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acourtofbooksandshadows · 7 months

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Alliance Maker - Chapter 5

Summary: Training leads to many unexpected events. With even more questions forming within the heads of the Inner Circle and the Valkyrie.

Pairing: Slow burn!Azriel x Afab!Reader

Warnings: sparring, weapons, fire, anxiety, swearing, ritas, I think that's it.

Word count: 1476

Masterlist Series Masterlist

Training the next morning started out well. You impressed the group quickly with your advanced skill and ability to work in a team. Even though Nesta trusted you without hesitation Cassian had been wearily eyeing you all morning. You could feel his eyes practically burning holes in your skin. Emerie and Gwyn had been quick to trust you however, full faith in the judgment of their best friend.

“Here, why don’t you show me what you can do hand to hand?” Emerie took the sword you had been slashing a dummy with and set it on the sword rack. You gave her a thankful smile for saving you from the lull of boredom you had found yourself in. She grabbed a few bandages from the table and divided them between herself and you. You slipped your gloves off and began to wrap your hands as you spoke to her about the camp she came from. She gave you a few mild answers not yet ready to dive into the full conversation of the hell she went through there everyday.

“I’m ready whenever you are.” You placed yourself in a casual position, feet shoulder width apart and your hands on your hips. The winged Female came to stand in front of you and took up a defensive position. Her wings spread out behind her, feet spread apart and hands at the ready. You quirked one eyebrow up at her before nodding at her, giving her the go ahead to attack. She was rushing forwards in an instance, you sidestepped her first swing throwing your leg out grazing her shin enough to have her stumbling for a few steps.

“Come on now Emerie, you don’t need to go easy on me. I can handle it.” The tone of your voice was teasing as she let out a sigh. Her feet finally steadied her and she was twirling around ready to attack again. You could see Nesta and Gwyn out of the corner of your eye, watching you both as you bobbed and weaved past each other. You had your wings out but kept them tightly tucked in behind you.

“I’ll buy the first one that lands a hit, a drink at Rita’s later.” Nesta’s steely voice spoke up as you dodged another punch from the female in front of you.

“What is Rita’s?” You threw the question out for one of them to answer. But your eyes remained on Emerie. You could feel sweat starting to coat your heated skin.

“It’s a pleasure hall down in town.” Gwyn’s light voice spoke from beside Nesta. A good balance from the coldness that Nesta’s voice held. A numbing sensation started to prick along your limbs.

“I could definitely use a drink.” You and Emerie both said at the same time, causing a laugh from the four of you. You urged the ache starting to develop inside you to dull. The sensation wasn’t new to you but it didn’t make it any better when it happened.

“Sorry Emerie.” As the words left your mouth Emerie hesitated, you used the opportunity to grab the front of her shirt. Your fingers fisting the material tightly before you shoved some of your weight into her and she slammed against the floor.

“Fuck.” was the only word that came from her mouth as she struggled to catch her breath. The impact of the fall had knocked the air right out of her. You let out a muffled grunt as you fell to your knees beside her feet. Your hands wrapped around your middle as your wings unraveled and enclosed you within them.

A burning sensation started to overtake your body. You could feel something trying to claw its way out of your skin. Desperate for air to brush against it. The clothes laying upon your skin started to feel suffocating. The leather seemingly choking the oxygen from within you. A sob wracked your body as your fingers flexed and your nails itched. Your vision went in and out of focus as you tried to ground yourself back to your body.

“She’s burning up.” You weren’t sure who said it, or where they were at but all that you knew was that the words rang true. You could feel yourself starting to lose control. Your teeth ground against each other in an attempt to clamp down on the fire within your veins. A shaky breath left your body, steam coming out as the air left your lips.

“Can you hear me?” A voice that seemed to be much closer than before asked you. But the only answer you could give was a twitch of your wings that were still placed around you. A black and blue shield, guarding you from prying eyes or guarding the prying eyes from the wrath you were fighting against. The hands wrapped around your middle came up to squeeze the sides of your head as a pounding throb smacked into the insides of your skull.

Then your body shuttered in relief as cooling touches surrounded you. Brushing along your skin and weaving through your hair. Your lips parted in a moan as one of the cooling touches laid upon your sweat covered neck. The fingers that were squeezing your temples slipped away as more of the cooling touch came to rest upon them in their place. Moments passed as you basked in the icy feeling against your skin. Your hearing became clearer, the whispers from around you making you nervous.

The cooling touches started to frantically move along you. Seemingly fighting against an unknown source. Then you felt the touches almost reluctantly pulling away from you. You blinked your eyes open slowly, catching a glimpse of black tendrils slipping underneath your wings. You fluttered the makeshift shields open hesitantly. You scanned your surroundings quickly, eyes landing on the forms of three females kneeling in front of you worry, hesitation and determination held within their respective gazes.

Then your eyes flickered behind their crouched forms and took in the two males standing behind them. You shot back as your eyes connected to the unfamiliar one standing besides Cassian. You had gotten used to his apprehensive gaze throughout dinner last night and training this morning so it didn’t deter you now. However the look of fury that was being directed at you through hazel eyes had fear spiking through you. Your body was on high alert as you stared at him. The black tendrils that were with you moments before raced along his skin, grazing his ears. He stepped forward and even with the Females dividing you from him you still found yourself scooting farther away from him. Your entire being humming, wings twitching anxiously.

“It’s okay you’re safe.” your gaze finally broke away from the stranger to the Females kneeling in front of you. It was Emerie who had spoken, her hands held out in front of her, showing you she wasn’t a threat. Her voice was dripping with worry.

“What happened?” Nesta’s determined question had you digging your nails into the rock beneath you, welcoming the pain the action caused you.

“That happens sometimes when I go too long between exerting all of my energy.” You knew it would be a waste of time and breath to lie to her so you had decided to go with the truth.

“Are you okay?” A hesitant Gwyn piped up between Emerie and Nesta.

“I am now, but I’m going to need a place to blow off some steam soon. If not, I'll go through that again.” You could still feel a dull ache within your body, a reminder to expel the pent up rage boiling within you soon. Cassian and the handsome stranger shared a look before they both nodded their heads. The silent conversation caused your stomach to twist in knots.

“Let’s go and get clean and we can have lunch. Then maybe we can show you around the house.” Nesta stood from the floor and extended a hand your way which you immediately accepted. She helped to pull you up and you steadied on your feet quickly. You let her lead you away from the training space, Gwyn and Emerie both hot on your heels. As you slipped out however you heard two voices behind you.

“I thought you were away Azriel.” You knew that deep voice was Cassian as you’d already accustomed yourself to the sound of his voice.

“I was in the middle of an interrogation when all of my fucking shadows slipped away from me in a mad dash. I followed them to see what was happening and it landed me here.” He had an annoyed edge to his tone. Clearly upset with being interrupted while he was close to getting the information he needed. That was the last you heard of the conversation before being whisked away.

A/N: I gave you guys some Azriel!!! I hope you all liked this part. As always likes, reblogs, comments and follows are welcome. I'm excited to get into the next part soon! I might go through and rewrite a bit of this because I wrote this so late in the day so it might be a little delirious at parts lol.

Tags(open): @wolfsbane44 @moonlwghts @maddietheshoe @hyemishii @fanboyluvr @kmc1989 @acourtofinkandpapyrus @luvmoo

#azriel x reader #azriel imagine #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #a court of wings and ruin #a court of frost and starlight #a court of silver flames #acotar imagine #alliance Maker #azriel series

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drabblesandimagines · 9 months

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400 Request ^_^

Fencing practice with Barnabas x fem reader, please❤️

Thanks, anon - I went more for a sparring practice vibes, I hope that's okay! 400 Followers Event details. Distracted Barnabas x fem reader 884 words

“Show me your positioning.” Barnabas begins to circle you as you adjust your stance under his gaze, his footsteps echoing around the sparring hall. Racks of weapons line the sides for training purposes, one from which he’d chosen the swords for today’s practice session. He wouldn’t dare wield Odin’s sword against you of course, but there would be no wooden training swords in your lessons either.

The Warden of Ash hums before he stops behind you. “Nearly.” His hand grips the back of your left thigh then, another on your hip, manoeuvring them by an inch or so. “There – feel the difference?”

“Mm.” You agree, acknowledging the difference of balance to a moment before.

“Show me again.” He commands, walking back round to your front.

You step out of position and fall back into it, adjusting a couple of times before you’re confident you’d reestablished it and look up at him, hopeful of praise.

“Better.” He nods. “Remember that, for I will not go easy on you, sweet one.”

“I would be offended if you did.”

He smirks, before taking a few paces to collect his own sword from where he’d laid it earlier, twirling it in his grasp and readies his own stance - leaning forward, and tucks his arm behind his back.

You’d asked him why once, assumed it was to just show off his prowess with the blade. He’d scoffed, amused at your naivety, “If,” he’d stressed, and you knew that meant it was a very big if indeed, “I were to be injured, I could switch arms and continue, of course.”

“Focus.” His voice brings you back to the present moment. “Ready?”

“Ready.” You nod, and the battle begins.

His movements are fluid, his footwork more of a dance, the sword acts as an extension of his arm more than a tool being wielded.

You, on the other hand, are not as graceful, have a tendency to want to rush all in with a flurry of attacks. Your latest sessions have been on practicing your patience, the king warning you that you’d tire yourself out quickly and leave yourself vulnerable if you did not.

Not that he expects you to ever have to fight to defend your life – he would never allow you to find yourself in a situation without him or his Lord Commander there to protect you, but you’d pleaded to be taught and he’d caved so easily from your pretty pout.

“How?” You grunt, the impact from the clash of blades has sent you stumbling back, but somehow you maintain your balance.

“I know you so well, I can read your actions before you make them. You need to work on hiding those emotions, my sweet.” He walks forward as you step back, trying to maintain your defence. “You’re allowing yourself to be distracted.”

Are you truly so easy to read? Your eyes do keep falling upon his chest – his shirt appears to be lower than usual, more of his scar on display – but he can’t have noticed that, surely.

Lost in your thoughts, he takes advantage and lunges forward, ever graceful, and you step back without thinking of your positioning, toppling backwards.

The cold stone is there to meet you – Barnabas wasn’t one to coddle you in practice in a training pit lined with sand to soften any impact – and you know there’ll be a nasty bruise for your error. Swiftly, before you could think of getting back up to your feet, his sword is under your chin, using it to tilt your face up towards him. The way he controls the blade is truly a sight to behold. He knows how to manipulate the pressure just so, enough to not cut you but the threat is ever present.

