summary: reader is peter’s best friend and has just realized her true feelings. after the school day she is walking home and stops at Delmar’s to get a sandwich where a theif comes in and holds everyone at gunpoint. reader is well trained in fighting and takes him on, unaware that he has powers. spider-man arrives on the scene and things get interesting…
word count: 2252 (sorry it’s so long, got carried away)
a/n: this is my first peter parker one and i’m nervous. also idk how i feel about this but i would be up to writing a part 2..? PLEASE give me feedback, that gives me life. anyway hope you enjoy
Tucking a strand of Y/H/C hair behind your ear, you steeled yourself to brave the horrors that were the halls of Midtown Science High School. You sucked in a breath and dove in, immediately being shoved from side to side by teenagers preoccupied by their phones, their friends, or their crushes.
“Hey! Hey, Y/N!” You heard your friend Ned shouting for you and pivoted to face him, nearly causing yourself to collide with a huge dude with a mohawk. Luckily, Ned managed to grab your arm and yank you over to him.
Gasping a sigh of relief you thanked him, “Ned, you just saved my life.” To which he rolled his eyes.
“Yeah Y/N, he’s a real spider-man, better actually.” You heard the sarcasm dripping from his mouth before you saw your best friend in the world: Peter Parker. He came into view with his slightly-disheveled (but in a good way) hair. You averted your eyes immediately, feeling that tight sensation in the pit of your stomach. Unfortunately, your inability to meet his eyes did not go unnoticed and Peter’s face melted into worry, “Hey, Y/N? You ok?” His voice was ridden with worry but you just brushed it off.
“Yeah, yeah I’m fine, just thought I might’ve dropped something.” You mumbled your excuse, gesturing to your overflowing hands with a short nod and flashed him an empty smile. He cocked his eyebrows at you, clearly knowing something was up, but let it go.
“Anyway, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out tonight and have a Star Wars marathon with us?” Ned asked as he finished locking away his supplies in his locker and slamming it shut with an ear piercing metal bang. You considered his offer, on one hand you loved hanging out with them, you guys always laughed a lot and a new inside joke came out of every single one of these sleepovers. On the other hand, just this week you noticed something that once realized, could not be shoved to the side; you were falling in love with Peter, fast.
Recognizing your hesitation Ned used his persuasive sing-song voice, “There will be Doritosssss…you’re favorite.” He poked you in the side and you threw your head back and giggled. You glanced sideways at Ned, taking in his goofy grin, raised eyebrows and squinted eyes awaiting your response, and then you couldn’t wait any longer and you met Peter’s gaze. He was looking at you with a small smile and his eyes sparkled light brown with sincere affection. Dammit.
“Yeah, it’ll be fun, who’s house?” You gave in, knowing it was in your best interest both to have fun and because they would fight you on it until you said yes anyway. Both the teenage boys’ faces lit up with excitement.
“5:30!! My house.” Peter exclaimed, clapping his hands together in victory. You snorted a bit and nodded.
“I’ll be there. Alright, I have to run home to clean my room and I want to stop at Delmar’s on the way. Peter you wanna come with? It’s right near your apartment.” You let it slip before you could think better of it. Peter got the face that said “I really want to come but…” and you knew exactly what was coming.
“I have the Stark internship…” You said it in unison with him, earning a small smirk and a sigh, “I’m sorry but I really do need to just finish… some, stuff.. before we all hang out.” You nodded and called a goodbye, turning just too early to see the sorrowful look on his face. He wanted to be with you more than you knew…
“Hey Mr. Delmar!” You called as you entered the bodega. The large man behind the counter smiled at you as you made your way to the fat cat on the counter.
“Hola Y/N. You want a number 3? No pickles?” He asks you, you nod in approval.
“Oh you know me so well,” You shot him a wide smile and then began to scan the aisles to pass the time. You strolled past a mother with her little boy and noted that he was grasping a spider-man toy in his hand and tugging at his mother’s arm.
“Mommy, Mommy, wook, I make Pider-man go flying to help.” His baby lisp only made the entire scene that much cuter, his mother looked down and smiled at him, “Yes baby, Spider-man will always protect you.” You felt your heart leap. You always felt this weird connection to the idea of Spider-man, more-so than any other hero.
