#he's just a little high from the heavy metals in the water don't worry about it

[evilfarmin]

hunter you're glowing! no not like that.

[1] [here] [3] [4] [5] [6] [7]

[ashintheairlikesnow]

Ugh I love how the Streetkid Chris AU shows his parallels and differences to Kauri so well.

I wonder if Jake may be expecting Chris to be a little more like Kauri, and how that preconception alongside Chris being a little older and having his pill dependency vs seeing the "statue boy" in the rain will change things. Jake is very nonjudgmental so I think he'd quickly adjust to taking him how he comes, but this is a much more guarded Chris than he's used to. Plus Antoni is clearly worried about him being in the home.

Also, from Anon: please forgive me for storming into your asks so soon after you've posted already. but i am sobbing please write a continuation for streetkid chris (if you want to)

Streetkid Chris AU: One | Two | Three | Four

-

CW: Brief references to dubcon, heavily internalized ableism, conditioned fear response, panic attack, meltdown with stimming that causes injury, head banging

The pills kick back in about halfway through Baldur fumbling through helping Kauri to create a bed from a pullout couch. He's had some water and a handful of crackers, in the kitchen. Kauri had pulled him into the living room and moved around the space like it was his own, pulling sheets out of a closet door Baldur hadn't even noticed yet, along with pillows that he dropped unceremoniously onto the floor before he told Baldur how to take off the couch cushions and then pull the folded-up mattress on its metal frame out. Like watching paper, he thought, that you've made snowflakes out of when you open it up.

The twinge of pain he feels when the thought comes to him makes him wince. He keeps smelling something in the oven that makes his mouth water for a familiar taste he can't remember. It's locked tight back behind the white lights in his mind, and Baldur tells his thoughts to swerve away as fast as they can, to make the pain stop threatening to take over.

He's lucky.

The pills are working.

His mind is moving slow, but it's listening to him at least. It's like syrup pouring out of a bottle onto a stack of pancakes, so slow your hand is shaking with impatience, waiting for the promised sweetness that doesn't come. He feels clouded over, wading through fog, but it's a comfortable way to be. It's being good, to be like this.

Like mornings spent lying in Sir's bed, staring upwards at the ceiling or maybe beyond it, without thinking anything at all.

It's easier, this way.

Safer.

"So, there you go," Kauri says, standing back with his hands on his hips. The couch has become a cozy bed, with a half-dozen pillows and four blankets piled up high. Baldur could sleep there for days, and as long as the pills kept coming, he wouldn't even notice he wasn't moving. "Will that work? We'll have to share, though, is that okay?"

Baldur swallows. "I-I don't, um-" No. No no no. Statue boy, he reminds himself. Good boys are statue boys. Silence is better than stammering, stillness is better than what I do. His fingers twitch, just once, and then the fog of the pills smothers his fears and presses them down. The prickling energy that bursts out of him when he's sober is safely held back. He pictures his racing mind running out of air, limbs slowing, lungs expanding just once more and then no longer. "I don't mind. I... don't like to sleep alone."

"Yeah." Kauri's face briefly goes strange, like it's been emptied-out of feeling. "Me neither. Never have. Alone is-"

"-bad," Baldur finishes, in a whisper. "No one wants you."

"Right. Yeah. They taught you that, too, huh?"

"No one wants you... then you're not real," Baldur says. He can feel his handler's hand heavy on the back of his neck, like a ghost breathing against his ear.

"... Shit. I guess even the worst shit was just part of the program, huh?" Kauri stares down at the couch-bed for one long moment of heavy silence, then he inhales sharply and laughs, empty and hollow. "We're just fucking dolls in the toy store for rich idiots to pull the legs off of, aren't we? All the same, come in the same boxes-... never mind. I'm having a weird day." He shakes himself like a dog shaking off water. "Just ignore me being weird, it happens sometimes."

"Yeah," Baldur murmurs. "Me, too. Happens... to me, too." Baldur hears an echo of someone screaming in his mind - maybe himself - but the stab of pain doesn't come. He manages to smother the memory before it can come together enough to hurt him.

Kauri takes a deep breath. "Okay, so. Weirdness steadfastly ignored, we'll just settle in and then when dinner is ready-"

The front door opens, and Baldur spins on his heels, hands slipping behind his back. Position One is thoughtless, effortless, instinctive. He always met Sir in Position One or Position Two, depending on the day. Kauri, though, doesn't slip into any position - he just smiles, wide blue eyes sparkling with a warmth Baldur has never seen in him before.

The man who walks inside isn't that much older than Baldur, but he's huge. Tall, and heavily muscled, built like the handlers who could pick Baldur up like a child and force him back against the wall or onto a table no matter how he kicked or fought, until he learned not to fight any longer. He has close-cropped ashy blond hair trending towards light brown, pale skin, and his own face lights up as soon as he sees Kauri, returning the sunshine looks they give each other.