A victorious smile is plastered across his features. “Do you yield, my sweet?”

You sigh, and the blade clangs against the floor as you drop it from your grip. “I yield.”

He kicks your blade away, as if you’d try and trick him, before he swipes his sword a couerl’s whisker away from your neck and bows with a flourish.

“Dead.” The arm that has been behind his back is now in front of him, offering you a hand. “I did say I would not hold back.”

You take his outstretched hand and he pulls you up with ease, tugging you forward into his chest. He throws his own blade down then and wraps both arms around your waist. “You are improving.”

“You tease me.” You lament, fiddling with the collar of his shirt.

“Mayhaps, but not here.” He moves an arm away from your waist and begins to walk you forward. “Come – a bath is in order.”

“Why?”

“One, I am sure that fall is already smarting.” It is true, your tailbone is throbbing from the impact and a warm bath certainly would help to soothe.

“Mm. However, one suggests there is a two.”

He smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of your temple before lowering his lips to your ear.

“Two, you may gaze upon my chest to your heart’s content. I will have my lady get her fill before our next session.”

“I do not think that is possible.” You admit as your cheeks flush.

“Then next time I shall don my armour.”

Comments, likes and reblogs make my whole day x

Masterlist . Requests welcome . Ko-fi

#ghostdogwrites #ff16 x reader #barnabas tharmr x you #barnabas tharmr x reader #reader requests

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theresattrpgforthat · 11 months

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i have a character in a bitd campaign i’m running who is going to be defending a dissertation and i would love to do a different game for when that happens. do you have any recs that have the vibe of thesis defense or an interview, public speaking/presentation, etc? Thanks!

THEME: Debate Games

Hello friend. There are not a lot of debate games, but I found a few that might give you the structure for something that you can rebuild to meet your needs. Some of them even work for more than two players! I’m also going to include one game that is about duels, in case defending your thesis is more about protecting a position, and I’m going to slot in a recommendation for a game where bantering back and forth represents a pre-duel sort of duel, in case you find it’s system more to your taste.

ANTological Theory, by Adira Slattery

ANTological Theory is a GM-less tabletop comedy game for 3-5 players, who take the roll of ant philosophers debating in the Hive. You will debate about a variety of randomly chosen topics; the nature of Food, an ant's sense of self, the importance of the Queen, and even the trolley problem. Gameplay can be fast paced, or players can spend a lot of time debating one of the random topics at their leisure. The entire rules fit on a single page, and you'll just need two six-sided dice.

This game will probably need a bit of re-working to make it about your chosen topic than to be about ants, and the rules are pretty loose as well. The bulk of the game is a list of roll-tables and a series of mirrored statements that your characters will take stances on. If you bought the Bundle for Racial Justice and Equality back in 2020, you already own this game so it might be worth checking out. You can also check out the One Shot Podcast’s episode of this game to hear what a game session feels like!

Salads N’ Sandwiches: An Absurd Debate Game, by aghostofeli.

Every dish you have ever eaten was either a Salad or a Sandwich. What that means is only limited by your imagination and how well you convince everyone else. Players compete to have their arguments and rebuttals heard by a judge of their peers. The first to rack the most points wins.

This is a debate-tournament style game in which you argue about items and what category they belong in. The initial game is about sorting foods into the category of Sandwich or Salad, but you could likely replace it with any other two categories! The game is designed off of Caltrop Core, so you’ll only need d4s to play.

Meeting God on a Park Bench, by Owlsten.

Meeting God on a Park Bench is a small game about discussing things in a safe environment using card-based mechanics. This game is meant to simulate an argument, but you don’t literally have to have an argument with God. It has two roles: Attacker and Defender. You will use cards to determine what happens with each round of discussion to determine whether you will remain as Attacker and Defender, whether you move on to a new topic, state something you like about the other player, or change the topic. This is an argument game that has built-in safety tools to ensure that the disagreement stays civil, to ensure that the players behind the characters don’t feel personally attacked.

The biggest downside to this game might be the looseness of the rules. If you’re going to be defending a dissertation in an academic setting, you might want to change how some of the cards work, or add in a few extra rules to make sure the game properly simulates a defense.

A Duet of Steel, by Adrian Thorn.

Throughout your life, throughout generations of your family, throughout the various fronts of your war, you have had one great rival. Again and again you clash with them, one walking away the victor of the battle, but bearing the scars of your war.

Whatever the setting and scope, the focus of A Duet Of Steel is the two Duelists, their climatic duels, and the aftermath of these confrontations. The Duet Of Steel is a dance of antagonism, with an ebb and flow of conflict and recovery. But it is a Duet, with the two parties playing off each other. It takes two to tango.

A Duet of Steel is a game about two rivals going head to head, but their conflict doesn’t necessarily have to be physical, which is why it might be a candidate for this kind of game. You will build your duelists, your setting, and decide what is at stake. You’ll also have to agree on a Victory Condition. You’ll then move through a timeline in which your Duelists will use a deck of playing cards to determine what you might lose or gain. The cards will also be used as modes of attack or defense, and will help you determine who wins and whether or not an opponent gets to counter. Out of all the games on this list, this game has the most concrete rules and the most well-defined play structure.

Games I Have Recommended Before

I Have The High Ground - for a duel of words where emotions are more heavily involved - and you wear capes!

#dnd #game recommendations #indie ttrpgs #asks #tabletop games #debate

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chaotic-super · 1 year

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Joining The Superfriends -10

Read Joining The Superfriends on Ao3 here!

Trying to decide what to do about what they are now referring to as The Lex Problem is an immensely difficult task to the point where they have yet to decide on any concrete plans and they are now going on three days since Lena managed to shut down the bugs. “What do you think the best response to this whole thing is, Lena? The public is still in panic mode even though the bugs are gone and I’m starting to think that we might have to make a statement of some kind.” Kara slouches on Lena’s recliner chair, feet up and head resting in her hand, elbow perched on the arm of the chair.

Lena groans, rubbing her eyes with pinched fingers, head flopped back into her pillow. “I don’t have a clue. I wouldn’t be lying on my bed right now if I knew what to do. On the one hand, we could expose him and tell the public what happened but then on the other, we barely have any proof and he could easily twist it back onto me because I also have access to the satellite and I recently left Luthor Corp.”

“Hence making you look like the revenge-seeking little sister of Lex Luthor.”

“Exactly.”

They fall into silence again, both trying to figure out where they can go from here because they have literally been thinking themselves in circles for hours.

Tapping her fingers against her cheekbone, Kara pouts. “My brain has stopped working.”

Lena huffs out a laugh. “Mine too. I don’t think we’re really getting very far with this whole planning malarkey.”

“Malarkey? Are you seventy?”

“Rude, I’m only sixty-three this time.”

Kara snorts, “My greatest apologies, I should have known, you don’t look a day over fifty-seven.”

“Damn straight.” Lena giggles as she says it, the frown leaving her forehead for the first time in a few days.

Kara listens to the sound with glee, overjoyed that she’s managed to bring some semblance of normality to Lena to stop her from living her life in a whirlwind of stress. “Hey, no matter what, we’ll fix it and we have your back.”

“Do all of you though?” The question slips out without her meaning it to, whether it be her insecurity fuelling the question or just genuine curiosity, it’s been lingering in the back of her mind and now it’s out in the open, verbalised in a way that she isn’t sure she meant. “Sorry, I don’t mean it like that.”

Kara sits up straighter, leaving behind her slouched position and squaring her shoulders. “Like what? I don’t understand, Lena.”

“I’m sorry, I guess Lex has really got to me this time, it’s making me doubt myself.”

“Lena, don’t avoid the question please.”

Lena can’t bear to look at Kara, to see her face when she realizes how truly insecure she can be. “The others have barely spoken to me in days, I know that Alex said that she doesn’t blame me but the others…I don’t know. It’s stupid and irrational. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Kara’s eyes pin onto the ceiling, they don’t focus on anything in particular as she racks her brain, trying to think of the last time she saw any of the other Superfriends interacting with Lena and to her dismay, all of the examples that she can think of are from before they found out that Lex is the one that orchestrated the attack on National City and its citizens.

It’s kind of on-brand for them to separate themselves from whoever is having a pretty tumultuous time mentally. Sometimes the space is welcome but Kara has to admit that there have been times when she’s wanted nothing more than for all of her friends to support her and they have been painfully absent.

“Ah, that. They do that sometimes.” Kara mutters, almost angrily. “I’ve had that problem with them myself at times and I can say from first-hand experience that it sucks balls.”

Lena dares to look over at her, actually turning onto her side to fully engage with Kara. “You mean that it’s normal for them to just fall off the radar from time to time?”

“It can be, yes. They do it whenever something particularly bad happens in the name of giving the person space and I’ve spoken to them about it before. They usually make a half-hearted attempt at least but I guess they didn’t come through for you this time. I’m sorry about them, I’ll have to yell at them tomorrow.” Kara meets Lena’s eyes, a crinkle resting firmly between her own, the result of a mixture of pity for Lena and anger at the rest of the team.

“You don’t have to do that.”

“I do, I’ll actually get the group together and get Kelly to mediate, I’ve tried having nice conversations with them about this issue before so it’s time for something more hard-hitting anyway. Any chance you’re able to make yourself cry to make them feel extra guilty when the time comes?” Kara smiles wickedly.

Lena’s lips quirk upwards. “I’ll see what I can do when the time comes.”

Kara claps her hands excitedly, giggling to herself in a way that makes Lena want to pinch her cheeks because she’s being so cute. “Excellent.”

“At least now I know it’s not because they think I’m turning down the road of evil like Lex.”

“Nobody thinks that, we haven’t known you for all that long but even just from these few weeks, we know that you don’t have an evil bone in your body, Lena, it’s one of my favourite things about you.”

Lena quirks an immaculate eyebrow up at her. “Oh, do tell. What are your favourite things about me then? I want a list.”

Kara looks down at her watch in an overexaggerated gesture, her cheeks flushed. “Would you look at the time! I should really get going because otherwise, I won’t have time to walk my plant.”

“Don’t you have fake plants?”

Kara’s eyebrows shoot up in rage. “How dare you, Lena Kieran, I’ll have you know that my plants are completely real and they are very healthy.”

“Healthy enough to miss their daily walk so you can stay and read me that list?”

Kara sinks back into the chair. “You’re annoying at times, you know that?”

“As annoying as Alex?”

“Not even close but don’t tell her I said that because she’s meant to be bringing us dinner and she can and will withhold our food if we’re not nice to her.” Kara checks her phone to see what time Alex texted to say she was leaving The Tower to go and get food, hungry from waiting around.

