad to see Peter listening with rapt attention, and he even pulled a notebook out of his backpack and began taking notes while she continued. By the time she was finished, he was looking more relaxed than ever.

“Thank you so much, Miss (Y/L/N), that really helped!” He flicked through his notes one last time before turning to a blank page. “I think I’ll write about Daisy; she sounds like a pretty interesting character.”

“You’re welcome, Peter, but promise me you’ll try not to procrastinate next semester? It’s just that it’s so much easier to finish assignments well before the due date…”

Peter grinned. “I know, I know, Aunt May always tells me that! And I didn’t mean to procrastinate this much, it’s just that I suck at English and me and Mister Stark have been workin’ on my new suit a lot and, well, I guess I just got distracted.”

She smiled, but the wheels in her head began turning. “It’s okay, everyone has that one subject they struggle with and everyone gets distracted from time to time. I’m going to go get cleaned up and change, and I expect to see an introduction written by the time I get back, okay?”

“Yes, ma’am!” He chuckled and turned his attention back to his notebook.

(Y/N) took a quick shower and changed into a pair of jeans and a green blouse, quickly toweling off her damp hair before hurrying down to the lab. Just as she suspected, Tony was there, snacking and chatting away with Bruce as the doctor peered into a microscope. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) opened the door and entered.

“Hello Bruce, Tony.”

“Oh, hi (Y/N),” Bruce looked up and smiled, whereas Tony only rolled his eyes and continued eating his blueberries. “What can I do for you?”

“I’m actually here to speak with Tony, if that’s all right,” Both men looked at each other in surprise and she turned her attention to the billionaire as Bruce quietly excused himself. “Tony, I know that we got off on the wrong foot when we met and I’m not going to apologize for turning you down when you asked me out, but I am sorry if I’ve been rude to you ever since.”

Tony sighed, popping another blueberry into his mouth before answering. “Well, I’d be an asshat if I didn’t try and follow that up, so I’m sorry for being rude too. Now that that’s over, can we get back to work?”

(Y/N) gritted her teeth but remained calm. “That’s not all I came down here for; I just spent over an hour helping Peter write a final paper for school that’s due in two days. He told me that the reason he didn’t write it sooner was because he’s been too busy working on his new suit down here with you. Is that true?”

“Yeah, so what’s your point?”

“My point is that since Peter listens to you, you should remind him that his education is very important. If he continues putting Spider-Man before his schoolwork, he’s not going to have a future.”

The older man only sighed. “Of course he will; when he decides he doesn’t wanna be Spider-Man, he can always have a job at Stark Enterprises.”

“And what if he doesn’t want a job with your company? What if he decided down the road that he wants to be a lawyer or a firefighter or a photographer? Without an education, he’d never be able to live the life he wants!” Realizing that she was speaking loudly, she took another deep breath and adjusted her glasses. “Tony, all I’m asking you to do is help him be a normal high schooler for as long as possible. I’m not saying you should take his suit away and forbid him from being Spider-Man next semester, just…let him be able to study for tests or hang out with his friends or go out on dates. Just try to help him find the balance his duties between being a high schooler and being Spider-Man.”

Tony only raised his brow and smirked. “Why’re you being so pushy about this, Hermione Granger? Is it ‘cause you’re trying to live vicariously through him? Let him experience the things that you never did?”

(Y/N) felt her anger beginning to build up inside her. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me, Tony, this is about making sure you don’t ruin his life in the long run. Need I remind you that not everyone is as privileged as you are and can make mistakes in life without there being consequences?”

“And need I remind you that if not for my ‘privileges,’ there’d be no Avengers and you’d be stuck in a Hydra lab somewhere being experimented on?”

“Are you going to talk to him or not?”

Tony shook his head, an unusually serious look on his face. “Parker can do whatever he wants to do. It’s his life.”

She nodded, her jaw clenched tightly. “Fine, then, I’ll go and speak to Steve about it.” Giving the man one last glare, she turned on her heel and headed for the door.

“You know, you’re starting to sound exactly like your boyfriend did when he tried to take over the world. Must be an alien thing…”

Without a moment of thought, (Y/N) turned around and thrust out her hands, her anger finally boiling over. A familiar purple aura surrounded Tony as she used her powers to swiftly lift him into the air and slam him into the wall behind him. Her unfiltered fury kept him in place, and she was sure to keep his mouth magically shut so he was unable to call out to J.A.R.V.I.S. for his suit. “Don’t you dare speak about Loki! He’s doing everything he can to make up for what he did, and maybe if you started caring about other people besides yourself you’d realize that!”

“(Y/N)!” Bruce appeared in front of her after running in from the hall, his hands raised in a submissive gesture. “(Y/N), you need to listen to me!” When she made no move to attack him, he slowly inched forward. “I need you to breathe, can you do that for me, (Y/N)? Take a deep breath and just relax, find control over your powers!”

(Y/N) struggled to control her breathing as she listened to his words, but just when she felt her muscles and powers begin to relax, Tony stretched his fingers and pressed a button on the metal bracelet he wore. One of his security suits burst through its storage container and aimed its repulsor beams at her; without a second thought, she allowed Tony to fall to the ground in a heap and thrust her hands towards the suit, effectively knocking it into the opposite wall with a swirling cloud of purple magic before it could fire. The suit immediately got up and just as Bruce shouted “No!” it shot its repulsor beams directly at her. Acting on instinct, she pushed Bruce out of the way and crossed her forearms in front of her, deflecting the beams and making them ricochet off her magic and back towards the suit, causing it to explode in a ball of fire.

The entire room shook violently with tremors and the ceiling began to tremble; panicking, (Y/N) thrust her hands upwards and concentrated on stabilizing the concrete with her magic. After a tense moment, the ceiling tremors began to calm down and stop altogether, which was when she realized that the emergency sprinklers were on and the lab was filling up with dark smoke as the fire alarms blared. Where’s Tony and Bruce, she thought, coughing as she stumbled through the wrecked lab in search of the two men.

“Bruce! Tony!” She called out, her voice shaking with worry. “Bruce! To-!” A hand on her arm caused her to turn and gasp; standing before her was a soaked and worried but unharmed Bruce Banner. “Bruce, thank goodness you’re all right!”

“C’mon, I already got Tony, we need to get out of here!” Bruce grabbed her hand and quickly led her through the smoke and smoldering remains of Tony’s suit to the exit. When they finally got out of the lab, the doctor slammed the door behind them and leaned heavily against the wall. It was then when (Y/N) noticed that Tony was laying on the ground, his chest heaving as his eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, and that there was a distinct green tinge to Bruce’s jugular that was slowly fading away.

“Thank you, Bruce.”

“…Fury’s gonna be pissed, isn’t he?”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Director Fury looked up from the security footage on his computer monitor with a disapproving frown on his face. After rushing up to the lab and having them thoroughly checked for injuries, Director Fury ‘requested’ (Y/N), Bruce and Tony join him in his office several floors below; (Y/N), who had only ever spoken to the director once before when she first joined the Avengers, was scared out of her mind, something she was sure Bruce knew when he gave her hand a comforting squeeze. She felt guilty that she lost control over her powers and scared of what her punishment would be; she didn’t want to be kicked off the Avengers team all because she’d risen to Tony’s childish bait. I wish Loki were here, she thought as she pulled the blanket the firemen had given her tighter around her shoulders for comfort.

“So, you’re telling me that several S.H.I.E.L.D experiments were compromised, thousands of dollars’ worth of our equipment was destroyed, the Hulk was nearly unleashed and an entire floor of your tower is temporarily condemned all because you couldn’t put a sock in it, Stark?”

Tony smirked. “Sounds about right.”

Deciding she needed to speak up for the billionaire, (Y/N) quietly said, “It’s not all his fault, Director. I went to the lab and asked Tony to speak to Peter about how important his schoolwork is when I should’ve spoken directly to Steve instead. And it was me who lost control and destroyed the lab in the first place, not him.”

“Thank you for your honesty, Miss (Y/L/N), but I’m not pissed off about you losing your cool or even about you two destroying the lab; I’m pissed off because your guys’ petty arguing’s keeping you all from functioning as the team I believe you can be.” Director Fury stood and leaned against his desk. “Now, Doctor Banner and I are gonna leave to check in with the clean-up, and if this stupid-ass fighting isn’t resolved by the time we come back…well, let’s just say that you’re not gonna like the consequences.” The director gave them one last glare and gestured for Bruce to follow him into the hall; the doctor flashed them a sympathetic look before leaving, and (Y/N) flinched as the door slammed shut.

The billionaire lounged casually in his chair, twirling a small screwdriver around his fingers over and over as he made fleeting eye contact with her; he looked sincerer than she’d ever seen him before. “I, ah, guess I should apologize…I’ve been treating you kind of unfairly over the past few months and saying some harsh things, and I’m really sorry about that…”

“Then why say them in the first place?”

His fingers stilled as he looked down at them, remaining silent for several moments before answering. “I guess it’s ‘cause I didn’t like the fact that you’re such good friends with Reindeer G – I mean – Loki.”

His answer took her by surprise. “Why not?”

The older man looked out the window and smiled humorlessly. “Well, for starters, the guy tried to take over the world with a hostile alien army and is responsible for the deaths of at least eighty people over two days, not to mention he threw me out a window and I…well, my heart stopped when I came out of that wormhole and I would’ve been a goner of not for the enormous green rage monster out there. Can you really blame me for not wanting to become best buddies with him or anyone who actually likes him?”

“Yes, I can, at least a little bit.” She ignored the confused look on his face and continued. “Loki’s here on Earth to make up for everything he did; he joined the Avengers, the people he was once sworn enemies with, of his own free will to do good. Loki’s my best friend and I believe wholeheartedly that he deserves a chance to redeem himself for what he’s done, just like Natasha and Bucky. Everyone else in this tower has put the past behind them and accepted him as their teammate except you, Tony. I’m sorry about what happened to you during the battle, I really am, but you can’t change what happened in the past so it’s pointless to keep hyper-focusing in it.”

“I think Capsicle’s been rubbing off on you, (Y/L/N); that was some speech,” Tony chuckled, then grew serious. “But you’re right; I haven’t given either of you a fair chance.”

(Y/N) nodded. “And I’m really sorry I lost control and said those things earlier, it was wrong of me to say them. You’re not a selfish person, Tony, and it’s unfair to degrade you because you happen to be more well-off than most, it’s not your-”

“It’s okay; seriously, I was definitely asking to be talked to like that. And don’t worry, I’ll speak to Peter about balancing being a friendly neighborhood Spider-Man and a high schooler; Banner’s been bugging me about it, too.” His usual grin returned. “So, can we agree to start over and maybe be friends from now on? ‘Cause you actually seem like a pretty cool person to be around, (Y/L/N).”

“I think I can agree to that, Tony.” She accepted his outstretched hand and shook it, a cheerful smile finally making its way across her face. Not the way I expected this day to go, she thought to herself, but I’m glad we’ve finally made up.

Just then, the door opened to reveal Director Fury and Bruce. “Great, now we all can get back to work. Except for you, Miss (Y/L/N), I want a private word.” Without wasting a moment, Tony and Bruce left the two of them alone. (Y/N)’s hands began to shake, so she started tugging at the sides of her blanket again to keep them occupied. “I believe congratulations are in order, Miss (Y/L/N).”

“C-congratulations?”

Director Fury made his way over to his chair and sat. “You showed real control over your powers today.”

Frowning, (Y/N) stopped fiddling with the edge of her blanket. “But Director, I almost killed Tony, a-and what about almost unleashing the Hulk and all the damage…?”

“The key word there is ‘almost’. Sure, your emotions clouded your judgement, but you were able to reign in your powers and stop yourself from doing anything too serious.” The director’s eye twinkled slightly. “In my book, that’s something that deserves a congratulation and not guilt, Miss (Y/L/N). Wouldn’t you agree?”

“I suppose so, Director.”

Director Fury nodded. “Good. And as for the damages, Stark has more than enough money to fix them within a day, this time with even stronger fortifications. Now, you’d better go change clothes before you catch a cold; we wouldn’t want one of our newest Avengers getting sick, would we?”

Blushing, (Y/N) stood and smiled shyly at the director. “O-of course not, Director. Thank you.” She quickly left the office as he returned to the paperwork on his desk, hardly believing what had just happened; she’d been absolutely convinced that she’d be kicked off the team for her actions. It was kind of Director Fury to give me another chance, and I don’t intend on throwing it away, she thought with determination, hurrying down the hall to the elevator.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“To make a long story short, you lost control over your magic, regained control with the help of Doctor Banner before you could kill Stark, destroyed one of Stark’s suits in self-defense and stopped the ceiling from collapsing on all three of you, correct?” Loki asked, his lips already curving into a proud smile. Only minutes before, (Y/N) had found her best friend in a fit of rage and the only thing keeping him from confronting Tony himself was Mjolnir resting on his lap; the moment she entered his suite, however, he ceased arguing with Thor and immediately asked her if she was all right.

Despite her best efforts not to see too far into his actions, his obvious concern over her well-being caused her heart to flutter and her cheeks to redden, but she was quick to hide her feelings by giving him and Thor the full story of what happened; all they knew of the incident was that her and Tony’s argument led to an explosion in the lab, so Loki had immediately assumed Tony was at fault and went into a rage. Luckily Thor had enough foresight to prevent him from doing anything too serious, she thought to herself.

Nodding, (Y/N) relaxed her aching muscles against the cushions of the couch. “Correct, and Tony and I had a good talk. I think we’re going to get along from now on.”

Loki nodded, directing his attention to his brother and gesturing to the hammer. “Now, can you please remove this infernal thing from my lap? I promise I won’t go after Stark.” Although his face was relaxed, she could see a glint of anger return to his emerald-green eyes so she quickly laced her fingers through his slightly colder ones. He looked at her in surprise and the anger seemed to melt away the longer he stared into her eyes. “I swear on our friendship, Lady (Y/N), that I won’t harm Stark in any way.” He glanced back at Thor with a brow raised in expectation. “Now will you move it?”

“All right, all right, don’t get your cape in a twist, brother,” Thor chuckled, standing from his armchair and easily picking up Mjolnir. “I’ll go and see if Banner and Stark require assistance in cleaning up the laboratory. Again, I’m relieved you’re unharmed, Lady (Y/N).” He gave her what he apparently thought was a gentle pat on the shoulder and left before he could see her nearly topple off the sofa.

Rolling his eyes, Loki helped her right herself. “Such a brute, honestly.” He glanced down at their intertwined fingers as his face once again grew serious. “Are you sure you’re all right?”

“Well, it would be a lie if I said I didn’t feel guilty about losing control…”

To her surprise, Loki’s face broke out into a bemused grin. “You Midgardians are so odd; you pen sayings such as ‘to err is human’, and yet you always blame yourselves for your mistakes. It’s perfectly acceptable to make errors, Lady (Y/N), and you should be extremely proud of the fact that you managed to rectify yours so easily. Trust me, as someone who has fought against and alongside Doctor Banner, regaining control over oneself is no easy feat.”

“You sound exactly like Director Fury, you know, but you’re right.” (Y/N) elbowed him playfully in the side and grinned when he suppressed a giggle.

“Is it really wise of you to begin this again, Lady (Y/N)?”

“Well, it’s not like you’re brave enough to do anything ab-” She was cut off when she was struck on the side of the head by a throw pillow.

Loki burst into laughter, clutching his sides and his pillow tightly as he looked at her. “You should see your face!” He choked out between breaths. “You look like-!”

At that moment, (Y/N) grabbed another pillow and smacked it against his face, giggling at his stunned expression and mussed hair as she adjusted her crooked glasses. “You were saying?”

“Um, Miss (Y/L/N)?” They both hastily lowered their raised pillows and looked at the doorway where Peter Parker stood, once again as red as a tomato, holding his notebook. “I-I, um, need some help on my body paragraphs…”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

A/N: Thank you all so much for reading and commenting! I’ve created a Spotify playlist inspired by this series, and I’ll be updating it every time I upload a new chapter. Enjoy!