It hurts.

Baldur's never had anyone look at him like that.

"Hey, Kauri," The man says, in a deep voice that sounds like the warm summer nights when Baldur sleeps out in the park and doesn't get cold at all. Then he looks over to Baldur, still standing in careful position, and some of the warmth fades. "Woah. Who's this?"

"Friend of mine," Kauri says, and he grabs Baldur by one arm and pulls him closer, careless of how he stumbles. Once they get close enough, Baldur can smell the tall man's cologne. It's a good smell, kind of woodsy. Not at all like Sir's, which would feel like it stuck inside of Baldur until it was all he could smell. "This is Chris."

"Hey, Chris," Jake says. His smile is back in place, but it's more polite. He holds out a hand, and after a delay, Baldur realizes he's supposed to shake and sticks his hand out. "I'm Jake Stanton."

Baldur catches the way his eyes drop, seeing the barcode on the inside of Baldur's left wrist. Nothing in his expression changes at all, but something of the fizzing tension in the air does. Baldur swallows around a tightness in his throat.

Those eyes are back on him-

Oh. Jake's eyes are blue, too. Like Kauri's but not like his at all.

"WRU, Facility 001, Designation Romantic 223499," Baldur says automatically, to the unspoken question he thinks he sees there.

"You don't have to do that here," Kauri says in a rush, putting a hand on Baldur's back. "It's not like that."

"It's... always like that," Baldur says. He thinks he sees interest in Jake's face, curiosity, and maybe that's who he'll have to give his body to, to earn dinner and the couch bed to sleep on. He can do that. As long as he keeps his mind untethered from his body, he can move his hips and arch his back and make all the sounds and drift inside of himself until it's over.

"Not here," Jake says, voice deep and gentle. He won't be so bad, Baldur thinks. He'll be slow about it, not like the ones who don't care if it hurts. He won't have to lie as hard to make it believable that he enjoys it. "You don't do that here." He turns back to Kauri, and it feels like light moves behind a cloud when his eyes are off of Baldur. "Where's Nat?"

"Up in her room," Kauri says, shrugging. "And Antoni-"

"Is here," The feline-eyed man says from the bottom of the stairs. Baldur blinks, then jumps - a half-second delayed. He hadn't even heard him come down, even though the stairs are creaky in such old houses. "I can talk to you about something?" Those dark eyes briefly rest on Baldur.

There's no warmth in them.

"Huh? What's up?"

Antoni pauses. "In my room, please, Jasha."

Baldur's heart chills. Even through the pleasant fog of pills, he can hear the coldness there. And he knows it's about him, he knows it. He's done something wrong, wrong enough to be talked about. Like handlers outside his door, talking about what he did wrong and what they'll do to make him sorry. He chokes on the fear of it - consequences hurt so much. He must have been caught swaying, or touching, or making sounds that are against his rules.

"... sure, Ant. Just a sec." Jake frowns. He leaves his sneakers on a mat by the door and follows Antoni up - the stairs creak when he walks up them. They're already talking in low voices that don't quite travel.

He hears Antoni's voice, a soft, Not sure it is a good idea for him to be here.

He did something wrong.

Suddenly, Baldur can barely breathe. His vision is blurs of color, shadow and light. His fingers twitch again, and this time they don't stop. His head is full of a crashing noise that even the pills can't hold back.

He's in trouble. He did something wrong. He's in trouble, and they'll come back down and ask, Do you know what you did, darlin'? And he'll have to guess, and he always guesses wrong.

The games are always rigged for him to lose.

You don't learn any other way, sweetheart.

His breath gets halfway down his throat and stops there. It's stuck, and he wishes he was so drunk he blacked out, or so high he slept for the next few days, until whatever he's done wrong blows over and they forget to punish him, or maybe just punish him but he doesn't remember it.

His heart beats so loud inside of him, blood rushing in his ears. His eyes go to the wall, and he can quiet the chaos inside him if he can get to it, but his feet are stuck right here to the floor. He can't. He can't, it's against his rules, he has to be good, be a statue boy, be silent be still but being still hurts so fucking much when he's scared-

Kauri isn't looking at him. He watches the two men go, thick eyebrows a little furrowed. "I wonder what that's about. Antoni can be so weird, sometimes, I swear-" He breaks off and turns, looking at Baldur. He must see something there. He must see the terror in wide green eyes, the white showing all around, in the way his fingers are shaking, how he can't quite stop bouncing on the balls of his feet with the need to get to a place he can curl up and hide, or hit his head on the wall, until the chaos quiets and he can think again.

The pills are supposed to stop this.

They don't.

"Chris?"

He flinches violently backwards when he realizes Kauri is right in front of him, has somehow moved without him seeing. Those long-fingered hands are warm, palms on either side of his face. Those big blue eyes are looking right at his, reflecting him there in Kauri's pupils. When he flinches, Kauri pulls away, and Baldur misses the warmth of touch the way he used to miss darkness when he lived always under white lights.