Lena nods resolutely, not willing to do anything to risk Alex not bringing them food, she still needs to go grocery shopping so if Alex doesn’t pull through she’ll have to eat the random can of spaghetti hoops she has lingering in the back of her cupboard.

Speaking of food though, she has yet to get the verdict from Kara on whether or not her calorie powder has been working out for her. “Hey, I have been meaning to ask you how you’ve been getting on with the powder I made you, is it working out?”

Kara’s face splits into another smile, “It’s going great, Lena, and the best part is that I can even use it at CatCo when I mix it in with my oatmeal or my drinks and everyone just assumes that it’s a protein powder, it’s brilliant.

“It’s also been amazing for getting my calorie count up, I only have like four meals a day now rather than too many to count, it’s saved me a crap ton of time and I can’t wait to see the lasting effects it will have on my overall savings from my decreased grocery bill. Hell, I could even start thinking of getting a mortgage somewhere.”

Lena can’t help but match Kara’s smile, pride blooming in her chest. “I’m really glad it’s working out for you, Kara.”

“There was just one thing that has been bugging me though, something that was there when you showed me the powder the first time and I haven’t had since,” Kara adds, apprehension sitting heavy on her shoulders.

Lena frowns, not sure what Kara could be missing. The scoop for the powder, maybe?”

“We kissed after you showed me the powder the first time and I’ve been missing that every time I’ve had a scoop of the stuff ever since. I know we haven’t talked about it, but since we have some time now, I was hoping that maybe you’d be open to it.”

Well, that clears that up. Lena has been waiting to be able to speak to Kara about the moment they shared in the lab and has been hoping that Kara would bring it up but despite that, she has no idea what to say to her now, or how to respond.

“I…erm…yeah, yes. We can talk.”

“Are you sure? You don’t sound sure?” Kara pins her gaze onto Lena’s.

Lena nods, not fully trusting her own voice.

It’s enough for Kara though. She pulls her lips into a closed-mouth smile. “Alright then, since I kissed you I should probably go first.” She clears her throat before continuing. “I like you, that’s the main reason I kissed you and when you mumbled to yourself about wanting me to kiss you, I just couldn’t resist.”

From the fact that Kara kissed her in the first place, it has never been hard to deduce that she has some kind of feelings for her but to have her openly admit it is something new entirely. “You actually like me?”

“I do,” Kara confirms.

Lena supresses her smile. “I like you too and I did want you to kiss me, and for future records, you’re welcome to do it again.”

Kara is instantly trying to clamber out of the chair to get closer to fulfilling that desire but she is quickly stopped by Lena holding up a single finger. “But not until we have been out on an actual date.”

Straightening herself up, Kara swallows down her embarrassment at how eager she’s acting, she’s acting like a teenage boy being granted permission to touch a boob for the first time.

Perching herself back down on the chair, on the edge this time, just in case Lena changes her mind and lets her kiss her, Kara raises her hands up to cover her blushing cheeks. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to come on too strong.”

“Don’t worry, I like it. I just haven’t ever had the chance to properly date someone and maybe it makes me naive or foolish but I would like to know what it’s like.” Lena ducks her head, swinging her legs over the edge of the bed to speak to Kara properly.

Shaking her head, Kara jumps in to reassure her. “I don’t think it’s foolish, I actually really like the sound of it. I can’t say that any of my past partners have been the kind to wine and dine someone so I would love it if we could try that out together.”

“Good.”

They sit there staring at each other and smiling so hard that their cheeks hurt, only breaking their gazes when they become aware of how long they’ve been sitting there in silence like a pair of idiots with crushes, which is exactly what they are.

Lena tilts her head. “Just for the record, I never expected to come to National City and somehow score a date with The Girl of Steel.”

“Just for the record, I never expected to date the person we needed to hire to help our group be vigilantes,” Kara replies.

“Despite everything that has happened, I am glad I came here, that I moved away from the negativity I left behind in Metropolis.” Kara nods in agreeance. “Speaking of, do you know how the people in Metropolis dealt with the bugs? I never saw anything on the news.”

Kara grimaces. “I actually already thought you knew but it was a targeted attack, the only city to get hit was ours.”

“Why would he have put in the DNA preventative then? What would be the point in putting that in place when he is nowhere near them in the first place unless…he did the whole thing just to try and scare me into going back. I thought that might have been the case but I actually thought that maybe that would be too petty, even for him. God, he’s such a gaping asshole.”

Kara sits and lets Lena rant, watching as she stands and paces her tiny apartment, following her form with her eyes. She hasn’t doubted Lena for a second on whether or not she was involved in the attack by the Luthors but seeing Lena like this, rage-filled and upset, it’s obvious to anyone with eyes that she isn’t.

She’s also certain that the others don’t think she is involved either but she’s still going to have a little chat with them to make sure that everyone is still on the same page because she knows what it’s like to be judged by the actions of your family, especially when you don’t want to be associated with them.

Lena keeps on pacing long after she’s done talking, the calculated steps helping her think. Eight one way, then eight the other, eight one way, then eight the other.

She’s facing Kara, just about to turn back around and start another circuit when there’s a heavy knock on her door.

“That’ll be Alex with food,” Kara says, excitement for food clear in her voice.

Lena takes a calming breath before swinging the door open and forcing a smile onto her face, ushering Alex inside.

Alex eyes her up strangely. “I know something’s wrong because you never smile when you see me, it’s actually quite offensive.”

“Whatever Danvers, just hand over the food, I’m starving.” Lena brings three plates down from the cupboard and reaches for the bag of Big Belly Burger that Alex just strolled in with but is infinitely more annoyed when it gets pulled out of her reach.

“Tell Mama Alex what’s wrong.”

“Call yourself that again and I will vomit. We were just talking about Lex and it made me mad, that’s it, now hand me my burger before I have Kara set you on fire.” Lena pouts angrily.

Alex tries not to laugh at the look on her face and hands the bag over, pleased to have gotten a rise out of her. “Yes boss, but we both know Kara wouldn’t turn on her favourite person on the planet, no matter how good a kisser you are.”

Kara reaches over Alex’s shoulder for her milkshake. “You’re underestimating how good of a kisser Lena is.”

Alex’s hands drop the straw she was about to stab into her own milkshake and shoot up to her ears, disgust clouding her features. “Ew! That’s gross, I don’t want to hear any more.”

Lena smiles mischievously “so you don’t want me to tell you how soft Kara’s lips are and how amazing it feels to have them against my own?”

A finger is shoved into her face. “You are not to say another word or else I will destroy your food.”

“Another word.”

Being as petty and as annoyed as she is, Alex tries to follow through with her threat, grabbing at the bag and pulling it towards herself. Kara, being the only one with any brain cells left, uses her super speed to grapple it off of her, plate up the food and deposit Alex onto the recliner chair with her plate in her lap and her milkshake in her hand.

“Stay!” She points her finger at her sister, warning her not to move before turning to Lena. “And you, behave.”

Alex huffs and digs into her burger, purposely not looking at them as her little act of revenge.

Kara and Lena grab their own food at a normal pace before sitting on the edge of Lena’s bed, plates balanced on their laps.

Lena takes one look at Alex’s frowny face and giggles into her burger. “I know you’re mad but you look like a little grumpy chipmunk.”

Kara tries not to laugh, trying to stop the fighting but can’t resist because that’s the most accurate depiction of her sister she’s heard in a while. She hides her smile behind her hand but the shaking of her shoulders gives her away.

“Kara Zor-El Danvers, if you’re laughing at me right now, I will break into your loft and break all of the DVD copies of every musical you own, don’t think I won’t.”

Kara holds her hands up. “I’m not laughing, I’m just trying to bring an end to this arguing so I can eat in peace. Do you guys think you can manage that?” She forces herself not to smile, a task much harder than some of the fights she’s been in.

“Fine,” Alex says, tone sharp.

“Lena?” Kara nudges her with her shoulder.

Lena takes one last look at Alex with a snicker but also answers. “Ok.”

“Great, now, let’s eat and then we can talk shop after. Lena and I haven’t made much progress with plans so hopefully, you have some ideas, Alex.” Kara says before biting into her food, humming at the taste but taking a second to heat vision her burger, lifting the bun first because she’s not an amateur.

Seeing what Kara just did, Lena lifts her bun and holds it out to her in demand. Kara does so with gleeful eyes.

Seeing Lena so open to her and her alien differences is something that she’s always wanted in a partner, something she once thought she’d found in Mon-El but that wasn’t meant to be. They were both aliens to this planet and Kara should have known better than to have not considered that they were aliens to each other too.

That wasn’t their only downfall but it’s up there, and it’s a mistake that Kara isn’t making. If she’s going to pursue anyone romantically, they are going to be fully, completely, and wholly accepting of who and what she is.

That’s why she’s glad she’s met Lena. She has a good feeling about her.

Read 10 more chapters early on Patreon here!

#cw supergirl #supercorp #supergirl #supercorp endgame #supercorp fanfic #fanfiction #fanfic #kara x lena #kara danvers #kara zor el #kara leaned in #lena luthor #chaoticsuper

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dokidokitsuna · 1 year

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Looking forward to playing my first Splatfest ever! As you can see, I’m Team Sour~

I feel like I’m in a kind of odd in-between position; where I’m new enough that I can still relate to the Christmas noobs, but experienced enough to already have a solid playstyle and a few weapons of choice…and if there are any fellow new players following me or casual players who are just looking to improve, I’d like to share a vital piece of wisdom I’ve gained over the past ~1.5 months:

Find your comfort zone, and make it your niche.

Before, when I used to imagine what it’d be like to play Splatoon, I thought of myself as a ‘support’ player, who’d probably spend most of my time inking turf and helping my allies defeat enemies, rather than going full offensive on my own.

When I actually started to play, I did do that for a while (out of fear XD)…but before long I started trying to copy everyone else, thinking that jumping straight into battle was the ‘right’ way to play and that I needed to stop being a ‘coward’. Long story short, I got killed A LOT doing that (lots of unhappy memories with the Reefslider…), and I found myself getting more and more frustrated after matches, and eventually I thought “Y’know what? Clearly this isn’t working…maybe I should just go back to the non-confrontational approach”.

I made a point to stop using weapons with specials that made me try to get into the middle of fights, and stick with specials I could use from the sidelines (Tacticooler, Wave Breaker). Then I went back to playing like a ‘coward’...and I started learning things.

