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pokechbi · 9 months

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“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

WHEWWIEEE this one’s a bit different than my usual ones. Hope you all enjoy! 💗

As always, EVERY single interaction is so so greatly appreciated!!

- (Obsessive/Psychotic) König x fem reader

- 18+ MDNI !!!

- CW: blood, SH

- Not my usual smut, pt 2 with more smut is otw!

💗💗

Maybe it was your eyes. Everyone always told you that your eyes were the most expressive part of you. Or maybe it was your hair. The way it hung loosely around your shoulders, sinuously curly and sticking to your forehead when you sweat. Or was it your body? The way your clothes fit snugly against your curves, accentuating the parts of yourself you tried hiding the most. You didn’t know what it was about you that captivated him so badly. That made him like you. That made him utterly infatuated with you.

His failed attempts at subtlety rang through your mind at the end of your work days, your brain swirling with possibilities and hopeless, endless cycles of painful obsessions. His behavior was unhealthy. Obsessive. One of a stalker. But you found yourself thinking of him at night, your mind being your worst enemy. You knew he wasn’t right in the head. He wasn’t right at all. No one in his line of work could be. His hands were bathed in the blood of more men than you could ever comprehend. His mind was filled with constant thoughts of death, battle, fighting, killing. He was a beast of a man, physically and mentally incapable of compassion. In no way was he made for any kind of lasting relationship. And you knew that. Yet, as your fingers made their way between your legs at night, thoughts of him on the battlefield slashing, stabbing, shooting, strangling, penetrated your mind like a train in a tunnel too small.

You’d see him at least twice a week in the infirmary. You’d stitched his mysterious wounds countless times, your flesh burning with every feathery brush of your hands against his skin. Like a snail to salt. You knew it was wrong. You knew as a mandated reporter, you were legally required to report any suspicion of self harm. But you didn’t. And you felt as if you were betraying your very existence to cater to the psychotic needs of the man who you knew had a few screws missing for your own selfish desires. He never spoke much. Just sat there, looming over your small frame, causing your breathing to heave and your hands to tremor. He made you tense. You made him tense. The palpable tension between you just a ticking time bomb, ready to impale any passersby with the sharp shrapnel of his infatuation with you.

It seemed that every time he came to you, his wounds got worse. But they started small. Harmless. A gash in his porcelain flesh, just a few gauzes needed to stop the bleeding in order for it to heal itself. And as many times as you lied to yourself, thinking: maybe it was from training. Maybe he’d lost control of his knife, accidentally cutting himself or mishandling it. And deep down, you knew it wasn’t. You knew he had been purposely hurting himself. Just to see you. To you, it was charming. Fascinating. And it shouldn’t have been. Every cell in your body screamed for it not to get to you. But you saw his harming himself a certain kind of devotion to you. A showing of his ultimate loyalty to you, even though you hadn’t spoken more than ten words to each other outside of medical talk.

He’d been acting this way for months now. Too afraid to approach you with his feelings directly, but not afraid to leave you with constant, subtle reminders of his existence. The smell of him left on the sheet of the hospital bed. The boot scuffs on the floor, yet to be mopped up by housekeeping. The idea of him hurting himself just to come sit on the hard, too-small bed just to see you, conjured a feeling in you that made you nauseous. His behavior was sickening. It truly was. And you knew, with every visit how his wounds got worse, bloodier, deeper…it was only a matter of time.

He sat on the bed, staring down at you through his sniper hood with his arms limp at his sides as you worked on them. His gaze burned a hole through your head, searing any incoming distracting thoughts with thoughts of him. What he must have looked like under that mask. What his skin felt like. What kind of sounds he would make when he fucked. How dangerously big his cock was. And no matter how hard you fought those thoughts with every fiber of your being, the wetness between your legs was a telltale sign. He had you. He needed you. And like a moth to a lamp, you found yourself secretly chasing that high that plagued your senses every time he was near.

Your mind was hyper aware of his every move, every breath. The tension in the room constricts you, making you feel as if the air thickened with his very presence. Your skin burned with every graze of his, the hairs on your arms standing to attention. Before you even made it into the room, you knew he was there. Waiting. Stalking your every step until you made it into the room with him. And before you entered, the fuzz on your neck stood erect. Your gut sensing danger, a predator with nothing but sexually malicious intent awaiting your arrival.

This was your last straw. There had to be a way for this to end. For the never ending silent fight, the vicious cycle of wanting him, hating him, being disgusted by him, being turned on by his very stance. You were almost done stitching him, your gloves bathed in his dark, thick blood. He never so much as winced as you secured the sutures, dabbing the wound with disinfectant. You rolled back in your chair, tossing your gloves onto the rolling metal tray beside you. And as always, he hopped off the bed, looming over you with a steady foot and a half above you as you briefed him on how to clean his wound. But before he could hastily make his way back to his quarters to do God knows what, you absentmindedly grabbed his bicep. He tensed under your touch, never turning to meet your face. Your throat dries painfully as you try to speak, your delicate hands and freshly done nails begging to dig themselves into his scarred skin as he fucked you in a frenzy of predatory sexual hunger.

“König.” You manage to release. Your voice was practically a squeak, making you feel smaller under him than you already were. As if you needed to feed into his nauseating predatorial instinct even more. You cleared your throat, approaching him. With every step you took, his presence sucked away each and every atom of oxygen from you. A pitiless, dangerous black hole that threatened to drain the life from you with its bare hands.

“What are you doing to yourself?” You ask, your voice breaking and cracking. You hated showing him that you were weak. That you were ready to be pounced at, mercilessly eviscerated. And in all honesty, you liked that you were. It was shameful. The way he stood, unspeaking and nauseatingly smug at your worry made you want to drop to your knees and get yourself off on his boots while he watched you shamefully. You wanted him to humiliate you. To degrade every ounce of dignity in you and then more.

“I know this isn’t from training, sir.” You say, running your thumb gently over his fresh sutures. You swallowed the lump in your throat, your mouth and tongue suddenly dry and coarse. You pressed into the matter further, just wanting to beat at his chest until he spoke. Hating him for forcing you to care about him. You were done with this game. The cat and mouse facade that masked the filthy desires swirling between the two of you. He turned to face you slowly, craning your neck to look at his eyes. The egoistic smile in his eyes, the one he made no effort to hide behind his mask.

“Little maus…” Although his voice was gentle, it still boomed through your eardrums. His German accent wet and thick on his tongue. You keep your grip on his arm, as if the feeling of your skin against his would keep your feet on the ground. “Can’t you see? I do it for you.” He lets out a sigh, reaching a hand up to graze your cheek. “I bleed for you, schatz.” He stepped closer to you, speaking as if it were completely obvious that he sliced himself, made himself gush impossible amounts, just for you. And a part of you always knew. You were always aware, always aware how it turned you on that such a man would do such things for a woman like you.

He looked down at his arm, your grip tightening and fingertips pressing into his stitches. He lets out a sharp breath, his eyes fluttering closed as you absentmindedly dug your fingers into his gash. You stared at him, dumbfounded. You feel warmth pool under your fingertips, glancing down at his now bleeding flesh.

“Fuck! I-I’m so sorry. Let me get some-”

“Harder.” He reaches forward hastily, grabbing your arm and stopping you in your tracks. Your lips hang agape, your face growing hot and your breathing growing heavier. He pulls at your arm, bringing you towards him. The room suddenly felt much smaller, threatening to crush you in its walls. The concept of what he wanted you to do made you woozy, your stomach queasy with disgust. But a deep part of you was fascinated by it, a sleeping beauty kissed awake by the nauseatingly beautiful devotion he showed to you. To want to please you. To show you how ready he was to drop dead. Just for you. Even if it were by the woman he loved most.

You stare between his eyes, noticing how his gaze grew softer as you pressed your fingers into his bleeding flesh. He cried out, a disgusting mixture of pain and pleasure lacing his moans. You stepped closer to him, ignoring the feeling of his hot blood trickling down your wrist. You move your thumb around his stitches as you approach his chest, slowly running your hands up his muscles. You stopped below the hem of his mask, twirling it in your fingers. His hand shot up to your wrist, squeezing it with a force you could only describe as starved. Without words, he moves your hand to his stomach. You feel the muscles under his shirt flex as he guides your hand down his abdomen. You don’t think before you do it, but nothing in that moment could’ve stopped you from giving him exactly what he needed. He bled for you. Sliced himself wide open for you. He showed his devotion for you the only way he knew how. By shedding his own blood. Just for you.

You work on his belt buckle, the warm blood weeping from his arm now trickling down to your elbow. As you got his pants open, you noticed it. He was already hard. Practically throbbing for your touch. His breathing grew strained, his head dipping down. You felt a smile twitch on your lips. The world around you seemed to be gone, and it was only you and him in this distasteful moment. You, him, his twitching cock and his bleeding arm. As you took the tip of him into your hand, the warmth of his blood grew hotter as you pressed your thumb deeper into the gash. You stroke him, while simultaneously pushing your thumb forward, eliciting the pained and pleasured moans from the gigantic man before you.

You see him look down, your small hands seeming smaller in comparison to the length and thickness of his dick. He reaches an ungloved hand towards yours, wrapping his large hand over yours. He guides your strokes, the combined warmth of his length and blood traveling through your body and settling in your core. He continued using your hand to jerk himself as his body twitched and slumped, knees bending slightly. You smile, no longer trying to fight the disgusting feelings that plagued your mind. You liked it. You shouldn’t have. But you did. The nausea that rose from your stomach only fueled you more, squeezing his cock harder as he continued stroking himself with your hand.

“Harder, my love. Bitte, ich mache alles. Mach es härter.” (Please, I’ll do anything. Do it harder.) He breathed, his body jerking with painful bliss. You do as he asked, pressing your thumb into his weeping flesh harder. You weren’t concerned how much he was bleeding now, only getting him to come. This was an irreversible, irresponsible decision. You crossed a line with him, and a deep part of you knew. You fought the looming dread that threatened to ruin the moment. You belonged to him, and he belonged to you. And in some twisted, cruel way, you didn’t mind. It was dangerous. It was far beyond recovery. There was no way in hell he was letting you go without dying first. And your newfound sick, twisted desires catered to his very agenda.

“F-fuck…I’m gonna…” His hand painfully squeezed yours, your fingers incapable of moving under his grip. You felt his cock twitch as you continued digging your thumb into his wound, the warmth of his blood bathing one hand, while the heat of his hot cum wetly coated the other. He lets out a string of moans and whines, his grip weakening over your hand. He breathes heavily into the air, your thumb releasing from his flesh. You let go of his cock, both your hands coated in the liquids that came from his soul. In some gruesome, macabre way, you enjoyed it. Loved it, even. The newfound feelings swirled through your mind and made your lips curl into absentminded grin.

The sound of his belt buckle seemed to bring you back down to earth, causing you to rush to the sink and throw the faucet on. You washed your hands, looking down at your arm, now coated in blood. All of your feelings hit you all at once, feeling a strong nausea bubble in your stomach. Before you knew it, you were heaving into the sink, your knees wobbly and threatening to give out under you. You didn’t know why you threw up. You’d seen all kinds of gore, been covered in blood countless times. But this was something else. Something damaging. The looming dread growing darker over your head. You hear König shuffle, approaching you from behind. You feel his large hand caress your back, a soft gesture that did nothing to comfort you from the cold, dark things you’d just done.

“I’m afraid I’ll need some new stitches, dear.” He says, a smile evident in his voice. You nodded your head, feeling airy as you stood up from the sink. You didn’t know what you would do now, the clarity hitting you like a truck. There was no escaping this. No escaping him. You sat him down again, resuturing his wound.

“This cannot happen again, König.” You say sternly, hastily finishing his stitches and cleaning his arm with disinfectant. You stand from your chair, hands on your hips as you pace the room. He stood from the bed, walking over to you. Before you could squeak another word out, his hands were cupping both of your cheeks, your neck craning up to meet his gaze.

“It can…and it will, schatz.” He says, a soft tremor in his voice. And in an effort to combat your fears of him, he swiftly throws the mask off of his head, hishelmet clattering to the floor. You look at him, lips parted. His strong jaw was lined with a dirty blonde stubble, his lips perfectly shaped balanced with the rest of his face. His nose sat crookedly between his eyes, permanently misshapen from breaking it so many times. His eyes, strong and grey, bored into your soul as if he was looking into every possible detail there was to know about you. He dipped his head down, pulling your face towards his as he crashed his lips into yours. You moan into the kiss, his hands keeping your head still as he forces you to keep your lips stuck to his.

He parts from the kiss, looking between your eyes with a deceivingly soft gaze. He leaves you in a stupor as he bends to pick his mask up off the floor, slipping his helmet on over his head. You stand dumbfounded, tears welling in your eyes as you scramble to handle your newfound feelings.

“I bled for you, dear. You are mine now.”

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alias71 · 1 month

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Dark Endeavour AU: Ashes to Ashes

I'm convinced that Ashes to Ashes (episode 2.1) featuring both Shaun Evans and Roger Allam is actually a dark Endeavour AU! There are so many parallels.

First up, we have the cop uniform swagger:

Next, we have Morse P.C. Kevin Hales, who was on the take, but his friend and colleague found out and was going to report him. Hales tries to shut him up by getting compromising pictures, but the setup goes wrong and his friend dies. Hales later shoots the hooker that was part of the setup after telling the police his friend was the one on the take. Interestingly, he seems to go in for a bit of a death-by-cop scenario as he is indeed somewhat guilt-ridden, but gives up. Which leads to a forced breathalyser test, not unfamiliar to Endeavour...

Then some police brutality:

And then it's off to prison!

Where things go badly, except just a little worse for Hales...

And then we have Thursday of course, who in this scenario is the shady Detective Superintendent Charlie Mackintosh, who’s trying to cover up his obvious murder of Hales in prison by having it listed as a suicide – because he’s *gasp* a MASON!!! (Taking over from Strange in this scenario!)

So yeah, fascinating to see Thursday have Endeavour murdered in prison! And what a beautiful little disaster!Cop he made too:

And there you have it! Such an interesting dark AU version of Endeavour! Or maybe just Pylon if it had been set in the 80s.

Can't get enough of the Morsetache, though! I'm very grateful to the 70s for that alone. Morsetache forever!

#itv endeavour #endeavour morse #shaun evans #fred thursday #roger allam #ashes to ashes #kevin hales #charlie mackintosh #i'm happy hope you're happy too #morsetache forever!

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alounuitte · 2 years

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survival, an island

In the aftermath of his confrontation with Alex, Tim figures out what comes next. (Canon divergent, set after Entry #86.)

chapter 2.

For the first two days, he waits.

He ends up posting the footage, without editing or further commentary, later that first day. It doesn't seem likely, at this point, that anyone is going to turn him in to the police; as far as he can tell, most of the viewers Jay's channel does have seem to think the whole thing is a hoax, and he thinks the few who don't are more likely to be on his side than against him.

Besides, even if someone did report Alex's death as murder, what's the worst that can happen to him now? He doesn't think he's going to make it long enough to go to prison. Even if he wanted to, he can’t run away now, and he’s out of his medication again. Even if he wanted to, he’s not stupid enough to try and get it refilled this soon, because no one’s going to buy that he lost it twice in as many months.

So he waits, lying in his motel room, staring at the ceiling and watching the shadows on the walls. It’s the only thing left to do, he thinks. It’ll come for him soon, and then it’ll be over. Soon it’ll all be over.

It doesn’t come.

He doesn’t sleep, at least not much, and barely eats. He doesn’t leave his room. He keeps Jay’s old camera set up on the tripod, watching the windows, and checks the footage when he changes the tapes. Sees it outside, watching him through the gap in the curtains. Waiting.

When he does sleep, the first night, he has nightmares. The faces of his friends haunt the backs of his eyelids. Blood spills from his open hands and stains the ground. He dreams of Jay’s dead body, lying on his carpet in a pool of blood, and of Brian with his neck broken, his head slumped to the side at the wrong angle, and of fire and smoke that chokes his lungs until he wakes up gasping for air. He can’t sleep again after that.

He imagines it, too, among other things. It's worse than it's been in a long time, now that he's out of his medication again; he sees things moving in the corners of his eyes, and more than once he thinks it's in the room with him only to check the footage and find nothing there. He thinks he hears Alex’s voice in the faint hum of the ventilation, glimpses Brian in that mask leering at him from the windows of the building across the street.

The second night his head feels like it’s splitting open, and he’s sure it’s the end when he can’t stop coughing long enough to catch his breath. He chokes on the blood in his throat and turns over to spit it into the trash can. He feels the seizure coming on before it hits him, comes round afterwards with pain shooting up his leg where he’s dislodged the bone again. Cries himself to sleep, exhausted, overwhelmed, and prays he won’t wake up.

On the morning of the third day, with light spilling in through the curtains, he sits up, holds his leg with both hands as he lowers his feet to the floor. His head spins, the room shifting in and out of focus as he tries to keep himself from blacking out. He looks over at the bedside table and slowly picks up the pocketknife.

He's probably tried to overdose a dozen times in the past ten years, but he's never really considered anything else, not seriously. It's just always seemed easiest; he's been medicated with various drugs at varying doses since he was a kid, so the option's always been there, and it's painless, almost painless. Just like falling asleep. Of course, he's always woken up, but that's never been enough to push him farther.

He turns both hands over, examines his forearms. He's out of medication now, but he isn't out of options, not really. He still has the pocketknife. He knows it's sharp enough. He's already killed someone with it once. Surely it's easier to open arteries than someone's trachea. And it would hurt, but not for very long.

He flips the knife open and stares at the blade, angles it so the sunlight glints white off the edge. His grip on the handle tightens.

Then he thinks of first finding it in his jacket pocket, not knowing where it came from. Thinks of seeing it on tape in Jay's hand and recognizing it, the moment of dull horror when he'd realized he's taken it from him somehow. Thinks of Jay, the last time he saw him alive, holding the camera in one hand and the knife, his knife, in the other.

The camera, and the knife. The two things he took from Jay, last time he saw him alive.

His hand is shaking. He realizes he can't breathe. Would Jay want Tim’s blood on his knife, on his hands? Even when he'd come to the house to threaten him, had Jay really wanted him dead?

He drops the knife to the floor and buries his face in his hands.

It occurs to him, by the fifth day, that if he’s not going to die, he needs to do something, and soon. He can’t stay here in the motel forever, after all; even the insurance money from the house isn't going to last that long like this. He’s going to need another job, and a new place to live, probably in that order.

He starts hunting for apartments and filling out job applications, and finds, to his surprise and relief, that it's a little easier to get through the days with something to keep him busy. The shadow of death is farther from his mind, and while he never really stops looking over his shoulder, he feels like he actually sees things -- real or imagined -- less often. He has to stop, lay down and close his eyes when the pain gets overwhelming, and it often does -- but the distraction is a welcome change after four days of waiting, helplessly, to die or disappear. It's something to do, at least, in the long night hours when he can't bring himself to sleep.

By the end of the week, the relief fades, and it becomes more exhausting than anything. In two days, he hasn't heard anything back on either front, and he's realized he's not sure what he'll do when he does. He's in no shape to interview anywhere like this -- still badly injured, underfed and underslept, and jumping at every noise. And even if he gets through an interview, he doesn't know how he'll keep a regular job without his meds. He can barely take care of himself now, and it hasn't been that long yet without them; he's only going to feel worse, as time goes on, and he's not sure that any amount of work will be enough to keep his mind occupied for long when it gets bad again.

But he isn't dead yet, he reminds himself, when it feels like it's more than he can take. And if he's not going to die, the only choice left is to keep going.

#shorter than the other chapters but its fine #marble hornets #marble hornets fanfiction #tim wright #hey! read my fic.#willwrites

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warmblanketwhump · 3 years

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safe enough to fall

a little university-themed thing I wrote using @sicktember prompts: comfort item, sneaky temperature check, medicine, unlikely caregiver, and lightly inspired by these prompts

the grip of the winter’s cold was their constant, unrelenting companion - but sometimes, B just wished it would be a little less faithful.

It doesn’t ease in the morning, when B wakes up coughing with a cold nose and stiff limbs. It stays as B shivers through the lukewarm shower and the hurried layering of clothes over damp, goosebumped skin. It sticks to them like cling wrap on the bus, in the lecture hall, the windy walk to their next class, makes them tense their rattling jaw, and leaves them hunched over and huddled up, desperate to conserve any scrap of heat.