"Hey." Kauri's voice is soft, slow and gentle. "Hey. Chris, what's wrong? Talk to me?"

There aren't words. He can feel them, there are words, but they're trapped behind teeth on top of tongue. They shift, dipping beneath the surface before he can get his mouth around them. He can't use any of them at all. His hands move, shaking, to twist and pull at the hem of his shirt, but-

No-

Have to be still-

He can't.

He can't be still. He can't be the statue boy, the fear is too strong. And if he can't be still, he'll be in even worse trouble. It's a cycle, a loop of warm ocean water sucked up into the hurricane. It's ash blocking out the sun, killing all the dinosaurs. He remembers the dinosaurs. He remembers the asteroid hit the earth, and the planet was swept by fire burning everything that survived the strike. He remembers that his mind moves like objects in space, impossibly fast and dangerous, because it isn't allowed.

"Chris?" Kauri's swimming in and out of his awareness. He knows there are hands on him, leading him to the couch bed. He feels, distantly, the softness of pillows as his back rests against them. He knows as if staring from the top of a mountain that Kauri is speaking to him in a voice like the clouds rolling in far below.

He can hear other voices, too, but they don't make it through the haze of panic. It's derailed everything. The pills aren't helping, they're making it worse. He can sense the comforting warm blanket of being high just out of reach, and instead it's all terror, overwhelming, flooding the plain.

He knows his mouth is moving.

He can hear himself, tinny and small and from a distance too far to cover, saying, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, don't be mad, I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to I didn't mean to I'm sorry, please don't be mad over and over again. He tries to be still. He hits his head on Kauri's shoulder and that strikes new terror, so he hits his head harder, then he bites - he buries teeth into skin that he only belatedly realizes isn't his when Kauri makes a sound of pain.

It's a cycle.

He's circling, he's a hurricane, his mind is dangerous and his body is wrong and it has to be stopped.

He can't stop.

He wails, half a scream that he tries to catch and pull back. The sound dips and drops, it becomes a low, wordless moan, over and over and over again. It rises from the person inside of him who used to exist before he signed his life away and they wrote a new him onto the body of the old one.

He used to be someone else.

He used to be someone better.

He used to make noises like this, before they made him stop. Before they made sure he knew that rocking - he's rocking, he feels himself sway forward and back, his fingers twisting and pulling at fabric, moving and moving to calm the rising chaos and violence inside of him - would lead to pain and fear. Before they taught him to take every pill he was given until his body was quiet and still and good for them, for the handlers for Sir for anyone who wants to fuck him or put a hand on his head and make him choke.

The thick clay shell they made him build up around himself, though, has gone brittle.

It shatters.

He rocks and rocks. He hears the sounds he is making like they belong to someone else. He feels tears, hot and burning as they track down his cheeks, cooling rapidly to drip onto his shirt, onto Kauri's shirt and neck when his face buries itself there. His sounds vibrate against Kauri's scarred collarbone. His fingers are gripped into Kauri's shirt now, holding so tight the threadbare fabric rips and his fingertips brush the heat of skin beneath. There are other voices besides Kauri's, but he doesn't listen to them, he can't listen to them or the fear will rise again.

Kauri is talking to him.

His chin is on Baldur's head, and he's talking, murmuring, "It's okay, it's okay, it's okay, I've got you, I've got you, honey, it's okay," over and over and over again. One hand is on the back of his neck, a gentle weight that starts him falling back down to earth.

He rocks with Baldur.

The hurricane starts to wear itself out, spinning and spinning but the wind dies down. He's falling out of the eye onto the ground. The noise inside his head is agony but it's agony he can hear over and around. He doesn't know how long it's been. The rocking is gentle, endless and soothing, and Kauri's other hand rubs up and down his back like-

His mother-

Someone he can't remember used to do when he did this, a long time ago.

"It's okay. You're okay. You're okay," Kauri whispers.

There are other voices, but Baldur can't hear them or he'll be a hurricane again. He keeps his thoughts on Kauri, on the rock of their bodies together, on the weight and warmth of someone holding on to him until he can come back down to earth.

The eruption stops, the flow of rivers bright orange and red and white with heat cooling to dark, solid, safe.

His bones stop burning, his head stops pounding with the noise inside of it.

Kauri is still rocking.

"I've got you," His low voice whispers, too deep for his delicate shape and size. "I've got you, Chris. Let it out, you're okay, I've got you. I've got you."

He struggles to remember how to make the feeling inside him into words, manages to whisper, " Don't-... don't go-"

"I won't," Kauri promises. His arms are tight and strong around Baldur's shaking, skinny body. "I won't. I'm right here. I'm right here."

"What the hell-" Jake's voice interrupts. "What the hell happened?"