My first breakthrough was literally just learning tactics-- watching player behavior, and figuring out how to exploit it. For instance, when my team was getting cornered or otherwise unable to advance, I would use the ‘suicide run’: sneak around the side of the map and make a mad dash into enemy territory. Not necessarily to ink turf, but to simply get everyone to turn their backs on the front lines and focus on the intruder (who is always seen as the more urgent threat). If you can survive for at least 10 seconds, it’s a valid strategy, and doing this on the regular also taught me evasive skills pretty early on. When you’re constantly getting attacked by 2-3 people at once surrounded by enemy ink with no one nearby to help, you learn fast. ^^

My next breakthrough was learning to aim…which is a valuable skill that not everyone has, believe it or not. ^^ And as the person who usually wandered off alone to ink all the unloved corners of the map, I often found myself in a position to sneak up on enemies and quickly splat them when they were focused on other things…which eventually became the cornerstone of my playstyle.

At this point, I’ve gone back to focusing on inking turf and ‘Splat Assisting’...but I do it not out of fear of trying other things, but because I’m GOOD at THOSE things and now I know how to do them in the most beneficial ways. I’ve learned to ‘splatter’ enemy turf to slow down opponents’ movements and draw them out of hiding, and even to paint escape routes for struggling allies. My aim’s gotten so good that anyone I can hit before they notice me is usually splatted in 2 seconds, and I specifically target people who are preoccupied so I can get those kills. Yesterday I racked up 21 in Clam Blitz (a mode that, just last week, I was afraid to even try) just by doing what I do best and ‘assisting’.

All that is to say, what you feel comfortable doing (in any MMO game, really) is probably what you need to be doing; you just need to get yourself the right tools and tailor your playstyle to accommodate it. There are lots of types of skillsets that can be useful in Splatoon, and lots of ways to work with each weapon class (and Salmon Run is a great way to trial-by-fire yourself into finding weapons you never knew you’d click with…once upon a time I almost considered becoming a Splatana main). Just go with your gut, believe in yourself, and always prioritize having fun~

#splatoon #octoling #splatoon 3 #musings

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whump-me · 16 days

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Unseen: Chapter 6

Chapter 6 of Unseen, a novel-length whump story about a ruthless mob heiress and the superpowered assassin she kidnaps and forces to work for her—and the unexpected friendship that develops between them.

Masterpost | the Mind Games universe | Read the complete novel on Patreon

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Delta-Nine-308 paced the fourth floor, counting steps, estimating distances. She started from the bedroom at one end, walked past the kitchen, then the cavernous living room. Then back again. She did it three times, then averaged her results.

Every room was an assault of color. Even the kitchen, with its sedate black that felt like stepping between the claws of some insect, like the room was poised to attack.

She treated the distractions as passive assaults, illusions meant to keep her from her goal. The same principle as a painting hung over the entrance to a safe room meant to shield her targets from her. She had faced that situation on a mission. This was the same, on a larger scale.

She let the distractions melt from her mind. She tapped the floor and the walls, searching for weaknesses and hidden exits. She found none of the latter, and not enough of the former. She did find two hiding places in case she found herself under assault, but neither allowed her a quick route to an exit.

She looked down at the deceptively beautiful bracelet. There was no exit. There was no escape.

She found the locations of the guards next. Two were stationed outside every window. Between each set of guards also stood to either side of some sort of black, a little larger than a welcome mat.

The first time, she thought it had something to do with the garden. When she saw the same item outside every window, she began to understand that it had to do with her.

Something that would set off an alarm at a touch, maybe. Smart of Yvette. But she had underestimated PERI’s physical training. Delta-Nine-308 could sidestep it easily, even while leaping down from above.

If not for the bracelet.

She looked down at the metal, at the sparkling facets of silver. She just as quickly looked away.

She should have known that the beauty of the vast world came at a cost.

She suspected the last set of guards was at the bottom of the stairs. But she couldn’t see them. The stairs traveled in a descending circle, and she didn’t know how far down she could go before the bracelet activated. Rather than risk it, she lay on the floor with one ear pressed to the polished wood.

She listened until she heard footsteps. Then voices. Then footsteps again. After the better part of an hour, the guards’ natural fidgeting and brief exchanges of words gave her a good idea of their position.

She returned to the bedroom and closed the door. She pulled one of the fluffy white towels off the bathroom rack. It felt as soft as she had imagined those flower petals would feel. As soft as she imagined a kitten’s fur would feel.

Yvette had said she could have anything she wanted. If she asked for a kitten, would Yvette—

She cut that thought off. She wasn’t staying.

She buried her face in the towel, savoring the softness. Then she rolled it up and shoved it against the bottom of the door, where it could block the tiny gap where sound could escape.

Next she took a smaller towel, rolled it up, and tied it around her mouth. A makeshift gag. It took her two tries. Her training had included plenty of practice in escaping restraints, but no practice in gagging herself. But this would hold the sound in more effectively than the towel across the bottom of the door.

The window wasn’t locked this time. Yvette must have thought the bracelet was enough of a deterrent.

The thick morning smell had burned away. Now the air smelled warm, like sunshine. That had startled her the first time she had gone out in daylight—the way warmth had a smell.

Focus.

She thrust the braceleted arm out the window.

An electric shock tore through her nerves. Her fingers clutched at the windowsill like they had a life of their own. She pressed her lips together, but a small moan escaped.

Nothing more than that, though. She hadn’t screamed. She might as well not have bothered with the towels.

It was just electricity. She had endured electricity before. When they were eleven, they’d had to take turns shocking each other with cattle prods. Another test of endurance, for the ones being shocked. Another test of loyalty, for the ones doing the shocking. Another way to remind that although they had been born together and spent all their waking hours together, they were not allies. They were Enhanced. They worked alone.

She still had the scars. Little freckles on her back that she never saw unless she looked in a mirror. She didn’t see them often. She had no mirror in her room back home.

There was a mirror in the bedroom Yvette had given her—was holding her prisoner in, she corrected herself.

She had caught a couple of glimpses of herself. Mostly, she had tried not to look. When she thought of herself, she thought of the silent, unstoppable assassin who had never failed a mission. She didn’t think of that creature in the mirror, small and trembling, with eyes as wide and panicked as any of her targets.

She closed the window.

She shifted the bracelet to get a look at the skin underneath. As she had suspected, the skin was slightly reddened, but not burned. There would be no scars.

She could endure that pain if she had to. She had endured worse.

She pulled off the gag and moved on to her next plan.

When she had surveyed the rooms, she had found only one significant weakness. She returned to that spot now.

She slipped into the bedroom closet and closed the door behind her. For a second, darkness enveloped her. She imagined herself sitting blindfolded and strapped down in the van, trembling with excitement rather than fear. Waiting for her next all-too-brief adventure.

She wanted to stay in that darkness forever.

But it was too late for that. Her adventure was here. This was her mission.

Just another mission. She could handle that. On mission nights, she was unstoppable.

She pulled the string hanging next to the door. Thin white light bathed the room. It wasn’t as warm as the light in the bedroom. It shone off her bracelet too brightly. In here, the light seemed to tell the truth about the bracelet’s danger.

She pulled the hanging bar free from the end pieces that held it in place. A few items of clothing that Yvette must have chosen for her floated to the floor. She ignored them and tapped the bar against the ceiling. Once, twice, three times. The echo that came back was hollow. There was empty space above, and the ceiling between the two stories wasn’t thick.

She had tapped the ceiling in a few other places during her survey. The same hollow sound had come back every time. But out in the living room, or in the kitchen, someone would notice a hole if she cut one.

Not so in the bedroom closet. The door had been closed when she had woken in this room. No one would find it strange if it stayed closed.

Now to find a way to cut that hole. She didn’t suppose the guards would appreciate being asked for a set of carpenter’s tools.

But she had been taught to improvise when it came to weapons. Improvising with tools had to be similar.

She went for the kitchen first. The kitchen was always where the knives were.

Only this time they weren’t.

She opened every drawer, and every cabinet for good measure. Nothing remotely sharp. The closest thing to a knife she found was a spatula. She knew how to kill someone with one of those, if it came to that. But that wouldn’t help her cut a hole in the ceiling.

She returned to the closet empty-handed.

She took hold of the hanging bar again, and hefted it in her hands. She thought about the guards one floor below—close enough to hear if any suspicious banging started above them.

After a moment, she had her solution.

She slammed one blunted end of the hanging bar against the ceiling. Not in the slow and measured way she would have preferred, but with unruly strikes that had no discernible rhythm.

And while she slammed the ceiling, she yelled.

“Let me out of here!” Slam. “Let me out!” Slam “I want to go home!” Slam.

There was nothing cathartic in the yelling. Some members of her cohort yelled and screamed when they were angry or afraid. When they failed a training challenge. When the instructors lectured them about not trying hard enough. When the pain was too much.

Instability.

Delta-Nine-308 wasn’t unstable.

But she was a prisoner, lost and scared. Instability would be expected. Especially since, judging by the clever but inadequate black mats outside the windows, her captors didn’t seem to understand the extent of the training she had been through.

Methodical banging, on the other hand, would sound suspicious. Maybe it would sound like what it was: an escape attempt. They were already watching for her to try again.

The ceiling groaned. A few flakes of plaster floated down onto her head. A crack spread outward like a lightning bolt from where she struck. A chunk of plaster hit the floor.

After a few minutes, she stopped and leaned against the door. She pressed one ear to the door, listening. Her breathing was steady—the physical effort hadn’t taxed her. But her hands sweated as they clutched the bar. If the guards came to stop her, it was the only weapon she had.

No one came.

She returned to her chaotic strikes. As much as she hated it, she returned to her screaming, too.

She allowed her feigned tantrum to go on for the better part of an hour. By then, chunks of plaster littered the closet floor. Fuzzy pink insulation spilled out from the hole. And above… above, through the slats of the floor, she saw a thin line of light.

She hesitated before making the final strike. Someone could be up there. Yvette herself could be up there. Her escape attempt would end before it had started. And this was the only weakness she had found.

But if she didn’t try, she would be equally trapped.

Her morning came back to her. The long walk that made her feel like she would drop off the horizon. The forest of brightly colored shops. The restaurant—that woman looking at her, asking for dollars she didn’t have.

Maybe she could wait before trying again.

No. She wanted her room. She wanted Joss. She wanted the soothing darkness, and the vibrations of the van under her. She wanted to go home.

With a final yell, she slammed the bar up through the floor.

Wood splintered. Another chunk of plaster fell, nearly missing her head. She stared up into the fifth floor of Yvette’s home.