This was a fact of their university existence - that after the pleasant crispness of fall, their poor, scholarship-funded body was plunged into four months of frozen hell. They didn’t like to complain - after all, they were getting a free education. But no one told them how brutal their university’s winters would be, nor that dorm heating was little more than a few puffs of warm air every hour, or that regardless of how many layers they pulled on, they’d be chilled to the bone until late March.

Their final class of the week is in a drafty science lab, and they hold back a groan. The cold's not the only source of their dread - it was the thought of spending 90 minutes with their perky, overly friendly lab partner, A.

A, whose parents were well-off, well-known benefactors of their university. A, who lived in a nice house with proper heating and had the money for a warm winter coat. A, who obliviously chattered on about anything and everything. Besides that, they were just so...happy. All the time.

The can afford to be, B thought miserably. There was no way all that sunshine could be real.

B really tried to tamp down their bitterness, but it was hard to listen to someone gush on about their amazing weekend their family spent on some tropical island when B spent the same weekend wrapped up in blankets, trying to stay warm enough to study their nomenclature notes.

Two minutes before class, A bounds into the lab like a freed golden retriever and begins their usual volley of caffeinated questions, which B responds to in short, clipped answers. Suddenly, the questions stop and A’s brows furrow.

“You look cold. Are you okay?”

B shifts on their stool and tucks their fingers into the sleeves of their worn secondhand coat, pulling it tighter with a shudder. “I am cold. It’s winter.” They cough weakly into their elbow - the nagging cough has gripped them for weeks now.

“Are you sick?”

Direct, then. That was new. “No. At least, I don’t think so. I don’t have a fever or anything.” In truth, they had been feeling a little lower than usual the past couple of days, the chill a little deeper, the aches more pronounced, the cough a bit more painful. But in their book, that was hardly enough call themselves sick. B sniffles and A opens their mouth to comment further, but the professor calls the class to attention, and the moment is gone.

90 minutes later, they’ve got their work cut out for them - a ten-page lab report that’s going to count for nearly a quarter of their final grade. And as luck would have it, it was a partner project, which meant B got to spend more time with the equivalent of human rocket fuel.

“So...do you want to just knock this out tonight?” A's eyes dart around nervously.

B frowns - it’s almost the weekend, and they figured A would have plans with friends this evening. But B sure doesn’t have anything going on., so they don’t protest. “No… I s’pose we should get as much done as possible while it’s still fresh. Want to go to the library?”

“Ugh." A cringes. "Do we have to? That place is like a tomb.”

B huffs indignantly. “It's not that bad," they mumble in a weak defense of their favorite study spot. A shoots them a glare, and B rolls their eyes. "Do you have somewhere better? It's Friday, so most places are closing up.”

“Well, my parents decided to go on some last-minute ski trip to the Alps again, so my place is free," A says as they step out into the biting wind. "Plus, I have a ton of food and it's actually warm in there, unlike these buildings.”

The promise of decent heating and food that wasn't from the dining hall was enough for B. "Fine. Your place." The pair trudge through the bitter wind as the sun begins to set, and soon they arrive at A's parents’ home - a beautiful, winding estate just a couple minutes away from campus. B has to bite their lip to keep their jaw off the ground - in the blustering snow, this place looks straight out of a Christmas card. Another reminder of how they don’t fit in this world.

Will you stop? B chastises themselves. A having money isn't a personal attack on you. Just enjoy the free food, finish the assignment and get over it.

Despite the towering exterior, B's house was quite cozy, colored in warm neutrals and filled with soft, comfortable furniture. Just past the mudroom, they spot a big living room filled with with an enormous overstuffed couch, squashy-looking pillows, and soft throw blankets. Everything about this place screams warm. A rubs their arms, suddenly aware of how cold they are. The heat nearly makes them dizzy, and they can feel the temperature difference as it seeps into their cold skin.

"Want some cocoa?" A tosses their bag into the corner and heads for an electric kettle in the kitchen, and B follows. "It always helps me warm up." B nods. A couple minutes later, A pushes over a steaming mug with the top entirely covered in marshmallows.

B wraps their chilled fingers around the mug and takes a sip, and the warm, rich liquid feels like heaven to their cold body. "That's amazing."

A smiles. "It's the good stuff." They sip in a surprising silence for a few moments, before A sighs in resignation. "As much as I wish this was just a social call, this report isn't gonna write itself." They grab a bag of popcorn and nod their head toward the living room, and B follows dutifully. A flicks on the gas fireplace and tosses B a throw blanket, and the pair gets to work.

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

After a couple hours of studying, three instances of indignantly thrown popcorn, and a dramatic reading of the periodic table, B realized that they may have misjudged A. Deep down, under the bubbly exterior, A was a genuinely kind, sweet person. It wasn't an act - they just were human sunshine. And the longer they spent time with them, the more B realized they didn't mind their company at all.

"Alright." A drops their pencil and rubs their eyes. "If I have to balance one more equation, my brain's gonna explode. Study break time." A flips on the TV and puts the volume on low.

B leans their head back on the couch and pulls their throw blanket to their chin, trying to ward off the shivery feeling in their core. Despite the heat of the fire, the mug of hot chocolate, and the thick blanket, they just can’t seem to get warm.

Their face feels hot, but their blood feels chilled and heavy, the weight of it making them ache deep down in their bones. B wraps their arms around their knees, trying to rub away the throbbing pain and get some warmth into their skin. They glance out the picture window at the now-blowing snow. It's gonna be a miserable walk home.

"B, you're shivering." A's turning to look at them now.

B startles. "It's-It's nothing. Just a chill." The concern in A's voice triggers their flight response. "I....I should probably get back to the dorms. It’s late–" They're cut off with a hacking cough that leaves them breathless and they wince at the ache in their chest.

"B, it's snowing, and you haven't even had dinner-"

"Where's my jacket?" They push themselves up and toss the throw blanket off, instantly regretting it as the air invades their pocket of hard fought warmth. They’re trembling and dizzy and desperately freezing, but they cannot stay here. Then, the world tilts and they fall back on to the couch. For a moment, they're just laying in an icy, spinning world, trying to catch their breath, when warmth suddenly envelops them.

A's tucking the same thick grey blanket around their shivering form. As they pull away, their hand lightly brushes over B's neck, then freezes. B twists away from the gentle touch, but it’s too late. Realization floods over A's face. Caught. "You lied. You are sick."

B groans, even as their fingers weave into the chunky knit and pull the warm layer closer. "A, please. Just let me go home. I'm probably contagious. You don't want me here."

"B, you look like death warmed over. I'm not sending you out in a blizzard when you're feverish like this. I won't do it." There's a spark in their eyes and a set to A's jaw that dares B to challenge them.

B leans back, defeated. Even though they want nothing more than to run out of this room, they're too weak to stand and too cold to move. So here they'll stay.

It's okay. Someone's here. You can give in now.

No. I can't. I can't let them see me like this.

What choice do you have? You already look awful. Let them help you.

A covers them with another blanket and places a gentle hand on their back, rubbing slowly. The firelight flickers, casting light and shadow across their solemn face. “B. Tell me what you're feeling, and I'll get you what you need.”

B swallows down the rising panic, the helpless vulnerability they feel, and takes a shallow, shaky breath. “I…I guess I just feel….not right. I’m always cold...but it's...worse.” They sniffle weakly, trying to still and order their swirling thoughts. “Chills, fever, cough, sore throat, kinda stuffed up. And it just hurts everywhere.”

A nods slowly, then leaves the room. They return in a few minutes with a few small bottles, carefully scanning the labels and holding them up for B to see.

“Can you take this? Any problems with this one?” B had to take a moment and match the brand names with their usual knockoff brands, but soon they had a couple over the counter medicines picked out, along with something for their cough.

A glances at the medicine labels once more. "This one says to take with food. I've got some leftover chicken and dumpling soup I can heat up - does that sound okay?"

B nods almost imperceptibly. "Sounds wonderful." A gets up to heat the soup, and B feels the anxiety rising in their stomach when they're not in the room with them. A returns with a mug and manages to gently spoon a few sips of broth into B's mouth before B starts falling asleep, clutching the grey blanket even tighter to their shoulders.

A smiles sadly. “That blanket's my favorite whenever I'm not feeling good. It's the best thing you could have to fight off what you’ve got. Trust me.”

B curls into the soft fabric. It was as if the warm environment of the apartment and the comfort of the blanket had been a signal that it was safe to leave survival mode, rest for a moment, open the floodgates that had been holding back whatever had been ailing them for weeks.

After B takes their medicine, A’s eyes shift awkwardly around the room. “So….when you’re sick, do you like having someone with you? Or do you want to be by yourself?”

A sudden rush of emotion crashes over B. They’d so rarely had the choice. It takes all they’ve got not to throw themselves around A and beg them not to leave. “Stay, please,” they ask in a small, trembling voice. “If it’s not too much trouble.”

A smiles halfway and gently pats B’s leg. “Seeing as how I live here, I don’t think that’ll be a problem.” They take their spot at the end of the couch and pull B’s legs over their own, flicking the TV to a familiar movie. B tries to keep up with the plot, but they keep falling in and out of a fitful, restless sleep, tossing, turning, unable to get comfortable enough.

When B’s about ready to cry from exhaustion, A’s there, covering them up with another blanket, bringing them a glass of water, gently stroking the damp hair off their forehead before laying a cold cloth over it. They flinch at first, but the cool dampness eases the fire of their fever, even for just a moment. The last thing B remembers before falling unconscious is a gentle hand squeezing theirs.

It could be minutes or hours later when they jolt awake from a fever dream in a cold sweat, choking and coughing. They’ve kicked off their blankets and the cloth is nowhere to be found, but the chills are back in full force. A appears in B’s blurred vision, hand held to B’s forehead. “Poor thing. Your fever’s worse,” they murmur.

B’s still gasping for breath, curled up in the fetal position, body wracked by the shakes as they try force the words through their chattering teeth. “A...It's so cold. I’m so scared.”

If B was more lucid, they’d see something in A’s eyes crack wide open at their weak, fearful cries. A pulls the trusted grey blanket from the floor and wraps it back around B, rubbing their arms to try and make them feel warmer. There's something in the tenderness of the gesture, and B’s panicked gasps turn into soft, quiet sobs. They try and cover their face with one hand, but A’s hand is there, catching their wrist and wiping the tears away with their thumb.

“Hey. You’re gonna be okay. We just gotta get through tonight, alright?” A’s voice matches their usual cheery demeanor, but B can see the fear in their own eyes. They don’t know what they’re doing either.

“Why are you helping me?” B whispers in a tear-roughened voice.

A shrugs. "You're sick. You need help. Is it that so surprising?"

B's eyes flash a delirious spark. "You don't get it. I'm a broke scholarship student. I'm nothing like you. I'm not fun, or bubbly, or rich, or any of those things you are, and I don't fit in here. So why?"

B can't stop the words now, every single insecurity laid bare. "Why do you try to talk to me when I'm nothing but rude to you? Why'd you invite me here? Am I just a project to you? Why are you helping me? I'm not worth it!" The words spill out before B can stop them, and the raw hurt in A's eyes nearly rips B's heart out of their chest.

B claps their hand over their mouth, tears flooding their eyes. Now they've done it. They've laid it all out there. A's gonna kick them to the curb. And B won't blame them one bit.

But instead, A just looks at them, and pulls B into a hug. Their voice wavers only a bit as they whisper in B's ear: "You're not a project. You are completely worth being cared for. And you’re not the only one who knows what it feels like to not fit somewhere. Trust me.”

Alone. In a big, empty house. Studying on a Friday night. No plans of their own.

A, are you lonely, too?

Their words are so simple.

And yet they're everything B didn't know they needed to hear. A's got one arm around their shoulders, and one hand threaded through their sweaty, fever-damp hair, and they're cradling B so tightly it’s like they're the one who needs to be held.

B can't find the words to apologize or comfort them back. They're too tired for that. But they wrap their other arm around A and let their head rest on their shoulder. They stay like that for ages until their head begins to drop, and A shifts so they’re both laying down, B curled against A, A’s arm wrapped around their shoulders as they tuck a blanket around them both.

And finally, finally, B lets go. It's safe to fall, this time around. Because for the first time, there's someone there to catch them.

#sickfic #whump #sickfic prompt #whump prompt #cold whump #lol i rewrote this four times #can i just be chill about whump #no #no i cannot #also it’s cooler today #fall means whump weather #I don’t make the rules

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og-cinnamon · 3 years

Text

please read this! it's urgent!!!

hello all! i haven't been here in very long, but i don't know what to do anymore. there hasn't been a strike this big in many years, and there has been little to no international exposure to my knowledge, so i hope some of you can read this, and try to help!

you may or may not know this already, but the situation in Colombia is pretty bad right now. because of the pandemic, unemployment rose by a stupid amount, and poverty got way worse than it already was: yesterday, about 40% of the entire country's population got reported to be in poverty. that's about 20 MILLION people living in extreme poverty.

added to these (really bad already) conditions, the government has reported there's not enough money to keep the country working for more than two weeks. this is not because there actually isn't any money. there's not enough money for governing because of ongoing, old corruption in the government; and because our president, IN THE MIDDLE OF THE THIRD PEAK IN THE SANITARY CRISIS, decided he should get himself some war planes for literally no reason.

as a way to resolve the fiscal deficit caused by the government, the government decided to draft a tax reform, according to which middle and low class citizens will have to pay a 19% added value tax for anything they buy, especially including basic goods such as meats, grains, fruits and vegetables- pretty much anything you need to eat. aside from that, there will be a 19% added value tax on gasoline (further increasing the prices on food), basic services (water and electricity supply, and internet in middle class households) and even funerary services in the event that you die. if this reform gets passed, WE CAN'T EVEN DIE WITHOUT BEING CHARGED TAXES FOR IT, EVEN IF THE ALREADY EXISTING SHIT CONDITIONS MAKE IT IMPOSSIBLE TO LIVE IF IT PASSES.

naturally, there was generalized outrage when the reform got announced, and so, on april 28th a national strike against the reform began. it's been three days of marches already, and i have never seen everyone come together like this to repel the reform: indigenous people, farmers and truck drivers are blocking national highways all over the country, many of my fellow students have been marching nonstop all the while, bus drivers are blocking highways in Bogotá. this never happens, so it's that bad.

however, this outrage has been met from day one with police repression, and the government has been blatantly ignoring the people's demands. on april 28th, a 13-year-old got shot and killed because he kicked a policeman. on april 29th, a girl lost her eye because a policeman shot her in the face while she was standing in the midst of a peaceful protest.

today, on april 30th, 7 people have been confirmed to have been murdered in a police shooting during one of the marches; there are about 300 people illegally confined in a stadium by the police; one of my best friends has had two tear gas bombs shot into her house for no reason.

the list of disappearances keeps growing, and no one knows what the death toll is; the media keeps covering it all up by bringing attention to the people burning fires on highways and breaking into banks, but there are no official reports on all of what's happening yet.

the president has said he won't lift the reform no matter what, but the strike will continue until it does, and we're terrified. this is the biggest strike in years, but influential government officials are even asking policemen to shoot people even though they're not even meant nor allowed to carry many of the guns they're using, and the national health ministry is threatening to stop vaccine supply to one of the most covid-affected areas of the country.

i haven't even gone out to march, because i live in a high risk household and vaccines haven't been delivered to a significant degree yet and so i'm scared of covid; but i'm still genuinely fearing for my life and my family's. my friend's house got flooded with tear gas because the police felt like throwing a tantrum. who knows what's next?

what's even wilder about all this is that i haven't seen any international exposure, even though it's the exact kind of thing that deserves exposure; besides, at this point i believe the government will only cave through international pressure.

please, i beg of you, if you read this please reblog it, repost it, do whatever; get informed on what's happening, please help us make it trend. the world needs to know, please help spread the word!

MAY 2ND UPDATE:

as of right now, there are no official reports on the past few days' brutality. however, most unofficial human rights organizations claim the death toll is 35, that there have been 45 seriously wounded people, and that there have been 31 disappearances. in response to that, the president threatened to militarize the main cities last night and said it was a way to defend citizens' integrity; what has been evident, though, is that the main threat to the population is police abuse.

this morning, some things happened as well: first, the largest Colombian syndicates (truckers and taxi drivers) announced they'll be going on strike tomorrow and contributing to the blockage of main highways all over the country.

after this was announced, the president announced that he will order the Congress to scrap the reform, and that a different project will be worked on. by previous experiences, this just means that they'll find a way to rephrase the reform so it's a bit more agreeable, but ultimately get us to the same place; aside from that, a reform to the health system will continue regardless of the tax reform's state.

bear in mind the nationwide health system is on the brink of collapse as it is, because even after a year of the pandemic and counting, there hasn't been enough funding to guarantee biosecurity nor treatment: in departments such as Chocó, or the entire Caribbean region, service is precarious at best. further cuts on its budget would be beyond catastrophic.

this obviously means the strikes won't stop, but with militarization seeming imminent (unless the army goes on strike as well, which has been rumored but I find unlikely), and the nonstop rise in police violence, there are no guarantees to human rights nor protest safety.

please help us keep spreading the word!!!

#28A #noalareformatributaria #police brutality #colombia #paro nacional #urgent #help needed #idk what to tag so this gets seen but god #signal boost #update #important #paronacional2m

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seijorhi · 3 years

Text

Through the cold, I'll find my way back to you

Me attempting a multi-part fic?? More likely than you think! I wrote this fic because this blog started with Hawks and Dabi and kinda got a bit of traction with soulmate au’s so to me it made sense to post it for my first anniversary. I hope you guys like it! 💕

Touya Todoroki (Dabi) x female reader, Keigo Takami (Hawks) x female reader

TW canonical character ‘death’, a little angst and maybe a slight hint of dub-con (if you squint your eyes a little)

Part I, II

You’re eleven years old when your parents take you by the hand, sit you down on the couch and tell you that your soulmate is dead.

It doesn’t make sense. There’s a hollow ache inside of your chest like something important is gone but you were with Touya only yesterday. You had the rest of your lives together, you were gonna leave with him, start something better…

You feel empty and you can’t understand it. He can’t be dead, that’s not how it works. You find your soulmate and you get to ride off into the sunset. You get to be happy, everyone knows that.

But it doesn’t sink in until you’re kicking and screaming by his grave and Endeavor won’t so much as meet your eye and your parents are pulling you back because there’s no body.

There’s nothing left of Touya Todoroki.

And there’s nothing left of you without him.

—

They call it the bloom. A simple touch, the first from your soulmate’s hand, and the mark appears on your skin like drops of ink spilled into water. You’ve always thought it beautiful, the delicate black pattern imprinted on your wrist.

You can still remember the heat you’d felt when it happened. Not the burning kind you knew him capable of, but like the warmth of a fire seeping through you. And you remember the way those bright, blue eyes had widened as you’d tripped and fell, taking him with you. His mark was over his heart; Touya always was stupidly smug about that.

You were just kids. Angry and scared and lost, but you had Touya and Touya had you.

(Not that that counted for anything in the end. He still died alone.)

They say it’s rare to find your soulmate before adulthood, but you’d been one of the lucky ones.

Lucky.

The word tastes bitter on your tongue now. It’s not that you disagree exactly – even now, years after his death you’re glad that you had time with him. You would’ve been grateful for a minute, for a mere glance at his face. Two and a half years with your soulmate was a gift, but having him, losing him so young only meant that you had more years of your life to struggle on without him.

And sometimes you catch yourself staring at your mark, lost in thought. Touya was the one with all the plans, you were always just the tag along, happy to go anywhere so long as he was the one leading you. You wonder what he’d think if he could see you now. Not the Hero you’d let yourselves imagine, though you suppose you both knew deep down that was nothing more than a pipe dream for someone like you.

Gazing around your cramped, messy apartment, debating exactly how badly you need this shitty, barely-enough-to-scrape-by job, you can’t imagine he’d be impressed.

God knows your parents are disappointed, but that’s nothing new. The Quirkless daughter of two mid rank heroes – well, the only thing you ever had going for you was being Enji Todoroki’s future daughter in law, and everybody knows how that one ended.

But part of you likes to think that maybe Touya wouldn’t judge you too harshly for it. You’re doing the best you can. You’re surviving, all on your own, that has to count for something, doesn’t it?

There’s a text message awaiting you when you roll over and grab your phone.

Happy Birthday x

Natsuo never forgets. The rest of the Todoroki’s – you ceased to matter to them the day they buried an empty casket for their son. Natsuo’s the only one who bothers to check in on you, make sure that you’re keeping your head above the water. It’s usually just a message here and there, and he calls you on Touya’s birthday. And on the anniversary of his death.