"Why... why is he-" That's Antoni, who wanted to talk, who was talking to Jake about him. His voice is shaking, though, his accent thick and heavy. "Why he is yelling so loud-... you can make it stop? The-... screaming-"

Baldur stiffens.

Stop.

Silent.

Still.

Be good.

Good boys are statue boys, good boys-

The thought breaks apart when he hears Kauri's voice crack loud like a whip against the tile floor. "Probably because the two of you decided to go goddamn gossip. Get the fuck out of this room before I take a cast iron to your faces, you assholes."

"Shit." That's Jake, he thinks. Baldur hides against Kauri's neck until he can't possibly see their faces. The anger, the hate, how they'll be planning his punishment.

But then... footsteps.

They leave.

They go.

Because Kauri told them to.

"Let it out," Kauri murmurs, once they're alone again. "Let it out. Whatever you gotta do, you do it. I'm staying right here."

Baldur tightens his grip on Kauri's torn shirt and starts, finally, to cry. The last of the hurricane falls as tears when the wind dies, draining the terror from him to soak into Kauri's shirt.

"I, I bit you," He whispers, when the words are there. When throat and teeth and tongue work together, finally, to form them. "I'm sorry. I... I, I bit you-"

"No worries," Kauri says, right against his ear. "Didn't even draw blood. Trust me, you're not the first guy to bite - probably not even the tenth - and you won't be the last. But, just between us... I think you're probably my favorite."

Baldur starts to cry again.

This time, it's not a hurricane at all. It's summer showers, welcome warm rain soaking into a thirsty dried-out earth. He cries until he's emptied-out of the fear, until all that's left is hollow like cracked clay warming in the sun.

Like grass growing between dinosaur bones.

He used to know about that.

Someone who lived in his head did, anyway.

But he knows about it, too.

Baldur didn't.

But... Chris does.

-

[wyvchard]

Static and Radio Waves (Part Two)

Link to Part One

Reginald loses contact with his agent during heavy rainfall; Phoenix is unaware how worried he was when he couldn't contact them.

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

'Come on. Come on. Work.' I pressed down my lips onto the flashlight as I checked the fuel level on generator. 'You were able to reconnect to the Agency. How hard would it be to run a generator for civilians?'

The radio station was fortunately on the higher part of town, so there aren't any worries that we'll be wading through floodwater any time soon.

Unfortunately, the electrical substation cut off power in the area, fearing that it would lead to deadly consequences.

"Sorry you had to do this. We'd ask-"

"We make do with what we have. Don't worry about it. They're making sure people don't get stuck on roofs. Last I heard, the water is already up to the knees in some areas. Let's just leave them to focus on getting the generator working."

I gave a thumbs up to my favorite sound tech as I try to recall how to use a generator and not the-

-dust on my arms and hat when I came to Babadag, with the smell of damp clothes despite the place not having any indication of moisture.

-desolate sight of my van, with the single light intact as I grabbed a flashlight to turn on the engine just so I can see.

-dreadful silence in the realization I could forever be alone as everyone was gone, with the single wish I could hear my handler from an earpiece again.

The motor whirred to life as the indicator blinked, gathering a series of relieved sighs.

I grabbed the flashlight from my mouth, shivering from the bitter taste of rubbing alcohol that I used to wipe it down.

"... You guys go ahead. I'll just take a few minutes to breathe." My body was gently pulled up from my posture as we shuffled our way back to the sound booth.

"And we're back! Sorry about that, folks. The weather was particularly chilly that our generators decided to take a nap."

I snuck into the other room in order to hear what search and rescue have to say, leaving as I know I'll be next after a few hours.

"It got worse. Some areas already had waist high levels. They haven't opened the dams yet. The pumping stations also sounded rather stressed."

"Pretty sure no one can sleep soundly tonight. Hand me the microphone. I'll talk to them," I said while approaching the swivel chair. The sound of rain hitting the metal mingled with the static of the radio.

The notepad and map were sprawled in front of me, the lamp providing enough visual to see what the notes left by the previous person.

The sky was dark, clouds a grey that seemed to mourn the mess they left on the ground. The wind howled as the metal on the roofs shook, shaking the hearts of people little by little as the reminder of how fragile things can be despite getting used to it reared its ugly head.

"Go ahead?" I pressed the button on the side I repeated what pa says on this device.

"And what are you doing here, you lil' mischief?" He rubbed my hair as he pried the radio off my tiny hands.

"Was that your kid?"

"Yes. Go ahead."

"Come on. Let the little one talk. It's boring to hear you over and over again."

Pa just sighed as he beckoned me to come closer. "Would you like to learn how to use a radio with me?"

"Yes please!"

I was gripping my pen as the one whose place I took over arrived, waiting for me to get up. My mind was tossing through my memories of the other times I helped with coordinating several individuals over the radio, years of muscle memory trying to take dominance over the agency training drilled into my mind.