There wasn’t much to see from down here. A window, and the faint suggestion of dark walls. A valid escape route, or a dead end?

She wrapped one of the fallen bits of clothing around her hand without seeing what was. She used it as a glove to pull hunks of installation down from the ceiling. Once she had cleared a space as wide as her torso, she leapt up, pushed off the wall with her feet, and caught the edge of the splintered floor with both hands.

Jagged wood cut into her fingers. But she could endure pain. She pulled herself up just enough to poke her head through, careful to keep her bracelet below the hole.

The room was dark. The only light came from the window directly ahead. A few pieces of furniture shrouded in white fabric looked like a convocation of silent ghosts. There was nothing else.

Yvette wasn’t here.

If Delta-Nine-308 climbed up through the hole, no one would catch her. If she was fast enough, she could find a way out from the fifth floor, a route the guards weren’t watching.

Then, back to the road. Back to the brightly lit shops and her lack of money. Back to people on the sidewalk shouting at her. Back to the whizzing cars, and the streets she had never seen in a briefing.

She didn’t know where PERI headquarters was in relation to the outside world. It was for the safety of everyone inside. She could be caught, they had told her. She could be questioned. It was better for her not to know. She couldn’t give away what she didn’t know.

Now she was caught. She hadn’t been questioned. And without knowing where headquarters was, she couldn’t get home.

She hung like that, plaster dust in her nose and splinters digging into her palms. She didn’t move. Her wrists ached.

She couldn’t stay.

But she couldn’t go home.

She might have screamed for real at that thought, instability mark or no. But at that moment, voices reached her from beyond the door. A man’s voice—one of the guards, probably.

And Yvette.

She dropped to the floor as quietly as she could. There, she pressed her ear to the wall until she found the magic spot that made the speakers’ voices carry almost as well as if she were standing next to them. It had to do with the water pipes, and the way they helped transmit the sound. Another trick PERI had taught her.

“She did some yelling and banging around a while back,” the guard said. “Shouting about wanting to go home. I didn’t interrupt. I thought it was best to let her get it out of her system.”

Even with more than one closed door between them, she caught the thread of fear in his voice, and heard the unspoken words. She hadn’t wanted to get between a trained assassin and her temper.

She hung the bar back up. She re-hung the clothes on their hangers. She brushed the plaster dust from her shirt, and shook it from her hair.

She looked down at herself. White dust still covered her black shirt, impossible to fully hide. Quickly, she stripped the shirt off and balled it into the corner. She pulled a shirt off its hanger and slipped it on over her head without looking at it. The silky fabric drew a soft, surprised gasp from her.

“Has she attempted escape?” Yvette asked.

“One alert from the bracelet. Very brief. I think she was testing it.”

“That would make sense,” said Yvette. “Nothing since then?”

“Nothing. I think she realized it was pointless to fight it.”

“Hmm.” Yvette’s noise was noncommittal. It was impossible to tell whether she shared the guard’s opinion. Delta-Nine-308 hoped she did.

“And is her outburst over with?” Yvette asked.

“It’s been quiet up there for a while. I think she wore herself out.”

Good. Yvette paused. “It’s understandable. That place she came from, as horrible as it was, was the only home she ever knew. It would be an adjustment for anyone.”

The guard’s voice was colorless. “I don’t know the details. All I know is that it’s my job to keep her contained.”

“I’m going to check on her.” Yvette’s voice was strained in a way it hadn’t been a moment ago. Maybe she had heard judgment in the guard’s voice that Delta-Nine-308 hadn’t.

Delta-Nine-308 slipped out of the closet and closed the door softly behind her. There would be no escape for her yet. She didn’t know what it meant that a knot in her stomach loosened at that thought.

Her escape route would be waiting for her when she was ready. When there was less risk of being caught.

That thought threatened to bring the knot back, so she set it aside for when she needed it.

Footsteps started up the stairs. Delta-Nine-308 pulled the rolled-up towel away from the bedroom door and slipped out of the bedroom, even though she wanted to curl up on the bed again with her knees pulled to her chest. She needed Yvette to see her enjoying the amenities of her false freedom. It would make her captor less suspicious, reassure her that Delta-Nine-308 had other things on her mind than escape.

The insectile kitchen made her shiver as she approached, so she hurried past it and into the living room. She sat gingerly on the couch, then drew in her breath as the soft material sucked her in. It was a startling sensation, but—after she had a few seconds to get used to it—not unpleasant. The couch yielded under her weight, forcing relaxation from her unwilling body. It felt like how she might have imagined sitting on a cloud would feel.

Not that she had seen many clouds. Not real ones, anyway.

She didn’t know what to make of this softness, of something explicitly made for relaxation. There was no such thing as relaxing in headquarters. Even sleep was regimented, she and her cohort forcing themselves into bed when the lights turned off and forcing themselves out of bed when the alarm blared. The beds were hard and functional, the sheets crisp and smelling of bleach. Nothing about her bed invited her to savor the experience of lying in it.

During the day, she had training, or she had study. When she had to sit, her chairs were hard and straight-backed, reminding her to concentrate, encouraging her to finish as soon as possible.

She wanted to train now. Or study. Or do something besides just… sit.

But even though she hadn’t even started her daily calisthenics, she didn’t move. The cloud-puffy cushion of the couch seem to exert a gravitational pull over her. Her muscles loosened in strange ways. Her body itched with the need to get up, to do what she was supposed to do, but she couldn’t move. She wasn’t sure she wanted to move.

Besides, this was what she needed to do. She needed to show Yvette that she was starting to feel at home here. She needed Yvette to let her guard down. This was the mission.

She sank against the back of the couch. It embraced her with the furtive tenderness of an instructor showing prohibited sympathy. She leaned her head back and closed her eyes.

“I’m glad to see you feeling more comfortable.” Yvette.

Delta-Nine-308’s eyes flew open.

Yvette’s eyes went to Delta-Nine-308’s torn hands. “You should be more careful with yourself.”

Delta-Nine-308 didn’t answer.

“Have you eaten yet?” Yvette asked.

Delta-Nine-308’s stomach answered for her with a loud rumble.

“There’s no need to be shy,” said Yvette. “Everything here is for you.”

Everything. Delta-Nine-308 remembered the overflowing refrigerator, the cabinets with brightly colored packages spilling off the shelves, the mysterious mention of microwave popcorn. Her face went slack.

Yvette studied her for a moment. “Let me get you something,” she said, and left the room.

She came back a moment later with a bagel spread liberally with some kind of red jam. Delta-Nine-308 let out her breath in relief at the sight of familiar food.

“I thought something simple would be best to start with.” Yvette set the plate down on the low table in front of the couch. “Eat. Please.” Her voice lowered. “I really do want to give you a better life than they did. Starving you wouldn’t be a good start.”

Delta-Nine-308 tore into the bagel. It was different from the ones at home. Denser. Each bite felt heavy and luxurious in her mouth. The jam was sweet and tart at once, hitting her tongue with a fresh sharp burst of flavor with every bite.

“Have you tried the TV yet?” Yvette picked up the remote. “I know you’re feeling overwhelmed. But I want you to relax. To enjoy yourself. Did you ever relax, where you came from? Did you ever have fun, or—”

Delta-Nine-308 was saved from having to answer by a buzz from Yvette’s hip.

Yvette pulled out her phone. She stared at the screen.

Her face paled. Her body tensed.

“I have to go,” she said, her voice tight in a way it hadn’t been a moment ago. “There’s an urgent matter that requires my attention.” She set the remote down next to Yvette on the couch, her movements gentler than Delta-Nine-308 would have expected from someone so suddenly suffused with tension. “Try the TV,” she urged. “See what you think.”

Then, with another tight-lipped glance at her phone, she hurried away.

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Tagged: @suspicious-whumping-egg @whump-kitty @violets-whumperflies

Ask to be added or removed from taglist.

#whump #whump novel #my writing #my writing: Unseen #my writing: Mind Games #living weapon whump #superpower whump #emotional whump

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jimblejamblewritings · 2 years

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little situation | part 5.

Summary: For years, HYDRA had been trying to use the samples of Steve’s DNA to make another super-soldier. They finally succeed and when S.H.I.E.L.D. breaks her out, Cap is forced to come face to face with his kid and figure out parenting on an Avengers’ lifestyle.

Warnings: maybe potential childhood trauma but nothing really

Pairing: Steve Rogers x blackdaughter!reader, avengers x child!reader

Word Count: 4.8k

Previous Part | (Series Masterlist)

A series of events involving Sarah and Steve leading up to Winter Soldier:

“Sarah, come on we’re about to go,” Steve called towards the back of the store from where he was at the checkout counter.

He had taken the Saturday off to take you to the mall— something he read was a good bonding activity. You still were afraid of getting lots of things but Steve thought maybe he could at least see what caught your eye and maybe sneak them into the house slowly but surely. He kept the brim of his baseball cap low to avoid anyone that might recognize him, trying to only focus on you for the day. As well as keep your identity hidden as best as he could. Who knows what would happen if enemies knew Cap had a kid.

Before you could go to him, a couple approached you. The man watched over his shoulder for Steve while the woman got a bit closer.

“Are you okay, honey?”

“Yes?”

You took a step towards the rack and looked over to where Steve was paying, the woman following your line of sight.

“Do you know that man? Don’t be afraid, you can trust us.”

“That’s my dad.”

“We can get you help, you don’t have to lie. He won’t hurt you anymore.”

“He’s my dad,” you said with nervousness in your voice. You wanted the people to go away.

Steve was over before you could even blink. “Is there a problem here?”

“I’m sorry, sir, but I can’t let you leave with that child.”

“With my child?”

“Your child? We can clearly see—”

“Yes. My child. Not that it matters but her mother is black.”

“May we see a picture?”

“You’re kidding…” Steve was attempting to keep his composure.

“We want to make sure you’re not kidnapping a child! If we don’t know she’s safe, she’s not leaving with you sir!”

Steve looked down when he heard your breathing get shallow. He immediately stopped his argument with the couple that had attracted more people concerned that a very large white man was seen with a child far from his skin complexion. He once again dropped to below you and turned you to face him. Steve turned off the hearing aids to try and help you find calm in the silence. He was speaking while signing but more for the other patrons’ benefit than yours.

“Hey, Sarah. Sarah. Look at me. You’re fine, they were just concerned. You’re fine. I’m not leaving you, okay? Breathe in. Okay, now out. Again.”

They’re going to take you away. They take everyone away.