“So, Y/N, where is your boyfriend?” You hear Mr. Delmar call as you round the aisle closest to him. He rests an elbow on the counter and raises a single eyebrow in an eerie knowing way. You narrow your eyes at him and prepare to give him the “He’s not my boyfriend speech” that you give him at least twice a week. But you stopped short when his eyes went wide and he raised his hands in submission. He cocked his head at you as an attempt to tell you to get away.
“Put your hands in the air,” You heard a rough voice and then felt a jab in your lower back… a gun. You did as he said and felt him pin your hands together and place them where the gun was, which was now by your head. You felt your heartbeat in your neck and everything seemed to slow down. You saw the woman pull her son behind the furthest aisle, she locked eyes with you and you felt her fear echoed in your face.
“Give me the money, NOW” He shouted at Mr. Delmar, who looked at you with the concern of a parent and did as he said, pulling open the cash register. Pulling yourself out of the haze of fear you forced yourself to remember your training. Closing your eyes tight you drew in a serene breath, One, Two, Three.
Throwing your elbow back, you stomped on his booted foot. He drew away from you with a wheeze of surprise and pain. You threw a hard right hook and distracted him as Mr. Delmar reached for the phone and dialed 911. You actually started to have the upper hand as you kicked out his right foot and he fell to his knee, but then something turned the tables, his hands began to steam and his ski mask caught fire… shit
Peter always followed you home before he started searching for crime, only leaving you if he sees a problem or hears sirens. He was sitting up on top of the building behind the ATM across the street from Delmar’s swinging his legs back and forth and waiting for you to return to view with a sandwich in hand. He pulled his phone out of the side pocket of his backpack and scrolled through to see if he had any new texts from Ned. You were taking longer than usual, he stood up on the edge of the building, careful not to be seen, since he was wearing the Spider-man suit, and searched for you.
Peter knew something was up, he couldn’t keep hiding the secret from you, and eventually Ned would probably let it slip. He thought back to earlier this afternoon when you wouldn’t meet his eyes. He didn’t want to lose you but he didn’t want to put you in jeopardy with you knowing.
“Karen, can I hear what’s happening in there?” Peter asked his suit lady.
“Engaging enhanced reconnaissance mode” He then heard a commotion and could see the heat signatures of two people fighting. Suddenly, however, one of the figures had their hands and head light up red-hot. Shit, Y/N was in there. Peter shot up and jumped from his perch onto the ATM building and then swung down to Delmar’s, blasting through the door. Nobody would hurt Y/N…
You pulled away from the burning man and backed up as far as you could. But you remembered the frightened woman and decided to try and lead him away from them, “Come on, I’m just a teenager why don’t you come get me?” That was the wrong thing to say, he hurled a fireball at your head. You narrowly avoided it but fell to the floor, tripping over a fallen newspaper stack. Your heart caught in your throat as he moved to stand over you, pulling off his mask to reveal a devilish smirk.
“What are you going to do now, babyface?” He growled at you, showcasing his cracked and missing teeth. You cringed away just kind of moving backwards an inch.
“She doesn’t have to do anything, because I will.” Your head whipped up to find the source of the familiar voice. What you found you couldn’t believe… It was him! Spider-man. He shot a web into the middle of the mans chest and used it to pull him forward, he kicked the man in the chest and then looked over at you. “Get everyone out of here! Get to safety.” You looked up at him mesmerized, taking a moment to fully absorb his words and then nodded profusely. You pulled yourself up, muscles aching from the combat you just did and scurried over to huddled mother.
“Please, you have to get out of her.” The woman nodded and gripped her son tightly, sprinting for the door as he kept pointing at the real version of the small action figure in his hand. You nodded at Mr. Delmar and he began to get employees out. You slowly leaned around one of the aisles to see where they were. Spider-man was locked in combat with him, continuously shooting webs that would melt over his hands so that the punches didn’t burn. You saw that no one else was left in the store and looked around for an exit route. You were blocked in, they had moved over by the doorway. You wanted to help the hero but didn’t know how. Then it occurred to you.
You leaned close to the ground and made your way to the ice cream refrigerator on the wall on the wall. Desperately, you flung the door open and began ripping ice cream off the walls, until there was enough space for you to be able to fit in it. You stood in front of it and then prepared yourself for bravery you were pretty sure you didn’t actually have.
“Hey! Hot-Head! Come at me, I bet I can still take you.” He turned to you and smiled. You turned around fast to make sure the open fridge was right behind you.