If this rain keeps up, the pumping stations won't be able to get rid of water since the river's water level would be too high and it will only cause more disaster.

And with that, I grew up with the voices of people who are within and fighting against a rebellion, people who are looking for someone to talk to in the middle of calamity, people who are... part of the agency.

My voice caught up in my throat as I turned to one of the volunteer radio operators. Our eyes met as he looked to be in shock at my accusation.

The agency's search and rescue department is dealing with the floodwater. Who else is in the area? Who... They're not looking for just me, right? I hope not.

"Do you recognize this frequency?"

"Yes. They're my friends. I'll talk to them to introduce you."

"... No need. I just remembered I haven't messaged my folks." I used my thumb to point at the door. "I'll be contacting them right now."

"Wait. Hold on-"

I pretended not to hear the panic in his voice as I locked myself inside the writer's room, away from everyone.

"A-agent? Is that you?!" My hand was trembling when I put on the earpiece, his voice was unsteady, wracked with worry.

"I'm sorry." I cupped my mouth as the words slipped out.

"Come again, agent?"

I bit my lip as I fought the urge to repeat it. He still doesn't know and I don't think now's the right time to reveal it.

"Phoenix, are you safe? Tap twice if you are."

I tapped the desk twice, hearing him sigh in relief. A part of my heart sunk like lead as the sight of the darkness with a desk overlapped with the last time we lost communication.

"In case you're wondering, I'm safe as well." I can't hear rain from where he is. "I should inform search and rescue that you've been found." However, I can hear the clicks of his keyboard as he took a hold of my coordinates. "Agent? Can you explain why on earth you are in a radio station?

"Nevermind. One of our operatives from search and rescue is in the same building to look for the other agents." He paused as a beep interrupted his thoughts. "Contact reestablished. Were you in the middle of that while we were looking for you?

"You are the legendary Agent Phoenix for a reason."

... I'm the reason contact was delayed but I'll take it.

"Just sit tight, Agent. The storm will pass soon. You'll be alright. I'll be here. But knowing you, you're probably getting your hands full."

If I remember agency protocol correctly, he should be checking on me every once in a while. I have a few hours before the next update, giving me time to take over for the other announcers.

I walked towards the sound booth, noting the dreary halls on my way there as two lights were the only places with power to conserve electricity.

"Ready to take over?"

I gave another thumbs up as I took my seat in front of the microphone. I gave my fellow announcer an apologetic look as I looked at the script and the information brought to us from the other room.

Once the cue light turns green again, it will be my turn to speak.

Hopefully, they'd be comforted by the sound of my voice... and that they'll be able to hear it again when the flood recedes.

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

The brain worms are back. Not sure if I should make this canon to the fic but eh.

... Uhhh...

@agent-calivide, hope you don't mind me writing a part two.

@sml8180, here's another contribution while I sit in the classroom. /j

@ellascreams, we're both standing awkwardly right now. XD

@phoenix-and-found-family, I wrote a thing.

@the-one-and-only-043, I wrote another thing.

[that-foul-legacy-lover]

omg I've been hyperfixated on western dragons for ages, the fic you wrote is so auffghgg i love it big smooch

anyways back to the brainrot/req, western dragons are usually portrayed as possessive and selfish, so how about western dragon reader getting jealous/possessive over legacy when he comes back from fontaine cause reader can smell another dragon (neuvilette) on him?🤔 sorry if that made no sense lol

don't worry anon, this makes so much sense and I LOVE it

you're never exactly happy when Ajax and Foul Legacy have to leave on their little business trips- yes, you completely understand why. Ajax is a Harbinger, and when he goes, Legacy has to go too- but you don't like it. being away from who you consider to be your two greatest, most precious treasures makes you irritable and reclusive, barely even going out to soak up the sun your body desperately needs. you only perk up when you hear familiar heavy footsteps, scrambling to your feet and abruptly tackling Foul Legacy, earning you a surprised screech and an armful of happy armored moth. you let out a few purrs as you wrap your scaley tail around his leg and snuggle your head against his chest- but then you stop, nuzzles slowing to a complete halt, and you tilt your head back and delicately sniff the air

dragon. he smells like dragon. and not just any dragon, a different dragon, one that's not you- some pompous water dragon, if your nose is telling the truth, and your eyes narrow as you let out a low growl

Foul Legacy whines apologetically when you cross your arms and pout, tail lashing back and forth and pointed ears lowered. you drag him into your favorite patch of sun and stubbornly curl around him, trying to be as close as possible so you can erase every trace of that other dragon that might still cling to his armor. Legacy doesn't mind snuggling beside you, running his claws over the patches of scales that still litter your skin, and gradually you begin to calm and settle in for a quick nap with the Abyssal monster you've loved so much. for at least the next couple of weeks you almost always have a hand on him, holding his shoulder or wrist or lacing his fingers with yours- Ajax and Legacy are your beloveds, and no one else's. especially not some high-and-mighty water dragon from that city of metal and steam!