Steve was in panic mode now. You weren’t in the same reality as everyone else, thinking this whole thing had been some cruel HYDRA set up. You were positive that in any minute guards would come drag you away and Steve would be killed in front of you or even worse be wearing a sick smile as he watched them haul you back to your cell.

“No, no. Sarah, no one’s taking me away. I’m right here. You won’t lose me. Sarah. I know they took your mom but we aren’t with those bad people. Right?… That means they won’t take me away either. Okay, so I’m right here.”

Steve waited as you tried to calm down.

“I hope her panic attack was proof enough she’s mine.”

“We’re sorry, but you have to understand why everyone was concerned. We just wanted to know, you two have a nice day.”

The customers scattered as if they were never there and went back to their shopping. Steve scoffed at the audacity they all had to act as if interrogating a child to tears was normal. He only thought about the problems from being a single dad and younger than he should be to take care of a twelve year old. He stupidly hadn’t accounted for the racial aspect and that was something he had to now take into consideration. This was your daily and he was finally witnessing it. Another thing he had to learn.

After your breathing slowed down, you reached up and turned the hearing aids back on.

“You promise, they won’t take you away?”

“Promise, Babydoll.”

Steve watched you sigh like you didn’t believe him. Because you didn’t. Lots of caretakers had promised you they wouldn’t get taken away or leave. But the barrel of a guard’s gun can make people do anything. And leaving you behind was easily one of those things.

Steve knocked frantically on his neighbor’s door. Nat hadn’t picked up the phone and he hoped the neighbor would answer. She finally did and Steve started rambling.

“There’s blood and she’s cramping and—”

“She’s started her period. One second.”

Steve gladly showed the woman into the apartment where she helped you while he threw the sheets and bloody underwear in the washing machine. He thanked her once again now that you were out of the bathroom, still cramping but less so, and now on the couch. His face nearly paled when the blonde turned to him before leaving.

“She might want to start using tampons at some poi—”

“Bridge we’ll cross when we get there.”

“Captain Rogers?”

Steve looked up from his desk to see you and your tutor at his office door.

“Sarah forgot her hearing aids, again. We’ll just have to call this session off.”

“Thank you, anyway.”

You walked into his office and sat down at the chair. Steve waited for the tutor to leave before looking at you.

You left them at home again. On purpose.

I don’t like her.

What’s wrong with your tutor?

I don’t like her.

Can you tell me what’s the problem?

I don’t like her.

Steve sighed and ran a hand through his hair. Your old tutor got a permanent teaching job two weeks ago and they had found you a new one. Only you’ve only had one lesson with this new teacher. He looked at you again and saw you scratch at your left ear. Another tell. It had been five months since you’d been living with Steve, he was slowly learning your tells. Including scratching at your left ear when you felt like you wanted to tell him something but couldn’t get it out for whatever reason. Steve knocked on the desk so you would look back at him.

Does your tutor make you uncomfortable?

Scared.

Scared?

She looks like my nurse.

We’ll find you a new one.

Steve didn’t need you to say more. You only spoke in fragments about HYDRA and every time you did, it gave him a better picture of what happened. This wasn’t the first time you had mentioned a nurse. He took out a pen and jotted down a note on his memo pad to find you a new tutor.

You waited anxiously at your laptop for Steve’s face to appear. He was supposed to be gone for three days but now it was five and he hadn’t called yet. You didn’t eat much dinner, even with Clint and Laura’s prodding or reassurance. Fiddling with the alpaca doll, you almost fell asleep when the call appeared. You accepted it immediately.

“I’m sorry I didn’t call earlier, Sarah. We were in a zone where we couldn’t.”

“When do you come home?”

“Three more days, maybe four.”

“Maybe four?” your voice rose two octaves.

Steve cringed. You had separation issues, he learned that the last time a mission took longer than he had originally told you it would take. You were used to your handlers, tutors, guards, anyone you grew attached to being killed randomly. And when someone didn’t come back when they said they would, you started to assume the worst. The last time you trusted your favorite watcher, he was suddenly gone and not a single guard would tell you what happened. You didn’t need to talk to Steve for long, just see his face and be reassured that he was coming back.

“I’m in a place now where I can call you every night. Okay, Babydoll?”

“Okay. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

Steve’s mission ended in two days so he booked a flight to Clint’s farm to surprise you. He heard you laughing with Clint’s kids as he approached the door. Clint walked in first announcing a surprise that made you turn. Relief washed over your face when you saw Steve’s imposing figure in the doorway. You ran over and hugged him to confirm he was actually there.

We have a surprise for you, you signed when you pulled away.

For me?

Name sign. S-T-E-V-E. Steve.

You showed him the name sign you and Clint came up with for him. The letter ‘S’ but you tapped it twice to the middle of your chest where the star on his uniform was located. Steve was touched, he kind of didn’t expect one. Especially since you very comfortably just signed the word ‘dad’ when addressing him. He had learned yours which, now that he thought about it, was very similar to his. It was the letters ‘S’ and ‘E’ in quick succession near the middle of your chest.

Thank you, doll.

Whenever he was signing, Steve usually omitted the baby part of your Babydoll nickname— going only with the single sign for the word ‘doll’.

Why do they have the section labeled ‘Ethnic Hair’ behind glass doors? That was what Steve thought as you two finally found the hair care aisle of the general merchandise store. He waited for an employee to come by before finally giving up and going to search for one. He found a woman with shorter hair like you.

“I don’t know where to start,” he admitted.

The woman kindly placed her favorite products in the basket.

“If those don’t work, try another line until you find what works for you. And while it might work for her shorter curls now, it could be the wrong product once the hair gets longer. Honestly most products you can probably finesse if you’re willing to try that hard.”

“Thank you so much.”

“Oh and you’ll want those.” She pointed to the large row of bonnets and headscarves.

“Thank you again and um, is there a reason these are behind glass and not the Pantene stuff?”

“They think we steal,” the woman said with some spite while holding up a hand before pointing somewhere.

Steve looked over to see you, who had left the aisle to look at trinkets across the way. He saw what the woman was pointing to. There was a non-black employee watching you intently while acting as if they were folding the clothes in that section.

They never let you watch Disney movies. Except for Snow White, played on repeat with subliminal messages. Steve caught that when he saw you having a Disney marathon on the living room TV he literally just bought. He wouldn’t say anything but if he had to hear ‘Friends on the Other Side’ one more time or hear the neighbors’ dog bark when ‘Let It Go’ played for the fifth time in a row, he would punch his head through a wall.

You finally switched to a new movie that hadn’t been played at all since the marathon started, Brother Bear. This was by far Steve’s favorite movie until they got to the song and you rewinded it… four times.

Steve should’ve known that Nat knew about Clint’s farm sooner. But he didn’t put the pieces together until you both saw her in the kitchen with Laura prepping for Thanksgiving dinner. The four adults as they cooked— Steve in charge of pumpkin pie— listened to you begin to lecture about Thanksgiving and the conflict in celebrating said holiday.

“Steve, stop letting her watch university lectures.”

Nat set down the mostly empty bowl that once held the brown sugar pie filling for you and Clint’s kids to eat the leftover. You guys didn’t even bother getting spoons but just stuck your fingers in the remnants of the bowl and licked them clean.

“Well you and I are in the clear,” Nat continued when you looked at her confused. “I’m Russian, you’re half black. We didn’t participate.”

“Really?” Steve and Clint asked at the same time, making you laugh.

Steve grabbed the bowl before you guys could finish it, not wanting you to ruin your appetites.

“Tell you what. We finish Thanksgiving dinner and talk about what we’re thankful for and then we find a bunch of Native American organizations to donate to. That sound good, kid?”

Steve watched your face and the next statement you made had the four adults doubled over in laughter in the middle of the kitchen while you, Cooper, and Lila looked at each other in confusion.

“Captain America celebrates Thanksgiving with reparations.”

The dinner looked like it was straight from a magazine or one of those cooking channel shows. The large dishes were passed around and everyone took a bit of each dish with the exception of the pies cooking on low in the oven. You guys started to say what you were thankful for.

“I’m thankful that we have a cool Aunty Nat,” Lila said. “Plus Sarah and Uncle Steve.”

You and Steve both looked in surprise. Laura grabbed both of your hands and offered a smile. The two of you didn’t realize that they had considered you family. It made you both feel warm inside— Steve more than you because you still felt like this was some elaborate HYDRA scheme to break you once and for all. It was joyful until it wasn’t and Lila who was sitting across from you was the first to notice when she tapped Clint on the arm and pointed to you. You had reached up and turned off your hearing aids and were now staring at your plate.

“Steve.” Clint nodded his head towards you.

Steve didn’t even have to knock on the table because you looked up when you saw him push your plate away so he would have space to knock. You turned the aids back on and flopped your head onto his arm, refusing to move it once the tears started. After lots of prodding and cooing, you finally looked up at him and then looked out the window. Everyone’s eyes followed but they saw nothing.

“Sarah? What’s the problem, Babydoll?”

“They killed her today,” you whispered. “Right after we ate dinner… I don’t want them to kill you too.”

The adults exchanged looks as Steve rubbed circles on your back. Dinner ended pretty quickly after that and, for you, dessert wasn’t much better. Laura brought out the duvet from Steve’s guest room and handed it to him as the two of you sat on the couch.

“Thank you, Laura.”

“No problem, it’ll all be fine in the morning. Okay, Sarah? Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Aunt Laura.”

The woman smiled as she left. She had been hoping you would warm up to them the same way Cooper and Lila warmed up to Steve. Everyone else was going to bed but you and Steve. You were now sat on the couch because you wouldn’t sleep until morning came and you could confirm that Steve was alive. He wasn’t going to sleep, even though you said he could, because he wasn’t going to let you stay up alone in dark thoughts.

He looked like an idiot. All the agents in the office thought it was sweet how he was willing to make himself look like an idiot for you. Because the scene in front of them was quite a sight.

You had sent an email on Steve’s computer asking if anyone knew how to double dutch? Steve didn’t even know it until his inbox was flooded with actual responses. The agents gathered in the training room as agents Fraser and Cole began to spin the ropes. You jumped with ease and then turned your eyes to Steve who was watching with the others. You beckoned him over.

“I don’t know how to double dutch, Babydoll.”

“It’s like Jump In.”

“Jump In?”

“The Disney movie. We watched it last week, with Corbin Bleu and Keke Palmer.”

There were some snickers from other agents. It was funny to them that Steve was relegated to watching movies based on the wishes of a pre-teen. Steve sighed and moved over to where you were. You stepped out and everyone watched as Steve failed multiple times to even jump into the ropes. Fraser and Cole slowed down the ropes as much as they could and showed Steve the easiest jump. He almost failed when you jumped back in but picked up his feet before the ropes got stopped.