“What-what’re you doing!?” Spider-man shouted, but you shook your head, letting the man get closer. His hands caught fire and he pushed you until you were up against the freezer and you caught eyes with Spider-man. You had about 2 seconds to get him to understand. You gestured your head back, ducked down and pushed yourself on the floor between the mans legs and shouted, “WEB HIM.”
In a second a stream of webs shot over your head and sealed the man in the freezer, door still open (you weren’t trying to kill him). Spider-man walked forward and webbed him over and over again. And you knew your theory worked, the fridge counteracted his heat and he could not melt the webs.
When he was done webbing the thief, Spider-man turned to you and cocked his head in a weirdly familiar way, “Thank you, that was really brave..” He seemed confused but also satisfied and sort of… proud?
“Yeah- uh, no of course.” You replied nervously, noticing that he seemed to have made his voice lower since the last time he talked. You took in his muscles and felt a blush creep over your face.
“Listen, I kind of have to go, the cops are going to get here soon and I really don’t want to have to explain to my parents what happened, also I want to be able to hang out with my friends. They’d never let me leave the house again after this…” You gestured to the scene around you. The masked hero nodded.
“I get it… more than you know. Come here, I can help.” He motioned for you to come outside by the door with him. “Hold on tight.” He grabbed you around the waist once you were out and shot a web, lifting you into the air. It was exhilarating and you felt your hair whipping around your face. However, the joy ride was short. Spider-man brought you to the ground 3 buildings over from Delmar’s just as the first responders arrived on the scene. Miraculously he took you in the direction of your house.
“Now you don’t have to worry, get home safe. I don’t recommend any more stops tonight.” Spider-man said to you. There was a note of deep concern in his voice and again it felt familiar.
“Thank you,” You whispered breathless. Staring at a real hero, one whom you had just helped catch a villain was unreal. He didn’t answer, he merely raised a gloved hand and smoothed down your unruly hair. Then without warning he shot a web out to his right and swung out of view.
Something in your stomach was telling you that you knew the face underneath that mask, but you tucked away that nagging feeling and hauled-ass home.
Fandom: My Hero Academia Characters/Relationship: Katsuki Bakugou, Ochako Uraraka, Kacchako Genre: Gen/Romance Rating: G Length:
2384 words Summary: Their lips brushed during a spar. It was an accident.
(basically, my take on the ‘accidental kiss’ trope)
Uraraka quickly dodged Bakugou’s right hook, fist barely grazing her cheek as she moved out of range. She reached out to grab his outstretched hand, but he spun around before she could, seeing her strategy and crushing it with an explosion to the back.
She grunted at the pain but refused to go down–she used the smoke to her advantage and put her training from Gunhead to good use; she locked her arms around his, using all her body weight to throw him overhead,
catching him off guard–and before he could react, his back hit the ground with a resounding bang, the wind knocked out of his lungs. As he gasped, she took the chance to sit on his chest, pinning him down with her knee.
Bakugou struggled against her grip as she tried valiantly to hold him down.
“It’s not over yet, Uraraka!” He shouted, glaring with sharp eyes and quickly shoving her off of him, knocking her off balance.
Soon, they devolved into wrestling each other on the ground, pushing and shoving and kicking, each trying to get the upper hand, victory just within grasp, until–
Do you think on the ride home Dean took off his flannel and made Cas put it on to replace his bloody shirt?
“I really am alright, Dean. You don’t need to sit back here
Dean ignores Castiel’s reassurances, just like he has been
ignoring them for the last fifteen minutes.
“Cork it, Cas! Mom’s drivin’, Sam’s shotgun, and I’m back
here with you, makin’ sure you’re really holdin’ it together. That’s just
the way it’s gonna be so stop tryin’ to fight me on it!”
Both Mary and Sam give each other wide-eyed looks, but stay
quiet—knowing that Dean is still processing everything that had happened back
in the barn. He’s still drowning in the feeling of being out of control, and it’s
driving him absolutely nuts.
“Here, Ma” Dean grunts, shoving the Impala’s keys at the
woman and then turning back to tend to his angel.
She swiftly nods and takes the keys before ushering her
other son around the far side of the car—and then, all at once, they climb in
to join Castiel, who has already been carefully placed in the backseat by Dean’s
“Does it hurt anywhere?” Dean asks—slightly calmer now but
his voice still has a rattle to it.
“No, Dean. I’m feeling fine—just
like I said before.”
“Well, you don’t look
fine. You’re kinda pale. Sam, doesn’t he look pale to you?”