[imhereforscm]

These past couple of weeks have been incredibly trying and I'm probably more of a wreck inside. Don't worry about this if you're burnt out from writing all the fluffbury fics but I could do with something comforting and maybe a little silly from one of the Gods.

I don't even really care which one right now. Huedaut or Tauxolouve would be fine, or if you fancy writing him I'll take Aigo.

Thank you, sorry to bug you.

"Like the lake"

Genre: comfort

Pairing: Huedhaut × reader

Warnings: none

A/N: Hello, dearest! You're not "bugging" me or anything!!💕💗💕💕💗💕💗 I'm thankful you reached out and I'm proud of you for doing so💕💕💕💕💕💕 I hope this is satisfactory. If it's not, I will write something else💗💗💗💗

Your heavy sigh, which made your shoulders rise and fall, made Huedhaut's lips part from the metallic instrument. His sapphire eyes turned to your head, with was lowered, your eyes casted upon the grass.

"(Name)?" Huedhaut spoke up, the notes of his song still lingering in the air, even though his playing has ceased.

You hummed, shifting a little, so your neck could angle and your gaze to meet his.

"What's the matter?"

"Nothing." You shook your head, yet your eyes fell once more, your line of sight landing by his white boots, where a small light blue flower was peeking from between the grass, close to the roots of a tree.

Huedhaut chose to stay silent and inspect you, his lips pursing the more he searched for that light you usually have, but couldn't seem find it. He sighed, just like you did before. "You're usually more reactive to my music."

"I like it." You said, head tilting upwards a little. "I do."

"I know, that's not what I implied, darling." Huedhaut placed his flute on a stack of music sheets and made his way to your side. He crouched down and sat by your side on the grass, his eyes finding the lake that spread out in front of you. "Usually, you steal glances at me, your body sways like a leaf in the breeze... You close your eyes and smile." He turned his head to the left, facing you. "Something is wrong, isn't it? You can tell me."

You breathed, filling your lungs with enough oxygen to get you through this. "I'm just tired. Physically and... Well, mentally." You paused, cutting some grass and holding it in your palm. "These past couple of weeks have been incredibly tiring and I'm probably more of a wreck inside." You began tiering the grass apart, using your fingers and turning it to small pieces. "So it's not like I don't like your music or anything, it's just... I'm really tired inside too."

"I see." Huedhaut nodded, his left arm spreading like the wing of a dove and wrapping you within it.

"You're warm." You said, voice quiet. "It's nice."

"I'm glad." He said, just as quietly, as if your intimacy was a secret kept even from the trees. "Listen... Life can be tiring and very much demanding. But you'll get through this. There come high and low points in life, that's the natural order. You're not loosing track of things, this is how it is and you're doing a wonderful job managing it."

"Am I? Why am I so drained then?"

"Sometimes we feel emotionally drained after something so... Hectic." He titled his head to the side, resting it atop of your own. "Look at the lake."

"Okay. I'm looking." You said, nuzzling closer into his body.

"Its waters have seen sunny days, rainy days, stormy days and even snowy days." He began to say, his voice low and as melodic as his music. "But it remains here, giving light to the grass around it."

"I'm so exhausted, I don't know if comparing me to a centuries old lake is appropriate."

Huedhaut's head shifted and he pressed his lips to your soft hair, leaving a sweet kiss there. "Trust me, it's fitting. Just like my love for you. Standing there for centuries."

You smiled and he squeezed you close, his other hand wrapping around your waist as well.

"Finally, you smiled." He said and chuckled softly, the vibrations of it traveling through his body to yours. "And here I was, thinking I was left with only one option."

"What option?" You asked, peering up at him with eyes dipped in suspicion. "Hue..."

He laughed more, sunrays diving into the depth of his crystalline irises. "Don't frown or else I might have to do it."

"Do wha-?!" You pulled away, your eyebrows furrowing as a chill ran down your spine, at the thought of the countless possibilities swirling around his mind. But true to his words and vows, your sentence was cut short, when his fingertips found your sides and began teasing your sensitive skin above your clothes. "Hue!" You cried out his name, your vocal cords twisting loudly as you fell on your back.

He laughed as he hovered above you, his fingers determined and never leaving your sides, no matter how much you thrashed around. "I told you to smile. You brought this..." His laughter added a gap to his words. "You brought this upon yourself...!"

Afternoon light washed over the grass and the lake, making its waters shine, like hundreds of diamonds were tossed into its depths and swaying with the gentle winds, that caused the water to ripple and the pages of Huedhaut's music sheets to turn. And as the diamonds did their dance, your laughter echoed through the tree trunks and Huedhaut's heart filled with bliss at the sight of your grin.