“Why the hell is everyone in here instead of the cafeteria where lunch is supposed to be eaten?” Fury yelled as he entered the training room.

He immediately shut up when the agents pointed to you jumping with ease and Steve concentrating with all his might. Fury gave a short laugh and then looked at everyone.

“Lunch ends in ten minutes. Make sure you do your damn job and get back to work on time.”

“Yes sir,” all the agents said, not sparing him a second glance.

Clint called in a burst of laughter after he received the picture from Steve. Nat was soon to follow. The matching Christmas pajamas were already ridiculous enough. The matching bonnets you two were wearing was icing on the cake. It was a small Christmas celebration, just you and him, which reminded Steve a lot of him and his mom. The TV was playing Holiday reruns all day but the reruns were new to both you and Steve. You exchanged presents. You had bought yours when you asked Nat to sneak you out the office for it. Steve opened his present to find a new jacket. You opened yours to see the oil pastels you had been eyeing when you passed by the art store on your runs.

“Thanks, Dad.”

You fell asleep on Steve’s shoulder before the New Year’s Countdown finished. He laughed because you were so determined to stay up to witness your first celebration. Maybe he should’ve woken you up but the thought was too late. The ball already dropped and there was no point in waking you up now for what? 12:01 am? Not nearly as interesting. Steve picked you up and carried you to your room, taking out the hearing aids to place them on your nightstand.

“Where are you from?” you asked Steve during your lunch break with the tutor.

“New York. Brooklyn.”

“Has your family always lived in Brooklyn?”

“Unh-unh. My mom’s from Ireland. Immigrated over with her family.”

“So I’m half-Irish?”

“Yeah, kid. But it’s been years since I’ve celebrated anything even remotely Irish.”

“Why?”

Steve took a bite of his sandwich. He honestly couldn’t remember why. He used to keep it hidden and just to the apartment of him and his mom. Then after she died he slowly stopped because Bucky wasn’t Irish and it just reminded him of his mother. After he entered the war, he became Captain America and, maybe because of how anti-Irish he saw people behave towards his mom growing up, he felt that he couldn’t— that it would somehow make him not Captain America. Not American.

But now that didn’t matter. Except it did because the problem was just passed down to you. Second generation of marginalized group with a single parent.

“It’s never too late to start again,” you said. “March is Irish-American Heritage month, right after Black History.”

“Back to back celebrations. I like your thinking, Babydoll.”

The two of you clinked your bottles of water together.

“Did it surprise you?”

“Hmm?”

“I heard some of the agents talking about you.”

“About what?”

Steve still had to prod to get you to answer anything. Especially when it came to him or HYDRA. You didn’t know much about him past his actual birth and how he ended up in the modern day— both you and Steve weren’t really ready for you to take a deep dive into your father’s history. So you hadn’t seen any pictures or watched any videos but sometimes you still heard things.

“Coming from the 40s and suddenly seeing no segregation. How it must be weird having a mixed kid, that you probably never saw it coming.”

“Have you read much about Brooklyn from my time?”

You shook your head. You hadn’t looked much at Brooklyn at all in your history books.

“I wasn’t rich, Sarah. We lived in the DUMBO area. Historically queer and non-white, lots of different walks of life and people. I might not get it all but I’ve seen it all. The only surprise I got was that you existed, not what the existence looked like.”

You smiled at Steve and then left to go back to your tutor.

The car rides to work now involved Steve learning a new figure in black history for the entire month of February. He wasn’t even sure when you read this information to give him a whole history class every single morning but without fail you had someone for him.

“And Reverend Adam Clayton Powell Jr. was el—”

“Elected to Congress in 1942. Got you on that one, Babydoll,” Steve said as he cut you off.

“How?”

“I’ve met him.”

Steve laughed as you ignored his comment and pulled up a different figure, not one to be outdone just because he happened to know who you were talking about. You made the decision that for the rest of the month, you weren’t mentioning any historical figures from before Steve landed in ice.

Steve turned the faucet of cold water when you said the hot water was too hot. You surprisingly found the sink relaxing despite Steve’s too big hands trying to be gentle with curls that led to a yelp from you and a curse from him every single time he got caught on a tangle.

Your hair was growing but the wash was still quick, the deep conditioning however was not. It really is a whole day Steve realized and picked up the phone to order Chinese food because he was not about to cook after this. He probably should’ve timed it better because his hands were soaked in conditioner when the knocking on his door started.

“Just a second.”

Steve gave the delivery man an apologetic smile as he handed him a slightly damp five dollar tip. Steve finished washing out the deep condition and you two went into the bathroom so he could finish doing your hair. The first part was easy, divide the front part of your hair into two and make two small buns. He was pretty sure he might have used too much gel when going through the free curls in the back to define them. Steve turned you to the side so he could actually see your face.

“The baby hairs,” you said as you pulled on the two buns to make them a little tighter.

“Yeah, the baby hairs. We totally got this.”

Steve stuck the toothbrush in the edge control and gently formed the baby hairs in swoops along your hairline. You moved your head from side to side while looking in the mirror before nodding in approval. You and Steve high-fived at his first real hairstyle done well and went to the dining room table for the food.

Steve was right. Baby hairs, totally got this. What he didn’t get was how dumb he was to buy a toothbrush for your baby hairs that resembled the toothbrush he used for his teeth. And then leave them both out next to each other after washing off the gel. If they were both clean then would it… no, it would bother Steve so he left to go buy a new toothbrush.

Steve had a few hours before Clint dropped you home. He looked around his house that only a year ago was relatively empty and just for him. Now there were various trinkets from missions, drawings that got switched out for other ones every three days, more of those straw and ribbon polyhedrons, lots of books, and a basket that held blankets. The handwoven one was currently resting on top. Steve moved to his room to take off the suit and change, he tried not to wear the suit around you as much as possible— keep that identity separate. Even if he caught you looking at the shield more than once.

He checked his phone and groaned at the two texts. The one from Clint he welcomed considering it said that you would be home in forty minutes. The other one was from Nat who had decided that Steve had adjusted long enough to now having a child and was ready to get into the dating pool. So he was staring at a text with the attachment of one of the secretaries. He was just going to ignore the text and hoped that Nat got the memo even though he knew she probably wouldn’t, or she would and just didn’t care.

Steve’s birthday rolled around and the headline you said last year was now a real one as the newspapers read: Captain America celebrates Independence Day with reparations. This was the second time actually. The first one was on Juneteenth to black organizations. Steve both times managed to keep you out of the paparazzi, thank goodness. His birthday was a quiet event inside the apartment after the donation fiasco. But it was also quiet because fireworks sounded a lot like gunshots and you were unprepared.

They were loud enough to be heard clearly even without your hearing aids in so Steve was now attempting to distract you with cake. The fireworks you could see were fine but the random ones that rang out and weren’t in the direction you were looking scared you, because you couldn’t connect the noise to something safe.

So artistic abilities definitely ended with both of you when it came to pottery. You and Steve only had clay lumps that vaguely resemble mugs. Following the teacher’s advice, you both got off the pottery wheel and went to the canvases that you were good at. You two sat across from each other and started to sketch each other. The pencil sketches were finished when the class was over. You and Steve took the canvases home, wanting to work on them.

Nick came into the office for a mission report during Steve’s lunch break to see the two of you— lunch in one hand, the other using pastels to color in your drawings of each other. Steve interrupted your drawing to grab your hand and rub multiple pastels on it until finding which combo would create your shade. Nick didn’t want to interrupt and walked out. He would just ask for the report when you went back upstairs for tutoring.

“Steve, sorry. I got called on a mission too and Sarah was freaking out about going with Laura and the kids to a new place—”

“Clint, it’s fine. Just where are you taking her?”

“We could only ask your neighbor. It’s not like people don’t know your face now, I mean we didn’t tell her in case she doesn’t but…”

“Don’t be surprised when I get home? Okay, thank you, man.”

When the mission ended, Steve felt like shit. He called his blonde neighbor and asked her to keep you at her place a little longer. He carefully snuck upstairs and almost made it into the house but he heard your foot shuffles and soon his neighbor’s front door opened. If Steve closed the door in your face, it would break all levels of trust but he was trying to avoid you seeing him busted up.

“Hey, Babydoll,” he said while keeping his head down as he entered the apartment, leaving the door open for you to follow.

His attempt was a short-lived success as you ran to his bathroom before he could close the door. You gasped when you saw the cuts and bruises.

“It’s not as bad as it looks, I promise. I’m fine, Sarah, I was trying not to have you see.”

You pointed to the toilet and made him sit on it. Steve watched you pull the first aid kit from his cabinet drawer and pull out the hydrogen peroxide and cotton. He grabbed your hand to stop you.

“You don’t have to—”

“You fix my hair, I fix your face.”

Steve shut up and let you run the pad with hydrogen peroxide over his face. He opened his mouth to argue against the band-aids. Partly because they were unnecessary and partly because the band-aids were Frozen themed and not that he didn’t like the snowman but he didn’t exactly want Olaf on his face. But you shut him up before he could even tell you what he was going to argue with you about.

(Part 6)...

#steve rogers x teen!reader #steve rogers x reader #peter parker x reader #peter parker x black!reader #avengers x teen!reader #avengers fic #marvel fic

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calenheart01 · 7 months

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Wings by R + F

Bear with me I'm trying something out, I've never posted any of my writings here, but a few of my close friends have convinced me to. So please enjoy this first part.

A kingdom with a dark past, long forgotten, it comes back to haunt them. When the king and queen go missing, it's up to the princess to rule in their stead while she and her brother continue to search. But what happens if she gets captured too? Who is causing all this torment? After someone attacks her home, she must run to find safety. With help of her newfound friends, hopefully she'll make it. Hopefully they can find the cause and put a stop to it.

Next ->

Chapter 1

I awoke to the sound of screaming and footsteps running through the halls of the palace. I didn’t know what was going on, but my interest was piqued, so I left the safety of my room. Looking down the hall, a horde of people run frantically past me, tripping over themselves and the others around them. Guards lay in various positions, blood seeping from open wounds, their bodies turning pale as they color the silver floors red. Farther down the hall the noise of swords clashing can be heard, once it stops the only sound offered in the empty halls is the pained whimpers of dying soldiers.

I call out, a simple, frightened. “Hello?” no one answers, and aside from the shling of a sword unsheathing, no one speaks out telling me to save myself.