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/2wx8TZwpDN0l33tES3W3Nk

Chapter Six

Spellbinding Masterlist

Tagging: @nexiva @ravenclawbitch426 @cminr @confusedfandomwriter @momc95 @nickkie1129 @austynparksandpizza @brooke0297 @destructivebliss @outoftheregular​ @itscomplicatedx​ @0-artemis​ @vivloki​

[duskholland]

Places We Won’t Walk | Peter Parker

summary ↠ superhero!y/n au: when you have superpowers thrust upon you, sacrifices have to be made. some more willingly than others. 

wc ↠ 4.5k

warnings ↠ depictions of character injury and death. angsty as fuck. there are a few swear words too but honestly they’re the least of your problems lmao

a/n ↠ recently I’ve found myself reflecting on the amount of loss Peter has experienced. loss of innocence, loss of childhood, loss of loved ones... this guy is a teenager and yet he is constantly forced into being an adult and it !! is not fair !! I wanted to play around with this sense of loss, and this fic gave me the perfect opportunity to do that. it made me cry lmao. *there’s a lil bit of a pov switch near the end, but it’s intentional*

↠ this is my submission for @mischiefandi‘s writing challenge. it’s based off the song, Places We Won’t Walk by Bruno Major. I made it a superhero au to fit my guideline! thanks so much for the challenge, V, I had a lot of fun with this <3

“You ever wish you weren’t a hero?” 

The words fall past your lips before you can stop yourself. There’s a silence. Then a presence appears beside you, and you feel Peter wrap his hand in yours as he joins you by the window.

“What do you mean?” He asks, voice soft, questioning.

You tilt your head at the scene beneath the window. Central Park sprawls out in front of you, the lush green trees and speckled flowers brightening up the centre of New York City. The windows are shut, but you can imagine the sounds drifting up from the park: children laughing, lovers embracing, friends chatting. A sense of bitter jealousy sours your mouth as you force your gaze away from the park, the pain in your heart twisting angrily. 

“We’re up here, working,” you start, picking your words carefully. “The world goes by below us. People- they fall in love, yeah? They hang out with their friends, they live their lives and they’re happy. Meanwhile, we stay up here, working alone, sacrificing everything.” You can’t help the bitterness that sweeps into your voice. You glance tentatively to Peter, who’s gripping your fingers a little harder now, his face pinched in an expression of anguish as his soft brown eyes flicker over the park.

After a moment, he sighs. “No one said life was going to be fair, Y/N.” 

You’re disarmed by the bluntness in your boyfriend’s voice, and find your eyebrows raising reflectively. He finally tears his eyes from the park and brings his gaze to your face, his arms pulling around you as he takes in your expression. You bury your face in his shoulder and try not to cry as you think about the people down in the park, laughing and carefree, all because you’re up here, protecting them and their city. 

It’s not fair. It will never be fair. But there’s nothing you can do about that. Because leaving the job would be siding with the enemy, and you could never do that.

“One day we’ll get out of here,” Peter murmurs, hands in your hair. His sweet peppermint scent swept over you as he holds you tight. “One day, we’ll take some time off, yeah? Go to the beach, have a vacation. Just...not yet.” And his voice sounds so false that water burns your eyes as you blink furiously. 

“You think Tony will ever let us both leave the city?” When he stills, you catch your lower lip beneath your teeth and sigh guiltily. Pulling yourself back from his grip, you nudge your mouth against his cheek in a quick, chaste kiss. “Sorry,” you murmur. “It’s just hard, sometimes.” 

Peter, only eighteen, but looking so much older with worried creases scrunched between his eyebrows, shrugs his shoulders. But he has an image of understanding on his face and a soft, sad smile spread across his lips, and it makes you feel a little less lonely to know you aren’t the only one chained to responsibility. 

“We’ll get through it,” he promises. “They need us.”

And then you’re both looking back at the images of happy people playing in the park, and the silence returns again.

[——]

It’s Christmas Eve and you’re stumbling around on top of a rooftop, exchanging blows with a masked figure. In one hand he clutches a bag full of looted money, and in the other, he holds a knife. To say he’s built stockily, with wide shoulders and a tall, looming figure, he’s incredibly nimble on his feet. You’re breathless as you parry his strikes, your aching body already exhausted from taking on the rest of his goonies.

Peter’s somewhere below you, swinging around the city. You’d been relaxing beneath the Christmas tree in your apartment when his ears had pricked and you’d got a brief text from Stark HQ, and now you’re here, your evening plans of a festive gathering sacrificed for the greater good. Back in your lonely, dark kitchen lays a spread of cold festive treats you’d intended to serve to your friends and family, and you know you’ll stumble back to your empty place in a few hours and collapse on your sofa in tears. 

It’s not that you don’t like your job. There’s nothing more gratifying and fulfilling than spending your hours saving lives. But it is a full-time job, and you never signed up for it. It wasn’t your fault that you were involved in a lab disaster when you were thirteen. You never volunteered to be Tony Stark’s newest project. And yet here you are, your body bruised and throbbing on Christmas Eve, exchanging blows with a thug instead of taking part in festive celebrations like the rest of the city. It’s hard not to be bitter.

“Ow!” You exclaim, your lack of concentration allowing the man in front of you to get a swipe at you. Your arm aches as the knife slices across your bicep, and you try not to look at the way your blood drips down onto the stony slabs of the rooftop. You deliver a swift kick to his chest and watch as he goes tumbling down, crumping in a heap on the ground. You tie his hands together and get ready to call for a lift back when there’s another blow delivered to the back of your head and you go spinning. You’re on the ground now, your vision blurring as you stare up at another of the men who must’ve sneaked up behind you as you dealt with the other. “Don’t you guys ever give up?” 

He just snarls at you, lunging towards you with a larger knife than the other. You roll and spring to your feet, but now you’re lethargic and your arm has started to really hurt. Cursing lowly, you mutter into the com piece in your ear, “Pete? I’m gonna need some help up here,” the sense of guilt multiplying in your chest as you realise you’re pulling him away from the streets below, where he’s most likely helping civilians.

But you don’t regret it when the man gets a kick in at your stomach, and you end up on the ground again. Your head rattles against the stone and you can’t even manage to clamber to your feet as the guy approaches you, kneeling at your side so he can dig the point of the knife in at your neck. It’s cold and sharp, and you find yourself staring at the night sky, wondering if this is finally it. You can’t even see the stars through the air pollution, and your eyes glass over with tears as you realise you’re too exhausted to move your body.

You truly think it’s the end. But then there’s a loud crash, and the figure above you goes flying across the rooftop and crumples in a heap on the other side. With the pressure gone from your neck, you gasp a breath, a couple of hot tears falling down your cheeks. 

“Y/N? Y/N, what’s wrong? Oh, shit, baby-” Peter’s hands go to your arm and you yelp as he pulls back the sleeve of your shirt, exposing the large laceration. Your eyes are screwed shut as you feel a cold pressure, and you know from experience that he’s using some special healing spray he’d had put in his suit for occasions such as this. His other hand goes to your face and you can feel his fingertips tremble as he caresses your cheek gently. “Hold on,” he murmurs. “Almost done.” 

The throbbing dies down in your arm as Peter stops working on it. He helps you up to your feet, but you’re a little dizzy and stumble into him, your head aching and your stomach burning. 

“I feel like I was just eaten by a wood chipper,” you manage, your fingers clinging to Peter’s shoulder for dear life. His laugh is low and weak as he helps you towards the edge of the building. You hear him mutter something through his earpiece to HQ about needing a cleanup crew, and then he wraps his arms around you.

“Let’s get out of here?”

“Take me home.” 

He swings across the city with his arms wrapped around you, and you cling to your boyfriend weakly. When you’re back to your apartment, he helps you into some pyjamas and tucks you up in bed with a bunch of painkillers. You know you haven’t sustained any serious damage, but that doesn’t stop you from feeling like you’ve been hit by a truck. 

“You scared me there, for a minute,” Peter murmurs. He’s stood at the end of the bed, the mask gone from his face, but his body still wearing the rest of his suit. His brown hair stands up messily, and your heart throbs weakly as you see the dark bags hanging beneath his eyes. He steps a bit closer, eyes casting down guiltily. “Sorry it took me a while to get up to you.”

You hold out your hand and he takes it, his grip firm but somehow still delicate. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “None of this is your fault.” You trail off for a breath moment, but then a weak laugh slips out. “When do we ever just get a quiet night in?” 

His face twists almost painfully, but then he nods. “I’ll be back in a few hours.” His hand slips from yours and you realise with a pang that he isn’t done yet.

“Oh…” 

His lips find your forehead, and they linger there for a few moments. Unspoken words and mutual understanding flow through the contact and you sigh softly as you know he couldn’t possibly stay. Just because you’re out of action, it doesn’t mean he is, and crime doesn't take a day off just because it’s a holiday.

“See you later,” you say, voice quiet. He looks into your eyes for a few seconds, an expression of regret briefly flickering over his face before he steps back and pulls his face mask on again. 

“I love you,” he reminds you, voice a little squeaky.

You do your best to smile comfortingly as you watch him jerk up your bedroom window and clamber out. You don’t manage to say it back before he’s gone, disappeared off into the chilly night sky with a swing of his wrists.

With a sigh, you turn off the light and bed down beneath your duvet. You don’t even bother trying to sleep: you know you won’t be able to until he comes back and shows you that he’s safe. So instead, you stare vacantly up at the ceiling, every inch of your body hurting with a dull ache, and you listen to the noises of the city as they stream through your open window. A few sad tears soak into your pillowcase as you hear the dull pulse of Christmas songs and distant laughter, and there’s even a faint scent of gingerbread coming out from one of your neighbours’ apartments. And it hurts - it hurts like there’s a thorn piercing  your heart that scratches deeper every time you breathe - but there’s nothing you can do apart from lay there numbly and stare into the darkness, knowing that nothing will ever change, and this will be your life forever.

[——]

Undercover missions are always your favourite. 

It’s something about the way you get to don a disguise and slip into another persona for the night that thrills you. You get a break from your life, and though the missions are never straightforward, that brief release from your superhero duties is always welcome. They’re also some of the few occasions that you get to stroll around, arm in arm with your lovely boyfriend, and he’s able to look exactly like himself; not Spider-man, with that daunting, blue and red suit, but he’s Peter. He’s Peter and he’s eighteen and he looks so dashing all wrapped up in a neat black suit that it draws a smile to your face. 

The function room you’re currently pacing is full of New York’s elite. Dazzling diamonds and rich rosy scents flood your senses, and it seems everywhere you look, you’re surrounded by pretentious wealth. It’s hard not to let your eyes bulge as everywhere you look you see perfectly curled hair, long legs with tall heels, and expensive-looking leather watches. But it’s thrilling, too, and for a few moments, you find yourself lost in it. 

“Did I mention how stunning you look tonight?” Peter whispers into your ear. Your cheeks warm as you use your free hand to dust down your dress.

“Oh, this old thing?” You joke. “It only cost about $2500.” And you hadn’t had to pay a single penny, thank god. It all comes under ‘business expenses’ - one of the few perks you get when you devote yourself to a life of service. 

Peter gulps, his eyes softening when they meet yours. Adoration fills you as you look at your boyfriend, and you tighten your grip on his hand as you lean in to steal a quick, tender kiss. 

“The most beautiful woman in the room,” he says firmly. He joins your other hand with his, and the rest of the room seems to fall away, leaving just you, and him, holding one another tightly. “I’m so lucky.” 

“I’m lucky,” you correct, ignoring the way he opens his mouth to dispute the fact. “No one understands me like you, Peter.” Your breath catches as he rubs his thumb over the back of your hand. “I can’t imagine living in a world without you.” 

“A world without you is one I wouldn’t want to be in,” he affirms. He drags one of your hands to his mouth and presses a soft kiss to the skin there. “I wish we could stay like this forever.” 

But you can’t, and no sooner do the words come out of his mouth are you being interrupted by an elderly socialite. She’s wearing a glittery shawl and her pale blue eyes seem to dig into your soul as you make contact with her.

“Pardon the interruption,” she drawls, Southern accent twinkling lightly, “I just wanted to say how dashing you both look. What an adorable couple,” she compliments. Her gaze drifts down to your empty left hand. “Are you two getting married?” She says anyway, effectively driving a hard dagger into your chest. 

Your eyes flutter shut as the pain that gripes at your chest stings your eyes. You can’t help yourself imagining the scene. You’re only eighteen, but you’ve known Peter since you were both fifteen and have been dating almost that long, so you’d be lying if you said you hadn’t imagined what it’d be like for him to fall to his knees in front of you. You know he’d be nervous - all flushed, and bumbling, and nervously shaking - but you’ve always found that endearing, and you know with certainty that you wouldn’t feel anything other than pure, sweet adoration as he asked you to marry him. It’d be a yes - of course it would be - and then you’d tumble into his arms and live out the rest of your life peacefully.

But it’s just a fantasy. An idea that you cling to every night you’re out fighting on the streets, everything hurting. It’s almost pitiful how much you find yourself yearning for it to happen, your mind fabricating a reality where you aren’t tied down to your job, and can instead live peacefully with the man you love. 

When you’re silent, Peter speaks for you, laughing nervously. “Oh, uh, thank you, ma’am,” he flounders, his cheeks a bright red. “We’re just dating.” 

“Oh, what a shame!” She exclaims. Then she steps nearer and grips your arm, and you feel dread replace your awkwardness as you remember your mission objective. Her fingers dig into your skin as her mouth finds your ear, and she hisses a low, threatening, “I know you’re here to ruin this deal, but I’m afraid I’m not going to let that happen, sugar. You’re surrounded.”

And you know Peter’s amplified hearing has picked it up, and you pull back to look at him, a dull look in your eyes. Of course it was too good to be true. God forbid you get to spend even five minutes with your boyfriend without someone stepping in and ruining it. 

He shares your disgruntled expression as he flicks his wrists and his web-shooters appear. “Y’know, lady, I really thought you were nice,” he mutters. Then he blasts her with his webs, and the room becomes a war-zone, and you’re dragged back to your day job with a bitter taste in your mouth. This always happens, and at this point, you should be used to it, but that doesn’t mean it hurts any less to come to terms with the fact that this is your reality: closeness with your boyfriend only when you’re on the battlefield, fighting back to back. No engagement, no wedding, no happily ever afters. Just fights, and pain, and work. And it’s heartbreaking. 

[——]

Peter knows how much of a toll this life takes on you. He’s watched as the fifteen-year-old girl he used to joke around with started to shrink and wither. He’s been there as you’ve grown older and your heart has grown heavier, and he’s been with you as you’ve taken lives, saved people, lost people - the whole works. And he understands how difficult it can be, because he goes through it too, but he knows it’s worse for you.

Neither of you ever chose this life. For you it was a lab explosion, for him it was a spider. You aren’t like Tony Stark who engineered his way to the top, or Captain America, who chose to take on that super serum. You didn’t willingly surrender your freedom for the greater good - it was taken from you, ripped out of your cold, aching hands, and he’s watched as that theft has slowly worn you down.

You’re still the same girl he’d fallen for, three years ago. You can still be found humming along to your favourite songs as you bake in the kitchen, and you still greet him with a kiss every time he climbs through your window. But you’re also sadder, and he can sense the weight that hangs in your heart and the longing that you feel when you look around at the world and see only what you can’t have. Because you’re a good person - and that’s the main reason Peter found himself being gravitated towards you in the first place. And that means that you won’t ever leave this life and this city, even if it’s slowly suffocating you.

He’s tried all he can to help. He lets you cry on his shoulder and rubs your back and promises he’ll get you out of here one day. But they’re empty words and he hates to lie to you, but deep down you both know that it’ll never happen. Even if Tony let you have a week off, Peter knows that neither of you would feel content leaving the city in the hands of others.

You’re both tied to your jobs like a ball on a chain, and try as he might, Peter hasn’t been able to loosen the shackles. Not even a little bit. And one day, it all falls apart, and it’s only then that he realises how blind he’d been to the truth.

You’ve both been sent out of the city for a drugs bust involving a gang of vibranium scrappers. They’re in possession of some seriously dangerous weapons, so you’ve got a team of agents with you to help neutralise the threat. The warehouse they’re staked out in looks cold and uninviting, and as he approaches the metal box, Peter grabs your hand desperately.