[astro-rain]

delicate; b.barnes

chapter twenty - “collateral damage”

delicate masterlist

word count: 2k

synopsis: bucky and y/n deal with the emotional fallout of her departure from wakanda.

pairings: bucky barnes x fem!reader

warnings: mildly suggestive content, nothing explicit, 18+ readers please.

The flight home was wretched. Sleeping on the jet was impossible. Every time she shut her eyes she saw his face. If her mind did somehow manage to drift off to sleep, Y/N dreamed of him and woke up trying not to rip her hair out.

"We can still stay in contact, right?" Bucky asked as they were walking back from the waterfall.

They had left their catharsis by the water, still upset, but now calmer and more logical.

"I don't think so..."

"What? Why? It's not like we don't have the technology to do it."

"I know, but.." Y/N trailed off, trying to think of a sensible excuse.

Obviously they could stay in contact if they wanted. But any kind of phone call would be able to be tracked or recorded. That, and she didn't want him to hang on to someone who betrayed him. She couldn't imagine the guilt she'd have hearing Bucky's "I miss you's" or "Baby doll's" from miles away, knowing she lied to him.

"You don't even have a phone..."

"That's an easy problem to fix."

"I know... I just think you should focus on the rest of your healing, and... you know, I'll have a lot of work once I get back...." she took a breath. "I don't know if it's super healthy for us to cling on to each other when it... may be better to move on..."

"Move on?"

"Yeah..."

Bucky stopped walking and turned to face her. They both stood still and he stared at her, confused, as if he was trying to figure something out. He knew her well. She was scared he'd see right through her.

"So let me get this straight. When you're here we can talk all the time and... plenty of other things. But when you're away we can't even call each other?"

"Bucky..."

"That's not all, is it?"

She sighed. "I'm just... worried... about- like-... getting in trouble. If someone overhears or tracks a phone call...What if someone finds out where the 'Winter Soldier' is and comes here to exact revenge?"

That was partly true. She'd never want anyone bad to find out where he was. But no one was tracking her phone calls; she wasn't really a person of interest. In all likelihood, it probably wasn't something she'd have to be terribly worried about.

However, if anyone overheard or saw Bucky on the phone, they'd know it was her, and she doubted anything she could say would convince them that she didn't tell him about the arm.

Or maybe no one would find out. She just didn't want to take the chance. The last time she took a chance, this happened. She wasn't willing to do it again.

He stared at her with dejected eyes. "You know you don't have to worry about me. I'll be okay."

She rested her hands on his forearms and laughed sadly. "Bucky, I don't think I'm ever not gonna worry about you."

He was already in her heart. She didn't think he could leave now.

He let his eyelids fall shut. "I really don't want you to go."

She closed her eyes as well and let her forehead rest against the top of his chest.

"I know. I'm sorry. I don't want to leave you either. But you're gonna do so well, even without me. And every day I'll wake up and think 'wow this man is sexy and has good coping mechanisms! I wish I was him!'"

In the midst of his sadness, she made him laugh. It was a despondent, quiet laugh, but she managed to lift his mood all the same - even if just a little bit. She'd always make everything better.

He gazed down at her, eyes heavy, and without even thinking about it... "I love you."

She looked down at the grass below her feet. "Buck..."

"I do. I'm sorry but I do."

She wrapped her arms around the middle of his back, pressing her face into the crook of his neck. He grabbed her shoulders and pulled her in tight, one arm up her back and the other cradling her head.

In the tiniest whisper, she let the truth flow out from her chest. "I love you, too."

The clouds provoked her, so peaceful and quiet, while her head was a big, loud mess. Y/N leaned her head on the window, glaring at them and wondering if she should've said what she did. That she loved him. Internally, she debated whether or not it would make things worse. But she wasn't going to see him again; she might as well have left him with the truth.

Time was lost to her. She thought she would be landing soon, but she couldn't be sure. She couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

-

Bucky sat at the lake - their lake - and just stared into the water. It felt so strange to him, that she was gone. One minute she was here and now he was just... alone.

It was so quiet. Too quiet. Of course being alone was quiet, but after Y/N left, the air just felt empty.

He wished he could talk to her. Whenever he was upset, all he wanted to do was talk to her.

"So, is this... d-do we say goodbye now?" he asked when they got back to his hut.

"Yeah..." she sighed. "yeah."

"Are you going back to Europe?"

"Yes. Belgium. Haven't been in my apartment in forever."

"Belgium," he wondered. "It's nice there. Safe. What are you gonna do for work?"

"Probably just continue where I left off on my research. Fancy brain stuff, ya'know?"

He grinned, proud. "My smart girl."

She looked around her, as if watching for something. Or someone.

"Buck, I think I have to go now."

"Just one more minute? Please. I wanna remember you like this. Not sad and crying."