Further down the hall the trail of blood continues, the crimson streams breaking into pools every few steps, finally leading down the front steps of the palace into the chaotic battle of our people and our attackers. Guards in freshly polished armor fight with staggered breath as they push forward in battle, the blood trails from the steps and lead towards the center of the fighting, though the chaos is frightening I follow the line. No one seems to notice the strange civilian wandering about them in an almost see-through teal nightgown, moving slowly between the dancing blades as though they wouldn’t harm me, only to stop in horror as I see the trail of crimson end at the failing figure of my father. His tall frame and dark skin moving elegantly with his sharp silver extension, his brown eyes hold worry while his body begins to stiffen with death, a black and red steel Jian sword protruding through his stomach.

A scream rips itself from my throat and as the blade slides out of his body the guards rush to rid the attackers from the sight, tears stream down my cheeks as I drop down to his side, a shaky hand grasping his paling skin.

His eyes flutter open, pupils struggling to focus as he turns his head to look at his daughter’s face, and I can see all that he wants to say; and it causes me to tear further.

“It’s the Princess they’re after.” He coughs violently, blood splashing from his mouth as he gasps for air. “Take her away from here or we are all doomed.”

“Father…I can’t I’m not strong enough…I can’t do this with out you.” Racked with hiccups I grip his hand tighter, only loosening my hold as he moves to cup my cheek. “I’m so proud of you, Jae, and I believe you can do this.” He brings his splattered forehead to mine, whispering something almost unintelligible, his hand goes cold and his body limps with his final breath escaping into the air.

“Father! Please, don’t go.” The world is all but silent for a moment as I hold his limp body, hoping it was just a nightmare until the armored form of my step-mother comes into view, she cups my face clearly yelling orders to me but the words fall on deaf ears. Her red hair sways gently as her grey eyes widen slightly, she shakes my shoulders harshly, hands grabbing for my father’s discarded sword.

“Not now…you can’t be here, it’s not safe.” Shoving the sword into my hands she pulls me to a stand. “Do as he asked, find the Princess and run, go now.” She pulls me into a quick hug before nudging me back towards the castle and returning to battle.

The halls are empty now, no one rushes through them in fear, and no noises echo against the large walls. Wiping the tears from my eyes I rush back to my room, looking frantically for that cursed set of armor, quickly retrieving said armor I throw it on haphazardly. The armor isn’t much, just a simple padded leather plate that protects my upper body, old and worn as a few of the sewn pieces fray her ore there; I was only on my second day of training.

A crash sounds from above, now in a panic I throw the door open and rush down the hall for the stairway. Taking two at a time I stop at the top as several tall figures struggle to shove through the door of one of the royals’ rooms.

Another crash and the door gives way to their forceful intrusion, three of them crowd into the room while the other two stand guard outside, the person inside the room yelps and then they are dragged out by the top of their nightgown. They struggle against the harsh choking grip until they are pulled to their feet and shoved towards the two-armed guards. One of them sheathes his weapon, the strap attached to him shifting slightly with the added weight, his hand reaching for a pair of cuffs on his belt. She flinches but there is no way she’s getting away from them. They pull her towards the middle of them as they begin walking up the hallway and I must step back into the corners to let the shadows hide me from their prying eyes.

Once the intruders are gone, I must slow my heartbeat, this was all too much for one night but I couldn’t focus on that right now. I must find the princess. Making it to the now broken door I find the room of the King and Queen ruined, their dresser was thrown in front of the door, only obvious from its now toppled position in the center of the room. That had to have been just another servant trying to hide, as much as I wanted to help her, I couldn’t afford to lose what little time I had to save the princess. The curtain rod is pulled from the wall, the curtains themselves tied tightly together, leading from the bed post to the window. The sheets however are undisturbed, the pillows unfluffed and the shelves dusty from lack of use. The windows are unbroken and locked still, a chair laying a stray with a few strands of cloth ripped from something here and there. Shattered glass joining it among the mess, the missing decorations leaving darker cleaner wood behind on the otherwise untouched shelves.

“Who was in here? Do I know her from the kitchens? Or the gardens?” I quickly exit the room, finding the next room in perfect order, a few dust flurries flitting about the emptiness.

The last room has to belong to the Princess, when I reach the room, it is entirely destroyed. The sheets are strewn about as though they got caught in the frantic struggle to escape, a few blood droplets sit on the comforter, leading to the other side of the bed where a maid lays in a pool of her own blood. There is a knife in the back of her neck, whoever came in through the window left a trail of muddy footprints on the windowsill and a very bloody body on the floor. Next to her body is the remnants of a smashed oil lamp, the skin of her hand charred and cut up from her attempted defense.

There’s a beautiful family portrait above her writing desk, and her bright hazel orbs catch my attention immediately, in that picture she’s wearing a beautiful pastel pink gown with small purple lilacs around her collar. They all held a smile, the princess’ bouncy brown curls framing her face rather nicely as she holds her father’s hand tightly. This is her room, her favorite book lays open on her desk with its flower bookmark, a discarded marriage proposal in the waste bin along with a few old drawings. Everyone of them was missing, they had told us the King and Queen were out on business, but the truth was they didn’t know either. Now the Prince was missing too and the Princess has been kidnapped, how was I to save her if she’s already gone, what was I supposed to do?

I straighten my posture, I couldn’t think like this right now, she is the last one and if there is any hope at all that we can be saved; I will get her back. Exiting her room, I scan the floors for the muddy footprints, they head down another hall away from the main stairs. The hallway they took leads down to the other side of the ball room, if I take the main hall at the bottom of the stairs, I can make it to the ballroom first and cut them off. How do I beat the five of them? My mind races with scenarios as my feet carry me down the stairs towards the ballroom, it is about time I use what little training I have; the doors are closed and I must slow down as I hear another voice on the inside. I slide the door open enough to slip in silently, watching as a man cloaked in darkness talks to someone inside a weird white crystal in the palm of his hand, the person in the crystal disappears quickly as the doors on the other side are kicked opened.

#New writer #Zawa'sproblemwriter

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alj4890 · 2 years

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Don't Let the Light Go Out

Open Heart Drabble

Song inspiration: Don't Let the Light Go Out by Panic! At the Disco

A/N taken from book 2's attack and more as a "what if" to the canon storyline. I haven't written an Open Heart fic in a while, and certainly not one with this particular character as the main focus, LOL, so please forgive me if I mess this up. When I first heard the above song, for some reason, he was the first one I thought about for this situation.

Rating: G for angsty fluff

Not sure who to tag so I'm racking my brain for some OH tags I remember and a few on my perma list, LOL! @hopelessromantic1352 @openheartfanfics @krsnlove @lucy-268 @choicesficwriterscreations @moodmusicmonday @twinkleallnight @tessa-liam

Masterlist

He had to keep searching, keep thinking. There must be a way to create a cure to save her. Failure was not an option. He must ignore the dread that kept creeping up with each and every setback.

If he for a moment allowed it to seep in, then he would lose her.

Lose his light.

Nothing described her better than that. No matter what type of mood he was in, seeing her simply brightened his spirits. Even if he was in a good mood, she somehow made it even better.

But today...seeing her made him, for the first time ever, desperate.

Chris Valentine, funny and irrepressible, had a way of making it impossible to ignore her.

He knew he wasn't the only one susceptible to her charm. He eyed the others at the table who were also frantically searching for anything that could help stop the toxin from killing her. There were at least two he knew had tried to have a romantic relationship with Chris. He couldn't blame them. After all, he lost his heart to her too.

Aurora reached over and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You look like you could use a break."

He glanced up, realizing he had been staring off into space for more than a minute.

"I'll be back." He needed to see his reason for being in this room.

Slipping quietly out of the room, he went to check on her.

He stood by the window and watched Chris tremble as she tugged a blanket up over her shoulders.

Glancing up, she flashed a weak smile when she saw him.

"Hey you." She greeted in a raspy voice. "What's a man like you doing in a place like this?"

Despite the circumstances, he found himself chuckling.

"You know me," he shrugged with a smug grin, "I heard there was someone here in need of the world's best diagnotician."

She rolled her eyes and groaned.

"Aren't I sick enough?" She tried to tease. "To have to deal with your ego right now is too much."

Their smiles dimmed.

"Chris." His voice cracked. "I will find a cure. I will administer it. And then you and I are no longer going to hide."

Her lips parted with a slight gasp. "You...you want to tell everyone? About us?"

He nodded, swallowing at the lump of emotion in his throat. For months now he'd tried to keep his true feelings from showing in front of those she lived and worked with. He knew their relationship could cause problems for her in her new position on the diagnostics team. How could he ruin something she was both excited for and brilliant at?

And she was brilliant. He marveled with how she came to correct conclusions with such little time in the field. It didn't matter that she claimed she had so many people in her life who pushed her on to being the best she could be. He knew deep down that she was just one of those lucky few born to be a doctor.

He swallowed once more as his eyes drifted along the features he had fallen for. From the moment he laid eyes upon her as she frantically worked over a person who had collapsed, he'd been struck with an instant attraction. Her pale skin that would turn a light pink when embarrassed or when she had too much to drink made him want to reach out and touch her. The red hair that glistened copper in the sunlight captured his attention. The stormy gray eyes that could see past his gloating and joking to the heart of who he truly was were something he couldn't fathom losing.

And what he truly was...he was hers.

"Tobias?" She licked her parched lips. "Listen, if you want to wait--"

He shook his head. "I only wanted to because of Ethan. I was worried his hatred of me would be directed towards you since Naveen was the one to put you on the team."

Chris became quiet as she gazed at him.

"What are you thinking about?" Tobias asked.

"How happy I am that I went to breakfast with Aurora that morning." Her lips curved. "She might have been the one to get a new job, but I got you instead."

Tobias chuckled once again. "You made eating pancakes look good. There was no way I was going to leave without your number."

Her laughter was hollow and quickly turned into a cough.

He gripped the metal pane, wishing he could go past this glass barrier and hold her.

Once she caught her breath, she turned tear filled eyes towards him.

"Dr. Carrick," her smile trembled, "I love you and believe that you can do anything you set out to do."

Unshed tears stung his eyes.

"I love you too, Dr. Valentine." His voice deepened. "Please, hold on a little longer for me Chris."

"I will." She promised. "I have a lot of plans for us if we're finally admitting what we are."

His cocky smile returning once more made her heart flutter.

"They'll have to wait." He pushed away from the window. "I've got some plans that will have to be done first."

She watched him disappear down the hallway.

Breathing a prayer, she turned on her side and did her best to hold on a little longer.

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