It’s painful for him, but you suppose you’re the only tangible connection he has left of his brother.

You stare at the message for a moment longer, a strange feeling tugging at your heart. Typing out a quick reply, you set your phone down and fall back onto your bed, staring up at the ceiling with a sigh.

Today of all days, you’d honestly rather just roll over and let the hours pass you by, but your boss isn’t that forgiving and as much as you hate to admit it, you need this job.

The hotel’s already abuzz by the time you clock in, your manager’s jaw tight, a frown pinching at his face. As much as you don’t like him, you can’t exactly blame him for the bad mood – in less than three hours, the ballroom will be filled with a media circus and a plethora of pro heroes. Some big promotional event before the hero rankings are announced; you honestly don’t care.

It just means that everybody’s on edge, you’re gonna spend all day stuck in heels, smiling blandly while you serve people who won’t so much as look twice at you.

And then there’s the real reason you’re dreading today. 6’4”, blue eyed, broad shouldered, currently burning holes into you from across the ballroom while you carry around a platter of canapés. The last time you’d seen Enji Todoroki in person was two weeks after the funeral, and he’d ignored you entirely.

That was years ago; you weren’t even in your teens. Half of you had hoped that in his infinite arrogance and the complete lack of care he’d shown since his son’s death he would’ve forgotten about you entirely.

From the way he’s spent the last twenty minutes staring at you while bulldozing past reporters, though, you’re not feeling all that confident.

And for the life of you, you can’t figure out why your presence seems to be disturbing him so much, considering you’re really only there to serve and then fade into the background. It’s not like you’re chasing after him, demanding an autograph much less any kind of acknowledgement – you’re not exactly thrilled to be here either. Things work just fine with the two of you pretending the other doesn’t exist.

Does he think you’ve planned this? Some big ‘fuck you’ to try and mess with what you’re sure will be an announcement of his retainership of the number one position? Even while Touya was still alive, his father didn’t have a place in your life – he was off training his youngest, you barely saw him and you were glad for it.

While he might have hated him, some part of Touya still idolised him, craved his approval, but Enji had never been anything to you but a selfish, unfeeling monster. A bully.

But now he’s staring at you, slack jawed and wide eyed like he’s seen a ghost and it’s harder than you thought it would be to keep that smile plastered across your face knowing he’s watching your every move.

Your cheeks feels hot, and it only gets worse when you realise that Endeavor’s less than subtle behaviour is slowly but surely drawing attention from others in the room. A few curious reporters have shot you odd looks, heads cocked for a moment before dismissing you as just another waitress, hardly headline worthy.

The other heroes are less quick to brush you off. Mirko, current number five, elegantly clasping her glass of champagne in a gloved hand keeps shooting furtive glances between you and Enji, Gang Orca’s beady eyes following you across the floor, a flicker of what you’re fairly sure is concern maring his face.

It’s mortifying. Your smile is stretched and painful, your throat tight and you feel utterly exposed, but there’s nothing you can do. The flame hero doesn’t seem to care about the attention he’s drawing, or that with every passing minute it gets harder and harder for you to maintain that professional, customer service demeanour you need for this job.

And you’re beyond caring if he’s embarrassed to find his firstborn’s soulmate has sunk so low in his absence, you just want him to stop staring so you can finish your shift in peace. But it seems like the flame hero has other plans, because you’re just beginning to seriously weigh up your chances of keeping this job if you just up and walk off right here and now when Enji’s limited patience finally reaches its threshold.

He doesn’t bother offering excuses towards the poor reporter trying to pry an interview out of him, he just abruptly sets his drink down and starts stalking towards you. Rationally, you realise that with all these people here, he can’t make too much of a scene.

It’s just that even the thought of having to talk with him, to look into those blue eyes that are so painfully familiar yet wrong–

You can’t do it.

Not today.

And so you spin on your heel, stomach lurching. The silver tray in your hands stacked high with champagne teeters and falls, crystal glass shattering on the marble floors drawing gasps from the crowd. Endeavor calls out your name but you block him out, desperately weaving your way through the stunned mass of people.

Most of them give you a wide berth, likely due to the oversized hero barrelling after you. He calls your name again, louder this time. It’s not a scream, or a yell – it almost sounds pleading, though you can’t possibly imagine why. Endeavor doesn’t do pleading.

Your cheeks are burning; there’s too many people staring and hot tears begin to prickle at your eyes. A flash of red blurs past your field of vision and you start, a sharp squeak slipping out as a figure lands before you, blocking your exit.

Handsome with bushy eyebrows, dirty blonde hair messily brushed back and golden eyes gleaming; the hero in front of you would be impossible to mistake, even if it weren’t for the sweeping blood red wings sprouting from his back. Hawks, the current number two pro-hero and the only man standing between you and your fumbling escape.

Your body’s slow to catch up with your mind though, and as you try to stop, backpedal and side-step him at once your foot catches on your ankle. It’s instinctive, the way your arms fly up, wildly trying to catch yourself before you fall on your ass.

Just like you suppose it’s instinctive for him to rush forward to do the same.

It happens in a split second, your fingers brushing the skin of his neck just above the collar of his shirt, his hand grasping at your waist to steady you. Beneath his gloved hand a familiar burst of heat warms your skin.

Time slows to a crawl. The ballroom, all the gathered heroes and the press, your co-workers, they all fade into the background as your eyes dart to your fingertips, resting gently on the side of Hawks’ throat. There, a soft, inky black mark begins to unfurl spreading up to his jaw, disappearing below the collar of his turtleneck.

Over the quiet hum of the classical music playing in the background, you hear his breath catch.

He has you dipped, the two of you frozen as if in a dance and for a moment you dare to meet those piercing golden eyes. There’s a clicking sound, a camera shutter you distantly register, but while it makes your heart jump, Hawks pays it no mind.

He stares at you with impossibly wide eyes; open, vulnerable and raw.

And then he blinks, and that glimpse is gone, his grip tightening as he slowly sets you right. He doesn’t let you go, however.

“Hawks,” Enji’s tone is low and gruff, a warning this time.

Tension, thick and crackling with electricity hangs in the air between the three of you, amplified by the crowd of onlookers. All those journalists, chomping at the bit with the realisation of a juicy story playing out right in front of their eyes. Your name’s called out again, not by Endeavor, but by the reporter he’d cut off before – eyeing you now with an eager leer that has you recoiling back into Hawks’ embrace.

It’s enough to jerk the winged hero into action. His mouth finds your ear, his thumb sweeping soothingly along your side as he speaks low enough for only you to hear.

“You wanna leave, baby bird?”

You don’t remember nodding, but you must have, because in the space of a single heartbeat Hawks has you hoisted up in his arms, those powerful wings spreading wide – and you’re flying.

—

“I don’t think I have a job anymore,” you laugh drily, staring down at the city lights twinkling on the horizon.

Beside you, Hawks snorts in agreement, “Hell of a way to make an exit, though.”

He’s not wrong. You can only imagine what the tabloid headlines will say tomorrow ‘Pro Hero sweeps hotel waitress soulmate off her feet’ ‘Hawks mates for life; Endeavor jealous?’ Even if by some miracle your boss wasn’t intent on firing you on the spot, you’re not sure you can even bear to show your face there again.

It’ll be a pain though, trying to find a new job while your face is plastered across every less than reputable news outlet.

Perched atop the rooftop of Hawks’ hotel, halfway across the city, the wind ruffling gently through your hair, everything feels… surreal almost. It’s your birthday, and instead of crashing through the door of your apartment, exhausted and aching before falling face first onto your bed and not moving for the next few hours, you’re here. With the number two pro hero. Who, incidentally, is your second soulmate.

Having more than one soulmate, it’s not unheard of, just… rare.

And your hand’s entwined with his, his gloves long since discarded, his fleece lined jacket draped over your shoulders. Touya’s mark, long since blossomed across your inner wrist lies starkly between the two of you, unignorable.

“It was his son, wasn’t it?” he asks eventually, breaking the fragile silence as he toys with your fingers. When you nervously risk a glance up, Hawks doesn’t look angry or upset or even that jealous. Those golden eyes study your face with an odd kind of curiosity, but there’s no trace of resentment there. “Touya, the one who died. He was your soulmate.”

It’s not a question, but you find yourself nodding anyway. A part of you’s almost surprised he put it together so quickly, but you guess being a pro hero of that calibre requires a little more than just having a strong quirk.

“I’m sorry,” you murmur, because what else can you say?

You can’t possibly imagine how he’s feeling right now, what thoughts are running through his head. You’d accepted a long time ago that while you’d love Touya Todoroki until your dying breath, he was gone; that chance of a fairytale happily ever after going with him. Another soulmate wasn’t something you’d ever considered, much less wasted time longing for.

And yet here you are, another mark inked across your skin and it feels wrong somehow, yet also completely right. Imagining being on the other foot; putting yourself in Hawks’ shoes – a pro hero soulmated to some insignificant, quirkless waitress, and not only that, but finding out she has another soulmate, somebody she loved before you, a ghost of a memory you’ll always be competing against… you honestly don’t know how you’d feel.

“Look at me,” he whispers, calloused fingers coaxing at your chin. Heart thrumming like a hummingbird's you comply, letting out another soft squeak as Hawks takes the hand still entwined with his and lifts it to his neck, right above his mark.

He smiles, nuzzling into the touch as your breath stutters. “You’re mine, aren’t you?” Again, you find yourself nodding without even really being conscious of it. It doesn’t seem to matter to Hawks though, whose smile widens at the sight of it. He leans in closer, his breath fanning across your face as molten pools of honey drink you in. You wonder if he can feel the way your pulse is racing under his touch, mixed emotions warring inside of you as he cups your cheek.

“And I’m yours. That’s all I care about, baby bird.”

He’s drawing you into a kiss before you can even comprehend the words, soft lips moving against yours. Gently at first, but that sweetness gives way to a burning urgency as he pulls you closer, holds you tighter.

Hawks kisses you like your lips hold salvation, and it’s frightening and thrilling and it feels like every nerve in your body is electrified when his teeth catch at your bottom lip and he moans your name.

There’s some part of you that realises that you’re moving too fast – soulmates or not he’s practically a stranger – but as you break for air, panting and breathless and Hawks looks at you with those burning, beautiful eyes; you’re helpless to resist.

“Keigo,” he tells you as he lays you down on his bed, crawling up between your thighs with a gleaming, hungry smirk that’s nothing less than predatory, “Call me Keigo.”

#yandere bnha #yandere hawks x reader #yandere dabi x reader #yandere keigo takami x reader #yandere touya todoroki x reader #tw character ‘death’#tw dub con #soulmate au #I’m not even sorry #except I am #lmao last one I promise

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thesunshinebunny · 3 years

Text

When the world falls apart, the only thing we can hold onto is ourselves (Part I)

Series Master list

Pairing: Canon Eren Jaeger x reader

Content: Angst, unstable relationship, breakup, smut/nswf+18, major character death, violence, blood (obviously), war (pretty obvious)

Summary: War and hate. It’s what defined the world at this exact moment. You failed your comrades, and by failing them, you failed yourself. Your relationship is hanging by a thread and your enemies will not only be found on the other side of the sea, but also in the mind of the person you love the most. How will you take the reins in the face of so much destruction?

Chapter Summary: After watching their teammates die in battle, reader begins to question their sanity and of their so-called partner.

AN: let me say goodbye to my favorite girl, who got me the best laughs and relieved my anxiety while reading manga chapters. At the same time, let me succumb to the misery and enlarge the wound with an canon Eren. I won’t be against following this fic if I see that a lot of people like it, but my list of fandoms isn’t going to change, this will be a unique exception.

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The chill in the air from the airship rushed through my veins. Less than two hours ago, I had seen countless comrades die, each one of them struck by bullets in different parts of their bodys or eaten by a Titan. I had seen countless lives fall and had been unable to save any. I knew we were going on a suicide mission, but deep down inside of me, I hoped we would all come home alive.

I was very naïve to think of a happy ending in this rotten and violent world.

Inside the room I was in, my mind wandered looking through one of the few windows this war machine gave us. I wasn't paying attention to what Levi or Eren were saying, I didn't even have the slightest intention of asking why Zeke was with us. Although being a member of the Survey Corps and a direct and in training medic, I was not fully informed of the missions. Eren’s courtesy.

Bored and mentally tired, I left the room where my leaders were having a heated discussion with "humanity's last hope." I didn't have the strength to add more charcoal to the fire, but trust me when I tell you I wasn’t at all happy with Eren's plan, simply and exclusively because I was completely unaware.

I walked down the hall making a mental note to kick the brunette in the face like Levi did when we got back. If my so-called partner, who had the decency to slowly push me away over the last year without explanation, wasn’t confident enough to tell me whatever was going on in his mind, then we would be in front of the doors of a serious conversation back home.

I opened the door where the scouts were when I heard a rifle go off. My eyes went wide and fear washed over me. I instantly scanned my body for wounds, completely ignoring the situation happening in front of me. Finding no sign of impact, I looked up only to find Sasha falling on her back, with a bullet impact on her chest.

The world seemed to have frozen as did my body. No one was able to move. Blood was spreading around Sasha's body, staining the floor, and that's when I reacted. My body moved on its own, pulling the cloak off my shoulders and folding it to make a small pillow. My ears didn’t catch any screams or cries from my teammates, as if I was underwater and the only thing I could hear was my heartbeat accelerating, threatening to come out of my ears.

"I need a syringe with anesthesia, a pair of tweezers, a needle, a lighter, bandages and hot water, NOW !!"

No one was moving, everyone was in shock, including me, but I was layered enough to know that if we didn't do something, Sasha wasn't going to survive.

"Jean, Connie, I need surgical elementes! NOW!!"

The two boys came out of it, running around the room, even going to the continuous, looking for something that might serve, while I tore Sasha's shirt and took her equipment. Mikasa was next to me grabbing the pieces that were in the way.

"Mikasa, I need you to put pressure on the wound and don’t move your hands"

Connie came running back with the anesthesia in hand, trying to give it to me, but me failing. The syringe fell to the floor, but thanks to whatever deity was watching us it didn't break. My hands were shaking with adrenaline, making it impossible for me to inject the needle into the glass vial.

“Sasha… I need you to stay awake, ok? I need you to keep your eyes open at all time"

The dying girl in front of me didn't give me an answer, but I knew she heard me. In the background, I could hear the desperate cries of the others, apart from the fact that someone had hit the culprit in the face. I injected the anesthesia and proceeded to remove the bullet from the lung. Mikasa reapplied pressure with wet cloths.

"Sasha everything will be fine, I assure you, everything will be fine, so don't you dare die on me, okay?"

I couldn't tell who I was addressing those words to, the girl who gave us the best laughs in our training days, or me.

Lighter in hand I proceeded to cauterize the wound, but my eyes fell on Sasha's, noticing how the life had left her eyes. The light that was so bright in her pupils had faded, leaving nothing more than an empty countenance.

"Sasha?...Sasha? hey, this isn’t funny, Sasha wake up…Sasha?? SASHA?!!?!" ...

"SASHA!!!"

Again.

Again I’d been unable to do anything.

Again I’d to see how I was unable to save someone.

Again.

I had seen a mate die. Again.

My chest contracted, the air was impossible to get in or out and my lungs cried out to explode. My stomach wanted to regurgitate, but there was nothing in it, causing me to spasm. My vocal cords were damaged from screaming and my head was about to collapse.

My whole body was about to collapse.

"How dare you!? You son of a bitch, how dare you to shoot the person who forgave your life?"

My anger was now directed at the child they had wanted to bring with us. It was impossible for me to look at her without having the desire to break her face, to make her suffer ... to kill her. To take revenge for Sasha.

“SHE FORGAVE YOUR LIFE BY NOT GIVING YOU A SHOT IN THE HEAD AND IS THAT HOW YOU PAY HER? YOU HATE US SO MUCH? HOW MANY MORE LIVES DO YOU WANT TO TAKE FOR US TO BE SATISFIED?"

My legs got up, leading me towards the girl, but arms held me from behind, preventing me from continue walking, preventing me from taking revenge.

"HOW DARE YOU? HOW DARE YOU? YOU ARE THE REAL DEVILS"

In the end, my body collapsed, completely loosening and causing me to almost slide down Connie's arms. I fell to my knees when he released me, snuggling up and hiding my head in my arms. Tears flowed like waterfalls with no intention of stopping and my screams reverberated across the metal in the room.

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

Connie opened the door where our commanders were still arguing. Both with tears in our eyes gave the worst news of the night.

"Sasha died"

Jean and Hange's faces were disfigured and Levi hid his grim outline from us. The room was silent, but all that could be heard were my sobs, spasm after spasm.

"She had a ... a bullet impact ... in ... in the chest ..."

It was difficult, almost impossible, for me to relate the precarious medical report of our friend's death, trying to help me with the movement of my hands ... but even so the spasms won me over. I fell back to the floor, tears invaded my face once more and my ability to articulate words was gone down the drain.

Hange approached with a slow step and placed their hands on my shoulders, giving me the help I needed to give the report. I took several minutes of deep breaths and when my lungs returned to normal, I spoke again.

"Sasha had a bullet impact on the chest, on the left lung ... There was no exit, so the bullet was stuck in there...it pierced two ribs, tearing the skin of the lung and causing internal bleeding... I managd to remove the bullet, but I didn't have time to cauterize and sew the wound ... she bled to death"

Every pause I took to breathe made it so much worse for me to speak back. If it weren't for the fact I was undoubtedly taking deep breaths, I would have passed out from distress and hyperventilation.

"I could have saved her ... I know I could have saved her"

Silence reigned over the room, sobs from Hange and Connie could be heard if we were paying close attention. Jean and Levi glared at Eren, who had not deigned to lift his head at any time.

I got up as best I could, running Hange's hands gently, and left the room once again. I needed to be alone for a while, I needed to let go of these horrible feelings, I needed some air, otherwise I doubted I’d do anything rational in the state I was in.

My legs led me to a room away from all the common ones. It was empty, but it had a couple of windows that chilled the already cold metal walls. Some windows were at my height, allowing me to appreciate the view from the air, but let's face it, it was impossible to appreciate the landscape when your mind and heart were breaking to pieces. The only thing that kept my mind intact from any collapse was the path of smoke and fire that could be seen in the distance... signs that Marley was still on fire.

"Are you ok?"

That familiar voice, all too familiar, echoed in my ears pulling me out of my entrance. Eren had entered the room quietly with the aim of… what? See if it was okay? Because I really wasn't, it showed on my face and that's what made me even more angry than I was.

"Oh, I don't know? Am I ok? Do I FUCKING LOOK OK TO YOU?"

I turned from the window too quickly causing me to stagger and fall to the floor. My head was spinning and starting to ache as was every muscle in my body. I put my hands to my head, hoping the pain would dissipate a bit, but the only thing I managed was to sink further into misery.

"I could have saved her ... if I’d been faster ... I know I could have saved her"

He hadn't moved from where he was, he just stayed there, looking at me. My blood-soaked eyes looked him up and down searching for something, whatever, to speak of, but all I found were non-glare eyes and a neutral gaze, as if he hadn't cared how many lives this mission had claimed.

"Do you want to know how I feel? Fine, I’ll tell you"

I stood up heavily, my muscles begging for a break. I turned my head to see the black smoke rising on the horizon, still clearly noticing an orange and red flare.

“I am tired…I am full of rage and hate. I saw our comrades die and I couldn't do anything, I was unable to save them ... to save Sasha...and all because of not having been informed like everyone else"

My eyes hadn't left the window because I knew, if I looked into those dull turquoise eyes, those same eyes that once shone with all the innocence and life that a young man could have, I would end up punching him.

"Are you happy? Did you accomplished your mission now that you have the power of the warhammer titan? What will be the next step? Go back to Marley in a few months, finish what you started and devour the jaw titan and Reiner? Assassinate the cart titan?”

Again, I got no response. My patience had already reached it’s limit and I looked back at the man who was now standing in the middle of the room.

"You're not going to tell me, are you? No, you never say anything to me, it's like I'm a burden to you" I shuffled on the metal, standing right in front of him "I'm with so much anger in my veins that I want to kill a child, a child Eren! ... A child who had her head washed all her life, a child who doesn’t know the whole truth and who only knows that by killing she can be free"

Unconsciously, my body moved everywhere, as if it wanted to release all the pressure by tiring the muscles. I stood back in front of the window and with all the accumulated anger I gave it a strong blow, slightly scratching the glass and probably breaking some knuckles.