“Promise me you’ll be safe,” he says hurriedly. He looks at you and the determined grin branded to your lips and his heart skips a beat. You are the most beautiful person he’s ever seen. When you let out a small giggle, it sounds like a thousand gentle wind chimes floating through his ears.

“I can’t promise that,” you tease, nudging his side. “How about you promise to save me if I get stabbed again?” 

Peter’s heart falls as he remembers the time on the rooftop on Christmas Eve, all those months ago. When he’d swung up and seen you laying limp on the ground, close to death, he’d never felt as panicked in his life. It was as if his life had flashed before his eyes, but there was an empty space just beside him where you were supposed to be - his best friend, his partner in crime, the love of his life. He shudders as you drop his hand. 

“I’ll always save you,” he promises. He’s got his mask in his hands and before he can stop himself, he gives you a quick, deep kiss. He feels your surprise, but then you grin into him and kiss him back strongly, your lips warm and soft and perfect.

“I love you,” you remind him. You give him another short kiss. “Let’s go get these bad guys!” 

It goes well at first. 

Peter had formulated a plan and the team had followed it precisely. Whilst he worked with you to take out the gang leaders, the backup you’d brought scurried around, securing the precious vibranium and neutralising as many weapons as they could. The warehouse was stuffed with personnel, yet slowly and surely, the gang is broken down.

He can’t help but become a little distracted as he webs up a few men. He can’t stop looking at you. The way your face is pulled into a magnificent expression of determination as you kick and punch and dodge and defend. Your hair goes flying in arcs around your figure and your movements are so fluid and powerful that it’s like you were born to do this. He’s left awestruck as an overwhelming feeling of love floods his system, and in that moment, Peter knows he’d follow you to the end of the earth if he could.

But his soft expression of adoration drains away as he watches the unthinkable happen. You’ve just punched a man in the gut when another approaches you from the side, and in a sickening manoeuvre, he stabs you in the side with a long, poisoned dagger. Immediately you go down, the material of your suit darkening as you yelp. The sound sends a blast of hot, white rage through Peter. 

He loses it. When the man over you pulls out the dagger and allows a hot rush of blood to leave your side, Peter’s vision burns red. He’s shooting webs in every direction and manages to take down all the remaining targets in about two seconds, and then he’s stumbling to the ground, all the colour drained from his face.

Your face is flushed and your forehead is sticky, and as Peter pressed the flat of his hand into your side to stem the blood, you manage a scattered yelp. Your eyes are wide and terrified. 

“Karen, run diagnostics,” he manages.

“Wound is deep. Poison is lethal. Two minutes until it overwhelms her system.” 

Peter chokes back a sob and pulls off his mask. Two minutes. Even if you’d brought paramedics, he knows it would be a lost cause. 

You’re gazing vacantly at the metal warehouse ceiling as he uses his free hand to shakily cup your face. “Hold on, okay,” he stammers. “Y/N, it’s going to be okay.” 

Even in the face of death, you manage to smile weakly. “Take me outside,” you beg, voice shaky. “I want to see the stars.” 

Peter scoops you up in his arms and manages to apply pressure to your side with one hand as the other swings the both of you out of the warehouse. Luckily you’re quite far out of down, and after using a few trees to gain momentum, Peter finds the rise of a hill and settles you both there. His hands shake and his lungs heave as he gently lies you down in the cool grass, and something a little like peace travels across your face. But it soon vanishes as you shudder, and then you’re grabbing at his arm and squeezing so tightly it feels like you’re ripping his arm from his socket. 

One minute.

“Peter,” you manage, your voice quivering. Peter leans over you, kneeling desperately by your face, his eyes skittering over every line of your familiar skin. He takes in everything: the way your hair is soft and supple and smells of fresh strawberries, the way your eyes are sparkling and seem to draw him in, the way your nose curves perfectly and the deep smile lines that he can imagine forming by your mouth. His heart shatters as he brings his hand to your face and cups your cheek delicately. “Peter.” 

“I’m here,” he mumbles. You clench your finger around his arm as your breathing eases. 

“Get out of this,” you plead. “I- I’m begging you. Find… Find a nice girl, okay? And go to college with her. Maybe get married. Have some kids, even. Go on holidays.” You break off as a torrent of hot tears run down your face. “Live your life.”

Peter thinks about all the times he’d soothed your worries away. All the times he’d said you’d get some time off together eventually. When he’d said you could both go to college. When he’d promised one day you’d be able to settle down and live happily together. And he thinks about how they were just all big, ugly lies.

“You are my life,” is all he can manage. He smooths his hand through your wet hair as he cries too, eyes stinging. 

“Do it for me.” 

Your breathing is slower now, more pained. Peter presses a scattering of kisses to the side of your face and nods his head at the night sky.

“The stars are pretty tonight,” he manages. You gaze up and as the twinkling lights of the stars dance in your eyes, he knows you’re almost gone. He kisses your cheek again, his shaking lips lingering by your ear as he whispers, “I love you, brave girl. You can let go now. Go join the stars.” 

And your lips let out a final, shuddering breath as your eyelids close, the light draining from your face. And Peter folds over on himself, an awful, twisted anguished groan filling the air.

Do it for me, your voice seems to echo through his mind. And Peter cries until his mouth is dry and his lungs burn and he’s heaving, and all he can think about are the empty promises he’d whispered to you, and all the places you won’t walk together. And how that life you’d described - of him, with a nice girl, building a life together - is never going to happen, because you were the love of his life, and now you’re gone. And for the first time in his life, Peter knows he’s truly alone. 

[——]

any feedback? I would love to hear any thoughts you have on this!

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[the-dragons-knight]

FFXIV Write 2020

Prompt #10 - By my Blood

Avail - ‘to have force or efficacy’

- Major Patch 5.3 Spoilers of Shadowbringers MSQ -

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

This wasn’t him. Katsum knew this and yet...to see him - or a face that looked like him - staring down at her with such anger and hatred, his sword posed to strike her down without another thought…

“What is the matter, Warrior?” She heard Elidibus’s sickening voice echo around her from where he hid in the shadows, “What causes your strength to waver so?”

He knew. Of course he knew. It was why he had her fighting him specifically, to push her, to anger her. Well, she would not play his games.

“Fury, guide my blade!” The shade of Lucia shouted as she wound up her swing and brought it down upon Katsum, the Miqo’te blocking it with her shield. There was no hesitation when she pushed away the sword, throwing the shade off balance and opening her guard for Katsum to lunge in and strike. As her sword pierced the shade, “Lucia” crumpled to the ground, her voice crying in agony as she stopped moving. Katsum faltered at the sound of it, only to be knocked off of her feet from behind. She rolled to her side just in time to dodge the blade of Raubahn as he stabbed the ground, the Bull of Ala Mhigo glaring at her and as he drew it again and thrust it down at her. With swiftness, she sat up to avoid the blade, its edge just grazing her hair, and struck out with her own blade to stab through the shade’s chest. “Raubahn” growled, pulling away from her staggering, only to hiss and suddenly charge at her with a cry of battle. Katsum struggled to stand, readying her blade as she shifted around her and sliced through him, the shade crumpling behind her with a rasp of pain.

“They aren’t real...they aren’t real...” Katsum clenched her eyes shut and chanted this quietly to herself, yet when she turned to look at the shade of Aymeric, her hand trembled, “Not real...not real...”

“You underestimate me,” Katsum was shocked, caught off guard by his response, allowing the shade to strike at her and land a blow on her arm. She winced at the pain, yet she did not strike back. He wound up another swing, spinning around to swing at her legs and she jumped back to avoid its range. He was fast though, and caught up to her, striking down at her where she had to lift her shield and hold back against his weight as he pushed down upon her. Then, he let go and she watched his foot fly out and kick her backwards, dropping her shield as she rolled across the tiled ground. She gasped at the pain in her shoulder, using her sword to prop herself up to stand again, turning to face Aymeric again.

“I won’t fight you,” She shook her head as she frowned sadly, speaking then to the air surrounding her, “You cannot make me fight him.”

Aymeric paused, as if something bid him to stop, and for a moment there was silence as neither of them moved.

“We shall see about that,” Elidibus mused from the shadows as Aymeric suddenly charged at her. Katsum barely had enough time to raise her sword to block him as he rammed her, struggling to hold her footing as she slid back. Something touched her shoe and she looked down to see her shield lying there, quickly picking it up and holding it out as the tip of Aymeric’s blade nearly pierced the flesh on her neck. She saw his blade come into view again as he sliced out at her and she rolled under it to get away. She turned back and widened her eyes as she threw out her blade to parry his, pushing against him as she struggled to stand and locked them in their struggle. A tear fell from her eye as she stared back into the hateful gaze of her beloved and cried, “I will not fight you...I cannot...”

He did not answer, only pressed against her harder to try and break her balance, yet she held fast.

“Very well, you have made your point,” Elidibus appeared from the shadows behind Aymeric, “I grow tired of this pointless struggle anyway. Let us move on.”

She thought that Aymeric would simply fade away, but Elidibus lifted a hand and an arrow of darkness shot out and struck Aymeric in the back.

“NO!!” Katsum dropped her blade and caught Aymeric as he fell, cradling him close to her as he stopped moving, “No, no, please!!” She frantically looked for a wound to stop the bleeding from, but there was none. She listened for heartbeat, a breath, any to show he was alive, but there was none. He lay motionless in her arms, and tears poured from her eyes as she leaned over his body and cried, “Don’t leave me...please...please don’t go...”

Her sadness slowly turned to anger as she turned her hate-filled eyes to Elidibus and shouted, “Why!?!”

She watched him blink in surprise, shock filling his eyes like he remembered something. Then that all too familiar pressure in her head began, and she shakenlying breathed and let the Echo take hold…

“Umbra! Noctem, please!” A blonde Elezen woman cried as she held out a hand between her and the dark-haired Elezen man she spoke to, pleading with him to no avail, “My love, please listen to me!”

“Bringer of fire...bringer of chaos...” The man growled as he glared at her, a dark, purple haze over his eyes that Katsum had seen only once before, yet she knew what it was, “I invoke the will of Zodiark...and cut you down!!!”

He shouted as he charged at her with a spear made from dark blue crystal, and she dodged to the side, holding out what looked like an astrolabe to shield herself. The man growled again and swung at her over and over, pushing her further and further back towards the railing of the walkway. The faceless ancients around them all watched in horror, none of them knowing what to do as they stood there.

The woman’s eyes filled with tears as she shook her head, “I will not fight you, my heart! If I must, I will let you harm me, but I will not harm you!”

Still, the man pressed forward, raising his spear to throw at her. She dropped her guard and closed her eyes to let him hit his mark, tears flowing freely as she waited.

“AURORA!!” A flash of light made her winced as she waited for the pain, yet when it did not come, she gasped and her eyes flew open.

“NO!!!” A deep gash punctured through Noctem’s chest, blood and aether already beginning to soak his clothing as he dropped his spear and staggered. Aurora rushed forward to catch him in her arms, laying his head in her lap as she cried, “My love, my moon and sky.” She held out her hand over his chest and focused her healing light upon it, yet no matter how much magic she used, his wound did not heal.

“Azem...Aurora...” She looked down at him to see the purple haze gone from his sea-colored eyes, his sad smile breaking her heart, “You set me free, my love. Thank you...”

“No, no, no! Noctem, please don’t! Please don’t leave me!” He reached out and placed a hand on her cheek, caressing her face as she held it there and sobbed.

“Oh, my sun and stars...I will never leave you...I will always be...right here...” His voice faded and his eyes closed, his hand slipping down to rest on her heart and she grabbed it tightly to hold it there as she watched him fall limp.

“No...Noctem, please…” He did not answer, and Aurora fell upon him as she cried, “Nooooo!”

The crowd around her murmured sadly, some of them crying tears of their own. Aurora sat up slowly as looked back behind where Noctem had been standing, seeing three very clear faces standing there: a very young Elidibus clutching the robes of a stern looking Lahabrea, and Emet-Selch, a faint cloud of purple magic still dancing around his fingers. At first, she opened her mouth to cry out for their help, yet when she saw the magic in Emet’s - Hades’s - hand, she stopped as the pieces fell in place. Suddenly, her jaw tightened and her eyes glared at them with hatred.

“You killed him...WHY!?” Her voice made nearly everyone jump and Elidibus hid further behind Lahabrea in fear.

Hades said nothing, but Lahabrea scoffed, “T’was his own fault that he wandered into my study when he did. I specifically said I was not to be disturbed, so when he opened the door, the darkness enthralled him.” The man shrugged and waved his hand as if to dismiss the matter, “I have killed no one. I am not guilty.”

Hades finally spoke, hissing out at him, “We have spoken on this. There is to be no communing with Him where others might be affected!”

Again, Lahabrea only shrugged, “It is still not my fault he is dead.”

“It is because he was going to kill Azem!”

“I curse the name of Zodiark…” A collective gasp echoed as everyone turned back to Aurora, yet she stared straight into Hades’s eyes with a fury unlike any he had ever seen from her, “I curse the convocation of the fourteen and all it now stands for! I relieve myself from its ranks and vow to be its undoing!”

“Aurora, please,” Hades took a step towards her, yet a flash of light appeared behind her and a talon struck out at him from the glowing phoenix that now floated above her.

“I am Azem, the wanderer, and from this day do I take my title from the Fourteen forever as it is mine alone to weild,” She lifted her husband’s lifeless body into her arms and stood, holding him close as her phoenix landed beside her to let her climb on its back, “The reign of Zodiark shall end, and there will be no need for anyone to sacrifice themselves EVER again...” She laid Noctem on the glowing bird’s feathers and sat behind him, the phoenix shrieking as it lifted into the air once more, the stars twinkling around it as she spoke only once more, “With mine shall it end. By my blood shall this world become as it should be.”

The crowd watched as the phoenix lifted into the skies and flew up into the stars, twinkling as it disappeared from sight, Azem and her Umbra along with it.

Katsum blinked as the Echo faded, suddenly remembering where she was and looking down at her empty arms to find Aymeric was gone. Her trance faded then, her mind settling as it finally believed her that the Aymeric had not been real afterall. She shakingly sighed and stood to her feet, wiping the tears from her face as she gathered her sword and shield again and looked up at Elidibus. He was staring at her, like he was still caught in a memory as she had been. Yet just before she could say anything, his shock faded into a blank expression and he hummed, “We’ve wasted enough time here. Let us move forward. Your journey is not yet finished after all.”

He turned and disappeared into the shadows again, leaving Katsum to stand there alone. The Miqo’te’s ears dropped as she turned and looked up at the city’s tallest buildings, thinking about the vision she saw.

“Aurora...Azem…?”

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Dragon Dancer IV: Love is Death

Early morning, before the sun came up and the song of birds filled the crisp mountain air, the women inhabitants of the small Tibetan village passed by the temple singing religious texts as they made the thirty minute walk to the stream to fetch the day’s water. The line of them was composed of girls as young as fourteen and women as old as eighty-four. Looking at them was like looking at the same woman through time.

The sound of a ringing bell stopped them in their tracks. For them, the bell symbolized Buddha's voice. It called for the protection of heavenly deities and equaled the sound of the Dharma, the entity or law which sustained the order of things in the universe.

They stopped their daily walk, lowered themselves, and bowed, the large wooden buckets still on their backs.

Within the inner courtyard of the temple, the ringing came from the clash of metal on metal, the collision of two swords in the predawn dark wielded by shadows. Their forms flowed like ghosts, only the small puff of the dust of the ground indicated that they still were subject to the laws of gravity.

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

When I talked to people about Chu Zihang, they would mention his stoic, emotionless appearance and tight rigorous way of life. They called him a robot. From when he woke up in the morning, to what he ate during the day, to the position of his body when he slept at night everything in his life was geared toward a singular goal

While he yielded and allowed people their personal preferences, when it came to his own choices, moving him was like trying to move an oak tree.

As I sparred with him, however, his precision, speed and efficiency evoked in my mind the professional violinist. He never never hit a wrong note. Motion and breath were in concert.  A thrust turned into a parry, a parry into a cut, as if following a score I couldn’t see but understood.

His sparring followed an internal logic. When I could follow it, I knew when to strike and when to retreat, keeping that precise distance that would allow me to reach him and prevent him from reaching me. Spinning like planets in orbit, I could feel our music and I smiled despite myself.