Sam turns around and gives Cas a sympathetic look before
shrugging silently at his older brother, knowing that his opinion doesn’t
really matter right now anyway.
“Yeah, see—Sam thinks
so. You should lean back a bit.”
“These seats don’t recline, Dean.”
Dean frowns at him. “Then scoot down a little! Jesus, Cas …
I’m just tryin’ to make sure you’re okay!”
“I am okay … I
have already told you—”
“Scoot down, Castiel!” Mary grits firmly from the front of the car—glaring at
him through the rearview mirror, eyes flicking back and forth between the angel
and her eldest son.
He wants to protest again, but then Castiel nods, finally
understanding that the only one not
fine right now, is Dean, and doing what he asks—no matter how pointless it is,
will make him feel a little better … a little more useful. Cas scoots down in
Dean smiles, happy that his friend is finally listening to
him. “Alright then … better?”
Castiel stops himself from rolling his eyes. “Yes … better.”
The proud smirk that immediately graces Dean’s face seems to
trim away the tension in the car—until the moment that the folds of Cas’s coat
fall away, exposing the dirty, blood-stained white button up beneath. “Oh … shit,
man! That looks bad!” the man yelps as soon as he sees it.
Castiel squints and cocks his head to the side, finally following
Dean’s eyes down to where the usually clean looking garment, is now a tattered
mess strewn about his body. “Oh. Yes, well … I can just—” Cas begins, already
lifting his hand to will the mess away, but he stops mid motion—cutting the
magic short because the man beside him is starting to fidget in his seat. “Dean?
What are you …”
Dean teeters back and forth, wriggling from side to side in
the confined space until he finally manages to free one of his arms from the
black coat and plaid overshirt that he’s wearing.
“Hold on … almost …”
Dean soon rocks all the way over until his head is practically in Cas’s lap—but
he doesn’t seem to notice because he’s too focused on freeing his other hand. “There!”
he yelps victoriously, finally holding up the plaid shirt for everyone in the
car to see.
Sam nods and Mary holds back a chuckle, and Cas just
continues to stare at the man—confused and slightly annoyed by everything that
“Okay, Cas. Your
turn” Dean says after another moment, eventually turning happy eyes back on
“My turn?” Cas asks, feeling suddenly nervous about what he’s
expected to do.
“Yep” Dean chirps, looking Castiel up and down with a long
pull. “Strip and put this on.” He holds the flannel out towards him, but he
doesn’t hand it to the angel just yet, as if he’s planning on dressing him
himself … and at this point, Cas wouldn’t be surprised if that’s what Dean had
“Dean …” Castiel grumbles again, now—rolling his eyes for all to see. “You realize that I can fix
this, don’t you?”
Dean only grips the shirt tighter in his hand.
“I am an angel … I
have the power to—”
“Just put on the damn shirt!” All three Winchesters bark in
And that makes the angel finally throw up his hands in
defeat. “Alright!” he exclaims,
quickly sitting straight and leaning forward so that he can work his body free
from his coat. But before he can completely shimmy it off, Dean’s hands are on
him, fiddling with the buttons of Cas’s dirty white shirt. “Um … what are you
snaps, but his cheeks are turning red and his hands are starting to shake
against the angel’s chest.
Cas stares at him a moment, and then up to the front of the
car where Sam and Mary are vehemently avoiding eye contact with anything but
the road. So he turns back, just as Dean undoes the final button and pushes the
cloth aside, displaying every inch of Castiel’s unmarred skin.
The man then stills for some time—never looking away and
holding his breath until the second Castiel is finally able to speak.
“You see, Dean … I’m
Dean quirks up the side of his mouth, but his face quickly
falls flat again, while his eyes bounce away and back several times, seeming
torn as to where to look now.
After that, it only takes another minute for Cas to slip out
of the ruddy, old shirt and into Dean’s flannel—and for the first time since
they left the barn, Dean doesn’t interfere, nor do Mary and Sam act like
anything is happening just behind their heads. In fact, the frenzied tone of
their drive has seemed to mellow, and even Dean appears to have settled down;
although, his hands still twitch with the need for something to do … which
doesn’t go unnoticed by the angel at his side.
Castiel sighs, flicking his eyes down towards the soft plaid
that’s now draped over his own shoulders—the fabric is warm and smells like
Dean; so just as he begins to fasten the last two buttons, he purposely skips
one—so the thing is now bunching up across his stomach. “There” he confirms, drawing Dean’s focus back to the task at hand, and of course—Dean notices the mistake
“Ah—jeez, Cas …
you’re helpless, ya know that?” Dean mutters with a smile, reaching over eagerly
to straighten out the buttons and get them all in the right order.