"Sasha died because of my incompetence and the violence of this world...I want to save lives Eren, that's why I'm practicing medicine...I want to dedicate myself to saving souls, not killing them...and we have the culprit stuck in one of our rooms...why?" ...

“WHY DO WE HAVE TWO CHILDS ON OUR AIRPLANE? WHY IS YOUR BROTHER WITH US? WHY DON'T YOU LET ME KNOW WHAT IS GOING THROUGH YOUR HEAD?"

I was sure that my screams could be heard by our entire war machine. I was impatient for answers, but knew I wasn't going to get any, at least not now. My hands didn’t remain calm, they moved everywhere, a sign of my anxiety and my eyes turned around the entire room, looking at each screw, each metal beam... everything except the eyes of my supposed lover.

I was giving up, now I just wanted to rest and have a trip home in peace, even knowing that home was not going to sound the same or feel the same.

"If you have nothing to say Eren, you better leave"

I turned my back on him but didn't proceed to walk away from him. I needed to find an anchor point so as not to give up and throw myself into the arms that one day gave me warmth, the arms that wrapped me in the dark, the arms that reflected their love and affection ... into the arms that now wouldn't hold me from the waist or draw me to his chest. I wasn't going to throw me into some arms that weren't going to contain me.

I heard him take a few small steps towards me and his hand rested lightly on my shoulder. I put it aside abruptly and I distanced myself towards the remote window, seeing how little by little the smoke was getting smaller and I could no longer see the orange flame clearly; now I could only see a thin yellow line fading.

"Leave Eren"

His footsteps rumbled on the metal floor, leaving me alone once and for all.

The trip back was going to be a long one and, to be honest, I wasn't sure if there was anything for me in our home. Nothing was going to be the same anymore. Without Sasha, without Eren and with a war on our feet I doubted to even call “home” a piece of wet land in the middle of an ocean which is still the target of a world full of hate.

#aot #snk #shingeki no kyojin #attack on titan #snk x reader #aot x reader #shingeki no kyojin x reader #attack on titan x reader #eren jaeger #eren jaeger x reader #eren x reader #sasha blouse #angst #eren smut

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harrypotter-imaginess · 3 years

Text

A/N: I got a tiiiiny bit of power and my first thought was my need for validation through my fanfiction lol. Hope you enjoy!

<This is Part 1!> / Part 2 Here!

- You’re in the middle of a blizzard, reading to pass the time, the power cuts in and out- giving you just enough time to scramble about trying to make your home just warm enough so you don’t freeze to death

- You sigh when it flickers off again, taking a sip from the hot drink you managed to make while you still had electricity

- Eyes turn back to the book in your hands, with the poor cell reception, and lack of television you’ve found the only thing you can bear to do it read and sleep

- Only occasionally withdrawing from both to eat whatever cold meal you can

- You’ve settled on reading the Harry Potter books, easy enough to read, even in your current condition

- The books are waterlogged, in terrible condition, you treated them quite rough when you were a child, though not all the blame is yours

- It’s an eclectic group, some hardcover some paperback, some borrowed from friends and never returned, some you got as a good deal at your local used bookstore

- You smile when you see all the parts with Fred and George are highlighted

- They always were your favorites

- You stiffile a yawn, you’re just getting to a good part-

- But a small rest won’t hurt will it?

- You feel your eyes drift close

- When they open again you’re looking at rolling hills, a wisp of steam curling into your view every so often

- Huh what a nice dream

- You close your eyes again only to feel a sharp sting in your neck that your eyes shoot open

- You don’t feel pain in dreams

- You’re in a train compartment an empty red bench in front of you

- You’re alone, the green hills rolling by outside the window

- You’ve seen this type of scenery before maybe in a movie, or a book-

- It looks a lot like something out of Harry Potter

- Your thoughts come to an abrupt hault, the memories slowly filtering in

- You’re a witch- your parents passed away in the first war, and you were brought up by your muggle godfather

- Don’t be mistaken, this isn’t some unfortunate Harry-Potter orphan story, your god father loved you a lot

- Even though he was a bit of a sl*t, the revolving circus of women that left his room every Sunday was practically your childhood form of television

- You even did a report on it in muggle school, high left several faculty members feeling concerned

- Still he loved you a lot, and he tried to be as honest as he could about your heritage, and your parents

- But well- he was a muggle, there was only so much he could do

- Still, he took you to kings cross himself, taking you to your gringott’s safe where your parents meager savings had increased by ten fold over the years, helping you pick your wand and books

- “Now I can’t go with you onto the platform, so write and let me know when you’ve reached safely alright?” You nodded, as he pulled you into a hug

- “I’m going to miss having you home”

- “But now you can bring women to the flat whenever you want” You were only joking but it makes him sniffle

- “I’d trade all of that to have you at home for just a few more years”

- You only pat his shoulder reassuring him you’ll be back during the holidays

- You had tried your hand at a few spells, but nothing drastic

- You were excited to see what Hogwarts would bring, what you might learn, and the friendships you might build

- You were so excited that you didn’t sleep all night, finally succumbing to a nap when you collapsed in an empty compartment

- And that brings you to the present, where you’re practically sweating buckets in the red bench.

- Okay, so you’re in Harry Potter now- some how

- And yeah, you’ve always kinda wished you could go to Hogwarts-

- But not like this!

- For one every book, like 3 kids die

- Even the cute ones, like Collin Creevey-

- And honestly if a main character like Fred Weasley died, what chance do you have at surviving?

- You’re probably just one of those nothing characters that dies at the battle of Hogwarts- if not sooner

- You look down at your hands

- Not to mention you’re suddenly eleven years old

- How many times did you have a nightmare you suddenly had to go back to middle or high school again because apparently you missed a class?

- Well this is like a nightmare come true

- You look under your shirt, holding the neck out only to sigh

- It’s your body still, you vaguely remember looking like this when you were younger

- But god-

- It’s like a strangers body at this point

- Ugh you don’t have time to think about this

- your goal right now is to survive

- A knock on your door pulls you out of your thoughts

- “Change into your robs, we’re getting close” a muffled voice says from the other side and you sigh

- Of course you are

- You sigh as you pull out your plain black wizards robe, almost looks like a graduation gown to be honest

- And that’s the uniform here is it

- Strange

- As you tug on the sleeves you think how you’re going to get out of this

- If you’re right the year is 1990, a year before Harry Potter shows up

- Okay so as far as you know- nothing really happens this year

- You don’t have to worry about all the Pureblood crap because both your parents were wizards, so you’re a half blood at least

- Now it’s all about house-

- If the books are 100% accurate then it’s between Slytherin and Gryffindor, Snape will turn a blind eye to any of your transgressions because of favoritism

- And McGonagall would go to bat for you if the circumstances were unfair

- Still- the Slytherin house seemed problematic what with the old money in that group

- Not all of them were probably like that- just the most prominent characters- you’d really rather not get involved with all that if you could

- And then- Gryffindor was even worse, you might be safe this year, but next year you would be plagued with death flag after death flag- no thanks

- Sprout seems nice enough, but you’re not too sure about that common room, in the dungeons- hard pass

- That leaves Ravenclaw, Flitwick seems nice enough, and the dorms are in a Ravenclaw tower

- Luna Lovegood will be there soon, and well, that could be pretty fun

- So you’ll try for Ravenclaw you think- pulling on your bag and joining the horde of students

- You’re about to join the other first years when you feel a tug on your bag.

- You turn towards the feeling to see two identical boys, a splatter of freckles across their nose, and flaming red hair

- “Are you (Y/N) (L/N)?” The taller of the two asks, a grin curled onto his lips, and his eyes full of stars

- You only nod

- They’re both looking at you like they’ve just seen a movie star and you can’t figure out why

- You’re only eleven years old after all, what could you have possibly done?

- “Was you Mum-“ the shorter starts

- “Was she the famous auror?” The other finishes

- Ah- of course

- Your mother was indeed a famous war hero, known for her noble efforts during the war

- Your god father had told you that at least

- “I’m George, and this is Fred” the shorter - George- says jerking his thumb to his twin

- Oh

- So they’re Fred and George Weasley?!?!

- Honestly you should have known by the red hair

- You can’t believe you’re meeting some of your favorite characters

- You stick your hand out, hoping it’s not too sweaty

- “(Y/N),” you say, “but you already knew that”

- George grins as he takes your hand first, with Fred repeating the motion

- “What house do ya think you’ll go to?” Fred asks

- “We hope you’re aiming for Gryffindor” George adds with a sly grin

- You can feel your face warming up under their gaze

- Alright- change of plan- you’ll try to get into Gryffindor so you can be friends with George and Fred

- It’ll be a little risky, but until the end they weren’t really in any of the serious adventures.

- Besides maybe if you hang out with them, you can save Fred near the end

- “Maybe” you smile at them, hearing a voice call your name for a carriage

- “See you around!” You wave goodbye, stepping into you assigned carriage with a group of other first years

- It’s sort of a mismatch, you don’t quite recognize anyone in here

- Than again the children an age above Harry were never really mentioned

- “Ugh I can’t believe my glasses broke, what rotten luck” a girl besides you says- you turn to see a girl with long dark hair, fiddling with a pair of broken glasses in her hands

- “Ah here, can I?” You ask, holding out your hand, and the girl wordlessly hands you her glasses

- Your murmur a spell and watch as the metal expands curling until it wraps around the broken edge, resembling intertwined vines

- “It’s not the best, but it’ll do for now”

- It’s only when you look up to hand the girl back her glasses that you notice everyone’s watching you

- “How did you do that?” A boy asks, and you shrug

- “Oh well I just said the incantation-“

- “I’ve never heard that one before” another girl murmurs

- You shrug again

- “Anything can be an incarnation of you just put enough feeling into it right?”

- The children clamor at you all at once

- It turns out the two girls were Susan Bones and Hannah Abbott- both Hufflepuff’s if you remember correctly

- Guess they were a year older than Harry in this world

- And then the boy is Blaise Zambini

- You know in the books he’s in a morally Grey area at best.

- “So like this?” He asks and you shake your head

- “You have to put your wrist into it more”

- But now, as he’s begging you to teach him the repairing charm that you cast, all you see is a little boy who wants to learn

- Change of plans, if you get into Slytherin maybe you can watch over Blaise and be his best friend

- That way he won’t get all mixed up in that Death Eater crap

- Maybe you can even get him onto your side, make a coven of witches and wizards and do some non-alignment stuff during the war

- You’re all gathered in the hall, answering a roll call from a rather lithe and strict woman- professor McGonagall no doubt

- After that you’re left waiting, and feeling somewhat bored, and somewhat like you may have had too much pumpkin juice- you hobble off into the corridor looking for a bathroom

- “Hurry back I think we’re about to go into the sorting ceremony” Blaise says and you nod

- You do not, in fact, hurry back

- Because after relieving yourself- you are incredibly lost

- It doesn’t help that all the portraits keep on shuffling around, or that all the corridors here look equally dark

- It’s only on your third time around the portrait of a woman eating an apple do you see what appears to be a person

- “What are you doing in the corridor?” As you come closer you realize it’s a boy, a yellow and black striped tie around his neck. “Shouldn’t you be at the feast?”

- He’s quite pretty, with thick brown hair and rosy cheeks

- “I went to the bathroom and got lost,” you hear him murmur first year and raise an eyebrow “What’s your excuse?”

- He lets out a laugh, running a hand through his hair

- “That’s fair,” he admits. And then after a moment he says:

- “I’m hiding”

- Your eyebrows thread together

- “Like from a crazy ex lover or..?”

- He laughs again, shaking his head

- “No, from my professor.” And then after a moment, before you can ask ‘is it because you’re having an affair with them’ he says:

- “They want me to be prefect for my house next year, and I don’t know how I feel about that”

- You let that sink in,

- “I know I should do it- it would give me an opportunity to represent my house, and look out for all my friends, and I’m sure my dad would be awfully proud but-“

- But it’s a lot of responsibility

- You get it.

- You sit beside him on the floor

- “You should do it-“ and before he can give a reason why you say:

- “You would get your own bathroom and I think that means a lot in a place like this”

- He laughs again, only this time the laugh leaves in loud gaffs, somehow you feel like this is the first real laugh the boy has shown you

- “I’ve heard a lot of reasons, but having my own bathroom is definitely a first”

- He looks at you in a way that makes your hair stand on end and your skin feel hot.

- “I’m Cedric, Cedric Diggory.” He says with an extended hand

- Ah, so this is pretty boy Diggory.

- He does kinda look like a young Robert Pattinson to be honest

- You take his hand in yours giving a firm shake

- “ (Y/N) (L/N) “ and you see his eyebrows shoot up

- “ (L/N) like the-“

- “ Yeah that’s my mum, the famous Auror”

- Cedric’s mouth curls up in a lopsided grin

- “I was going to say inventor- the inventor for the portable infinity box”

- Ah yes, your dad was an inventor. You didn’t know much about it though. Just that his inventions had left you a small fortune

- “My parents were both pretty remarkable huh?”

- And even though they’re not really your parents, and this isn’t really your body, you feel a little sad thinking about them.

- Before you can give Cedric a chance to offer his condolences, you stand up brushing off your robe.

- “We’ll come on Mr. Prefect in the making, show me to where I’m to be sorted” you say with a wave of a hand

- He grins

- “As you wish”

- Maybe being in Hufflepuff wouldn’t be so bad,

- and if you can manage to get close to Cedric, maybe he’ll let you use the prefects bathroom

- Huh, that does sound enticing

- Okay change of plans, you’ll get into Hufflepuff

- For the nice bathroom privileges

- When you get into the hall you feel all eyes turn to look to you

- And even though you’re an adult, you feel awfully embarrassed

- “If you get in Hufflepuff let’s get a butterbeer to celebrate, my treat..” Cedric whispers in your ear, and you catch a glimpse of the lopsided grin curled onto his face before he pushes you forward towards the group of first years

- Your face still feels hot when your name gets called

- You gulp as you move towards the chair

- Well it’s do or die- and you don’t plan on dying here

- You gulp again as the cold wood presses against your thighs as you take a seat

- All you have to do is ask for it to put you in -

- Wait

- What house were you aiming for again?

- Logic dictates Ravenclaw, it’s your best chance-

- But well, you’ve always wanted to be friends with Fred and George it just seems like so much fun

- And then, Slytherin’s not so bad, it would be nice if you could change peoples opinions about that house

- Oh and Hufflepuff might be nice too, you would have someone to look out for you- and you in turn can look out for others like Susan and Hannah

- And so it seems you’ve made peace, no matter which house the hat chooses, you’re happy with the outcome because there’s good and bad in all of them

- These things aren’t one dimensional, they nuanced. And that’s okay

- You feel the hat place on your head, and several long moments of silence pass

- .

- ..

- ...

- ....

- Shouldn’t something be happening by now?

- Like at least whispers in your ear from the hat or something right?

- “I-“ it finally chokes out

- Ah good a decision

- Well what’s your future going to be like?

- “I don’t know” the hat finally sputters, a collective gasp filling the room

- You drop your face into your hands, as small murmurs begin to spread through the tables

- “F*ck me” you mumble

#harry potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter preferences #harry james potter #harry potter reader insert #Harry Potter x reader #George Weasley x reader #George Weasley imagine #fred weasley #fred weasly x reader #Fred Weasley imagine #Cedric Diggory imagine #cedric diggory x you #Cedric Diggory x reader #Draco Malfoy imagine #Draco Malfoy x reader

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littlemisspascal · 3 years

Text

Death and an Angel part 8

Helmetless + Death!Din and Cupid F!Reader

Summary: “You have become the only one in the universe who can claim to uniquely know him.”

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,002

Warnings: fluffy fluff, some plot, swearing, reunions, soft!Din, Kuiil thinks Cupid is a fool, Kuiil’s backstory from canon, surprisingly little angst (it shocked me too)

Author Note: I want to apologize to those on the tag list not getting notified. I have no idea why Tumblr isn’t cooperating and I feel horrible about it. I love each and every one of you who spares time to read this segment/series and I hope you all have a wonderful holiday season.

Links to Part 1 and Part 7 and Part 9

Cross-posted on AO3.

Photo Inspiration:

The next morning you find Kuiil outside welding together two pieces of metal at his workbench. IG-11 tends to the small herd of blurrg the Ugnaught keeps in a large pen, feeding the two-legged creatures their breakfast. Although you were initially wary, the former assassin droid has been nothing but kind to you, if not a little obsessive about checking the bandage on your head every few hours.

“IG was explicitly warned by Death what would happen if your health declined in his absence,” Kuiil had informed you the previous evening when your attempt to stop the droid’s incessant fretting failed.

“He’s such a worrywart,” you muttered as IG-11 scanned your temperature, heart skipping a beat as it always does when you think about Din’s protective nature. There’s something unbelievably attractive about him making threats when it came to your wellbeing.

“A worrywart who left his gunship in my yard.” Kuiil aimed a sharp look towards the entrance of his home, as if he could see the Razor Crest from this distance.

You snorted a laugh at him calling Arvala-7’s desert landscape a yard of all designations, only for the rest of his sentence to register a beat later, making your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Wait, what? He seriously left the Crest here? Why would he do that?”

“The quicker his trip to Nevarro, the quicker he returns to your side,” was the response, accompanied with a shrewd look implying you were a fool for asking such a question.

Your Ugnaught host reminds you of a grandfather figure; a bit prickly and blunt at times, but ultimately kindhearted and selfless at his core, wanting only what’s best for those in his care. Between his insistence you keep resting in his bed and IG-11’s nurse programming, you no longer wonder why Din chose to leave you with them, thoroughly convinced you’re receiving better around-the-clock care than most people experience in medcenters.

Kuiil turns when you approach him, pushing his goggles back to the top of his cap as he clicks off the welding torch, eyes giving you a cursory once-over. You feel better than you had yesterday, both headache and dizziness gone, and he must sense that since his head dips in a firm nod, satisfied with what he sees.

“Good morning,” you greet, smiling.

“Morning,” he replies. His expression turns repentant, eyebrows lowering. “My apologies for waking you, but I could not let these repairs remain unfinished.”

“It’s okay.” You tilt your head up towards the sky, enjoying the warmth of the early sunshine after spending the entire previous day cooped inside his home. “I’m supposed to report back to headquarters later today, so I needed to be up anyways.”

Hearing the words out loud grounds the upcoming meeting in reality. It’s really happening. Hours from now, you're going to have to tell your bosses everything, now including your new title as Din’s soulmate. Maker, you can just imagine Hess staring you down with those beady, rat-like eyes of his, asking question after question about you and Din.

And if Hess was serious before on the comlink—and you highly doubt the bastard’s ever told a joke in his life—then there is also the very real prospect of Moff Gideon being there to take part in your interrogation.

“Are you alright?” Kuiil asks, noticing how pale you’ve become. Without waiting for an answer, he ushers you over to a nearby stool. You sit, mouth opening to reassure him you’re fine, only to be startled by the knowing glint in his eyes. “I recognize your anxious face from my years as an indentured servant. You fear punishment from your superiors.”

Your eyes widen, stomach suddenly feeling hollow. “You were a servant?”

“From my birth until my hundredth year, yes.” The nauseous feeling intensifies. You knew Ugnaughts typically lived up to two-hundred years, meaning Kuiil had lived half of his lifetime in servitude. “Earning my freedom did not occur without harsh discipline.”

You draw in a shaky breath at that. It feels wrong, being worried about meeting with your bosses when there are others, such as Kuiil, who have endured far worse horrors.

“Those with power think it comes from weapons and control over others through means of fear and violence,” he continues, returning the welding torch to its proper placement in his toolbox. “True power comes from the strength of one’s hope. It allows you to believe in a better future for yourself and so long as you cling to it, no enemy can break your spirit.”

His rumbling baritone washes over you, calming the worst of your worries. You press your thumb against your soulmate marking, a nervous habit that has developed since you first saw it yesterday. You’ve become addicted to the warmth the mark emanates as it reassures you you’re not hallucinating its appearance.

“I just keep thinking about what their reactions are going to be when I tell them about me and him being together,” you confess, feeling shy as you duck your chin to avoid eye contact.

“Are you embarrassed of Death being your soulmate?”

Your head snaps back up, shocked by his bluntness. “What? No. Din means everything to me.”

The words seem too loud against the quiet atmosphere of the planet. They reverberate off seemingly every surface—the desert rocks, the Razor Crest’s steel paneling and the metal roof on Kuiil’s home—echoing for miles in every direction. Despite knowing that isn’t truly possible, you are unable to stop yourself from wincing.

“You gave Death a name?” Kuiil’s bafflement is visible in the way his head tilts, looking at you in a way that is reminiscent of Omera’s puzzled expression back on Sorgan.