“Good.” He said, pausing as we separated. “You’ve improved.”

I leveled my sword at him. “That’s not a compliment coming from you.”

“I’ve been gone for months, and you’ve only gotten better.”

“That’s more like it.”

“I’m going to push you now.”

“Alright.”

Unlike Zihang, I hadn’t trained all my life to be a fighter. For Zihang, fighting was like breathing. Swinging a sword to him was like catching a fly in midair without looking. When he pushed, he broke out of the sheet music and became a jazz composer at the piano, banging out an improvisation that only he could follow.

My job was to turn off the classical music and try to keep up.

He shifted from the traditional Japanese swordplay, weaving strikes from Muy Thuy and kicks from Tae Kwon Do. His posture lured me in with the promise of the familiar steps we had just finished practicing, but it was a trap, always a trap. I examined how his open arm was a potential grapple, watched his feet to see where he might go and had to be prepared to be wrong. My heart pounded and my head filled with uncertainty.

There was no smiling now. He was no longer my dance partner. He was my enemy. He crowded me, eyes intently watching me, breaking down my every move into its component parts and precisely baffling my strategy before I could even move.

Frustrated, I kicked his instep, cut upward and forced him back, but he only retreated a single step, staying in range of Spider Fang’s sword point. I was going to go in for a thrust, but he was still there. I stopped millimeters before I could stab him in the chest, startling that he hadn’t moved out of the way like I expected.

A blow to my chest knocked me down, flat on my back, and I felt a sharp sting on my collarbone.

I opened my eyes, glaring at him. “What was that?! I could have killed you!”

“Probably the most important lesson you’re going to have to learn.” He stared down at me and offered his hand to help me up.

I felt at the sting and my fingertips came back red. “You want me to stab you?” I asked in disbelief.

I held up my bloody hand to him and he pulled me up. “Yes.” 

“That’s kind of ... not the point of sparring you know.” I gave a nervous laugh. “You can’t be serious.”

“I know. But things are a little different now. Do you know why the Execution Department has a policy against couples going into battle together?”

“Because of the Greenland incident right? Something about that mission...” I said, holding my hand to my chest to slow the bleeding.

“That’s right. Anjou explained to me before our wedding. He said, ‘Love is the death of the dragonslayer.’“

We stood in the dark, talking in hushed tones. The temple would be waking up soon. The monks knew the secrets of the dragon clan of course, but we were unwilling to say too much lest the Gattusos somehow found their way here.

“Dragons can read the mind of a human to look for weaknesses. The first thing they hone in on by instinct is human love. It differs from their love, because their love is disposable. They’re willing to kill the people they love to get what they want. They understand that very few humans are willing to do that.”

“Anjou was willing to let me marry you because I killed Jormangandr, a dragon who turned herself into a human, followed me around since I was a boy, and made me love her.”

“Jormangandr took advantage of my feelings to the very end, trusting that, if she appeared to be the person I had fallen in love with, I would allow her to kill me. I played along.”

Zihang stepped forward, wrapped his arm around me in a hug, while I stood stiffly, restraining my taut emotions. The point of a blade against my back made me gasp. “I offered to hug her, just like this.”

The tip of the knife, the one I didn’t know he had hidden on himself, made my skin itch. “She fell for it. She was overconfident. She thought she knew that this was her opportunity to land a fatal blow. Because she knew by now that I loved her. So she hugged me. I stabbed her and she died... very painfully. I had to listen to her screaming, hold her as she struggled.”

I took a deep breath, taking in his scent. I hugged him back.

He kept the tip of the blade against my back even as he kissed the top of my head. “If I hadn’t... I wouldn’t be here. And neither would the world as we know it.”

“You nailed Susie to the floor... knowing who she was..." I said.

“You need to be able to kill me. Or I can’t take you with me, Meixiu. That mindless monster on the boat knew enough to try to use me as a shield against you. We’re going up against someone who can alter memories, peer into our hearts and see our deepest desires. It isn’t a matter of if.”

“You’ll kill me if you have to, right?” I asked him.

“Yes.” 

I raised my head to look up at him. He lifted his hand and ran his thumb down my cheek. 

“Then its only fair. That way, only one of us has to die.” I said.

“It’s easy to say. Let’s go again.” He let me go and walked away, lifting Tongzi against me.

“If I’m going to kill you, I’m not going to use this.” I turned the hilt of Spider Fang to him.

He lowered his sword and walked up to me to take the sword. Instead, I pulled the spear of light from the latent energy of the Chaos in the Void. It dazzled in the dark, lighting my face, giving off a soft hiss.

My heart quivered as I faced him, my expression sad. It wasn’t even the real thing, and yet it was. If I didn’t have a killing intent, then Zihang would view this spar as unsuccessful and wouldn’t let me go with him.

“I will kill you,” I said, feeling the tears rise. “I have to trust you not to die!”

I moved faster than the eye could follow. My spear left a blackened mark on the dirt where he stood but he was no longer there. 

The spear turned and chased him.

Tongzi, the Alchemy long knife, could actually withstand the powerful energy in the Chaos Spear enough for it to repel. Zihang used it, smacking the tip of the spear away from his face. 

One was not enough to kill him. 

I summoned another to my side and sent it after him. They hovered, pointing at him from left and right. He held still, his ears listening. I squinted at him and decided on left first, since I was right handed. 

The left spear dove in and the right followed quickly. Zihang moved back, raising the blade to parry them both. The spears bent around the blade and kept their trajectory. He jumped high enough to clear an eight foot fence and they followed him, one upward, the other anticipating where he would land.

He twisted in mid air and dodged them both.

I hissed and summoned a third after him. 

He spun like a top striking all three.

The more I summoned, the harder they were to control. While two would move, aiming at his head and heart, the third would lag behind, forgotten in my mind until I gave it instructions.

Zihang immediately picked up on this. As soon as I attacked, one spear in front, the other behind, he dove behind the motionless third, using it as his own defense!

The Chaos spears of light collided and sent a shockwave through the courtyard.

I saw an opening. I summoned another, remotely, near to him. Sound was his only warning. He lashed out with Tongzi to stop it and the spear wrapped up the blade like a serpent. He dropped it and rolled away.

Were we done? I didn’t know. He didn’t say we were.  I summoned a spear high in the air above him, a pinpoint of light, out of sight and then I summoned a dozen spears to ring him in a tight circle to keep him from moving.

In my mind, I gave the floating spear over head instructions to fall and let go of it, not altering the trajectory.

Zihang knew I couldn’t control all of these at once. He struck out at them, knocking two away and then turned to look for an attack from behind that didn’t come. I saw the flash of the whites of his eyes.

He looked up and I closed my eyes tightly shut. Everything in me screamed to stop the attack to vanish the spear coming down on him. My heart burned, the fire spreading to every limb. 

A blast of intense heat was like a sunburn on every patch of skin not protected by clothing. I opened my eyes. “Zihang!”

The ground was smoldering, the dust black and sparkling with hot embers where he had been. I looked around until I saw him, pushing himself up from the ground to sit up.

I ran to him, collapsing into his arms, sobbing. “Are you okay? Did I hit you?”

“You came very close.” His shirt was split open, the skin underneath bleeding in a straight line.

Gasping, I covered my mouth with my hand.

He chuckled. “Sword of Damocles?”

“Yes...” I whimpered.

“You used Susie’s technique... the ring of blades.” He nodded once. He looked at my face, the tears there. He had to see how much I was trembling, like I would shake myself apart. If he hadn’t used Royal Fire to propel himself away, he would have died instantly.

The lights came on all over the temple and people were shouting.

He stood up, bringing me with him. I leaned against him. “Okay... let’s go... this probably woke up Ru’Yi.”

[inviouswriting]

Ignipotent

Presiding over fire.

Mentions of  the polyship with @maiden-born-in-snow

Just a bit of a spar between Kivera and Ardbert. 

Ardbert had seen questioned Kivera’s ability to use other weapons than her traditional scythe. He was curious to know if the reaper was truly one who had been trained in all manners of weapons like himself. Estinien had to even see this, so the two of them arranged a spot. Out in the Dravanian Hinterlands, an abandoned area that Estinien and Kivera knew of.

Shuri and Divinity sat on the edges of the stairs, with Estinien a bit closer to watch them, The twins seated next to him, while Shuri holds Ysayle close. Kivera had removed most of her outer wears down to the one piece cat-suit she wears underneath all of her main clothes. Ardbert chooses monk for this exchange wanting to trade blows as close as possible to the reaper. 

Kivera holds her scythe up and the first time he sees her shapeshifting manipulation into her weapon. Two ornate sabers are held in her hands, and she is graceful in how she moves with them. A few spins in her hands and holding them up and guarded. Ardbert sees this as an invitation to begin, learning from previous fights that she never strikes first. 

Ardbert rushes her first, and throws a punch her way, and Kivera is right there spinning on her heel to the side, while using the flat of the blade in her left hand to slap against his back. A deadly grin on her lips, as Ardbert rebounds, and sees her playful in this, he throws another punch and speeds up, she almost dances around his hands while blocking them with her swords. 

Begins their exchanges of him throwing attacks and her parrying them with her weapons or dodging them with grace to where she lands on an arm he has extended out. Kivera jumps off back and he is almost reminded of another time. Kivera starts returning his power in her strikes with the flat on key points on his body.

“Open.” He hears her murmur, he’s confused then feels the heat with the hit of her blade against his back again. She had added fire to the mix, he notes how the flames only feel hot, but do nothing to scorch him or burn him. She rules over the element.

“I think that unfair that you are using power.” Ardbert chides her, Kivera only gives him a smirk.

“Do I need to go easy on you?” A taunt he shakes his head at with a laugh.

“Go easy on me? I think we know who would win in a real fight. You made that painfully obvious that one day.” Ardbert sees the proud gleam in her eyes, even a flash of brighter green in her pride.

 “We do indeed. So I ask again, do I need to go easy on you? Can’t take the fire?” Kivera raises one of her blades and lets dark green flames dance over it. Ardbert shakes his head, and prepares himself for the spar to get harder.

“No, in fact, you going too easy on me would make me look bad in front of the girls.” 

“Not like you look good either right now.” He hears her banter, and even laughs at her. Kivera dips the other sword into the water, and Ardbert dashes at her, when he gets close she swipes upwards to create steam with the slash. Ardbert puts his arms in front of him.

“Side~” He feels heat against his left side and power with her hit knocking him off and a few feet. He rebounds and counters her next attack as she leaps with her feet at him, he is thankful she isn’t wearing her boots. He gets feet on his arm and ducks underneath her swinging both weapons towards his head. Ardbert shakes her off and puts distance between them, only to be chased by her.

Kivera on the next hit thrown her way grabs an arm and swings herself to sit on his arm as he raises up. She even uses a foot to make him look at her, Ardbert does and is met with a fireball blown at him from her mouth. 

“Damn you!” He shakes her off and feels her slip down in front of him, only to send another heat blast with steam upwards. Ardbert steps back in time and turns to parry the next attack when she slips behind him from under his legs.

He misses through an after image, and he blocks another jump attack to have her slide down his back, at his feet he feels cold through ice and jumps so he isn’t frozen in place. 

“Ardbert! Need a hand?” Estinien calls out, he is impressed at this side of their supernatural lover. How she hides her prowess, and how slippery she really is.

“No! Shuri won’t let me live it down if I did!” Ardbert focuses on the being dancing circles around him, even getting a kick to his face when she ends up on an arm again, slipping backwards to avoid him trying to grab her. Kivera hasn’t let him get a single hit on her except when she uses his momentum against him to elbow him in his abdomen and toss him using a heat blast.

“I’m not going to let you live it down if you lose to her either!” Shuri is entertained by this, seeing their own hold herself so well against the former warrior of light. Kivera lets Ardbert nearly catch her, only to feint to his left and blow another fireball his way, this catches him off guard raising his arms to fend off the flames.

“Open~” She is in close and uses his arms up to lay a full kick into his stomach. He is sent back enough and raises his head in time to see her before she flits and he braces his side where she strikes at him again.

Ardbert catches her on one of her hands, and squeezes her left to make her drop one sword, not anticipating the heat he feels from her when he does. Flames dance over his arm and he lets go of her. Letting her have enough space to use those flames as a whip upwards to lash his face. Once she has distance she uses that same ability to pick her dropped sword up and back into her hand.

Kivera sees him look at her bewildered.

“Elements master, remember?” She half sneers, and Ardbert wonders if he picked the right class to fight her. He charges her, a stronger punch thrown her way, only to see her jump and land on his arm again. He shakes her off, and she flips over his back, lands behind him, pivoting on her heel to deliver another kick to the backs of his knees making him buckle down on them. 

Kivera then grabs a handful of his hair, and pulls him back by it till he is looking up at her, she has a full grin on her face as she poises the blade in her right hand over her head and he for a second fears she would end him right there. Only to have her lower her head down and give him a full kiss. He is taken back by this, and doesn’t know if he should accept it or fight her longer. 

“I win.” He hears her say between them, and he accepts this defeat. He is then uncermoniously dropped from her letting go of him, and giving him a devilish wink before running over to Shuri and Divinity to accept pets and praise.

Estinien shakes his head at how fast the reaper turns off just like that. As if she just didn’t literally dance in flames and blades around Ardbert. He goes over to help the hyur up.

“I think that settles it, she’s exactly as she claims to be? We best stay on her good side from now on?” He notes how Kivera has already draped herself across Divinity’s lap while resting her head in Shuri’s letting Shuri rest Ysayle on top of her head. Kivera feels the weight of the twins on her back running their hands through her feathers. Freya wanting her to fight Estinien next.

“I will later.”

“What!?” Estinien’s head perks up at the idea of fighting her in front of them all. And losing.

“What? Did you think I was only going to trounce Ardbert?” Estinien looks at her pleading.

“After that?! You’re not tired at all?”

“Estinien, who are you talking to? You think that was enough to wear me? A spirit out? Let alone one like me who fights day in and day out for fun? Ha! I think you should remember how much stamina I have.” Lexan fits underneath Kivera’s white wing. 

“Have mercy, I’d like to keep my pride in tact today.”

“Oh.. are we prideful? All the more to make you fall a few times. Pride cometh before the fall.” Divinity rolls her eyes at her leader, and reaches a hand through Kivera’s hair to calm her down a bit.

“I think we should leave one of my husbands able to carry these girls back.” Shuri defends Estinien, showing some mercy on the elezen and sparing him from Kivera’s  antics.

“Aww, I’ll just have to do it a different day then.” Estinien sees Kivera lower her head, and Shuri mouths to him. “You owe me.”

“Yes, princess.” Estinien agrees. 

[kat-hawke]

Qwor wgah za kaaxth

(Following [Open Doorways] These events run in tandem with [Darkened Woods, Darkened Vale], which provides Alyssa’s point of view.)

The assault on the Vale of Eternal Blossoms had heightened since her last visit. The Old God’s influence spread wider and likely deeper, the count of eyes and gaping maws had increased tenfold. Tendrils of various sizes twisted and restricted the landscape, armies of N’Zoth were now embedded across the landscape, torment camps and ritual sites peppered the Vale.

Lingering on the rocky overlook from the secret mountain pass Kat looked upon the land below as Pandaren, Horde, and Alliance forces all clashed with the twisted minions in the clearing between the Shrines. For now, neither side gained any ground, the Golden Pagoda appeared to be the choke point that the denizens of Azeroth couldn’t seem to pass.

‘Gul'kafh an'shel. Yoq'al shn ky ywaq nuul.’ The dark whisper clawed at her mind as she watched the horrors below.

Eyes squeezed shut with an groan of discomfort, fingers pinching the inner corners and rolling softly as if hoping to relieve a headache which did not exist. Whispers and illusions had grown stronger over the last couple weeks but Kat continued to ignore the warnings. Shaking her head with a heavy breath she slipped the dark leather hood over her head and began her descent along the mountain edge.

The pull of the void grew with each step she took, feeling as if the massive eyes protruding from the patches of dark flesh within the valley were staring right through her soul. For the first time since Kat had flung her into the wall Alyssa spoke up.

"This makes it harder to preserve the power you've put into the dagger."  

Kat could feel the subtle tugs of the woman within the dagger working to preserve both sanity and soul.