But Castiel just smiles too, taking the moment to take in the
worried Winchester—his charge, his
family … a man that he loves—and he nods. “You’re
right. What would I do without you?”
warnings: swearing, smut, use of alcohol, smoking, lowkey going to be heartbreaking
word count: 11.6K
summary: You meet Jungkook in psychology class who acts like he has it all figured out, however as you two get closer you realize you are more alike than you two originally thought. Unfortunately for the two of you, fate has another plan in mind which will test yours and Jungkook’s relationship in more ways than one.
part 1 of 2
The first day of the new fall semester has been nothing less of eventful. Not only did you sleep past your alarm by more than thirty minutes, not only did you not get a cup of coffee in you this morning, not only did you realize that you had forgotten your psychology textbook back at your apartment until you got to class, and not only were you ten minutes late to class, you somehow were able to calm yourself down enough to where you did not cause a commotion once you entered the lecture hall.
Once you sat down, places towards the back mainly open, you opened your laptop trying to blend in with everyone like you had not just missed the first ten minutes of class. You focused in on what your professor was saying, trying to ignore the fact that you had also forgotten to brush your teeth as well.
“In my class, we will learn about all sorts of things,” the professor states, “From children, to sociopaths, the human mind, to medicine, to love… and sex,” he pauses for a moment, a smirk on his face, “and yes, we will be talking about soulmates, too for those wondering, although many of you may already know where I’m at with this,” he continues.
Your face suddenly drops. Soulmate. You have heard the term all of your life and as you have gotten older, the more you try to ignore it.
Your older sister soulmate’s name carved into her left wrist at the tender age of fourteen and found the guy when she was seventeen. Your best friend soulmate’s named etched its name onto his left wrist when he was eighteen. The special thing about your soulmate’s mark, is that their name is written in their handwriting. A sacred thing that you have yet to experience. Everyone you knew, had received a name by the time they were eighteen… except you.
You were now 21, going on 22 and a name still has yet to be marked on you. You’ve heard stories of people never finding their soulmate and dying alone and depressed. Not only that, but you have also heard of the physical pain that comes along when never finding a soulmate.
Thankfully you have never experienced any physical pain yet, which gives you hope that the name is still yet to come.
“Excuse me,” a voice, a whisper, knocks you out of your thoughts. You glance over to see a boy with light brown hair and big doe brown eyes staring at you. “I think you dropped this,” there in front of you, the mysterious boy holds up a pencil that must have slipped out of your hand while you were in thought.
“Oh, thanks,” you say in a whisper, snatching it back from the boy giving him one last look before turning your attention back on the professor.
You internally groan to yourself and you can tell this is already going to be a long year.
Summary: At a cast party, your favorite song starts playing and you ask your best friend Jensen if he’ll dance with you.
Word Count: 995
Warnings: this might give you a cavity, drunk!Jared, cursing
A/N: Written for @wayward-mirage‘s Rat Pack Challenge! Sorry it’s past the deadline, I really suck.
“You almost ready?” Jensen called from the
living room as he buttoned up his cuff links.
You hummed and stepped into the hallway, black
heels clicking on hardwood floors. Jensen looked up from his task, his eyebrows
You look… amazing.” He coughed and stood,
meeting you by the door.
He helped you into your jacket as you blushed,
unsure of how to respond to his compliment. Opening the door for you, the two
of you made your way to the cast party to celebrate the 300th episode of
“There they are!” Jared’s voice boomed toward
you, followed closely by his hulking figure.
“Hey Jare, few drinks deep already, huh?” You
chuckled and adjusted his bowtie for him.
“Been waiting for you two! What took so long?
Some pre-party fuckin’?” He wiggled his eyebrows.
Okay, a bit more on the violent, semi-pessimistic, more stereotypically Orcish side of things. Possible triggers. Graphic. R-word.
A bit of backstory to this little hypothesis: Humans figured out our differences somehow. Terrorism peaked, religions crumbled, and we had one REEEAAALLY big bad bloody war. Lots of people died. Man’s inhumanity to man. Rape, humiliation, genocide, slaughter of innocents, Armageddon, Ragnarök. That sort of thing. We vowed through accords and treaties, even in the colonization of other worlds and systems (and any conflicts that may result from such) we would seek to end things peacefully, because everyone’s just so tired. They don’t want to spill blood anymore. They vow to protect their societies and their children from such horrors ever again, and never visit such a low point ever again for the sake of humanity. Call it the Blooding Years. Makes the World Wars, Holocaust and the Crusades look tame.