"I didn’t.” You shake your head, for some reason feeling the need to clarify, “He named himself. It’s just something for me to call him when we’re around mortals.”

“I have known Death many decades now,” he begins, sounding no less confused despite your explanation. “He’s quite...particular about the mortal traditions he chooses to adopt, such as appearing as a human male and piloting a gunship.”

“Yeah, I know how picky he can be,” you say slowly, not understanding what his point is.

“Not once has he ever felt compelled to use a mortal name because, in his opinion, names establish ties."

“What does that mean?”

“Without a name, he is but another stranger amongst trillions of beings, unrecognized and unmissed,” Kuiil explains, and you find yourself leaning forward, elbows on your knees. “By giving you a name to call him by, he has tied himself to you in a way he has not permitted anyone else. You have become the only one in the universe who can claim you uniquely know him.”

“Huh.” You let out a long exhale, suddenly aware of your heartbeat pounding deafeningly in your eardrums as it begins to sink in just how monumental the gift of Din’s name truly is. “Well how bout that.”

And the shrewd look from last night makes a reappearance, conveying once again how foolish he thinks you are.

“I have spoken.”

People tend to forget a Cupid’s bow is first and foremost a weapon of defense. Comprised of wood from a Brylark tree, sinew from orbaks, and a thin layer of a mudhorn’s horn, it can be compared to Din’s armor in that it is virtually indestructible. A Cupid carries two types of arrows: one made from kyber crystal meant to lighten one’s emotions or, on rare occasions, induce lust, and the other one made from a kyber crystal coated in ichor, meant to inflict harm against enemies. Once a target is hit, the effects are instantaneous and the arrow vanishes in a burst of sparkling light, regenerating in your quiver seconds later.

You underwent rigorous training to learn how to become a master of archery. Your bow is bound to your Cupid abilities, capable of being summoned to your aid and dismissed with a mere thought. You were taught how to control your breathing, learning that the expanding and contracting of your chest cavity during a shot can ruin your aim. Missing a target is one of the worst mistakes a Cupid can commit, meaning you must make every single shot count.

All that to say, Cupids are fierce archers as much as they are dedicated matchmakers.

They are also dangerous when startled unexpectedly.

You’re in the middle of tidying up Kuiil’s tiny kitchen space, a task you had insisted upon after he’d served you a delicious lunch, humming to yourself quietly as you scrub at the dishes when hands wrap around your waist, pulling you backwards towards someone’s chest.

You react completely on instinct, teleporting out of their hold and reappearing on the other side of the room, bow ready with an ichor arrow aimed directly at the assailant. It is only when the meager light of the nearby lantern reflects off their beskar helmet do you realize who you’re facing.

Immediately you lower and dismiss your weapon before pressing a hand over your chest where your heart is fluttering like a trapped bird. “I’m so sorry, Din,” you tell him, limbs trembling as it sinks in just how close you were to shooting him. “Maker, you scared me and—and I thought I—well, I don’t know what I was thinking, just that I had to—”

In between blinks he appears in front of you, yanking his helmet off with such ferocity your words catch in your throat. You have only the slightest of seconds to glimpse the arousal darkening his brown eyes before he slips a hand behind your neck and crashes your lips together.

He kisses you as if you’re gravity and he’ll float away if he dares to spare a moment to breathe, sending a current of warmth surging through your body. You thought the mere touch of his hand had been life-altering, but it is a mere candle compared to the wildfire his lips spark. Your eyes fall shut as you kiss back with an equal amount of fervency, bringing him closer by wrapping your arms around his neck, grinning at the groan the action spurs from deep within his chest.

There is the heavy thud of his helmet striking the ground before he’s wrapping his hand around your waist, slotting a thigh between your legs to ensure every inch of your bodies are touching. Your cheeks rub against the scratchiness of his facial scruff, an invigorating burn you think you could easily become addicted to.

An embarrassingly high-pitched whine escapes your lips when he pulls away a minute later. He’s never looked more attractive, mouth swollen and hair disarrayed from your roaming fingers. His hands cup your face, and it occurs to you as he swipes his thumbs over your cheekbones he isn’t wearing his gloves.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmurs, sounding slightly hoarser than usual and out of breath. His gaze roams your face, like he’s trying to re-familiarize himself with your features after the time spent apart. “Especially with your bow. When you pointed that arrow at me, there was this...fierceness in your eyes I’ve never seen before. Fuck, angel, you looked so gorgeous.”

“Seriously?” you say, raising an incredulous eyebrow, because of-kriffing-course he’d be the one being in the whole universe who is turned on by a weapon being pointed at him.

“Seriously.” He leans in, forehead pressing against yours, noses brushing. It’s hard to focus when he’s this close, like you’ve again entered that separate realm where it’s just you and him.

“Din, look,” you whisper, fighting the magnetic pull insisting you kiss him again long enough to show him your marked hand. “It’s real. I’m yours and you’re mine.”

The smile that stretches across his face when he sees it is nothing short of breathtaking.

“Angel,” he says, tilting your head so the words are spoken right against your lips. “I’ve wanted to hear you say those words ever since I gave you my name.”

Tag List: @leilei-draws, @theocatkov, @vintagesaph, @stardust-and-starlight, @adrieunor, @remmyswritings, @gallowsjoker, @rhiannon-russo, @randomness501, @sylphene, @softly-sad, @maytheglitter, @melobee, @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives, @eleinemk, @captain-jebi, @aerynwrites, @promiscuoussatan, @stilllivindue2spite, @coaaster, @lin-djarin, @becauseican2, @kay2304, @odelia-d32, @nicotinebirds

#death and an angel #my fic #Din Djarin #din x you #din x reader #din djarin x you #din djarin x reader #mandalorian x reader #Pedro Pascal #pedro pascal character fanfiction #soulmate au #my writing

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destieltropecollection · 3 years

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Destiel Trope Collection 2021 | Day 19: Enemies to Lovers

Pile Of Quarters | @vampamber

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 1,752 Main Tags/Warnings: ABO, alpha Cas, omega Dean, high school AU Summary: Somebody keeps beating Dean's high score on his favorite video game at the arcade, and he will have none of that. So when the chance to have a showdown with this CAS person comes along, of course he's gonna jump at it. He just wasn't expecting the alpha to be so nice. Or so hot.

A Bag of Richards | @ms-josephine

Rating: Mature Word Count: 4,241 Main Tags/Warnings: Human AU, Enemies to lovers, Misunderstandings, Prank wars Summary: A misunderstanding leads to an all-out prank war between Castiel and his new neighbor, Dean.

Build It Up! | @verobatto

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,062 Main Tags/Warnings: Architect AU, Architect!Dean, Architect!Castiel, rivalry, rivals to lovers, light angst, happy ending. Summary: Architect Dean Winchester has just one goal in his life: win contracts and defeat his biggest rival, Castiel Novak. Bad thing is, Novak is the one always winning the heated competitions. Dean hates Novak with all his heart. If only that bastard wasn't so handsome ...

Dance Real Close | @maleyah-givemetomorrow

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 5,920 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Christmas, Yule, First Kiss, First Time, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting Dean, Sassy Castiel, Fluff and Smut, Soft Boys Summary: For the umpteenth time tonight, Castiel swallows and clenches his teeth, hard enough that he might just need a dentist appointment once this horrendous evening comes to its inevitable end and he has what he came for. Good thing the company has excellent health care. He forces his gaze into a faux-thousand yard stare, a wilful attempt to get lost among the many twinkling lights and ornaments. Just off of the shoulder of the man who is his current, last and most annoying obstacle. Dean Winchester. Dressed to the nines in a suit of snowflake white, he fits in at this high-end Yule Ball as if he hasn’t done anything else in his life. Top of his class and generation, ten years Castiel’s junior, much too skilled for his own good at nigh anything from close combat to subterfuge to extraction, his competition, who is, for some unfathomable reason, flirting with Castiel on the mission.

When Duty Calls | @verobatto

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 6,654 Main Tags/Warnings: Sci Fi AU, Commander Dean Winchester, Angel/Alien Castiel, strangers to friends to lovers, space ship, working on a mission together, top!Dean/Bottom!Castiel Summary: Angels devastated Earth 30 years ago and Dean lost his mother in that battle. Now, when his father the Ambassador John Winchester dies, Dean is assigned to a very important mission to restore the Earth. Bad thing is, Angels want to redeem themselves by providing the technology to revive the planet and by doing that, they pretend to be part of the Federation. Dean accepts, despite of his hate for them, and he meets the Angel Castiel, a Commander Scientific that will work with him in one of the labs stations placed on Earth.

Vampire Hunter! Starring Castiel Krushnic | @friendofcarlotta

Rating: Teen & Up Word Count: 13,612 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - TV show, Actor Castiel, Production Assistant Dean Winchester, First Kiss, Enemies to Lovers, Vampires, Canon-Typical Violence, Mild Gore, Inspired by Fright Night, Garth Ships It Summary: Straight out of college, Dean gets hired to work on his favorite TV show, "Fright Night." It's a dream come true until the network orders an overhaul to boost ratings, giving the show a new name (“Vampire Hunter!”) and a new star: a grumpy bastard named Castiel, who seems determined to make Dean’s life miserable. Dean just wants to hate Castiel's guts in peace, but then an offsite shoot gets them both trapped in a creepy mansion with a very real, very angry vampire. Can they overcome their differences long enough to kill the monster?

Cheers | @notfunnydean

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 23,685 Main Tags/Warnings: inspired by the movie: the proposal, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Misunderstandings, Fluff and Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Homophobia, Homophobic John Winchester, Dean Winchester Wears Panties, First Time,First Kiss, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester, Soft!Dean, Cas blackmails Dean into the relationship at first, Past Lisa Braeden/Dean Winchester, Minor Anna Milton/Dean Winchester Summary: Dean hates his boss, after they attempted to date but failed miserably. But when Castiel suddenly has to go back to Russia because his visa expired, Dean finds himself in a very awkward situation, because Castiel blackmails him to marry him. To make it worse someone from the immigration department is already hot on their trail and they have to show off their fake relationship at the ninetieth birthday of Dean’s grandma.

Elevator Music | Aketch-22 (AO3)

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 25,017 Main Tags/Warnings: Top!Cas/Bottom!Dean, Dom/Sub Overtones, Mechanic Dean Winchester, Lawyer Castiel Summary: Sam is about to become name partner at the law firm he's worked at for years. He invites Dean to the celebration, but Dean gets trapped in the elevator with Sam's pompous, dickbag, too-good looking coworker Castiel. Stuck for hours with someone he hates and a boatload of alcohol, what could possibly go wrong?

Let Your Heart Hold Fast (WIP) | @destiel-pirate-in-middleearth

Rating: Mature Word Count: 35,857 Main Tags/Warnings: Roomates/housemates, enemies to friends to lovers, slow burn, angst and hurt/comfort, college au, mutual pining, happy ending. Summary: Castiel is a simple guy with a simple plan who enters college after a lot of hard work. He's looking forward to the new beginning and endless opportunities. After surviving the worst through high school, Castiel has a good feeling about college and thinks he is gonna do fine, but, then, his life takes an uneasy turn, which leads him into meeting Dean, who doesn't remember him and has evolved into a very flirty, obnoxious man. Castiel hates Dean. For almost a month, Castiel does a great job at avoiding Dean on the college campus. Everything is going fine until the day they have their first encounter, which is close to a nightmare because, apparently, Dean decides to shove an apple frigging pie on Castiel's face, which isn’t even the single worst thing he did to him that day. Or The one where Dean and Castiel hate each other and are forced to live together.

Angels of the Sea | @envydean

Rating: Mature Word Count: 53,616 Main Tags/Warnings: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Minor Character Deaths, a little violence, non graphic scenes of corporal punishment, sexual scene of mature nature, Hurt/Comfort, Stowaways, Angst, Happy Ending, BAMF!Cas, Pirate!Cas, Stowaway!Dean, Tattoos, Magical Elements, Fluff, Enemies to Lovers Summary: The Archangel – a pirate ship run by young Captain Castiel Novak – is unknowingly boarded by two stowaways. Sam and Dean just needed to get away from their father’s killers and are found stashed away in the storage room of the ship. Raphael is adamant they are killed but Castiel’s heart is too big to dispose of them both. Lives spared, they join the crew, Dean taking up navigation and Sam to the galley and an adventure using Dean’s amulet to find a mysteriously hidden island begins.

Unmasked | @ellis-park

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 69,348 Main Tags/Warnings: Superhero AU, enemies to lovers, secret identities, graphic depictions of violence Summary: Years ago, the infamous vigilante Halo disappeared from the public eye. The new Halo, Castiel Novak, is struggling to pick up the pieces of his own life and his mentor’s tarnished legacy as a new rival, Hellfire, arrives on the scene. It would help if Cas weren’t so distracted by pushy reporter Dean Smith, who reminds him of everything he’s lost — and the life he could have if he’d let go of the mask.

angel in black | @dothwrites

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 95,325 Main Tags/Warnings: Canon-Divergent, Enemies to Lovers, Bounty Hunter!Cas, Hunter!Dean, Canon-Typical Violence, Demonic Possession, Angst with a Happy Ending Summary: Bounty hunter Castiel Novak has simple rules for how he conducts his business. Get in, get out, deliver the fugitive, and do it all with the least amount of effort possible. Never become emotionally involved. When he takes on the job of hunting down Sam and Dean Winchester in order to bring them to justice, his rules start shifting. Threatened by supernatural forces as well as his attraction to Dean, Castiel soon has to decide what he’s willing to stand for…and what he’s willing to die for.

Wicked Game | @expectingtofly

Rating: Explicit Word Count: 104,077 Main Tags/Warnings: Western AU, Canon-Typical Violence, DubCon, Top Cas/Bottom Dean, Angst, Pining, Hurt/Comfort Summary: The year is 1889 and for the past year and a half, Dean has traveled alone from town to town, drinking to ignore his guilt and gambling to make a living. Today, he’s especially down on his luck. He’s broke, was just thrown out of a saloon for cheating at poker, and has now been woken by a blue-eyed man trying to rob him. When he learns that the thief, Castiel, is just as broke as he is, they strike a tenuous deal to help each other rob a stagecoach, share the spoils, and split up. Turns out splitting up is the most difficult task. While Castiel is cold and cruel, Dean refuses to back down from a fight. The two are at odds more often than not, but their relationship only grows more complicated the longer they travel together. They may have more in common than they thought.

#destiel trope collection 2021 #day 19 #enemies to lovers #Destiel #supernatural #fanfic

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shofics · 3 years

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So tumblr ate the ask (thanks! I hate it!) but @knifemartin sent the prompt 13. pirate au but make it... sky pirates with Earhart, Zolf, Sasha, and Wilde! This got frighteningly long so I had to put it under a cut, I hope you enjoy my ramblings. <3 They’re going to kill a dragon!!

I think I genuinely might clean this up and make it into a proper fic. Watch this space.

Zolf Smith is a miner. Zolf Smith dreams of the sky. Zolf Smith kills his brother. Zolf Smith takes flight.

The Meritocracy doesn't have air forces- don’t really need ‘em when you’re a huge fuck-off dragon who can fly- but they’re worried about the increased presence the separatists are having in the skies above their lands, so they’re building one. Zolf leaps upon it like a life raft.

When the ship goes down, there are two reasons he doesn’t die; his past, and his god.

The Reliant answers the emergency call, and that surprises Zolf- a known separatist vessel, making an attempt to save the crew of a ship in the Meritocratic Air Force- but a lot of things surprise him about Captain Earhart. It’s not the Reliant’s fault that he is the only survivor. It is due to the Reliant that there is an only survivor at all.

His family were Harlequins. Captain Earhart recognises him, visits him in the sick bay as her medics do their best to save his legs, asks after his father, asks after his brother. Gives an understanding nod when he refuses to speak about them. Offers him a job, because he desperately needs one.

It’s a lot all at once, and they can’t save his legs, but he finds he doesn’t need them. Dwarves don’t have the build that most of the Hermes lot have, but he’s never let not fitting in stop him. The feeling of the wind in the rigging is like wings on ankles he doesn’t have anymore. He’s freer than he’s been his entire life.

When he is thirteen years old, Brock Rackett successfully makes it out of Other London and out of the clutches of the Rackett clan by chopping off his ring finger and escaping on the first air vessel that will take him. At least, this is what Sasha believes. She’s sad he left without her, but she knows well that when an opportunity comes, you take it. She hopes he made it out safe.

Nine years later, at twenty-two, Sasha’s opportunity finally comes. She heads for the aeroport. Maybe she’ll be able to find him.

Barrett’s men are following her, she can feel them on her tail all through the crowd like a bad smell; she needs a cover, needs somewhere to hide. There’s a drunk in the corner of the bar, some once-foppish-looking dandy, and Sasha decides to make him her cover.

She slides into the seat next to him and tries to be as inconspicuous as possible, but the drunkard starts and leaps to his feet, swaying. “Keep your trousers on,” she hisses, jumping up to pull him back down in front of her- he’s tall enough, he should provide good cover.

The man staggers out of her grip and produces a dagger from nowhere. He tries to fend her off with it- poorly- and then his eyes roll up and he collapses. Sasha just barely manages to catch him before he hits the ground.

Wilde knows the Meritocracy is crumbling. He can feel it in the air; something big is coming, something very bad, and he really doesn’t want to be here when it finally arrives.

Though maybe the sense of impending doom he’s getting is just from lack of sleep. But he’s sure that’s fine. It’s fine. He’s fine.

So he puts his bardic talents and his espionage training to work, following the trail of the odd orders and the disappearing agents, and realises quickly that if he stays, he’ll probably end up disappearing as well- or worse, become one of the people giving the odd, conflicting orders. He doesn’t know what that’s about. He doesn’t want to find out.

Wilde fakes his own death in the hopes it will throw off the scent, and decides, like so many others seeking the separatists, to head for the Americas.

In a bar at the aeroport he is accosted by a mugger, and he knew he was being conspicuous, but with everything blurring and the ringing in his ears he’s in no shape to properly defend himself. Instead of killing him, though, the dark figure hauls him up and runs.

He’s not lucid enough to take in the scene of the room she drags him into, and so he doesn’t resist as someone snaps something cold around his wrist, and he at long last sinks into a deep and dreamless sleep.

Earhart knew the look of people like Zolf Smith- lost, angry, needing. She’s seen plenty of it, in her years as an airship captain, because there are only a few reasons why people set out for the skies. And so she took him on, and he proved a fantastic first mate, knew his stuff inside and out and indulged her more reckless tendencies.

Plus, he’d been fleeing the Meritocracy. That automatically put him in Earhart’s good books.

Famous (and infamous) Harlequin airship captain Amelia Earhart was, by that point, becoming famous and infamous enough to become a thorn in the Meritocrats’ sides. They decided to target her. The fact that they tried to take down the Reliant was not her fault. The fact that she turned the whole ship around to attack back, causing a wreck that killed almost all of her crew and blew the Reliant into unsalvageable bits… that was.

The only reason she hasn’t drunk herself to death by this point is her ‘fantastic’ first mate (she’s regretting that now, in an angry way), who for some unknowable reason is unwilling to let the guilt swallow her whole.

Zolf Smith was an airman. Zolf Smith dreams of gods and wings and roads not taken. Zolf Smith is given a choice. Zolf Smith chooses no.

Zolf Smith loses his magic.

Earhart is trying to die, and he’s doing his best without access to his healing magic, but it won’t work forever, not when she’s this determined to let herself waste into nothing. He’s not good at talking, and that’s what she really needs- someone to talk to. Someone to listen. But he’s got no legs, and he’s got no magic, and he’s got almost no hope left, and nowhere to go.

They take refuge in a seedy bar in the closest aeroport and report the crash; two survivors, him and Earhart. They’ve been there a month and a half when the door to their room bursts open and a terrified kid with dark shaggy hair and an enormous jacket practically falls through the doorway, lugging an unconscious man in a blue and green waistcoat.

For a split second they all just stare at each other- everyone except for the unconscious man, of course, being as he is unconscious (and bleeding, from the nose and from the ears, and Zolf may not have magical healing but he has medical training and he knows that’s bad)- and then the kid drops her charge like a sack of potatoes, slams the door closed, and dives under the bed.

“Are you in trouble?” is all Zolf asks, and the kid nods, petrified and utterly silent. “Fine. Stay there.”

The unconscious man begins to shake and cry out as Zolf manhandles him into his bed, as though having a nightmare. He wakes with a scream, eyes wide and terrified. Someone bangs on the door. “Do you mind?” Zolf yells. “Little busy in here!”