"I have faith in your strength." Spoken without sarcasm, in a hardly recognizable sincere tone as she leapt across a weathered crack in the narrow stone path.

It took a moment before Alyssa responded, having been caught off guard. “Thank you. Work quickly. I will hold off the worst of it.”

"Quickly is the idea, but we'll see.” Her gaze scanned the burial grounds as she came to a halt on a small outcrop, crouching low in hopes of remaining undetected. “There's a lot more here than before. I'd say stay put, but."

"I wouldn't listen if I was there in person."

Slowly Kat nodded beneath the hood, muttering a soft ‘exactly’ under her breath before continuing the descent. Shadows shifted with life as they were pulled over the Director’s figure like a cloak, keeping to the outskirts of the burial grounds all the same as she speculated the larger Faceless would see right through her magic.

Pausing for a moment she quickly scanned the area, spotting on the far end a set of three ancient pandaren souls which had been pulled into this realm by the two k’thir who worked to twist the center most soul. Dispatching them wouldn’t be a problem, but the increased number of beheaders and faceless since the last excursion were a problem. 

Eyes narrowed as she pieced together a plan to move, her thoughts interrupted by a whisper that dragged across the mind like nails on a chalkboard.

‘Nothing you do is beyond my sight.’

Immediately Kat snapped her gaze to the left, finding the source of the insidious whisper. A single orange eye floating in the air, staring the director down, seeing straight through her shadowy stealth.

“Shit.”

With the single curse uttered she let a knife fly, the blade finding its mark in the center of the eye. With a piercing shrill the orb shriveled inward on itself until evaporating in a cloud of red and black smoke. The sound of its demise altering the forces around. Black beady eyes and helmet covered visages all turning to the Director’s position.

A tone of annoyance hung on her breath as the cloak of shadows was cast aside. Gloved fingers collecting the mechanical hilts from either hip. Thumbs flicked against the switches at the top of each, snapped the wrists to spin the hilts over as they unfolded for a second before fingers pulled them whole again. The blade within springing from the hidden position to unfold to the full extent with a click.

The first enemy charged; one of the human beheaders, the sword scrapping along the stones as it gained speed. Closing it raised the weapon overhead, bringing the sword down where the Director stood. A skillful pivot on one leg evaded the attack, using the momentum to dart forward in a low stance and drag her own blade across the beheader’s knee. Metal scrapped against metal as the attack proved ineffective. 

Her opponent swung a second time, bringing the sword around in one hand as it turned to face her. The opportunity to strike was slim but Kat took it, lifting one of her own swords to catch the attack. The folding blades couldn’t withstand a direct parry against the larger blade and Kat knew it, angling her’s so the barbed guard of the blade would catch.

As the weapons sung in their collision she capitalized on the kinetic energy, forcing the beheader’s arm up and over as she ducked beneath. The second sword lunging upward where the plate armor ceased to exist under the arm. Dark, almost black blood spewed from the wound as the blade receded from it’s strike, the Director stepping away in the half spin and shoving the opponent away. The larger form crashed to the ground with a heavy thump, starting to push itself up no sooner than it had hit the stones.

Both swords were held in one hand as fingers swept over the azerite stone that hung around the neck, drawing the stored energy into the palm, the euphoric sensation coursing through the Director’s very core. Fingers curled inward as the arm reached outward towards the struggling foe, the blast of fire singeing the glove as it snuffed out the twisted minion.

With a cant of the head her attention turned to the next set of approaching challengers, tossing the sword back to the hand before moving in. Sounds of blades colliding filled the air, magical discharge after discharge scared the surrounding landscape and armor of herself and foe alike. 

After several long moments she stood victorious over the half dozen bodies, panting heavily as she scanned the area for any further threats but none were to be found.

‘For every one you cut down a dozen more will take their place.’

The booming voice caught her off guard, causing her to stagger where she stood, boots shuffling on the stone to maintain her balance. Eyes shutting for a moment as the nose wrinkled up, ignoring the voice despite the urge to respond. Slowly her gaze lifted to the obsidian well the followers had constructed. A red hue radiated from within as a large stone tablet hovered in the air above, flanked by shattered pieces of tables on either side.

There was something beckoning Kat towards the well, tugging invisible strings she couldn’t help but follow. One foot in front of the other she moved closer, incoherent whispers flicking against the hears with each step she took. The brief moment of respite from fighting let her guard drop, distracted by the urge to investigate the potential power stored within the well.

The moment of mental fixation came to an abrupt end as the massive arm of a faceless dominator crashed into her side, sending the Director’s tumbling across the stones, swords knocked from her hands and sliding to either side. Dazed and disoriented Kat tried rushing to her feet, head still spinning from the blow as she staggered to a stand. Seeing double of the foe that rushed she tried to discharge another blast of azerite, choosing the wrong target from the two and missing completely.

Wasting the small window of opportunity the faceless came crashing down upon her. The three “fingers” of the largest hand wrapping firmly around her head, the leather hood doing little in the way of protection as it was torn from the armor. Like a vice the tentacles constricted around the skull and upper body, screams of pain muffled against the dark flesh. The monstrous creature flaying her mind within it’s grasp, speaking in the guttural tongue.

‘Sk'shuul agth vorzz N'Zoth naggwa'fssh.’

Writhing within the creatures grasp she choked and struggled for air, the challenge greater as her mind was assaulted. Memories pulled apart and reconstructed in horrific visions. One hand anxiously patted around the belt, searching for another blade, anything to try and free herself with.

A screech one could only associate with anger came from the faceless being as it slammed the Director into the ground within it’s hold. The resulting shock wave knocking the air from her lungs and clouding the mind. The overwhelming sensation of the void pouring into her thoughts tore through her very core, the body naturally rejecting the invasion.

‘Gul'kafh an'qov N'Zoth.’

Reality shattered as Kat’s vision was flooded with a vision of the Sleeping City. Dark obsidian and red hues twisted into view, wicked temples and obelisks stretching as far as the eye could see. Devotees and acolytes moving through the chiseled streets. Massive maws opened from the rivers of blood, countless minions of the Old God pouring from the open hole.

‘KYTH ag'xig yyg'far IIQAATH ONGG!’

Sanity began to crumble as her physical form curled up in the pain. Screams were drowned out by the creatures hold as the vision within continued to twist and grow. Sinister eyes now focusing on her within the mental space, the feeling of loss becoming overwhelming with each passing second. Fear set in as hopelessness washed over the breaking psyche.

A desperate plea was made, one final act before accepting the end. The azerite crystal on her neck was nearly depleted, unsure if enough energy remained to break the strong grasp of the faceless. Drawing upon what little she could find without physically reaching the vision slowed, buying precious seconds of clarity that couldn’t go to waste.

Without hesitation one hand reached across the waist to the dagger sheathed on the thigh. Breaking it free with a swift tug and sinking it into the pulsating arm of the faceless beast. It was a high risk move that put Alyssa directly in harm’s way, a risk she was willing to take if it meant survival.

Another round of ear piercing shrills emanated from the dominator as it dropped the Director against the solid ground and stumbled backwards. The other arm of the creature was nothing more than a single tendril which proved unable to grasp the dagger for removal, not that it could anyway.

Sucking in a deep breath as she clenched the leather at her chest Kat laid on the stone and shifted her gaze to the dagger. It’s glow growing brighter as it siphoned the life force from the faceless, a fleeting moment of panic for the warlock within crossed the Director’s mind as she watched the creature crash to the ground in a shriveled and colorless husk.

Pushing herself to her feet as she panted Kat stumbled her way towards the fallen creature, sounds of footsteps behind her prompting her attention to shift over the shoulder. A sigh of defeat rolled over the lips as she spotted another group of beheaders making their way down from the upper level of the burial ground.

As quickly as her feet would allow Kat scrambled for the soul-bound weapon, tugging it free from the withered flesh of the faceless and attempting to draw power from the blade itself. She was met with resistance as the warlock within refused to let her have the dark energy which had been siphoned.

"No.  You're out of balance, you can't have this." Alyssa’s voice quickly called out.

Spinning around the face approaching foes Kat growled beneath her breath, panic gracing her tone. "Fucks sake, now is not the time to be greedy!"

"It's not greed, this thing is pure void and insanity, you can't have this in your current state."

Beheaders were only a few steps away, the Director shouting aloud and within their telepathic connection as her eyes widened in alarm. "Alyssa!"

Whatever the warlock had said in response was lost as Kat focused solely on the power that was relinquished to her. Greedily she absorbed everything, forcing every once of energy back across the blade as it swept across the air. Each foot moved to carry the motion to completion, the amount of power that arced across the arm seared pain that reached her core, a deafening scream was let out but did little to ease the pain.

A wave of dark matter cut through the air where the dagger trailed, rushing forward in a large sweeping arc. The volatile strike cleaved the beheaders in half at the waist, moving through the foes until it reached the torment cells beyond. Unfortunately for the innocent pandaren hostages within, the cells gave way to the blast, resulting in the prisoners also sheared in two.

Weak and drained Kat collapsed to the ground again, catching herself on the hands and knees as the dagger clattered to the ground beside her. Vision blurred as she fought to catch her breath, bile lurching upward and spewing on the stones as she coughed. The left arm was completely numb, remnants of the void burns smoldering on the destroyed leather.

Heaving a few more breaths she looked to the dagger beside her, the pale glow of the soul within was much dimmer now than it had ever been before. “No...” Was all she could manage to get out, just barely above a whisper as a shaking hand reached for the hilt of the blade.

Sitting back on her haunches she pulled the dagger into her lap, staring with worry to the faint glow of the engravings. Swallowing hard between her heavy breaths she reluctantly asks, “Alyssa?”

"Here," Alyssa replies almost immediately, though a bit exhausted. "Over?"

Kat’s head rolled back with a weak smile as a faint feeling of relief washed away the previously held concern. “Yeah, let’s just get what we came for.”

"Thank goodness," some clear relief in her tone as well. "That got bad.  I could use a top up if you find anything uncorrupted to stab."

"Doubtful.” Kat’s gaze shifted to the cleaved Pandaren on the other side of the field. “Just make do."

Pushing herself to stand as Alyssa responded with a simple ‘I'm good at that.’ Kat took a moment to regain her bearings, moving slowly at first as her body raced to catch up in its current condition. Collecting the swords she had lost in the scuffle they were folded inward and the hilts were returned to the clips on the belt.

Attention turned then to the ancient pandaren souls she had come for, making her way to the disturbed graves were the golden incorporeal forms hung in the air over head. Drawing the Gilnean dagger again she sunk it into the heart of a soul, watching with hunger as it was drained.

[ @alyssa-ward​ ] [ Slight relevance: @simplysoriya​ ]

(Chapter I: Dark Secrets) ( [pt.I] [pt.II] [pt.III] [pt.IV] [pt.V] [pt.VI] )

[baconsoupforthesoul]

LET’S GET DOWN TO BUSINESS

A/N: I have been meaning to write something for the BATIM Space Pirate au for some time now, and I got inspired to write this one-shot after seeing this lovely art from Trashboatprince. Harrison in this au belongs to the wonderful @inkspottie and Hugo belongs to the amazing @trashboatprince and briefly mentioned is the lovely @doberart‘s Henry. I hope you all enjoy~

Harrison closed his eyes and took in a deep breath, letting his lungs slowly fill up with air before slowly exhaling. He tried to focus his mind before opening his eyes and extending his metal bo staff. He slid his left foot back till he was in the fighting stance that Henry had taught him. Now, how did that form start again? Harrison jabbed with his staff before stepping back so his right foot was directly behind his left. He moved the bo staff in front of him as if writing a “J” in the air. Henry had told him that this was like a parry, mean to hook around an opponent's weapon and moving it out of the way. Harrison then spun on the balls of his feet so that he was facing to the right, twirling the bo staff with him so that it ended up underneath his armpit. He swung the bo staff up as if to hit his imaginary opponent under the chin, before bringing it down into an overhead strike.

Harrison continued practicing the forms Henry had taught him, occasionally fumbling with his staff or missing a step or two. He was doing a lot better than he was before though, especially since that one time when he had hit himself in the face. Harrison was really starting to get a handle on his new weapon and he couldn’t wait to show Henry his progress. For now though he was content to practice by himself, it was a nice break from constantly being made fun of by-

Clap, clap, clap, clap

Harrison jumped and spun around to see Hugo leaning casually on the doorway, slowly clapping as he smirked at him.

“Not bad, Dainty Hands,” He drawled, stepping into the room as he shoved his hands into the pockets of his trench coat.

“Did you need something Hugo?” Harrison sighed, not in the mood to put up with the mutt’s antics today. “I’m a little busy right now.”

“I can see that. The air won’t know what hit it,” Hugo chuckled. “Has Henry just had you swinging your little stick at nothing this whole time? You know actual enemies are gonna fight back, not wait for you to get into the proper stance?”

“I’m just practicing Hugo,” Harrison huffed. “I can’t fight anyone if I don’t practice.”

“Sure short stack, but practicing by yourself is only gonna get ya so far,” Hugo pointed out.

“Well, if you know so much why don’t you help me then?” Harrison grumbled.

“Hmmm,” Hugo tapped his chin in thought, before walking towards the side of the room, taking off his coat as he went. “Not a bad idea,” Hugo said as he strapped on some pads to his arms and elbows.

“What… what are you doing?” Harrison lowered his bo staff and stared wide-eyed at Hugo.

“Helping you practice, dummy,” Hugo told him, rolling his eyes. “It’s one thing to know how to hit someone, but it’s another thing to know where to hit someone.”

“O-okay,” Harrison felt completely thrown for a loop. Sure, he liked Hugo, he was an invaluable ally and could be funny, sometimes. But outside of watching his back in a fight, this was one of the first times Hugo had offered to help him without prompting. The two of them had gotten off to a rocky start when Harrison turned Hugo in for trying to steal the Seraphim. Since then Hugo enjoyed nothing more than poking fun of the Deiman and pulling pranks on him with Bendy. But every since that incident with his brothers well… the half-breed had been slightly nicer to him as of late. It didn't feel like pity for what happened though, more like the two of them had finally come to an understanding, though they still tended to bicker like cats and dogs.

“Now, you want to hit somewhere that it’s really gonna hurt. You want to incapacitate them to leave them open for a harder attack, ya got that?” Hugo explained, stepping in front of Harrison.

“Got it,” Harrison nodded, looking eager to learn.

“Elbows and knees are pretty good targets, and a strong enough hit to the upper arm may make their arm go limp for a second,” Hugo told him as he motioned to where he placed the pads. “Going for the hands is good if they’ve got a weapon, but for now let’s assume you’re fighting someone who's unarmed.” Hugo stepped back into a defensive stance. “Now, let’s put that knowledge to the test.”

Harrison nodded, getting into a defensive stance of his own. “Now, I’m not gonna go full force on you Danity Hands,” Hugo assured him. “This is just practice. I’ll up the ante once you know what you’re doing. But for now, we’ll take this nice and-”

Hugo didn't get a chance to finish his thought before Harrison swung at him with his staff, causing the half-bred to jump back to avoid getting hit. “What? Not expecting that?” Harrison taunted him, sticking out his tongue, as he had heard that this was how humans mocked each other.

“Ohhhh, fighting dirty are we? I like it.” Hugo smirked at him before lunging forward, causing the Deiman to stumble back. Harrison attempted to jab him with his staff but Hugo sidestepped him. Harrison moved forward and swung his bo staff, managing to hit the pad on Hugo’s elbow. “There ya go, know we’re getting somewhere!” Hugo chuckled. “A lot better than swinging at nothing, am I right?” He asked as he swung out his arm into a back fist that Harrison blocked.

“Yeah!” Harrison agreed, feeling the adrenaline coursing through his system. The two of them continued sparing, Hugo occasionally taunting him or giving him tips on his technique. While Harrison wasn’t fond of violence, he found that sparing with Hugo was actually fun. It wasn’t like when his brothers used to fight and hurt him. They had only wanted to cause him pain, making it a game to see how fast they could get him to cry. He had felt helpless and scared, powerless to stop them. But with Hugo, it almost didn't feel like a fight at all. It was as if they were playing really, neither one wanting to hurt the other. Hugo was trying to teach him so the blows he landed on Harrison weren’t that painful. And Harrison wasn’t going out of his way to hurt Hugo either, merely trying best him in their little sparring match.