Jump forward a few hundred or good thousand years.
Race really isnt a thing anymore, save for a few varied vestigal traits here and there. People are still spiritual and have faiths and superstitions, and we have made our peace with nature and spirituality, but organized religion itself is something mostly relegated to our bloody past. Although we put the Blooding Years behind us, something so profound is sure to leave some marring and scars on the general psyche of a people, even generations down the line. We are as peaceful as we can be, despite gallows humor and general mental maladjustment taking a spike in recent generations. So, in short, we’re just a bunch of vaguely beige space monkeys with twitchy temperaments trying to be peaceful and stuff.
We have spread to a few systems outside Sol. We’ve contacted a handful of species out in the stars. Xenophobia was a thing, but we’re getting over it. We have a few ‘hybrid’ systems where we coexist, a la [insert sci-fi title here] style. Aliens are learning to like us for our resilency and hard work, but having learned from our history (which was liberally gifted to those among them that would read it), they give us a wide berth, despite keeping steady trade and peaceful relations.
And then, as the old saying goes, shit happens.
A bunch of genocidal xenophobic maniacs come out of nowhere and decide “WE OWN THIS SHIT, AND YOU ARE AN AFFRONT TO GARGASCHMARGAL THE BLOODY! YOU MUST BE [insert evil villain endgame here] !!!” and essentially try to out-Space-Orc the Space Orcs. The Galactic Union, or whatever the assembly of alien races view themselves as (and with which we are allied with but decide not to unify with) launch an offensive! They fight! They clash! In the words of Willem Dafoe, “THERE WAS A FIRE FIGHT!”
Annnnd they lose. Horribly. Entire fleets are laid waste. Worlds fall. Star systems crumble. Trillions die.
And then, after their bloody campaign, having beaten back even the forces bolstered by humans, and after enslaving or euthanizing any other people that stood before them, they arrived at the doorstep to human space, and after a gorefest, essentially Hiroshima a garden world. Eden-in-the-Wind.
-cue the seriousness-
Word got back to Earth, Inner, and Outer Colonies. Eden-in-the-Wind is gone. Dust. Vids came back from the now-dead world. Women and children executed. People being eaten as they are simultaneously being used for sexual pleasure. An infant used as a soccer ball. Skulls with still-bleeding vertebra dangling from belts.
Mayhem bore its crown. The wolf stirred. And Hell reigned.
Those allied aliens that remained and sought refuge on human worlds watched in horror as formal governments dissolved, treaties were burnt, and every human down to the last howled into the winds. We embraced the ways of old. We broke hockey sticks for impromptu spears. We cannibalized vehicles for their precious metal, so that they could have blades to drink blood with. We melted down memorials, so that we could have bullets to slay foes with. We renamed our ships, which served as names of peace and progress and remembrance. They now beared the names of hatred, and death, and destruction; Sathanna, Gehena, Lucifer, Ragnarök, Deluge, Armageddon, Uziel, Uoke, Shiva.
What once was an organized military force was now a hodge-podge fleet of battleships, cargo ships, carriers, dreadnoughts, and even civilian transports. Children carried rifles. Mothers carried swords. Fathers carried axes. Brothers and sisters exchanged spears and pistols. Bitter neighbors mended fences in the name of vengeance. The wheel turned once more, and the wolf within no longer stirred, but ruthlessly hunted, awoken by the stench of blood and gore.
The ships more or less crash, stead of land. We find whatever worlds these bugs have taken, and fall upon it as a horde of foaming teeth.
Allied aliens deemed it appropriate to seek revenge alongside, but were appaled by the horror that humanity was so easy and ready to visit upon these foes. They partook in adrenaline shots and metabolized psilocybin. They drunk of alcohol distilled from the blood of these genocidal demons. They detonated bombs that had still-screaming enemies piled atop them beforehand. They sent crates full of heads back to hostile commanders. They glassed entire worlds from orbit. They beat these foes back to their homeworld, having ruthlessly dogged them to the edge of oblivion.