The door bursts open a second time- those poor hinges- and two men of the kind who aren’t holding knives until you look at them from the right angle, and then they definitely are, and they’re pointed right at you, appear in the doorway. They take in the sickroom and the man with the two prosthetic legs, look nonplussed for a second, and then one nudges the other and tells him to “get a move on, she’s in here somewhere,” and they disappear down the hall.

Zolf pulls the door shut behind them and goes back over to the man in the waistcoat. It takes a bit of figuring out, but eventually, in desperation- the man is obviously dying- Zolf fishes out the anti-magical handcuffs issued to him as soldier and medic in the Meritocratic Air Forces, and clips one around his wrist. He goes limp.

He turns around to find the dark haired kid staring at him with eyes as wide as saucers. “Were they lookin’ for you?” he asks, and her eyes narrow.

“Why do you want to know?” she asks defensively- as though they could be looking for anyone else. The kid has ‘runaway’ written all over her.

“‘Cause I’m tryin’ to save your life,” Zolf snaps, and that seems to shock her, “so if you could work with me here, that’d be great, I’ve got enough on my plate tryin’ to save her life-” jerks a thumb to Earhart- “and apparently this one’s as well-” to the now asleep man taking up his bed. “Who are you? Who’s he?”

“I dunno,” says the kid, “he just kind of fell over.”

Sasha does not make the decision to trust him then. She doesn’t even tell him her name. She makes the decision to trust him when he tells her, a day later, as they sit against the wall and watch the man in the waistcoat mumble in his sleep, that he used to work on an airship.

“I’m Sasha,” she says. “Can I come with you?”

The white-haired dwarf named Zolf Smith- he looks too young to have white hair, but Sasha knows not to judge from appearances- grimaces. “I mean,” he says. “Dunno why you’d want to.”

“I want to see the sky,” says Sasha, who has spent her entire life underground. Zolf looks at her and seems to see something in her that pains him.

“I dunno where I’m goin’,” he warns her mournfully, looking back at Earhart, who is also sleeping. “But you can come with if you want. ‘S your choice.”

He doesn’t ask Sasha’s surname. She decides to trust him.

The name of the man in the bed next to her is Oscar Wilde, and Earhart starts frantically reaching for a gun, any gun, forgetting in her automatic fury that Zolf had taken them all off her weeks ago. A Meritocratic agent-

“Ex-agent,” says Wilde politely. “Please don’t shoot me, Captain, I’ve almost died once this week and I’m not really eager to repeat the experience.”

Earhart feels more lucid than she has in ages as she listens to him describe the strange series of events that brought him there, how sure he is that something is brewing within the Meritocracy’s upper ranks, the disaster that is coming. She can feel Zolf’s eyes on her as all her grief and guilt and despair and boiling anger calcify inside of her.

Wilde is like her, like Zolf, like Sasha- lost, angry, needing.

Wilde has information she can use.

“Mr. Wilde,” Earhart says, her voice hoarse with disuse but filled with more fire than she’s felt since the crash, “you are going to help me kill a dragon.”

She didn’t like him at first- he talked down to her, and his posh affectations grated on principle- but Sasha has to admit that Wilde is smart. She stares in disbelieving wonder as he produces a bag of holding full to the brim with more gold pieces than she’s ever seen in her life. His Meritocratic funding, he tells the spellbound group, because he can spellbind even without his magic. He liquified as many assets as he felt he could get away with before leaving.

“Pick a ship,” he says, “any ship. We can buy it. No need to steal.”

“We’ll need elementals,” Earhart says. “At least two.”

Wilde turns to Zolf. “You’re a cleric, aren’t you?” he says. “You can summon elementals.”

“Not anymore,” Zolf bites.

“Why?”

Zolf makes a face. “I don’t- when- okay.” He sighs. “Look-” and casts Spark into the fireplace. He jumps back in shock.

“I… don’t see the problem?” Wilde says after a good minute of silence, looking from the roaring flames back to Zolf. Sasha gets up and goes to dry her hair by the fire; the weather around the ports has been awful lately. Zolf stares into the flames in surprise.

Zolf Smith was a cleric. Zolf Smith dreams of a new ship. Zolf Smith finds a team, full of people who need healing, the kind he can now provide. Zolf Smith has hope.

#my post #answered #prompt fill #my writing #knifemartin #rqg #rqg fic #rusty quill gaming #rqgaming #sasha rackett #zolf smith #rqg wilde #wilde rqg #rqg earhart #earhart rqg

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imabeautifulbutterfly · 3 years

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The Reunion - Part 2

Summary: We meet up with our crew after they have left Barab and after Friday’s episode of the Bad Batch getting their chips removed. Hunter x Reader. Echo x Reader.

A/N: Italics - Past conversations

The quotes Crosshair says during his nightmares are directly from the Bad Batch episodes. All rights for those quotes, belong directly to the geniuses working on the Bad Batch TV show at Disney.

Warnings: Slight mention of a beating, nothing described. Medical procedures.

If I miss a warning, just let me know.

Words: 4,608

AO3 Link

Drop some love, a comment or a reblog, it’s all appreciated. If you want to be tagged, let me know.

Previous -> Masterlist -> Next

“We don’t usually work with regs”

“Grow up, Wrecker”

“If your plans are so good, why did Commander Cody have to call us in?”

“An order is an order”

“Since when?”

“Good soldiers follow orders”

“He had us disobeying orders”

“I never thought you disobeying orders was a problem”

“Disobeying orders again over a kid?”

“You’re becoming a liability”

“You disobeyed orders”

“I did what I thought was right”

“You should have killed that Jedi, you disobeyed orders.”

“You never could see the bigger picture. Now surrender.”

“Best stand down sergeant, make it easier on yourself.”

“Have you lost your mind?”

“Your move”

“Bad play, Hunter”

“You want to know why they put me in charge? It’s because I’m willing to do what needs to be done.”

“What seems to be the problem with CT-9904?” Lama Su asked Nala Se

The two Kaminoans looked on behind the one way mirror, “medic, what seems to be the problem with CT-9904?” asked Nala Se.

I looked towards the mirrored glass, “he’s having a nightmare”, I glanced from the mirror to Crosshair that laid on the med bed before me. The Kaminoans wanted his inhibitor chip to be constantly activated and operating at peak efficiency; if they lost him, they would lose the backing of Admiral Tarkin, something they couldn’t have.

How I wished Hunter was here? How I wished I got to the ship in time? I wished for a lot of things, mostly I wished that Crosshair’s chip hadn’t been activated, and that as the medic for Clone Force 99, I wasn’t the one in charge of keeping his chip activated. Every time he laid down on that med bed, a little bit of me died. I had to do this to my friend, my family, Hunter’s brother. I tried at first to say that the chip was damaged, it wouldn’t activate, but they quickly dealt with my deception, in the form of a beating from two of the Clones who had taken me under their wing. The beating from the two had knocked me out, when I came to Bad Batch was gone, Omega, my little helper, was gone, and Crosshair had tried to kill his own brothers.

What’s worse is that Crosshair looked for every opportunity to wound me with his words, he wasn’t my Crosshair, he wasn’t the man I had grown to know and love as a brother.

‘Must be miserable to know you fell in love with a traitor.’

‘How does it feel knowing they left you?’

‘Only the Empire can provide what you need’

‘Join them and die’

“He seems to be having a particularly disturbing dream, he keeps thrashing” that voice, oh I hated that voice, it was responsible for the so called War Mantle project, Vice Admiral Rampart. How I wish he could be the one on this bed before me, so I could make him suffer, the way he’s making Crosshair suffer.

“Indeed” oh there’s that other voice, Admiral Tarkin. I loathed both men, and would be happy to see both die a very slow painful death.

“I do not believe we should continue for much longer, the procedure could cause irreparable damage”, I suggested. I’m sorry Crosshair, I hope you can hear me. I’m so sorry.

“Very well” Admiral Tarkin’s voice filled the room, I could almost feel his breath on my skin. It was revolting.

“End the procedure, medic Kambe”

“Yes, Prime Minister”

I turned off the machine and watched as Crosshair's tortured face relaxed. I moved beside him, and disconnected him from the machine, he was still unconscious, at this moment and I could pretend he was still my family, he was still the same Crosshair. The one who taught me to shoot a target five klicks out. The one who would tease Hunter and me, when we would go out on a date. The one who said he always wanted a sister, and was happy I was his. I discreetly held his hand, rubbing circles with my thumb on the back of his hand. I’m sorry Crosshair. I’m so sorry Cross.

- - - - - - - -

“That medic seems very attached to CT-9904” Admiral Tarkin noticed

“Yes, she was the medic for Clone Force 99. She got to know them very well and went on several missions with them.”

“Interesting. She may prove useful.”

“How do you mean Admiral?” Asked Vice Admiral Rampart

“She may know something the clone doesn’t, or she could be used as bait, to bring in the others”

“Admiral, I must protest” Nala Se interjected, “she, unlike the clones, is not Empire property, she is hired by the Kaminoan facility, and works directly for us.”

“And yet, she gets paid via the Empire, does she not? Or do you pay her directly, Prime Minister?”

“Uh … I would have to check our records, Admiral Tarkin”

“Don’t bother, I have checked already. She gets paid by the Empire. She used to receive funds from the Republic, and has subsequently received funds from the Empire, therefore she is a servant and employed by the Empire. As such, we have the right to do as we wish with our workers.”

“Admiral, I would be more than happy to take over … keeping an eye on the medic” offered Vice Admiral Rampart.

“That is not necessary, it seems we have the best thing to keep an eye on her already” he motioned towards the unconscious clone.

- - - - - - - - -

Although, I couldn’t hear what was being said behind the glass, I could sense eyes on me. I grabbed a data pad and pretended to check Crosshair's vitals. If they were going to stay there watching me, then they wouldn’t get anything except a medic doing her job. There had to be a way to get the chip out of his head, someway to go under the radar. If Cross was back to normal then he and I would be able to get off of Kamino and find the boys.

I heard the door slide open behind me, “Medic Kambe”, I turned to face Nala Se, she was the only Kaminoan that I could somewhat tolerate, although in the end she was the biggest problem of all, as the Chief Medical Scientist, if it wasn’t for her, so many soldiers wouldn’t have been killed and treated less than they deserved.

“Yes, Nala Se?”

“You can move clone CT-9904 to the recovery room”

“Yes, Nala Se”

She stepped closer to me, it was odd and threw me off. She disliked me more than anyone else, simply for making the clones feel like people and not property, it was one of the reasons I was assigned to an actual team, rather than the Kaminoan facility in general. “You need to be careful,” she said in a lowered voice.

I kept busy preparing Cross for transport, “what do you mean?” I asked in a similar whisper, “they’re watching you, they want to use you to bring back Clone Force 99 and Omega. We can’t have her land in the hands of the Empire.”

“I understand”

“Please be quick about transporting the clone, Admiral Tarkin wishes to see what effect the new enhancement has on CT-9904” she said in a louder voice.

“He has a name”

“He is a clone. Clone CT-9904.”

“His name is Crosshair!”

“Medic Kambe! One more outburst and I’ll have you restricted to your quarters and brought up on charges of treason. Do you understand?”

“Yes”

“Good” without further word she stepped out of the room, maker I hated her. I really did.

I looked at Cross one more time, he had a slight scarring from where the machine had performed it’s procedure. My only hope would be to perform surgery at night, or maybe if I was able to go on a mission with Cross again, distract him, get him isolated, and perform the surgery. We both needed to get out of here, and soon.

- - - - - - -

“I don’t know if the plan will work” Fives offered

“Oh I’m sorry, do you have something better, vod?”

“Listen Phoenix Ghost, we are not judging you, it just seems risky” offered Hunter

“Well, what do you want to do?” I asked, Rex had just left after we were able to get the chips out of the remaining Bad Batch, the idea was to take the med pod with us, or at the very least take it and hide it on a planet that we could bring Crosshair to.

“Why can’t we just use the method you did before, with the other clones?”

“That would require us going to a safe clone planet, the nearest one has over 500 of your brothers, inhabiting it. I would gladly take you there, if the Empire thought you were dead. However, as of right now, the risk is too great that someone would follow you, or someone spot your ship and decide to report you to the Empire simply for credits. I’m sorry but I’m not putting your brothers at risk. Either we find a way to bring Crosshair here, or find a way to bring the med pod to Crosshair.”

“Cyar’ika, it’s okay. We trust you”

“Really, cause if you trusted me, you wouldn’t be questioning the plan right now”

“It’s just dangerous” Tech tried to reassure me.

I couldn’t help the glare that had appeared on my face, “seriously Tech? That’s your pathetic platitude, that it’s just dangerous. Everything we’ve ever done, from the moment we either joined or were sold to the GAR has been a life filled with danger. I personally have a scar on almost every quadrant of my body from one injury or another.”

They all looked to Echo, who simply nodded. Oh that was it, “WHY ARE YOU LOOKING AT HIM? DO YOU HONESTLY THINK I WOULD LIE ABOUT THAT?!!!”

“No, of course not” Hunter tried to calm me down, but the anger within was growing from their… I guess lack of trust.

“Cyar’ika”

“Don’t Echo! Don’t Cyar’ika me!”

Echo let out a frustrated breath, being back with Echo was amazing, it’s like we hadn’t missed a beat, all those years being apart had evaporated within a matter of minutes.

“Fine, ner riduur”

Ugh! Why did he have to tug that cord? All the anger I had a second ago washed away at remembering that we had indeed gotten married, I dropped my shoulders and my head to my chest. As soon as we were off Barab, we had found a place to lay low for a few weeks. Echo didn’t want to waste anymore time and proposed, I didn’t want to waste any time either and said yes. We both had wasted too many years apart, to waste another second not being with each other, was downright idiotic.

Fives had been his best man, Omega was my flower girl, Hunter walked me down the aisle, Tech officiated and Wrecker stood in as my man of honour. Rex had come to wish us well, after the ceremony, he pulled me aside and gave me a big bear hug, “I’m happy for you ad’ika. I wish you nothing but happiness.”

The words were there, but the warmth in the eyes weren’t, “I’m sorry Rex. I’m sorry I couldn’t…”

He didn’t let me finish, “nothin’ to be sorry about, little one. You followed your heart to the man you love. It’s the heart I fell in love with, so how can I be upset about that” his warmth finally reached his eyes, we hugged one more time, “thank you, Rex. I love you, vod”

“Love you too, vod’ika”

“Alright, let’s come up with another plan than” I offered calmer, I looked over at Echo, and smirked.

“How do you do that?” Whispered Wrecker

“It’s my gift” Echo chuckled, I simply shook my head, “what if we make a medical droid?” Asked Omega

“It is possible” Tech advised

“We are at the scrap yard so we could find the parts we need, it won’t be pretty, but it’ll get the job done” I added, Tech and I sat down to work out a plan and design for the medical droid.

“While we are doing this, maybe the five of you could try to find an actual droid, maybe if there is an actual medical droid, we won’t have to make one” suggested Tech.

“Fine, we know when we’re not wanted,” Fives teased.

“Hey Omega”, I called, she turned towards me, “good suggestion” I winked at her. She ran over and hugged me, “thanks mo…I mean, thank you Phoenix Ghost”, I returned the hug and looked at Hunter, he had a smirk on his face, “hun, I think your dad’s waiting for you”. Hunter shot me a look, I couldn’t help but smile back, at the end of the day we were all co-parenting, so what was one or two more parents, uncles, or aunts. Whatever way she looked at us, we were family.

- - - - - - - - -

“How does it feel, vod?” Fives asked Echo

“How does what, feel?”

“Being married to the love of your life?” He elbowed Echo

Echo couldn’t help the blush that appeared on his face, “like I’m living a dream that I never want to wake up from”.

“Awww, that’s so sweet” shouted Wrecker

“Alright you guys focus, Omega and I will go done here" Hunter motioned to the corridor to his left, "Wrecker, go with Fives and Echo” as Hunter motioned to the corridor on his right.

“Copy that” Fives answered.

Hunter and Omega headed down what looked like a medical hallway, there were all kinds of beds, against the wall, “Hunter?”

“Yes, Omega”

“Are you married?”

“What?”

“Like Phoenix and Echo?”

Hunter didn’t answer for a minute, Omega could see something was bothering him, “I”m sorry, should I not have asked?”

“It’s okay, kid. No, I’m not married.”

“But there was someone?”

“Yes”

“Medic Kambe?”

Hunter stopped and looked at Omega, “how do you know that?”

“I trained under her as a medical assistant, she always used to mention Clone Force 99”

“That’s how you learned all about us”

Omega nodded, “she treated me like I was …”

“Like you were a person”

Omega nodded, “that’s how she treated us too.” Hunter continued examining the rooms, and realized more than likely his love had seen what was happening to Omega and how she was treated. He could see his tiny love stepping up to protect Omega. Knowing her, she probably even had to fight to be Omega’s trainer.

“Do you think we’ll see her again?”

“I don’t know, kid. I hope so, I really do.”

“Why didn’t she come with us?”

Hunter let out a sigh, “I don’t know, but something must have happened, otherwise she would have been waiting for us in the hangar.”

“I hope if we do find her, you two get married”

“Really?”

“Yes, she makes you happy. You clearly make her happy. She always had a smile on her face when she spoke of you, she kept her biggest smile when she mentioned you specifically.”

Hunter smiled at that, hopefully soon enough, he’ll have his brother back, and his love in his arms.

- - - - - - -

“Any luck?”

“There’s no such thing as luck” chuckled Fives

“What are you? Obi-wan?” I asked

“Hey how do you think I got so good with the ladies? I learned from the best” he laughed.

“Fives, you were good with the ladies, because they took pity on you. Not because you had any of the charm, Obi-wan had.”

“How do you know about Obi-wan’s charms?” Asked Echo.

“Hmm… what, my love?”

“We will discuss this later”

“Whatever you say, ner cyare”

“Oh don’t try and placate me with sweet sayings”

“As fun as it is to be in the middle of what’s probably your first argument” Tech interrupted, “did you find a medical droid?”

“I did!” Shouted Wrecker

“Good. By the way", Tech directed towards Echo and I, "I would like to see how an argument between married couples proceeds, it would be interesting to learn and see first hand” inquired Tech.

“Yeah, not gonna happen” I said, “let’s get this droid adjusted. Faster we get this thing on the ship, the faster we get out of here, and the faster we can get to Crosshair.”

“I think I have an idea about how to get Crosshair out in the open,” Hunter offered.

“How?” Asked Wrecker

“I’ll tell you guys when we’re back on the ship”

- - - - - - - - - - -

“That’s a bold plan” Fives commented

“But it has the potential for working” I appeased

“How do we know we can trust her?” Tech questioned, “how do we know she didn’t wilfully not show up? Had a change of heart?”

“Come on Tech, you know her. She loves us.” Hunter looked to the ground before continuing, “she loves me, she would never … She was detained. I know it. Something prevented her from meeting us in that hangar.”

“Okay, so you want to send a message that will undoubtedly put her in danger, either on the mission, or before the mission, and definitely after the mission. Basically, you are okay painting a giant target on her back, Hunter? Cause that’s what you’re doing by sending that message.”

“I know Phoenix, but it’s the only thing I can think of to do.”

“Then I’ll help to try and limit the damage. First things first, we are going to need to split up, find a planet to draw their attention to, hopefully one that’s uninhabitable.”

“With lots of ground coverage” offered Wrecker

“No high ground” suggested Tech

“With lots of animals” said Fives, we all turned to look at him, “what? If he can get distracted that gives us an advantage, I’m not crazy”, we all nodded along. “He does have a point” chimed in Echo.

“What about Felucia?” Hunter suggested

“It’s not inhabitable. I actually think I have a place.” I offered

“Where?” They all asked at once.

“I can’t say.”

“Well if you can’t say, how can we use it then?” Fives asked

“Because I have to ask permission to go there, it could put someone in danger, and that could be worse then …”

“Then having the Empire after us right now?” Wrecker inquired.

“Yes, actually. They’re very dear and special to me, I need to …sorry guys, I’m gonna have to take over the bunk for now.”

“Oh” said Echo

“Oh” I nodded.

“Oh what?” Hunter asked

“Ohhh!” Clued in Fives adding, “I thought he was dead.

“About as dead as you and I are”

“What are we talking about?” Wrecker asked Tech

“I don’t know” Tech answered shrugging his shoulders.

“Sorry guys, I can’t say more, or talk more about it. Like I said, I need the bunk, no one come in until I emerge. It could be several hours, I suggest we stay in hyperspace as much as possible.”