As Harrison found himself considering the differences between fighting his brothers versus Hugo, he lost focus enough for Hugo to knock his staff out of his hands. “Eyes here short stuff,” Hugo motioned to himself. “Never take your eyes off your-AHHH!” Hugo yelped as Harrison leaped forward and tackled him, sending them both down onto the mats the covered the floor. ‘Why you little-!” Their sparring match quickly descended into a wrestling match as the two of them rolled along the floor, trying to get the upper hand. “Now I got ya!” Hugo declared as he managed to get on top of Harrison, wrapping one of his arms around his torso and rubbing his fist into Harrison's fluffy hair, giving the poor Deiman a nuggie.

“Ahhh, get off of me!” Harrison cried, trying to buck Hugo off of him as the half-bred merely laughed. Harrison managed to spin around in his hold and attempted to push Hugo off of him. His hand hit Hug’s armpit and the man let out a hysterical giggle as his arm spasmed, causing him to topple off of Harrison.

“Stop that, it tickles!” Hugo complained, standing up and looking down at a bewildered Harrison.

“What? What do you mean tickles? What does that word mean?” Harrison asked, not understanding.

“Uhhh,” A green flush appeared on Hugo’s checks. “It-it’s nothing. Uh, I think that’s enough practice for one day. I’m gonna just,” Hugo didn't even finish his sentence or grab his coat as he hurried out of the room, leaving a confused Harrison behind. What did he mean by “that tickles”? Harrison knew he would have to ask the others about this one. After all, he thinks he may have just found Hugo’s ‘weakness’.

[harunoheart]

Oneirophrenia C3

Oneiropherenia C3-Training

———-

Sakura Haruno

———-

We arrived at the training grounds at 5:00am, the sky was still dark but the stars have dispersed with the approaching sunrise. The walk was silent and the static of anticipation was making the hair on the back of my neck stand on end.

I was excited.

Sasuke is skilled but I haven’t really experienced it one on one. He always trained with Naruto or Kakashi. I had a slight advantage as Sasuke hasn’t fought me yet. I just hoped my training helps me keep up.

“Taijutsu only.” Sasuke said, placing his katana gently against  one of the posts. “I don’t want to attract too much attention...or cause too much damage.”

I undid my hip holster and threw it on the ground next to Sasuke’s sword. Grabbing my left wrist with my right hand I stretched up and pulled my shoulders back to warm up a little. “Fine by me,” I said.

We walked out into the middle of the field and stood across from each other. Sasuke’s cape rustled in the wind. His hair fluttering over his rinnegan eye.

“I won’t use it.” He said.

“Don’t hold back.” I challenged. We bowed to each other and jumped back.

Sasuke flash stepped behind me, and I ducked with a low spinning kick. He dodged and landed face to face with me. With only one arm, Sasuke relies more on kicking attacks. I dodged.

I dodged again and again and again, dancing around his kicking pattern always just a hair out of reach. He chased me, never giving me an opportunity to parry.

Finally I caught his ankle with the top of my foot and tripped up his balance just enough to give me an opening. I threw a punch and he blocked it with his forearm and backed away.

“My turn.” I charged toward him and threw hit after hit. He blocked all of them with precision and I felt his hand catch my wrist and tried to redirect it. I rolled out of the grip and he let go.

“You move like Lee.” He said backing up into a fighting stance once more.

“Lee-san was kind enough to teach me a few things over the years,” I said, readjusting my gloves before resuming the fight. “I’ve learned a lot more than Taijutsu too,” I winked and charged at him again.

We traded punches and kicks until the sun rose but neither of us landed anything. It felt like dancing with him. I was trained to dodge rapid fire attacks with precision, stepping always just out of the way and using my footwork to gain an advantage. Sasuke on the other hand had years of stored knowledge from different fights, so he could change his fighting style with the turn of his wrist.

Sasuke was at a disadvantage with Taijutsu having only one hand to punch and guard but he didn’t let that slow him down at all. You can tell that over the years away he didn’t slack off just because of his injury, he just adapted.

I started to get angry. I wanted to hit him. I needed to land at least one punch. Purely out of a personal sense of pride, I wanted him to feel fear for just a moment...

I started coming at him not inconsistently, feinting and trying to trip him up with a few half-punches. Finally I managed to land one swift punch to his abdomen and I sent him flying backwards. I could hear the breath get knocked out of his lungs on the impact. His feet dragging across the dirt as he skidded to a stop.

“Ichi,” I said smiling, my breath heaving with fatigue. Sasuke spit the blood from his mouth and charged at me, flash stepping behind me at the last second. I turned to block but he redirected the guard and flipped me over so fast I didn’t see the ground until my cheek was resting in the grass. He had my right arm twisted behind my back and I felt his weight pressing my body down in a hold, his left knee pressed against my left elbow, pinning me to the field.

“Ichi.” I felt his breath move the hair on the back of my neck. “Get out of it.”

I smirked and concentrated my chakra to the little diamond on my forehead.

Then I slammed my face into the dirt.

The ground shook with a tremor and the trees tumbled and rustled with the moving earth. I felt his grip loosen and seized my moment to wrench my hand free. I sent an elbow into his ribcage and took off running.

“Ni!” I shouted as I ran, the exhilaration of my success racing through my veins as I picked up speed.

Sasuke bent over with the impact, but ran after me not long after. I jumped through the trees, trying to lose him in the branches. I could hear his steps echoing mine through the trees. I debating using a jutsu or a weapon but that would be cheating. Thankfully, chakra control doesn’t count.

And that’s my specialty.

I jumped to a tree on my left and used a branch to swing myself upwards. I watched Sasuke sprint past me and then dropped down to the forest floor with a satisfied smirk when suddenly my back hit the rough tree bark and I felt the wind escape my lungs with the impact. Sasuke pressed his body up against mine with a decent amount of force and held me there, both of us breathing heavily.

“Ni. Get out of it,” He said again.

His voice was low and threatening but it sent shivers down my spine. I must be sadistic. His threat made a rebellious fire burn inside of me, I wanted nothing more than to prove him wrong.

I tucked my chin and rolled against his body but he grabbed the back of my shirt and spun me. I used the momentum to land a kick to his side and he blocked the impact with his thigh but he let go.

Sasuke charged towards me again, his right arm poised to strike. I dodged and switched up my approach. I dragged my hand softly around his outstretched fist, placing my hand right where I needed to be to lock his shoulder and flip him over. We hit the ground hard, my knees scraping on the exposed tree roots that lifted in the earthquake I caused. I sat down on his chest and used my thighs to squeeze his shoulders together.

I couldn’t help but feel myself grin triumphantly. I brushed the hair from out of his face and looked at the rinnegan underneath. It’s purpleish hue reflected the now blue sky above. I could see where the color around his iris was more saturated. Where the whites of his eye should be instead there was a cloudiness with the black tome slowly spinning with the shimmer of fresh ink that chakra seals have. These eyes have a life of their own, in a way. Sasuke stayed still underneath me and watched as I observed all the details.

“Does it scare you?” He asked softly. I adjusted my focus and looked at his face. He was so hard to read but the softness of his question and the lack of tension in his eyebrows told me he was asking me honestly.

I brushed the hair further out of his face and just said “No.” I didn’t even have to think twice about it.

Without warning, he grabbed my wrist and used his legs to flip me over onto my back.   The air got knocked out of my lungs with the impact on the hard floor and his face leaned in closely to my left ear.

“It should,” He said softly, “It scares me.”

He pulled back just far enough to look at me, tome spinning hypnotically.

“Get out of it.”

—-

I sat on the floor of my shower, pulling the leaves from my hair and healing all the little scrapes and cuts that I could find.

My hands traced up my legs with healing chakra and smoothed the skin over until there wasn’t a scab to be seen.

I pressed my back up against the cold tile and let the water run over my face in a hot stream that trickled off of my eyelashes.

“Get out of it.”

His voice echoed in my left ear. I remember how close his face came to mine. How his breath felt against my cheek.

The water trickled over my lips in a gentle caress and I imagined Sasuke running his finger across my lower lip...

I ran my fingers through my wet hair and let out and annoying groan as I leaned my head back against the wall. The latter part didn’t really happen but I couldn’t help but wish that for a second that he had leaned in and I could kiss him just once just to know what I felt like.

The water trickled down my face, along my lower lip and I closed my eyes, imagining it play out like a dream I’ve had a thousand times. The hot water stung my raw skin a little bit but it felt so purifying in a way that made me savor it a little longer than usual. This would probably be my last good shower for the next few weeks. Sasuke and I were traveling on foot to most of our destinations; places that he deemed controlled enough environments to engage in any enemy ambushes should our dimensional travel invite back some unwanted guests. He wanted as much space from the threat and innocent lives as possible. Sasuke was strong enough to handle most things on his own. And smart enough in a fight.  He knows when to run and regroup instead of needlessly putting his life on the line for a gamble of faith.

He said he had some errands to run before we leave tomorrow morning at dawn. I set aside my slight pang of abandonment..I chalked it up to PTSD and told him to just let himself into the apartment when he was done. If I’m not home and the door is locked then I would put my key under the mat.

I haven’t quite got the hang of trusting him completely.

There are days where it is harder than others.

I can’t control the ache in my chest when he leaves, and lately all I’ve done is miss him for years. It’ll take a while before I’ve adjusted to his constant presence.

I touched the scars on my arm and remembered how curious Sasuke was behind their origins. The look in his eye as he examined it was calculating but concerned. I kept it to remind myself to take Naruto seriously. He was a force to be reckoned with if I’ve ever seen one, both in spirit and in strength.

When we were younger I always thought he was nothing but an overly optimistic fuckup but as an adult I can truly respect the sacrifices he made and the effort he put in to be the absolute best person he could possibly be. He was optimistic hurricane of a human being and I loved him to death for it. I’ve just made it my personal mission to make sure to keep him humble. I smiled. What a dork.

I turned my attention to the scar on my abdomen and traced the thick white keloid. There was an identical one on my back from the exit wound. This one I kept mostly as a trophy, in a morbid kind of way. I could’ve healed this right after I got it if I wanted to, but I never did. I don’t think the thought was crossing my mind at that moment; that getting rid of it was an option.

Every time I looked down at it I am reminded of the sacrifice that Chiyo made for me, and the sacrifice she made for Gaara. He and I will occasionally run into each other on my trips to Suna, visiting her grave whenever I’m in town. Sometimes we go and get tea together and discuss things other than hospital politics. Mostly Gaara will ask genuine questions about my friends in Konoha.

He even asked me out once, I laughed when I remember the embarrassed look on his face. It took him a lot of courage to do something like that. I remember wanting to say yes, but all I could think of was Sasuke’s face and I knew that I needed to say no. I couldn’t give him my whole heart and he deserved someone who could. He was very courteous and polite about the whole thing, telling me that he respects the honesty and is content with just being my friend, which I well and truly appreciate.

*KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK*

The door of my bathroom rattled with the incessant pounding. I yelped at the sudden interruption from my daydreaming.

“SAKURA-CHAN!!” I could hear Naruto wail through the walls. I got up off the floor and  turned off the shower, now instead of relaxed I was annoyed.

I quickly wrapped myself in a towel and charged my fist with chakra as I ripped open the door.

And took a Naruto sized fist to the forehead.

The next few moments felt freeze frames from a movie; me, standing in the doorway  of my bathroom, wrapped in a towel. Naruto, with his balled up fist pressed against my forehead, and the slow shock and realization of the consequences of his action dawning on his now terrified face.

“What. Do you want.” I said through gritted teeth, clinging to the terry cloth to remind myself why I shouldn’t reach out and grab his throat.

He pulled his hand back and stuttered out an apology before pointing to Sasuke laying on my couch with a rasengan swirl shaped bruise peeking through the torn fabric in his right leg.

Nature held back for the spar, but still got him pretty good.

I shove Naruto out of my bedroom door and quickly put on a pair of underwear and a T-shirt before running out to the living room with my med kit.

These types of visits were normal, typical over exertion in a friendly fight and not wanting to deal with the regular hospital routine checkup.

I got on my knees and took my medical shears out of my kit to open up the fabric around the wound. It looked pretty bad, a swirl pattern covered in purple and green and yellows, like a nebula. Some of the flesh was torn and pulled raw and covered in dirt from the fields. I was going to have to disinfect it.

Sasuke sat in pained silence and let me work while Naruto dig through my kitchen for a snack.

“Naruto!” I barked. “While you’re snooping around in my kitchen could you grab the bottle of vodka from the freezer please?”

I pulled out a bottle of hydrogen peroxide and opened a fresh towel from a sterile package. I looked up at Sasuke who was looking at his leg intently.

“I don’t drink.” He deadpanned. “Just go through with it.” He didn’t look me in the eyes just stared at the wound with a look of panicked determination.  

Naruto walked over, bottle of vodka in hand and stood behind Sasuke on the couch.

“Shit. Teme, my bad,” he said cringing at the sight of his leg.

“Shut up, dobe.” Sasuke gritted through his teeth but the insult did nothing but bring a smile to Naruto’s face.

“Alright Sasuke. This is going to sting a little.” I held the cloth in my right hand and waited for him to nod, and pressed it into his thigh.

————

Sasuke Uchiha

————

The pain that shot through my leg was excruciating. Like ice cold blades tearing my skin open again and again. Sakura hand came up to my chest and pushed my body back onto the couch as I lunged forward, groaning in agony.

I opened my eyes to see Naruto’s outstretched hand holding the frosted bottle near my face. I caved into the pain and grabbed it from him, twisting the corked top off with my teeth and taking a swig of it hoping that the burning sensation in my throat would distract me from my leg.

It went down surprisingly smoothly, ice cold and virtually as tasteless as water.

I took another drink.

Sakura finished disinfecting the wound and tossed the towel aside. Her hands began to glow green. “Hold on tightly to that bottle,” she said, “It’ll feel worse before it feels better.”

I gripped the neck of the glass bottle and readied myself for the pain again. This time instead of the cold peroxide Sakura’s chakra was hot and the cuts on my leg started to hiss as they healed.

And then the twisting began.

Sakura’s hands kneaded chakra in a reverse spiral from the rasengan, pulling and stretching my skin back into its original spot. The pain was searing hot and Naruto grabbed my shoulders to hold me steady while she worked.

I stifled a scream and took another swig from the bottle and finally the pain began to subside.

I looked down at Sakura’s hands, attentively going over every cut and bruise and regenerating the cells delicately and precisely. I can’t tell if the pain was making my vision hazy or if it was the alcohol but watching her work gave me an anchor to focus on. Her eyes were soft but focused, relaxed and confident. Clearly she’s done this many times before, this type of healing came naturally to her. I felt the alcohol warmth wash over me and the pain began to subside.

I watched as the skin softened back into one cohesive body part. The bruise had subsided from a dark purple to a softer color underneath a fresh layer of healed skin. Sakura’s chakra dimmed and faded as she exhaled. My body relaxed with the ebb of her chakra leaving behind a chill in my healed thigh.

“That should do it,” she said and smiled up at me. She stood up from her kneeled position and stretched her arms above her head. Her T-shirt lifting again to show the barest hint of a large scar on her stomach. Directly opposite the scar I saw on her back.

She should’ve died from an injury like that. I wonder just how skilled of a medic she really was. The injury on my leg must’ve been child’s play to someone with the kind of skill that can stop internal bleeding on a wound that goes through your internal organs.

I made a mental note to ask her about that one too.

Naruto released his grip on my shoulders and reached for the bottle gripped in my hand but I decided if I had to deal with him any longer one more drink couldn’t hurt.

I pulled it away from his outstretched hand and took a final drink before shoving it into his hands and getting up off the couch.

“Oy, asshole!”

Out of my periphery, I spotted something being tossed in my direction. I caught a small white jar, with a diameter no bigger than a coin.

“Put that on the bruise for the next couple of days, your cells are freshly regenerated and delicate. This will help protect you from infection and will moisturize the new skin so it doesn’t dry out and slow the healing process.” Sakura put a kettle on the stove and started the gas flame. “Naruto!” She barked. The dobe immediately stood at attention and stiffened up.