Eventually, there were no new bodies to crumple. Eventually, there was no fresh blood to spill. Eventually, all that was left of this enemy that had scourged this corner of the galaxy for 75 years was a whimpering, bloodied remnant of their hierarchy, and a dwindling few thousand left to their populace.
Their god-king laid beaten and bloody upon the crumbled remains of his golden throne. He asks to but a girl, no more than 14, that approaches him, sadistically grinning in the dim light of the royal chamber.
“Why? Why have you come here? Is your bloodlust not sated!? We conceded five of your cycles ago! We know what you are capable of! We fear you! Why?! Why do you still come?!”
The girl stops, close enough to smell the copper tang of the alien’s blood on its breath.
“Sic semper tyrannis,” she blurted out, in a dead tongue that the alien did not understand. She drew the knife in her belt and beheaded him, his gurgling screams resounding through the chamber.
She left through the front doors of the palace, the bronze sunset glinted off the golden palace buttresses and arches. She still clutched the god-king’s dripping head by his antennae, her purple-stained hand white-knuckled in victorious fury. A small congregation of aliens bowed and knelt before them, raising claws and feelers in terrified begs and prayers. She tossed the head down the steps, and watched it bump and roll the length down, halting with a wet thump at the base.
And as the congregation shuddered and yelped, completely catatonic at the realization that their god-king is dead, they turned their gaze to the humans, boarding their dropship, ascending into the clouds. They never returned.
Humanity drew back its severely-pruned numbers. They retreated to Earth, to serve a self-imposed penance. The remaining allied aliens, now repopulating their numbers, were gifted the colonies that humanity had once taken. They wondered why humanity was retreating to Earth.
Shexan, a member of the founding race of the Galactic Union, confronted his human friend, Jonathan, though keeping a healthy distance after what he had witnessed.
“Why do your people leave, Smith-Jonathan? You have won, why do your people not rule?” it inquired.
“We did not want to win. Because we knew what we needed to do to win. And we did not want to return to that.”
“To what, Smith-Jonathan?”
“To what we learned not to be.”
“The lessons of the past will be repeated until they are learned.”
Jonathan turned from his new friend, tears streaming down his ragged face, as he departed into the darkness of the transport, its heavy bulkhead doors clunking shut behind him. The transport lifted into the stars. In all the years since that Shexan lived on TRAPPIST-1-b, he did not see a single human return.
The Sol system was, at the behest of humanity itself, marked as an uninhabitable system, and was restricted from entry. And, so has it remained, since.
Theory: The Cervello were never Varia or Millefiore aligned. They were always a part of the Giglio Nero.
subtitle: I will give all the female characters in this series the love and thought they deserve and Amano can meet me in the pit
As a recap, the Cervello are a group of mysterious women that show up three times within the series. Two of those times, they (or another person) claims that they will act as impartial judges for the current shounen fighting gimmick. Their supposed impartialness is debatable, but not in the way you might think.
The first time they show up is during the Varia Arc, shortly after Xanxus almost blasts away everyone and Iemitsu gets the (fake) letter from the Ninth. They claim here that they’re an independent group directly reporting to the Ninth, to which Iemitsu and Reborn seem dubious because they’ve never heard about it. However, in the end, they still act as judges throughout the entirety of the Ring Battles including at the end when they pronounce the Varia as disqualified and hand the victory over to Tsuna and Co.
What is particularly interesting, however, is the conversation at the end of the battles when they announce that news and speak with Xanxus.
Xanxus: Happy your prophecy came true?
To which the Cervello reply…
Cervello: I’m sorry, sir, but this was neither our wish nor a prophecy we made.
Now, needless to say, while I can only follow the wording of the translator for these scenes, it’s intensely interesting choice of words. A “prophecy” is a prediction, but it is a word that is associated with the mystical and arcane, seeing a result that others can only really guess at. Xanxus isn’t accusing them of planning against them, because that’s like plotting the weather- a prophecy simply sees the clouds forming and hears the approaching thunder.
In turn, they deny that they explicitly wanted this, or that it was a prophecy they foretold…. but they don’t exactly deny it was prophecy.
What I think happened here was Xanxus calling the Cervello out. For all they might have acted like it, treating him and the Varia with deference, the Cervello were never truly on the Varia’s side. The Cervello were working for an outside cause; Xanxus simply mistook it as one similar to his own (or perhaps always knew but his pride assured him that his Varia would win no matter what). By making a jab at the idea of prophecy, he’s saying he knows who the Cervello are truly aligned with.