“What’s going on?” Omega asked as she stepped out of her room.

“Sorry guys, but we can’t talk about it” Fives answered, “just trust us, when we say she needs to do this, and you really can’t disturb her, she needs the quiet.”

- - - - - - - - -

It had been a while since I sat here meditating, trying to connect with my older teacher. I had been a force-sensitive child, and was about to take the Jedi trials, to be ordained as a Jedi Knight, but the anger within me had proved to be too volatile, with the war in effect. It was important to not let those who could be in situations where the constant fighting, the constant bloodshed and the insurmountable injustice would be present all the time. It could lead one to use the force in an unnatural way, causing one to take actions into your own hands.

I closed my eyes, and focused on the force, being one with the force was always easy for me, which was why the Council was concerned when they felt my anger.

“Little one, hmmm? Yes, hmmm”

“Hello Master Yoda”

“Why reach out through the force did you, hmm? Alright are you, hmmm?”

“I seek advice, Master, the advice is not for me, I’m alright, but it is to save two innocents.”

“To save a clone called Crosshair you wish, and medic called Kambe. Innocent, Kambe is. However, shed innocent blood, Crosshair has.”

“It’s not his fault, Master, it’s his chip. If we remove the chip, he’ll be back to his old self.”

“Possible, removing stone from a puddle is, damage the stone caused when thrown in is permanent. Back, what makes you think the Crosshair you once knew would come, hmm? Hmmmm.”

“Because it happened to one of the clones I am travelling with. His chip activated, and he tried to kill Omega, the little clone girl, once his chip was removed he went back to normal, although he remembered the incident.”

“Wrecker activated for, how long was, hmm?”

“Not long, maybe about 20 to 30 minutes.”

“Crosshair been activated, how long has, hmm?”

“Since the start of the Empire”

“Over time weeds grow over stone, in the puddle, that is. When you pull out stone, pull out weeds too. The damage caused, irreversible, could be. Prepared to face that consequence are you, hmm? Hmmm?”

“At least he would be free.”

“Of clone life free from, hmm? No. Free from the Empire, hmm? No. His other self free from, hmm? Possibly. Plague his mind constantly, the nightmares of what he has done will. Carry, can you soothe the pain his soul will, hmm? If this chip you free him from, have to help carry his burden, you will. Ready for that are you, hmm?”

“Yes”

“Then I offer, what advice can hmm? Yes, hmmm”

“We need a planet that is shrouded in darkness, with no major high ground, lots of foliage and animals”

“You use Dagobah to draw him out want to, hmm?”

“With your permission, Master, yes. But if you feel it is too big of a threat, maybe you can recommend another planet, one that can wreak havoc on a sniper.”

“My permission, you have. I will give you coordinates that will put any in danger not, and your purposes that will serve.”

“Thank you, Master.”

“Your anger and your fear I no longer sense. Changed, what has, young one, hmm?”

“Ever since my ‘death’, I no longer lived for myself but for others. With the help of others and my skills we were able to save 2500 soldiers. Brave men, each one.”

“That is all not. Herh herh herh”.

“No, Master. Ha, never could hide anything from you. I married the love of my life, Echo”

“Happy for you little one I am. Continue learning from the force. Serve you in the future, it will. To the dark side within you I no longer sense the temptation. However, to say goodbye to the man you love, be prepared, when the time comes, or to the dark side again find yourself on the path.

“Yes, Master. Thank you.”

“With you may the force be. Hmmmm”

“And with you, Master.”

- - - - - - - - -

“How long does this usually take?” Hunter asked Echo

“Once it took her - - - what was it? Fives, 12 hours?”

“I thought it was longer, closer to 15 or 16”

“It depends”

“On what?” Asked Tech

“On how easily I can connect to the force”, I answered. They all turned to see me emerge from the bunk room, “how long was I in there for?”

“About 8 hours,” Echo answered.

“Do we have a plan?”

“We do, Hunter” I smiled, not only did we have a plan, but I had the privilege to continue learning about the Force, who knows what will happen in the future, but as of right now I was very hopeful.

“So where are we going?” Asked Omega

“Dagobah, we’re going to Dagobah, but first I need to eat, secondly there are a few things we need to discuss and thirdly, only three or four of us should go, the others should keep Omega safe.”

“I feel like there’s going to be a whole Jedi sort feel to this story” Fives laughed

“Well not completely, but you’re not wrong either” I laughed along with him.

“Does that mean, you’re going to tell me how you know about Obi-wan’s charms?” Asked Echo

“You’re never going to leave that alone, are you?” Hunter and Tech got up and headed for the cockpit, Omega headed for her room, Fives and Wrecker headed for the bunk room, leaving Echo and I alone.

“Why won’t you just tell me?”

“Why do I need to tell you about something that is so trifling, and doesn’t matter in our current predicament?”

“Because I need to know”

“You don’t need to know, what you want to know is if I personally experienced his charms, isn’t that true?”

“I … how … that’s …” Echo rubbed the back of his neck after his failure to start his sentence, “that’s not what I want to know.”

“Then why do you keep asking that question”

“I just didn’t think that Jedis, you know”

I just looked at him, “Echo, I married you. I was learning to become a Jedi, remember?”

“Yeah, but I just didn’t think you were with anyone before me, I thought we had that in common”, that’s what he wanted to know! Man, why was he beating around the bush?

“Echo, my love” I kneeled before, cradling his face with one hand, holding his right hand with my left, “I love you. Obi-wan is just a horrible flirt. I was never interested in him. I wasn’t interested in anyone other than you. You have been and always will be the love of my life. No one can compare to you. They can’t hold a candle to your bravery, your courage, your kindness, your sweetness, the way you care for me, the way you look after your brothers, the way you look after Omega. You are the best man I have ever known. No one will ever change my opinion about that. I love you and only you, and I have never been with anyone other than you.”

Echo looked into my eyes, leaned forward and kissed me, with all the passion he could muster. “I really wish we had our own room, and our own ship, right now.”

I laughed out loud, “well let’s get to a safe haven where we can pick up another ship, and you and I take an hour for ourselves.”

“I think maybe four hours is needed”

“Ha, if only we had that kind of time my love, an hour and a half?”

“Two”

“Done, but then we have to get this plan under way as soon as we land.”

“I know”, I pressed my forehead against his, soaking in his scent; Master Yoda was right, I would have to prepare myself for the eventuality of losing him for real, one day. When I had thought I had lost him the first time, it nearly destroyed me, and it was because I wasn’t able to have a future with him. Wasn’t able to live freely with him. Now, I could. If I were to lose him tomorrow, I can be comforted in knowing that I had married, and had been able to love him without reservation. I would have no regrets with how I loved him.

“I love you, Echo”

“I love you, Phoenix”

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artbyrivaille · 3 years

Text

Hair ☕

Okay, so at the outset, I would like to emphasize that English is not my mother tongue and I am still learning. But writing is my hobby and I decided that I will try my skills here too, in English, I invite you to write requests, I hope you will like it!

3,5k words!

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She was strong. She was a good soldier, commander, companion.

But she was also a beautiful woman with an amazing figure who was envied by many. Despite being quite short, because she was only five feet three, she had long slender legs. Overall, she was considered a beautiful woman. However, she had short hair.

Her hairstyle was practically identical to Levi's, but no one accused her of trying to look like him, as she was cutting her hair that way long before Ackerman joined the survey corps.

Oh, she and Levi. It was quite a sneaky topic, let alone the rumors around the body. They were often seen in each other's company, people interpreted it differently.

Some said it was just a friendship and a bond they established when Ackermann was part of her branch at the beginning of his career. And the others insinuated the supposed romance of the two. Well the versions were really different, but the truth was that y/n and good captain Levi were just two great friends. The woman was one of the few people who knew the man's past, and shared with him some facts about her. Because they both came from the Underground, however, and managed to get out of there on their own, and not with the help of scouts, as was the case with Levi.

At first they were not very sympathetic, quite the opposite. They had very similar characters, which theoretically should indicate that they will get along well, but that was only theoretically. In practice, they got on their nerves terribly.

But despite this aversion to a man, it was precisely this that helped him the most after the death of Farlan and Izabel. She provided him with comfort, help and warmth. Something no one else could give him. It was thanks to her that he recovered so quickly, and he was in the place where he was at the moment.

At some point their relationship began to take a less formal path. More and more often they stayed at each other's offices, helped each other with Erwin's sentences, that is, documentation. They drank tea together, despite the fact that the brunette was a coffee advocate, she made an exception for Levi and almost completely gave it up. They had similar problems, especially those with sleep, may both of them suffer from insomnia, so when the entire corps was asleep, they sat in the two of them over documents, or simply spent their free time together.

Y/n did not even know the exact moment when she began to care in this other, more intimate way on the short captain. It came overnight. Of course, she was behaving the same as before, after all, she was not some horny teen, but a mature woman, but at the moment when she was going to the black-haired's office, or she just knew that he would see him, her body was flooded with heat. And maybe she wouldn't care so much if it wasn't for the fact that she had short hair.

She loved the short haircut, the long hair simply irritated her and disturbed the soldier's everyday life, but she was afraid that they might be an obstacle to any closer relationship with Ackerman.

***

She sat quietly in her office filling out paperwork for Erwin. She nervously tweaked her hair, which was longer than usual, because every time she tried to cut it, something was getting in the way and that was how it was already quite long.

The silence in the office was broken by the sudden opening of the door through which entered a black-haired man with pliers and a towel in his hand. He closed the door with a bang and set the items on the coffee table, then looked at the woman poring over reports and other documents.

"You have long hair." He said suddenly and walked closer to her chair, and when he was next to him, he entangled his hand in her dark strands. She breathed a breath and leaned against the back of the armchair, massaging her temples at the same time giving herself to the caress.

"I didn't have time to cut them off because of the last expedition, and with all the crap Erwin did, I have more work to do than ever. And Hanji keeps following me all the time and asks if I managed to convince Bushbread to do experiments on titans." She explained in frustration then exhaled her mouth with a whistle.

"Tch, fucking shitty glasses. Come on, rest a little, cut off your hair, and you will give me a haircut." He replied then pulled the woman's chair back and, grabbing her hand, led her to the bathroom. She was so tired of it all that she didn't care, and the presence of a cobalt-eyed woman was calming, so she didn't resist. "Get your hair wet." He gave the order, which she followed by putting her head in the shower and then she wet her hair with a stream of water. Ackermann handed her a towel, which she grabbed and dried her hair.

Let the two go back to the brunette's office, meanwhile she took off her jacket and threw it on the couch, which Ackermann only huffed, but said nothing. She sat down without a word on the low stool that the man had prepared at that time. He ran a hand through her hair a few times and began carefully trimming it.

"Can I ask you a question?" She finally gave up y/n, unable to withstand the silence in the room

"You ask them anyway, so why do you ask me for permission." The bored man replied by which l/n raised the corner of her mouth in a small smile.

"What do you think about women with short hair?" She asked, and black hair stopped breathing for a moment. What the hell was that about? Is this some kind of provocation?

"What am I supposed to think. They are no less feminine because they do not have long hair, their appearance does not define a person." He replied quite neutral, not realizing that he had just kindled a little ray of hope in his friend's heart. "And why do you ask?"

"Because I care about someone, and all in all, I wanted to know your opinion." Ah yes. His heart leapt into his throat, and his stomach seemed to have a 3D maneuvering device. Someone did she like? But who the hell. After all, the only men with whom she spent time was himself, Erwin, sometimes he encountered Moblit in the company of Hanji and Mike. Who could steal her heart enough to make her care about her hairstyle? Probably Erwin. That fucking perfect general.

Maybe Levi didn't have complexes as such, but he was always a little jealous of Smith. He had a perfect body, he was tall, intelligent, had a high position in the military, and he came from a non-poor family. He was nothing compared to the blonde, he had nothing to offer. And he would like so much to have her with him.

"I'm done." He muttered softly brushing single hairs from the woman's clothes. She got up from the stool and unintentionally combed her dark hair. She looked beautiful, but he wouldn't tell her that.

"Your turn." She said and took the pliers from his hand. This time it was he who sat on the stool. He involuntarily smiled under his breath and closed his eyes at the woman's gentle touch. He was literally like a docile kitten. Why couldn't she be his?

***

He had been avoiding her like plague for about two weeks. He was irritated by the lack of a black-haired woman around him, but he knew that if it was like before, he would take the blow even worse.

A blow that would never come.

Y/n really didn't know what she could do wrong. After all, everything was fine, and then overnight Ackerman began to avoid her. Maybe he just got bored?

At first she explained his ignorance with overwork, in the end everyone in the command had their heads off. But when one day in a row she saw him sitting quietly with Petra, she knew it was not it. By the way, seeing a redhead in his company, something broke in her. What did this teenager have that she did not have? Did their relationship really mean nothing to him? So many questions, so few answers.

And this way almost every evening she landed in Erwin's office with Hanji with a bottle of whiskey or vodka, depending on what Smith had in the bar. Erwin and Hange really couldn't comprehend the change in brunet's behavior, and the sight of a really hurt l/n was so pathetic as to be nasty.

And so the next evening the three gathered in Smith's office where they once again debated about the captain's behavior.

"I do not feel it completely, so change the attitude towards people overnight.

I know that our curly pedantic has its own rules, but without exaggeration." Hanji announced, finishing the rest of the whiskey from her glass.

"Maybe something made him do it?" Smith replied, then grabbed his chin.

"Tch, and this thing is called Petra Ral, really fascinating." Black-haired girl summed up pouring herself and Zoe whiskey.

Their conversations were so loud that they interested Ackerman who was just about to make himself a cup of tea. But when he heard three familiar voices, he stood at the door of Smith's office, listening to what was being said.

"Don't take it for granted." Erwin said and frowned by the high concentration of alcohol in his glass.

"So what could be the reason Levi is ignoring me then? Just like logic Erwin, there are two options, or he has something to me and he distorts what is unfortunately but impossible because he always treated me only as a friend. Or he just shoots with Petra, and that's what I believe more. "Did they talk about him? What romance with Petra? And y/n cared for him the way he wanted it, but he's just an idiot and he broke it? He held his breath for a moment and tried to enter the room, but stopped himself and continued to stand still.

"Like it or not, I have to agree with the above. Although I keep my fingers crossed for the first version." Squeaked at the end of the woman, which caused a loud sigh of disapproval from y/n.

"Shut up Hanji, I don't want to hope again for something that will never happen." She growled angry and hurt. She really cared about him. Not on any Erwin, Moblit or Mike, but on him. On a goddamn Underground thief with a hard character and misophobic aspirations. Damn it, don't let this be a dream.

He walked away from the door and headed for his office. He has even forgotten why he left it at all. He sat down at the desk and stared blankly at the sky until the very morning, trying to put everything in his head. He must try to fix what he broke.

***

Like a day like every other day. There was no expedition, no surprises, just an ordinary day in the recon. Well, maybe almost. Because Ackerman had been nervous and a little stressed since the morning. And it wasn't just because he wanted to talk to y/n seriously, but largely because he couldn't find her anywhere. As to spite that day, she sank underground, his only salvation could be Erwin. Which office was on his way to. The evening and dinner time was approaching, so he wanted to come to him before her, to look for the presence of a woman at the last meal, if necessary.

He entered the office without knocking, Smith merely looked up from the mountain of documents he had probably been studying since this morning, then turned him back to the sheets of paper.

"What you want Levi?" He asked breaking the silence prevailing in the room. He was pretty sure why this one had come to him, but preferred not to reveal all the cards at once.

"Where is y/n"? Erwin sighed and then put down his quill and straightened up in his chair. He was afraid of Levi's reaction, but what could he do if the milk had already spilled?

"She went on a mission. She should be back in two or three days at the most." He replied with a straight face in the middle being a bit irritated by the reaction of the black-haired man.

"What mission? And why the hell didn't I know anything about this." Ackerman asked, very angry with the news once again.

"Maybe because you've been avoiding her for a long time? Maybe because it's a secret mission, I'm not obligated to tell you everything, Levi. I respect you and treat you as a friend, so I will give you some friendly advice. Think about what you really want and don't screw it up. I don't think I need to tell you what I'll do to you if you hurt her, not to mention Hanji." A faint smile affected his lips at the end of his speech.

"It's none of your business anymore. Thank you for the information." He replied coolly and, not worried about the threat of his friend, left his office.

So he was supposed to wait? He hated waiting. Uncertainty burst him from the inside, these few days will probably be a real nightmare for him.

***

It was well past nine o'clock, so most of the Corps' soldiers were resting in their quarters. Only a few officers were still in the courtyard. And Levi was watching them from his office.

Week. She has been gone since fucking week.

And he was consumed not only by uncertainty, but also by fear. Because they didn't know anything, not even Erwin, who entrusted the woman with this mission. Through it all, the captain was irritated and angry from day to night. Everyone wanted to be as far away from him as possible. Even Petra must have found out about his bad mood when some two days after y/n's departure, she felt bad for the fact that she smiled at him instead of focusing on cleaning. The last time he was afraid was when he first left for exeption.

Suddenly, a horse ran into the courtyard, on the back of which was a scout, but he was clearly unconscious, barely clinging to his mount. At first, Ackerman did not move from his place, but when he heard the screams about the return of squad leader l/n and summoning the medics, he sprinted out of the office.

When he was already leaving, he saw only a brunette, which two cadets were carrying on a stretcher to the infirmary. There was blood everywhere, and the worst case scenario flashed through his mind. She might have died.

He knew that they would not let him into the infirmary anyway, and the cadets didn't know anything, the only option was once again Erwin. What a mission it was to make her come back like this.

He hurried to Smith's office and threw open the door. He did not care about the surprised face of Hanji, who was sitting on the blonde's couch, but he walked over to the man and grabbed him tightly by the collar of a white shirt.

"What was that mission? And why did you send her over there alone, don't you care that she's just fighting for her life?" He was screaming at the top of his throat, he didn't care what everyone thought of him right now, he didn't care about the consequences, he only cared that he could lose her before he actually possessed her.

"In Stohess there is a man who leads the gang. It interfered with various shipments and the like. They are also active in the Underground. The task was to diversify into their ranks, apparently she did not quite succeed." He replied with stoic calm which made the black-haired man even more angry.

"Have you been really fucked up? Such a mission is not a job for one person, it is for the rest. Such matters should be handled by the MP's, not us!" He shouted and pushed the blonde back so that he almost fell from his chair.

"Only that they interfered mainly with transports to our corps. Mostly those not entirely legal. You know very well that a large amount of drugs and medical equipment we have is not entirely legal, but it is needed. I wanted to send the two of you on this mission, because both of you know the Underground, but she did not agree to you taking part in this mission. Probably because you were not getting along at that point." The man explained succinctly, and Ackerman said nothing. It was his fault, his goddamn fault. If only he wasn't such an asshole, nothing bad would have happened.

Until now, a silent Hanji came up to the shorter man and put her hand on his shoulder, the latter turned towards her, close to crying. Holy shit what she did with him.

"You'll finish later, for now, go to her." She ordered, and he nodded and without a word headed for the infirmary.

***

"When will she wake up?" He asked one of the medics, who was just finishing treating single wounds on the body of an unconscious woman.

"She should wake up in the morning. But probably not for long, he has to rest a lot now. She lost a lot of blood, it is surprising that she was even going here alive." She replied and got up from the small stool, putting the remnants of bandages and other medicaments on a silver tray. "But take it easy, she will get out of this, squad leader l/n is a damn tough woman, not just character. She will lick it." She added after a moment with a slight smile on her face trying to cheer the man up.

"I know she's strong." He replied quietly, his head bowed and his hands folded.

"So just be patient. I think she survived because she had someone to return to." She laughed softly and just left the room, leaving the slightly confused captain with the unconscious woman.

He slowly walked over to her bed and sat down next to it on the wooden chair. He grabbed her chilled hand and pressed it to his lips, giving it a tender kiss. He had to wait.

And so the hours went by, and Levi spent them thinking about his feelings for the woman and simply gazing at her adoringly.

She was so beautiful, he loved everything about her. From a smile that could not be seen too often, ending with short hair. He was lazily combing them almost all the time, not being surprised how pleasant they are. He did not even notice that it was starting to dawn, and the soldiers of the corps were slowly waking up to start another day of service. He also did not notice that Erwin accompanied by Hanji arrived in the room in the meantime, but when they saw the man sitting next to the y/n, they only smiled at each other and left, leaving them alone, of course they gave each other high five for fruitful cooperation.