Sakura put her hands on her hips and glared. “Rasengan? Really? The day before we leave on a mission? What the fuck were you thinking!” She threw an apple at his head and Naruto ducked.

“I’m sorry!! We just got into it you know?!”

Another apple.

“Sakura come on!”

She continued to throw produce at the idiot, and my eyes started to wander to her toned legs, flexing as she turned on the tile floor.

“I pulled it! I pulled the hit!” He said defensively, arms covering his face for protection. Sakura fumed and began scolding him.

“You know the rules, I’m done treating your injuries for free.” She held out her hand, “How are you gonna make it up to me this time, hmm?”

“But you didn’t heal me you healed Sasuke!” He whined.

“You’re the reason he was hurt at all, why didn’t you just take him to the hospital? I’m technically off-duty.” Her arms crossed her chest and she continued to glare at the idiot.

“Can I pay you back with dinner? Hinata invited you guys over tonight before you leave!”

Sakura’s face looked taken aback with surprise and then lit up into a huge smile.

“That sounds wonderful!” Sakura beamed. “Sasukes first family dinner! I mean-“ she stammered, and looked embarrassed as she looked over at me when she said the word “family”.

It felt so strange to hear her say that word about us...about me and them. They’ve become a family, and they consider me a part of it.

“Yeah!! Hinata is making some fancy pork dish and Sasuke can see our house!” He said, looking at me with an eagerness I can only describe as instantly exhausting.

He’s been talking about his marriage and his house and his wife all afternoon. Bragging about his accomplishments and filling me in on things he said he couldn’t wait to rub it in my face. He didn’t ask me about my travels the entire day, it was actually a great one sided conversation I didn’t have to put effort into.

“Hey, bastard. Are you in or what?” Naruto barked over at me.

The alcohol in my system was making me feel uncharacteristically sociable. How bad could it be?

“Dinner sounds nice.” I said. Sakura jumped a little with excitement. It was really...cute.

“Alright! Yes! Let me get dressed first!” Sakura clapped her hands together and suddenly I became very hyper aware of what she was wearing and could feel heat begin to pool in my cheeks. I turned away and pretended to distract myself with one of Sakura’s books while she ran into the bedroom to change.

——————

End- C3

Sorry for the delay you guys! New job keeps me busy. Hopefully with the holidays I’ll have a little more free time to explore this story.

Your likes and comments and asks mean the world to me <3

[ebhenah]

Bloodbath

Fictober18 Day 4 “Will that be all?”

Original characters

Rated: T- some violence, some language, mentions/references same sex relationship, war, bigotry, vengeance 

Her skin felt too tight, her muscles twitching and jumping with useless rage. She should be sleeping, resting in preparation for the battle that lay ahead. All reports indicated that tomorrow would be the day. Officially, this was still a rescue mission. She clung to the hope that this was a rescue mission as she stared at the view screen that functioned as ‘windows’ on a star craft. Turns out, humans don’t react well to not being able to see what is on the other side of a wall for months at a time. So, she stared at the view screen that broadcast a visual representation of the sensor feeds from this side of the ship and PRETENDED it was a window. Just like she pretended that tomorrow she’d be facing the enemy and bringing her wife home.

Eventually, she gave up on sleep and hauled on her gear. If she was awake, so was her brother. Not because of any stupid mystical shit- people really loved  to manufacture weird magical connections between twins- but because their brains worked the same way. Neither of them could sleep the night before a big event. Jail breaking a high security prisoner of war camp counted as a ‘big event’ by anyone’s definition.

The captain didn’t seem surprised to see her in his doorway. “Couldn’t sleep?” he asked. He was a good guy, the human that was in charge of this ship. If he’d had any complaints about adding two half-human mercs to his team at the last minute, he’d never let that show in how he treated either of them, and she knew he’d cracked down on a few crew members who’d been more vocal about their displeasure.

“Too amped up,” she answered, “I need to run through the security specs again and I don’t have the clearance to pull it up on my own.

“Oh, yeah sure,” he grabbed a tablet and accessed the files, handing it over to her. She took a few minutes to skim the blue prints of the facility and then took a more thorough look at the breakdown of the security systems, protocols, staffing, and armaments.

“We’re still confident in the intel?” she asked. She was always leery of intel, all too often it was incomplete, or out of date.

“We are,” he answered easily.

“Good. Just- tell your men to be careful of decoy checkpoints. We’ve encountered a few facilities that use them in addition to proximity alarms. The staff know which ones to use and which to avoid. Always scan a checkpoint for explosives before interfacing with it.” She held out the tablet.

“We’ve gone over that, but I will make a point to include it in the last briefing.” He took it from her hand, “will that be all?”

“Can you give me after hours clearance to the training facilities?” she stood, “if I’m going to be awake anyway, I want to be doing something productive.”

“Consider it done, I’m adding you to the scan access log now.” She nodded and he gave her a wan smile, “we have a good track record with these missions. If anyone can get her out of there, it will be us.”

“Appreciate that, Captain,” she replied, leaving him to his work.

She slammed her hand into the buzzer at her brother’s door, and within seconds, it slid open. He was already dressed, his kit bag slung over his shoulder. “We sparring or fighting?’ he asked easily as he stepped into the hall.

“We’re both healers, and pulling hits is a dangerous habit to get into,” she answered. 

He grinned, “that’s what I was hoping for.”

The twins didn’t really resemble each other all that much, which wasn’t uncommon in siblings with parents of different species. They had different coloring- her skin was a soft pink that almost looked human, his a dusty purple. Her hair black, cut into a mohawk and braided down tight to her head, his a soft blond that was shorn close to his scalp. They both had slightly pointed ears, but hers stretched up, close to her skull and his jutted outward making him look aggressive. She was solidly built, but thin, compact; he was just... massive- tall, broad, heavily muscled. So, they weren’t really people you would glance at and think ‘twins’, even though they were. But that smile? The predatory, self-assured, dangerous smirk he flashed her? It was EXACTLY the same as hers. 

The gym was deserted at this hour and they quickly pulled on the gear they’d be wearing on the mission, wanting to be completely comfortable with the way it fit, moved and weighed their limbs down. 

“Ready?” He asked as she bounced lightly on the balls of her feet. She nodded and they started circling each other. She felt her magic stir, rippling under her skin, and saw the changes that indicated her brother was experiencing the same thing. Her vision changed, colors bleeding out, shadows starker.  A tiny, malicious little giggle bubbled through her in response to the call of her power. She tapped her two batons against her legs and they powered up with a whine.

Her brother gave a soft huff- rising to the challenge and adjusting his grip on his blades.They prowled around the floor in slow rounds, each gauging the other for an opening. They’d been facing off against each other like this for decades. Mixed race children born during a war had no shortage of opportunities to fight, and they were both more aggressive than human kids, so training had started early and had been very thorough.

She let her shoulder drop. Just a fraction of an inch. But she knew he saw it and she knew he’d take it as a a falter in her stance. Moving faster and smoother than a guy his size should be able to he charged at her. He led with the big Antorian sickle knife he favored, but she knew him. That was too obvious. She ducked, rolling away just as a small, barbed throwing blade sank into the floor. 

Her momentum carried her into the perfect position to swing her batons into the back of his knees and she smiled as she felt it connect. He’d been expecting it though, using the blow to send him into a spinning heel strike. It connected with her collarbone and she heard the bone snap as a star of pain exploded from the blow. Her magic surged, deadening the pain and starting to knit the bones together.

“Leechsticks?” he asked, referring to one of her favorite baton tricks, “really? You realize I’m going to be fighting by your side in a real conflict in a few hours, right?”

“Looks like you need to be better about dodging,” she countered, He gave her a small nod and ran at her again.

She parried an actual strike from that blade and the razor-sharp curve of it made short work of deflecting her baton into a very awkward angle, leaving her chest open to the foot stomp he directed at her sternum. To avoid it she had to bend back and keep her balance, so she just let the movement carry into a backflip that gave her a bit of distance. Robbed of his target, his leg overextended and left him open and unbalanced. 

She slammed the butts of her batons together and they fused and expanded into a solid, slightly flexible staff as she took the few seconds he’d need to recover to burst into a sprint toward the wall, building up enough momentum to run a few steps up the wall and launch herself. The staff hit the floor with a dull thud and she whipped around it, kicking her brother squarely in the back.

She heard the grunt that told her she’d winded him, and saw the blue energy of his magic skitter over his skin, speeding up his recovery.  Before he could turn to face her again, she was striking him across the back with her staff, and for several inches on either side of the impact all that pretty blue energy just blinked out, coursing through the staff to her hands.

“That’s new,” he laughed, rolling away from her and launching several darts in her direction. “Shit!,” she hissed as three of them dug into her torso. “So are those.” Sickly cold radiated out from the darts, even as she knocked them free of her flesh. Drugged. Awesome. Her magic was less than stellar against poisons, toxins, or drugs. 

“Fast acting, but very temporary,” he promised, “out of your system in a hour.”

That was good to know- but the harder she worked, the faster her pulse, and the faster whatever it was he’d hit her with would spread. Already she could feel numbness starting in her belly.  She had to switch tactics.

She spun her staff, moving in to strike him three times in quick succession- knee, hip, shoulder. Each contact zapped a bit of his strength, but her brother was a big guy, in prime condition, and it would take a lot more than a few strikes to take him down, even with the leeching attacks. That numbness was already wrapping around to her back and snaking down her legs. She’d lost this fight. They both knew it.

But that didn’t mean she was giving up. She surged forward, using her staff like a pole vault and clearing him. A quick twist of her wrists mid-air converted the staff into two batons once again, purple energy crackling over the dull metal surface. Instead of coming in for a hit, like he expected, she wrapped herself around him, legs coiling around his waist as she slipped both batons around her neck , holding them in place with her elbows as her hands laced around the back of his skull and she squeezed. 

His knees hit the floor at almost the exact instant that her arms and legs went completely dead. The batons clattered to the floor and she heard his raspy panting as his body fought desperately to pull as much oxygen into itself as possible.

“You.... good?” he panted, still not quite recovered from the choking.

“Dunno,” she panted back, “can’t... feel... anything... below... my face.”

He scooted over to her and rested his hand on the collarbone he’d snapped. Out of the corner of her eye she could see his blue energy pulse. “You’re good,” he told her. She smiled weakly, worry starting to crowd into her mind now that the build-up of nerves and aggression had been given an outlet.

He saw the change in her face. “We’ll get her,” he pledged, “one way or another, she’s coming home with us... and you and I are going to kill every last fucker that dared to hurt her.”

“Bloodbath?” she asked, knowing that her face wasn’t even remotely human at the moment, her emotions pushing her magic to the point that her fangs were longer, pupils slitted, scelera glowing, and her tongue forked. She knew, because she saw those same changes in her brother’s face. 

“Bloodbath,” he answered. “We’ll make’em pay.”

[thewanderingsoul]

♛

Aggressive Symbol Meme

♛ - for your muse to beat mine until they can’t fight back

She knew the moment she’d screwed everything up. She knew immediately. And the beating she took from the enemy paled in comparison to what Qui-Gon would do to her. She knew that already. She knew by the way he glared at her with such venom and reproach, by the way he suddenly became the distant and cold man everyone assumed he was, but she had never known herself. Now, she definitely knows that prolific man. And he’s terrifying. Already injured, she feared reporting for training the following day, but Rey knew what horrible punishment awaited her if she were to ditch. Something far worse than what she was about to get, which would be horrendous all its own. She is no coward, though. Fearful, she may be, but she’d caused this. She had disappointed him so gravely that even the mission’s failure hadn’t seemed as important. No, her true turmoil rose from the man whom she had wronged. And nearly cost them their lives because of it. Rey deserved whatever he was about to dole out to her, though she was terribly anxious about it. She must face her mistakes, though, and take responsibility for them regardless of what consequences she may face. So she does show up to practice. And Qui-Gon is still emanating something close to murder, insidious threat that has her mouth closed upon feeling it. She knows better than to think he would truly maim her, but something very close to it? She would not put past him. Especially not now. She has a hard time meeting his eyes when he turns to face her, utterly calm and serene. Never in all her years of knowing him had that expression terrified her so. “Today, we spar.” Bluntly, to the point and Rey swallows the lump in her throat because she’s pretty sure where this is going and she’s not going to like it. In fear of saying something which might edge him to further rage, she simply nods, backing away to get at a fair distance for battle. Her lightsaber ready, she braces herself for whatever punishment she’s about to receive. At first, it all seems fairly normal. She’s utterly sore from the aches and bruises she’d suffered the day before, and a few burns on her ribs stretch and peel when she blocks some of his blows. But this steady pace only lasts for a brief few minutes. His eyes watch her, emotionless and steely during the beginning. Something she would realize afterward was just him gauging how mobile she was . Without warning, his strikes suddenly change. She’s only able to block the first one because she sees the tensing of his muscles right before it happens, and feels the horrible dread wrench in her chest when he pounces on her like a viscous, feral animal. She blocks it, but only barely. The heat of two colliding sabers sears at her skin, the hum nearly deafening. His brute force is so strong that her arms nearly crumple beneath the strike, screaming in agony as she tries to hold her ground. She literally slides back unwillingly as he bears down on her; the traction in her boots not nearly enough to keep her grounded. He’s literally going to step all over her. And there is nothing she can do except take the beating. Rey feigns grip on her parry to try and regain her footing, but it serves as nothing except an opening for him as he rounds on her a second time, slamming into her side. Despite her best efforts, his saber still tears into already brutalized skin, and it’s all she can do to not scream. She clenches her teeth, hissing with pain as she spins out of the way, saber ready for another attack. Qui-Gon does not disappoint. Light spins in a flurry of blows that force Rey to continue to give ground, and leaves her with more burns than successful blocks and each time she does manage to fend his saber off, her arms lose more and more strength. He slams his saber against hers so hard, her bones nearly shake. Neither of them speak, and really if anyone were watching, they would question if this were really training at all rather than just a brutal beating. But she knows that she deserves this lesson. She’d known as soon as she had done it that she’d made a grave mistake and she would most certainly pay for it. Merciless, Qui-Gon brings a downward blow over her shoulders, which she has to block with her arms raised, leaving her lower half completely exposed. A wretched opening for any other opponent, but he doesn’t even have to use it. Forcibly, he pushes down harder, until her arms break under the pressure and his saber slices into her shoulder. Her knees crumple and her saber is knocked entirely from her hands as she hits the ground, on her knees before him. She dare not look up, knowing he would strike such an imposing figure with that scorn in his eyes. Worse to experience than the beating she’s taking. “Get up.” He instructs, with no room for argument. Rey clenches her jaw, using the Force to snap her saber back to her hand as she rises to her feet. He gives her no grace period, and descends upon her immediately. Striking blow after blow, burning marks upon her skin, he repeats that again and again. Rey can hardly suck in a breath, let alone cry out in any pain. For being brutalized so, she does her best to take it gracefully, to keep all emotion from her face as she falls to the ground again and again, until she feels her legs can no longer support her. “Get up.” He commands once again, and Rey struggles for the fifth time to stagger to her feet. Her saber, knocked far away, seems to be obsolete to him now as he puts away his own. This almost is worse. She fumbles over her own feet to try and effectively fend him off, but any time the flat of his arm knocks into her, she nearly feels the strain of it in her radial. Relentlessly, he lands blow after blow, knocking her around the arena like she’s some lifeless doll. Child’s play. And she knows that for someone as skilled as he, it would be child’s play. He could kill her in an instant, if he so chose.  Try as she might, the strength is no longer in her bones as he lands a hit right in her gut; hitting every vital organ with blunt force which nearly has her retching. She sucks in a breath as she is forced back, slamming into the wall with surprising velocity. But even that crushing hit was not enough. He sends another hit to her chest, which she is too slow and clumsy to even come close to fending off. She chokes out a wheeze, and the next hit, delivered to her side, is enough to cripple her. She crumples to the floor, coughing and sputtering and too weak to move. She’s bleeding in so many places, and burned in far more. Tomorrow, she’s going to be covered in splotchy bruises, if they don’t arise in a few hours. Rey coughs, but is too beaten to even wipe the blood from her nose. Truly and thoroughly berated, she can do nothing but stay on the ground. She would feel humiliated, but she had known all along what he was capable of. She just never thought she’d ever experience it first hand. She hopes she never does again. Her eyes feel glassy, and one has nearly swollen shut as she finally, finally shifts her gaze to look at him. But his expression is utterly blank as if he were feeling-less about it all. The rage behind his attack said otherwise, though, and somehow that practiced calm terrifies her more than open objection. She still can’t take in a full breath, as the blow to her chest still forces her to cough out any relief she gains. He doesn’t need to say it, the message is totally clear. Next time, she will listen. Next time, she will not disobey his orders and run their task awry. If failure hadn’t been enough, this lesson certainly was. Qui-Gon is her Master, and he certainly knows better than her. He stares at her for a long minute, devoid of any emotion whatsoever. She dares not move under that pinning gaze, in fear of him making her stand up and do it all over again. Her legs are so weak she’s not even sure she could stand up straight right now. And the beating was enough. She’s defeated, more than that he’d all but run her into the ground. But all the physical pain doesn’t even touch the inner guilt and turmoil she feels at being a disappointment. She never wanted to make him so angry, or to get out of favor with him. And that hurt worst of all. Bodies healed quickly enough, but hearts and minds are far more fragile. Qui-God says nothing, only folds his hands into his robes and walks out of the hall. Once he is far out of sight, she rolls over onto her back, staring up at the ceiling of the Temple. Once she can take a breath properly, she works on hauling her broken body to its feet, and Force pulls her saber back to her hand. She’d never be able to bend over and pick it up. She’d just collapse back on the floor. She sniffs, smelling the tangy iron of blood in her nose and scowls at it in displeasure. Forcing an aching arm up to wipe it away sends a throb directly to her brain. Rey winces, but that movement also causes pain. She shuffles slowly to the main hall, using the walls as support on her way. She just would like to go back to her chambers and sleep this off. She needs to rest, because surely he would expect her to be back tomorrow, bright and early. Her hope to return undisturbed is thwarted as Ben, someone she feels somewhat falls into the category of friend, notices her on his stroll. “Rey?” He exclaims, rushing to her side. “What kriffing happened to you?!” Immediately, the tall boy reaches for her, but she turns to growl at him, bared teeth and emanating aggression even in her sorry state. Qui-Gon had broken her body some, but certainly not her spirit. “Don’t touch me.” She seethes, and somehow, this seems to put some kind of impression on him, regardless of how incapable she is on following up on that threat at the moment. He stutters to a halt, hands mid-way to her. “But -” “No,” she hisses in finality. “I don’t need any help.” Ben’s dark brows furrow, in slight offense. They had never truly gotten along, and butt heads more often than they’d shared any kind words. But surely, him helping her back to her rooms would wound her more than any beating would. And she’s sure it would defeat the purpose of everything she’d just endured. She’s no fool. “I was just asking,” his words turn venomous. He is so easy to sway, and getting him to leave her alone (the ultimate goal) would take nothing more than offending him. “Well I don’t want your help.” She snaps back, indignant. He wrinkles his nose at her, but then holds up his hands in acquiescence. “Fine.” He spits. “I won’t offer it then.” Rey sneers, managing to use the wall enough to stand up straight and look defiantly at him. “Good.” She snaps back, and then forgets his existence entirely, continuing the slow hobble back to her rooms. She feels him stare at her as she goes, but she pays it no mind. Once she gets to her chambers, she finds there is a fresh set of bacta on the stand beside her bed, enough to treat her wounds in the very least. A small kindness, out of necessity. Rey slowly and gingerly lowers herself to her mattress, and begins the slow work of patching herself up. She is nothing if not dutiful, and has no intention of missing training tomorrow, no matter how sore. Qui-Gon would expect nothing less. 