Now. Let’s think. In the world of KHR, is there anyone to which prophecy- a mystical act of seeing the future- is relevant to…?
For the Anon who requested “a crossover of Criminal Minds and NCIS where the reader is married to Morgan and while meeting Gibbs’ team for the case Tony flirts with Reader and Morgan yells at Tony and started to being protective of reader around tony”
You sat at your desk file open in front of you, fingers flying as you entered data points into a grid before transferring them to an online map. Reid usually handled the whole profile ‘map’ thing, but since he was in Vegas seeing his mother, and since you were still in Quantico on a home case you figured you’d give it a shot.
“I am the man!” You whooped, spinning around in your chair, with the intention of announcing your victory to your husband, Emily, and any other team members passing through. Instead you were met with several people you’d never seen before, all wearing visitor badges.
Your hands dropped from their victory stance and your mouth opened slightly as you cheeks flushed. You quickly stood from your seat, coming around the desk, trying to regain an air of professionalism.
“I, uh, Agent (Y/N) Morgan” You offered, looking the group over, “Can I help you with something?” You asked voice going up slightly in the end. No one told you that people were coming in for questioning.
“Why yes you are, and yes you can.” One of the men offered, giving you a charming grin. You raised an eyebrow him momentarily noting the the handsome face and at ease demeanor. A player for sure.
“I am.” You nodded, “And I will. But first I need to know who you are.” You replied easily, earning a smirk from the rest of the group. The man closest to you (not the flirt) was obviously the oldest, he nodded his head at you, producing a badge, holding it up for you to inspect.
“We’re NCIS. I spoke to your director earlier, about the Mulaney case.” You nodded, mouth going into a small ‘o’ as you glanced in the direction of Hotch’s office.
“Well, apparently I am the last to know, however, the man you’re probably looking for Agent…”
“Agent Gibbs, that’s his office there.” You pointed towards Hotch’s closed door and smiled, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. You expected Gibbs and his entire team to head in the direction you pointed them, and was slightly surprised when the other three people held back, looking around your office curiously.
“I didn’t know they let beautiful woman like you work for the FBI.” The flirty one grinned, leaning casually on the desk you’d previously been sitting at.
“They do when they’re as smart as she is,” Someone said from behind you and you rolled your eyes, feeling lips connect with your cheek, “Got you coffee, and a sandwich, baby girl. I don’t see us getting much down time so eat now.” You chuckled at the cheek kiss. Derek was not usually affectionate at work, but god he couldn’t miss an opportunity to stake his claim. “Hello, I’m Agent Derek /Morgan/.” He practically growled. offering his hand to the flirty man, causing his two teammates to grin and snicker.
“Agent DiNozzo..” He mumbled taking the hand, and you watched as Derek, you sweet loving and ever caring husband asserted his dominance over some poor man who never had a chance.
“Now if you’re done eyeing my wife, we’ll be holding a briefing in the conference room.”
Turns out the NCIS team was going to be joining you on this case, and for most of the week it went as thus. DiNozzo purposely ignoring you. You purposely being extra friendly and attentive with DiNozzo, because you thought it was funny. And Derek practically breathing down the poor man’s neck.
“I want (Y/N) and DiNozzo to go back and recheck all of the alibis, dig a little deeper, see if anything overlaps.” Hotch announced tossing an SUV key at you, which you caught with ease (thank you softball.)
“Hotch.” Derek grumbled, “I think it would be better if I went, let DiNozzo here take Reid to the morgue.”
“Yes.” Tony nodded, and you smirked, rolling your eyes. You put a hand on Derek’s arm, squeezing briefly, shaking your head.
“I’m fine, Hotch, we’re fine. Right DiNozzo?” You asked, and he again nodded his head.
“Yes, of course.”
“Right Morgan?” You asked, turning around and giving a smirk to your big old overprotective husband. He didn’t answer for a moment and you raised your eyebrow, challenging him to say no and admit he was being jealous.
“Of course, dear.” You laughed.
“Good.” You grinned, turning and starting towards the cars, “Come on DiNozzo.” With one more slightly worried look in Derek’s direction Tony took off at a jog after you, eyes focused completely above your head of course. Nowhere else. Never.
Pairing: Sebastian Stan x female reader Summary: Being
interviewed by the most famous talk show host was totally new for you,
and like always Ellen did her reputation justice, making you reveal
something to the audience especially Sebastian seems to like. Warning:
fluff, smut, fingering, PDA