"Wake up now, because these feelings will blow me up soon." The words were coming out of his mouth involuntarily. His eyes were closed, he tried to focus, to be patient. "I overheard your, Hanji and Erwin conversation about me. I really was an idiot. I shouldn't be away from you, that's why you're here at all. If I hadn't, you wouldn't be lying here, I wouldn't have allowed it. I have plans to blame Erwin for letting you go on this mission alone. But you don't know how much I was bursting from the inside by the thought that you care about someone, and that someone is not me. I was so fucking jealous. Ugh, feelings are a pain in the ass. You don't even know what you're doing with me. I just love you, and I love everything about you." There was a silence in the room, and the man breathed a sigh of relief, finally blurted out into the crowd of thoughts.

"Even my short hair?" Silence, a hoarse voice broke the silence in the room. The man immediately opened his eyes and straightened in his chair, a smile spread across his face at the sight of the woman's open eyes.

"Even short hair." He replied and once again ran his hand through it, and placed the other on her cheek.

"I heard everything, you idiot. Love you too." She said and smiled broadly as he reciprocated.

"I love you too." He replied and pressed their lips together in a kiss.

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britishassistant · 3 years

Text

@emyluwinter submitted:

It's very, very bad.

I probably already need to write some specific greeting, so that you understand that this is me again. I think something like " And here you are again a freelance newspaper worker writing about the life of a Yuu reporter!!" Today you will read a rather stressful and difficult passage, an article, a mini-script? I suggest you stock up on handkerchiefs.

This day was completely different. Grimm suddenly didn't show up for breakfast, and disappeared somewhere. None of the neighbors even saw him this morning. But Yuu definitely remembered that they went to bed together. How they covered themselves with a blanket, how they turned out the lights and fell asleep after a hard day's work. Yuuken's phone hadn't been answered for several hours, which was very unlike him. Also, the cameraman did not show up for the shooting of the report. No one in the office knew what was going on, and no one knew where he was. Yuu could feel everything inside him twisting into a tight knot of tension and despair. It seemed less and less like it was just a coincidence.

- Please let it be a misunderstanding. - Yuu consoled himself with these thoughts. But their intuition literally screamed that things were very bad. Everything goes wrong.

Even the villains seem to have decided to take a sudden day off for villainy. For a couple of hours, Yuu had been trying to call Yuuken or find Grimm. But there were no traces, no notes about the abduction. All his nerves were taut as strings. Almost choking, Yuu looks in horror at the black raven feather on his desk. This is Crowley's doing. It's a lousy case scenario. Things are bad, very bad. But what did he want from them? Why suddenly now?No matter how many questions were asked in Yuu's mind, there was no answer. A few hours later, Yuu found himself in the heart of the lair of the terrible leader of the villainous league of Crowley. Their anger was boundless and Yuu literally wanted to break the neck of this restless crow, which does not want to leave him alone. - what do you want, old crow? They decided to ask the question right away and not waste time. Fearing that it will be disastrously small to provide assistance. - Oh, Yuu, I'm so glad you decided to join me tonight. Would you like some tea? - Crowley sat quietly in his large, massive, and gaudy-looking throne chair. While they themselves were sitting on a simple chair. It was as if he was doing everything he could to show how helpless and small Yuu was compared to him. - If by join, you mean that your thugs kidnapped me and dragged me here by force, almost trashing my apartment and scaring the entire neighborhood. Wouldn't you... go fuck yourself?! Why did you suddenly think to kidnap me?what do you need?!

Yuu well understood that now is not the best idea to give vent to their anger and irritation. But they were on edge all day and the stress was stronger than usual. It had all been piling up like a snowball... for so long and so painfully. - Hush, hush, baby bird, I don't think you're in a position to let your emotions run wild right now. But I'm so kind that I'd rather not notice this little outburst of anger - Crowley indifferently took a sip of amazingly expensive tea from an equally expensive cup and saucer. - What do you want? - Yuu literally gritted his teeth to get to the bottom of it.One part of them was thinking about escape options, the other was praying that nothing happened to Yuuken and Grimm and they were kidnapped by another villain from the seven, waiting for either the Prefect or the reporter to come. They may be villains. But they are not so stupid as to harm the people dear to Yuu. They might as well have tried to kidnap Divus Cruel, but they would have been brainless in the next few hours, even if they had been very lucky not to be tortured half to death by his experiments.

- I'm glad you asked! You see I am so gracious that I will tell you my beautiful plan. As you recall, you are my biological heir. This is a very responsible and serious position in which I will need to make sure that after me there will be a leader who may even surpass me. It would be such a wonderful arrangement of affairs! Yuu wanted to punch that old crow even more. Crowley continued. - And as you must understand by now, all my previous persuasions have failed. As well as the idea that you went through adversity at birth. Yuu didn't like what he was talking about with them. - That's why!For the past few months, I've patiently let you enjoy the life you're used to. Make friends and family, get a job that you like. Even get a strange pet. And I had an amazing idea!If you couldn't get through the hardships when you were still a child, then I can easily arrange it now to break you the way I need to! Crowley chuckled smugly. Meanwhile, Yuu had the feeling that he was watching some kind of nightmare that they couldn't wake up from. - break me...what..What are you talking about? - Yuu could barely whisper their question. A chill swept through his body as quickly as if they had fallen under one of Charon's freezing traps.

But it wasn't ice. This was their terror with fear. Crowley puts his hands together and leans on his desk. - Do I sound so vague to you? Oh, you seem so happy that I'm giving you this opportunity to enjoy your peaceful days as a civilian. But I decided that it was time to stop with these children's games. Crowley presses a button on the remote control and a screen with security cameras turns on behind him. Yuu's stomach clenched in shock and horror. They screamed abruptly getting up from the chair and holding their hands over their mouths in fear, they looked at the bound Yuken and Grim, worse, Crowley did not stop.... in another screen were...their parents. They were also abducted and tied up.

Crowley went on with his plan.

- All I had to do was take everything you hold dear and brutally eliminate it in front of your eyes. As long as you're a weak cub, you can't stop it.

No wonder they talked about Crowley's monstrous reputation, Yuu almost choked on their own tears and despair.

- no...No, don't touch them!!They have nothing to do with it!! - Yuu pleaded, literally burning the old crow with his eyes.

- I told you I didn't want your money, your position, and I certainly don't want to be your heir!"!You already have 7 candidates choose one of them, why do you keep interfering and threatening me to kill my loved ones?!? - Because I'm kind enough to give you a little choice."

The Yuus recoiled from him. Again, this dirty manipulation. He's going to brainwash them, that's for sure.

- The choice is cub. You stay and I teach you as my heir, how to manage my affairs and the craft of villainy. Or ...

Yuu suppresses a ragged sigh. They didn't even notice the tears running down their cheeks and their shoulders shaking.

Crowley truly reveled in the sight and the sense of his own superiority.

- I will kill these people slowly and painfully until you learn everything, and you will see every day how your mistakes cause pain and suffering to your loved ones.

It was as if a vacuum had appeared in Yuu's head. Either way, Crowley gave them no choice. He had planned it all from the beginning.

- where...Where's the guarantee that if I stay, you won't kill them at the same time?where is the proof that they are not dead? Crowley laughed merrily, and Yuu felt helpless and weak for the first time in his life. Things are too bad, Yuu can't think of a single option for saving everyone, including myself.

- Great question!!You see, if you voluntarily stay, they guarantee me that you will not try to escape in the future and that you will be a diligent student.

Yuu thought for a second that Crowley had put an invisible noose around his neck and was pulling it tighter and tighter. Like a puppet master's collar or strings.

- If you try to escape and somehow find them in my labyrinth lair. - Crowley pressed another button on his remote control Yuu looked at the other wall and saw a reflection of himself. Terrified, their cheeks glistening with tears, as if they were lost and broken. Just like Crowley wanted.

The leader of the League of Villains gets up from his desk and takes Yuu by the shoulders and turns their face to the camera.

- Your beloved Dair Crowley and our charming reporter Yuu are on the air. Yuu stubbornly refused to look at the camera and was riveted by the eyes of his loved ones. Even through their tears, they could see that they were still fine. Yuuken played with Grim in words to pass the time. I don't think Grimm did very well, but he tried.

And his parents...

Yuu sobbed softly and barely smiled. Their father was humming a tune inaudible to their ears and kicking out a rhythm with his feet. And their mother, their kind, sweet mother, sang with him.

They were afraid, they did not know what they would do to them and whether they would live. But they sang.

Crowley was talking and talking to the camera, but they weren't listening. Yuu is too tired to be strong, too tired to be in the midst of these evil-hero fights, to be involved in these conflicts. They just wanted to live the peaceful life of a citizen, a friendly neighbor. Instead of being in their worst nightmare right now, which Yuu didn't know how to get out of.

Crowley dug his sharp nails into Yuu's cheeks very painfully,forcing them to forcibly turn their heads towards him and the camera.

- Do as I say. - Crowley whispered menacingly, as if about to kill him.

The Yuu felt that they were so brittle and broken that if Crowley pressed any more, their bones would crack just like they are now. - So my dear viewers, I will be so kind as to answer your main question!!Your favorite reporter and friendly neighbor has a unique opportunity. Stay with me as a hostage voluntarily and save your family and friends, or I'll have to persuade them with my own words ... - Crowley's eyes darkened and Yuu for the first time was afraid for the loved ones because Crowley wasn't always such a jerk.

- in kind and gracious ways. How about holding the whole city hostage? Ah probably you are now enveloped in a beautiful fear of not knowing that if the Yuu refuse, I will kill every civilian-Crowley specifically emphasized this point.

"Every single one of them, one by one, until the Yuu eventually agree. Ask why I need it?You see, I have some plans for this naughty child..

Yuu groaned softly as Crowley's other hand, with its sharp fingers, gripped his forearm very painfully, digging its nails through his clothes into the skin and scratching it.

- a monster.. - Yuu whispered softly, no longer holding back his tears. They were literally breaking down by the second. On the other side of the screen, the Leviathan in his lair dropped all the papers from his hands and turned pale with the realization of the whole situation. Crowley decided to go the route of violence if he was tired of Yuu's refusals. And the worst scenario he could have imagined came true..

- Err?!?Azul!!The shrimp is crying!I don't like it!! Floyd said angrily, not looking up from the screen.

- What are we going to do? - Jade looked at his boss expectantly. Azul sat down unsteadily on the arm of his chair.

- Crowley literally says to all the villains do not interfere or I will kill him.. - Azul replied softly, feeling a cold sweat break out on his skin... None of the villains knew what to do or what to do. But everyone swore to themselves that they would never bring Yuu to such tears. To such a terrible state... I will end my passage here. I want to hear your impressions, thoughts, and ideas!!Open to everything!

It's so great to hear that you like what I write!

...well.

Well.

You were right about needing tissues!! Holy hell, this is serious End Game level work!! This is definitely building up to a dramatic conclusion!!

Crowley seems to hold all the cards here! He’s got Yuu’s family and friends (and who he thinks is the Prefect’s secret identity) hostage so that the reporter can’t fight back or be saved, and he’s got Yuu so the supervillains can’t make a move unless they want Yuu’s death on their heads. It seems like all hope is lost...

...Though I notice Crowley hasn’t exactly factored in what a certain Uncle and other honorary family members on the board of the League, or the three mysterious old men who own Yuu’s apartment will have to say about this...

Or the fact that the Prefect may not be as contained as he thinks...

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the-sole-macgyver · 3 years

Note

Can i request a companions react where Sole has a pet goose that doesn't like them (the companion) and will chase them around but Sole just finds it hilarious? Bonus points if a companion gets treed by the goose

Nice prompt, the games really fun- real geese not so much

Prompt:It’s a lovely morning in the Commonwealth, and Sole has a horrible goose

Excluded companions:None

Note: if there are any characters, ie: faction leaders or let’s say synth!Codsworth that anyone would like to be included please feel free to ask!

Warnings:shenanigans of the fowl kind, swearing, threats of violence, goose-typical violence under cut

Cait:She’s always thought that the Swans..clothing of choice was a bit dainty looking for such a fucking big and nasty behemoth of a super mutant, but after meeting “Morrigan” she’s pretty sure the Swans getup was spot on, because Sole’s bird was also a big nasty bastard that would kill anyone who came near it if it could. She threatens to cook it whenever it trys to chase her and Sole generally has too keep them separated because they're fairly sure Cait will go through with it if given the opportunity. Both Cait and the goose are instantly hostile when they see each other.

Codsworth: He’s known of “Beatrix” since before the bombs fell, and he’s not ashamed to admit he’d wished the bird had went up in flames like the rest of the world around him. Alas; someway, somehow, Beatrix stood before him alongside his beloved sir/ma'am once more: all pristine white feathers and seething rage aimed at the goose his chrome paint still faintly reflected back at it, his thrusters still vaguely emulating hissing, and as the beast known as Beatrix reared back, mouth open and screeching Codsworth once again resigned himself to being pecked and screamed at, while his beloved sir/ma’am laughed, cruelly. Whenever he sees the wretched thing make its way back to Sanctuary he tries to make sure he’s on the other side of the settlement.

Curie:She’d never met a real goose before Sole found her and at this point she kind of wished that she never had met the bird, or at least if she had never taken that blood sample- because apparently geese held grudges for life, and they can live for over 20 years. She had only wanted to help the animal, testing its blood to make sure the radiation wasn't effecting it too badly, but apparently it wanted its blood back and if it couldn’t get it back it would take hers- Sole insisted she was fine, but seeing that thing charge at her was quite intimidating, and so she had no plans on going near it ever again, thank you very much. If she does accidentally cross its path she dashes to the nearest building and locks the door until it leaves.

Deacon: When Sole had told him that he couldn't buy the love of the funny, waddly pre-war bird they called a goose with Sugar Bombs he didn’t believe them, after all, it seemed pretty tame. That was his first mistake, and also what landed him half way up a tree in Sanctuary of all places, dangling just out of reach from the Hell Bird with the call of a bomb siren and a mouth full of teeth, screaming for Sole to rescue him but all the traitor was doing was laughing. He’s stuck up a tree above the jaws of death and they're laughing at him. Later he tries approaching it with different methods and in different disguises- unfortunately they never work, Sole says it recognizes his shades, he says it’s an Institute spy out for him and only him. It’s a silly, running joke they have, which, incidentally, he feels like whenever the animal decides to give chase.

Dogmeat:He does not like Soles other animal. It doesn't chase him but it does hiss and go to peck him when he scampers past it. Sole will chuckle and give him reassuring head pats, which are very good- but that thing is no friend and he wont be tricked into believing it is.

John Hancock: He’s reclining on his couch in his State House when Soles resident attack bird decides to go in for the kill. It charges, he panics and grabs it by the neck before it can reach his face and do anymore damage, now hes got an arm full of evil and a Vault dweller laughing their ass off in the doorway, he’d probably laugh too- except the birds stronger than it looks and he’s kinda struggling not to be mauled or resort to stabbing his good friends beloved, if malevolent, pet. When sole finally wrangles the devil off of him he starts to notice the neighborhood watch give the creature a wide berth whenever it waddles its way into town. In fact the only person it seams to tolerate other than Sole is Fahrenheit, surprisingly.

Nick Valentine: He vaugly remembers what a Goose is- old Nick used to prefer them over Turkey for Christmas- and he can understand why his appearance might freak the pampered pre-war creature out, but did it really have to attack him every damn time it saw him? He’d think the lousy thing had a vendetta against him, except it did that to everyone who dared cross its path, he’ll never admit out loud that he got a kick out of seeing it terrorize Myrna- loudly smacking the chained cans around with its beak, unfurling its wings and hissing whenever she tired shooing it away. Later he’ll question Sole about why- out of all the possible pre-war animals they could have picked from- why did they have to chose a goose?

Danse: Seeing a fully grown man in full power armor try to run away from a 3kg bird on the war path was the highlight of Sole’s week, seeing him fall over a melon patch- the same one the bird was apparently guarding- in his mad dash for freedom almost had Sole pass out from laughing so hard, when they finally gather themselves enough to assist the paladin he’s red from embarrassment and doesn’t talk to them until the bird is removed from his immediate vicinity, and even then it takes an hour to get a word out of him, he requests that Sole keep their “feral animal” away from the Prydwen, least it knocks someone off the railing or worse- attack Elder Maxson.

Piper: She’d been threatened, she’d been poisoned, she’d experienced attempts on her life and reputation since becoming a reporter. But nothing rattled her quiet like Sole’s relic of an animal companion, its weird elongated neck, those beady soulless eyes, the fact that it could apparently smell fear because it honed in on her like a missile whenever it was in range- it was always a mad dash to put anything or anyone between her and it, soles laughing never helped one bit. She writes a small article on the dangers of owning poultry out of spite and outright refuses to let Nat near it.

Preston:He’d forever be grateful to Sole for all they had done for the Minutemen and the Commonwealth, and if that meant he had to face “Guinevere” from time to time than so be it- this is what he tells himself, what really happens is he usually sees the bird before it sees him and starts running in the opposite direction, unfortunately his sudden movements usually catch said birds attention and it gives chase, hissing as it gains on him like some sort of demon, when it inevitably catches up to him it usually takes him to the ground where he loses his hat, if it doesn't manage to take him down he’s learned that it can’t climb (but it can swim, the water is not a safe place), and there are many trees around Sanctuary, one of which he usually ends up in, waiting for the thing to loose interest and leave (preferably permanently), this is a common occurrence, so common that he has to frequently change his patrol route, because if he doesn't the bird ends up figuring it out and waits in ambush for him, he’d honestly rather deal with raiders.

MacCready: When he first meets the bird he bends down to greet it, as is custom with other small domestic animals. Unfortunately Soles evil, horrible pet takes it as a threat and then goes for his eyes. He screams, flailing back. It fucking hisses. All trust in new animals is lost that day, and now he has more than just the Gunners to look out for, because the “goose” always seems to have its sights set on him. He walks on eggshells around the bird and, even though Sole says it only attacks him because it sees his tension as a threat, he can’t bring himself to let his guard down around it. Ever. He swears that it looks at him funny, like it’s plotting something, probably his untimely death.

Strong: He threatens to stomp on it when it hisses at him, his threatening stance only serves to enrage the creature more. It earns his respect, he has never seen anything channel the amount of rage this tiny monster does, he doesn't understand why Sole finds it so amusing that he and the screaming ball of hate get along so “well”.

X6-88:When he first sees “Dolorous” he has to wonder if the Institute had created the thing, when Sole tells him that it was frozen alongside them and their family he can’t help but wonder why a bird of all things was allowed a place in a vault over a potential human, and when he finally meets Soles pet he thinks he understands why they decided to put it on ice- to keep it locked away from the outside world where it couldn’t hurt anyone anymore. He uses the Institute’s standard non-lethal defensive tactics, but still ends up with a face full of feathers and ears full of Sole’s obnoxious laughter- he did manage to throw the bird off a roof once, only to find out that despite its size it could fly really really well, Sole didn’t talk to him for a week after that and he’s sure in that week the bird kept shooting him smug looks. Sole’s not allowed to bring it into the Institute.

Ada: She just kind of idles there unsure of what to do whenever the goose decides to attack her, at least it doesn't do any damage and it wears itself out eventually, she doesn't know why Sole finds it so funny. Shes tried offering it scrap as a truce but so far nothing has prevailed, the goose still attacks.

Old Longfellow:He’s seen some messed up things in the fog in his time, it does things to creature and people- takes the fear right out of them and replaces it with something hungry and manic, but, somehow Sole’s pet bird manages to put that lost fear right back in them, it’s call carrying better in the dense air than most others, giving it a booming eerie quality that has the likes of wolves and trappers scampering away, those that are brave enough to investigate are blindsided by a pure white bird that blends so well into the fog that you can barely see it in front of you- all of these qualities he’d be grateful for, makes his job a lot easier, he just wished the thing would stop attacking his legs every time he talked, Sole says its because the fog has it tense and all the new things has it wound up, but he thinks it’s just an asshole.

Porter Gage: He threatens to shoot the thing and Sole threatens to punch his teeth in if he did. So now he’s stuck with another animal themed lunatic, except this one really is an animal and it’s only a lunatic around him, as it seems to love the shit out of Sole. He hates that fucking bird. When the Overboss isn’t looking he glares at the bird and he swears it glares right back but that might just be his own bias on how much he does not like the animal, no matter how loud Mason sings its praises- out of fear he bets.

Addendum:I do not have a beta reader and I am dyslexic, I do proof read everything but am bound to make mistakes- and I would like to apologise in advance for any I have missed.

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