[freegrain]

Fated : Hunted Ch4

{Freezerburn- Yang x Weiss}

The two Demon-Hunters, Weiss Schnee and Yang Xiao Long, are the greatest of their time. But when they're hired to hunt down a duo names 'Ladybug' their skills are put to the test.

_______________________________________

Part Two of the Fated Series.

Read on AO3 or FF.net.

_______________________________________

Yang could feel Weiss' arms around her as they drove out of town. The wind whistled past them, her motorbike helmet protecting her from its chill. The road was pretty quiet, only a few odd cars drifting by. The sun was out and shining, though it wasn't warm.

They were heading out to the woods that surrounded the Torchwick estate. After reports that the culprits had fled into them, they both reasoned that there would be the easiest place to catch a trail.

From the reports of their friend Pyrrha in the police force, Blake Belladonna had never been back to her family home. And since the demon didn't have any human property this meant that the duo had to be hiding out somewhere in nature.

How far from estate they'd fled Yang wasn't sure. Airborne demons were a lot harder to track than those without wings but the surrounding trees with high arching branches gave them a little bit of hope. Scents captured on the leaves from the brush of a wing or low flyer would lead them to their prey.

Yang pulled up at the side of the road, barely down the way from the entrance to the Torchwick estate. The place was even quieter than it had been yesterday, hardly a person in sight.

Usually the place, being a centre of business for certain people, hummed with life and car passing through almost every hour. But now the skeleton force manned the walls and no people entered through the gates.

It was gloomy and dull, a stage of mourning for the estate.

Yang slipped off the bike and removed her helmet. The air was light, breezy to the point of chilly. Which would be useful for scent tracking if they managed to find a trail. Keyword was if.

Weiss jumped off behind her, exhaling gently. Her partner smoothed out her skirts and glanced upwards, scanning the sky around them. There weren't much clouds and the sun gleamed down at them. It was truly a fine day to go hunting.

Yang pulled her gauntlets from the saddlebags, sliding her hands into her favourite weapons. They'd been modelled just for her and fit skin tight but comfortably. She clenched a fist and grinned.

"You ready to move, Snowflake?"

Weiss clipped her sword to her belt. Weiss was a fencing master. She'd once fought in the national championships and come out having won it but completely bored. Yang had never met anyone that seemed close to her skill. Besides fencing, Weiss was also physically adept with a few martial arts under her belt.

Yang herself was highly trained in several martial arts, ranging from uses in street fighting to fighting a dozen armed opponents at a time. So she wasn't a slack herself. She could keep up with Weiss no bother.

Weiss slid her 'glyph glove' on. An unofficial Schnee product that allowed her to create these glyphs to aid her in battle. Her partner nodded. "Let's move."

The two entered the forest, a silence settling over them. They were looking for tracks, a trail, something that would give them a clue where they'd find their prey.

But if the demon had wings, trails on land would be few and far between. Still they searched.

The woods were quiet around here, only a few animals or birds hopping around. Which was quite useful for them because they could listen for any unnatural noises. After a few minutes the two split off, heading for different areas. While Weiss stayed on the ground, Yang started to climb the trees. Up and up she climbed until she could no more.

From here she could see the extent of the whole forest and how far it stretched from end to end. The distant mountains marked the end and the many miles between could be hiding them anywhere.

She exhaled. This was going to be a long day.

She jumped from tree to tree, circling around the edge of the mansion. Something. She took a deep breath. Years of hunting had trained her nose to recognise scents that were out of the ordinary. Once found, the upgrades to her weapon would let her track it to their prey. But no matter where she ran, all she got was the damp scent of leaves and nature.

An hour passed and then a second before Yang's eyes spotted something. She almost missed it as she turned to jump into another tree.

Heading north towards the mountain was a dark shape. A winged creature. From this distance she could make out any details except that they were flying and at a high speed as well. She frowned. Were those… rose petals falling behind them? Red against the dark colour of the wings, falling like a light rain down into the woods.

There they were. Ladybug. Black and red.

Yang curled her hand into a fist. What were the odds. To set off on a hunt only to have them fall straight into your lap? These two, despite their apparent talent at fighting, were not good at hiding.

"Weiss! Weiss!"

It took a few seconds but her partner joined her on her branch. She opened her mouth to ask what was the matter but then saw where her eyes were angled. Weiss closed her mouth.

"It's them…." she breathed. "Ladybug…."

Already the excited gleam Weiss got in her eyes was burning. Yang could understand. The thrill, the burn, the tsunami of emotion you got from the chase, it was life changing.

Yang flexed her arm, feeling her blood starting to thrum. "Up and at 'em," she grinned.

Weiss drew her sword and leapt up so her feet were balanced on Yang's forearm. Yang planted her foot down, lowering her arm to get ready to throw.

This was their technique for catching the ones that run. Demons were naturally faster and trying to reach them on foot was near impossible. So Yang, using the power focused in her gauntlets, would hurl Weiss ahead to intercept them while she ran to catch up.

It worked every time they used it.

"Be careful Snowflake?" Yang warned.

Weiss gave her a smile. "Naturally."

And Yang flung her into the air, a high arching throw. She should have started running there but she paused, waiting to see what would happen.

Her aim was nearly perfect as always, Weiss heading straight for them. Midair her partner spun, a glyph shimmering at her feet. Weiss leapt and slashed. The demon's screech was audible from where Yang stood and she knew she had to move. Weiss and the demon fell from the sky into the forest and Yang started to run.

~•~•~•~

Suddenly there was a hot pain right across her shoulder and Ruby screamed. Blake was screaming something too but she couldn't hear it. Feet thudded against her lower back before pushing off again. Ruby plummeted through the tree, wings curling around Blake in an attempt to protect. Down and down, crack after crack. Branches snapped against her body like whips. Until they hit the ground.

Ruby hit the ground in a roll, her shoulder screeching with pain from the impact. They rolled until they hit a tree and Ruby let out a shuddering gasp. Blake had wriggled out of her grasp and was hovering over her, hands touching her face frantically. Her mouth was moving but she could barely hear it. Fuck. Fuck.

A person landed gracefully behind her.

Blake spun around productively, ears flattening against her head. Ruby's chest rose and fell and she crawled onto her front. Her wings rustled on her back, pain flaring up from that tiny movement. Whoever had struck her had struck in her a way that would make it utter hell to fly before healing. They'd grounded her.

"Ladybug, I assume," the girl said, her sword pointing towards the ground. She had long white hair and wore all white, save the slight red around her collar.

Her long thin sword dripped with Ruby's blood.

"Must say," the girl drawled, taking a step forward. This earned her a hiss from Blake. "You both are quite disappointing. Killers of Roman Torchwick? I expected better."

"Weiss Schnee," Blake snarled, raising her weapon.

The girl didn't even react. "Yes. And you are Blake Belladonna. Care to introduce me to your friend? She has such pretty wings."

Ruby stood, placing a hand on Blake's shoulder. She could stand, she could fight. She just couldn't fly properly. She ran her tongue across her teeth, showing off the sharp ends. "Ruby Rose. Her fated."

Weiss took another step forward. "Oh yes, that would make sense. You demons and your fates. Wow. I'm almost impressed."

Ruby reached out a hand and summoned Crescent Rose. With her weapon in her hand she felt safer. Stronger. Weiss raised an eyebrow, giving her an approving nod.

"You good with that? Let's find out!"

Suddenly Weiss was coming at them, her sword slashing in an x. Ruby grabbed Blake and jumped out of the way, only managing to parry the next strike. A foot looped behind her and a slash cut her thigh. Ruby spun away.

By God that girl was fast, another strike slashing before she'd even landed. But Ruby's whole thing was speed. She gritted her teeth.

Ruby lunged in, scythe arching through the air in a rapid spin. Weiss blocked and jumped back, feet landing on the tree behind her. She powered off towards her and Ruby side stepped.

Weiss was back again, lunging in towards her chest. Ruby parried and fired off a round at her. She missed of course, the white haired girl spinning.

Suddenly something black shot by Weiss and the girl hissed. Blake followed her weapon. She kicked Weiss across the face and spun around again. Weiss had already scrambled away, putting distance between the two. She was bleeding from a gash on her shoulder. But she smiled coldly at them.

Ruby was debating trying to fly away at this point. It would hurt like hell but if she used her power to its full potential, they could run. Weiss was human. No matter what she tried she'd never be able to catch them.

Ruby spun Crescent Rose and Blake joined her side. They exchanged glances.

"Hey, did I miss much?" a cheery voice broke through the woods behind Weiss.

A tall, blonde woman appeared behind them, cracking her knuckles. Purple eyes gleamed at them with frightening amusement.

"Babe you're bleeding," she frowned.

Weiss shrugged her off. "It's nothing." Her icy gaze focused on the two of them.

"Yang. Yang Xiao Long," Blake hissed. "The final part of Freezerburn."

So these two were the famed Freezerburn. Maybe she could see why they were legendary. They'd only slain Torchwick yesterday and here they were, ready to bring them in for justice. Mad. It was mad.

Yang exhaled, her hands smoking. Those were her weapons Ruby realised. Her fists, enhanced and ready. She could only imagine how much it would hurt for her to get a hit from them.

"Time to get cracking."

Yang and Weiss both lunged at the same time. Ruby barely had to time to dodge Yang's first punch before another caught her at the side. The pure force of it sent her sprawling into a tree.

Blake let out a screech as Weiss darted for her. Ruby felt a slight throb in her chest, Blake's pain. Shit.

Ruby's vision was suddenly blocked by mane of hair and then fiery fists. Ruby was kept on her toes to keep Yang off her. The fight was vicious but very few injuries were actually caused.

Ruby swung and slashed, going to the next of her ability to take her down. But Yang matched her blow for blow, block for block. She seemed to predict her movements, shifting her attacks right in her oath each time. Ruby had barely any time to block, nevermind much counters.

But for some reason every time she hit Yang, the girl came back faster and stronger. Of course they traded the few scratches and broken skin but nothing major was done.

But the first blow, the one across Ruby's shoulder, was starting to ache and ache. If they were going to escape they'd need to do it soon. Blood was dripping down her shoulder, leaving a trail where she jumped.

"Must say," Yang panted, barely dodging Crescent Rose for the sixth time. "You're pretty good. Maybe inhumanly good."

Ruby's attention was elsewhere. Yang and Weiss had somehow managed to place themselves between her and Blake. This wasn't good. They couldn't stay here with them. They were too strong and quick.

Ruby leapt backwards, firing at Yang. The blonde paused in her advance, deflecting the bullets away. Blake. She needed to get to Blake. Her fated's eyes darted towards her and for the second they connected, a message passed between them.

Blake nodded. Ruby twisted her body and spread her wings. Pain flared across her body but she jumped away. Feet pressed against the tree and powered over Yang's head.

Weiss turned towards her, blue eyes narrowed and sword ready but Blake kicked her arm out of the way. Ruby landed next to her, Crescent Rose vanishing.

"Don't you dare!" Weiss snarled.

Blake grabbed hold of Ruby's arms, chest rising and falling. "Go."

Ruby leapt into the air, the strain on her wings only increasing. Up they went over the trees until they were hovering in open air.

To fly Ruby was going to need to use her semblance. She rarely used it at all because of the strain it put on her body. But if she didn't do it right now they'd both die. She exhaled, feeling it deep in her chest.

"Yang!" Weiss screeched.

Her partner was at her side in a flash. Ruby could feel her power growing in the pit of her stomach. Only a few seconds. Just a few more. Blake clung tighter to her. Ruby felt her power reach its strength and she spun in the air, aiming for the mountains. And she tore towards the mountains at record speed.

But the very second before she took off she felt a hand close around each of her ankles.

Ruby's strength started to vanish as she crested the mountain, speed decreasing dramatically. Blake's hands ran up to her face.

"Ruby, Ruby, slow down," her fated begged. "You're losing too much blood. Ruby! Ruby please!"

But she couldn't slow down. Those two, Freezerburn, were clinging to her. Even now they'd hadn't let go. If she slowed down they'd only be able to attack. She couldn't give them that chance.

She flew over the mountain and over the forest behind it. These trees were different, taller, pinier. How far could she go? Her legs were kicking, trying to shake Freezerburn from her legs. But their grips were like iron, not letting go.

But then the pain in her wing seized up and Ruby let out a scream. It was too much for her, trying to carry four people while injured. She just didn't have the strength.

And so she felt from the sky, vision darkening. She could briefly hear Blake screaming her name and then Freezerburn yelling some unholy words.

"Ruby! Ruby! Ruby!"

Ruby blacked out just before they all hit the ground.

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