Y/N smiled, grabbed his hands, and kissed his knuckles. Both flesh and metal. Because they were both part of him and she loved him. All of him.

Then, she placed both his hands on either side of her face. Softly she said, "remember me like this," before bringing their lips together.

He looked down at his vibranium arm, twisting his wrist to watch how the plates whirred.

Since the first moment he put it on, he had been using it to be gentle, loving, and affectionate. This arm was good. This arm wasn't used for death and destruction and violence.

With this arm he held her, kissed her, loved her. And now she was gone. And now it felt like dead weight.

— ONE WEEK LATER —

Whenever Bucky looked at his bionic arm he saw her. It began to make him sad.

His hair had been getting longer and longer. He could cut it now, now that he had two arms. But every time he tried, all he could do was stare at the arm and hear her voice in his head.

"That's your heart. That's you. You're all heart, Buck. You're so deeply, wonderfully human. All the way to your bones."

That was the first time he expressed real distress about missing a limb, he recalled. That was the first time they kissed. Funny how that transition was made, funny how she could remedy some of his worst emotions.

His days were boring and uneventful and nearly silent. He sat alone a lot. There was no laughter anymore, none of her laughter. There was no more holding, no more kissing, no more loving. The arm just felt... wrong? Like what it was born from had died.

-

In Belgium, Y/N felt incredibly uncomfortable. She knew she just needed to adjust to the change, after getting to used to life in Wakanda - life with Bucky. Her vacant apartment didn't feel as homey.

It had been, what, a year and a half? About a year and a half since she had been home. About a year and a half spent with Bucky.

Her apartment seemed so... barren. Void of life. And cold. She was used to the Wakandan heat. When she closed and locked the door behind her, she looked at the golden square that the sun cast through her window. It reminded her of that heat.

Y/N sighed, cursing her very own hippocampus for providing her with memory.

"God, I wish you had an AC in here."

She was in his bed. Well, she was on top of him, straddling him, in his bed.

"Is it hot or is it just you?" he joked, poking at her sides and trying to not pout at the loss of her lips.

"Ha. Ha," she rolled her eyes and brought her face back to his.

"Wait," Bucky said and gently pulled her face away to examine it. "You are a little warm."

"It's okay," she quickly tried to resume their previous activity.

"Hold on-" he got cut off as Y/N kept pecking his lips over and over.

"I have-"

Kiss.

"An idea-"

Kiss.

Lightly he pushed her shoulders away, nearly giggling. "Stop it! Just wait a second!"

Bashful, she conceded. "What?"

"Just-" he reached out and put the vibranium hand on her forehead, effectively cooling her down a bit. She closed her eyes and flashed a goofy smile.

"That feels nice."

Then, suddenly, he wrapped both his arms around her back and flipped them over so that he was on top. He smirked.

"Oh yeah, you just wait."

She hung her keys up and took a deep breath, absorbing the emptiness. This was her new normal; she just had to get used to it.

-

"I just- I don't really... I don't think I need it," Bucky tried to explain.

Want it, he thought. I don't want it. I can't stand to even look at it.

"You don't need it?" Shuri asked.

"Yeah, it-uh it takes a bit of getting used to and I think I just need a break. And I wouldn't want to damage it so... figured it's better with you."

He was better at lying than he gave himself credit for.

"Okay," Shuri accepted his answer and began to detach the bionic arm. "But you let me know if it's uncomfortable or painful anywhere so I can adjust it. Alright?"

"Alright. Thank you."

Finally he was rid of it- that cursed metal weighing down on his soul. Maybe now he could focus on other things. Maybe. It didn't seem likely...

However, as the days drew closer, it did make him slightly - only slightly -  less nervous about the trigger word experiment. Now he didn't have a weapon attached to him. Though he reckoned he was the weapon.

No. He wasn't supposed to think like that. He knew Y/N wouldn't want him to. He knew she would say something like, "You aren't what they tried to make you into. You're you and all HYDRA's awfulness can't change the good at your core. My Bucky. You're perfect."

He'd deny to high heavens that he was the farthest thing from perfect. Bucky had no clue how she could say such things. But her conviction never faltered.

Soon enough the day came. The experiment. All he could think about was how she was supposed to be there. He didn't want to do this without her.

But now, he found himself sitting at at a fire on some mountain with one of the Doras. It was dark and it was scary. He was scared.

"It is time," said Ayo.

Nevermind want. He wasn't sure if he could do this without her.

"Are you sure about this?"

"I won't let you hurt anyone."

He was still scared. He still didn't trust himself. But, staring into the fire, he thought back to a past conversation.

"You don't have to trust yourself. That's hard enough as it is and Hydra didn't make it any easier. You just trust me, alright? ... And I will not let anything happen to you."

Bucky didn't have to trust himself. He just had to trust her. Even if she wasn't here, even if she was on another continent, all he had to do was trust her. When Ayo began reciting the trigger words, that was the one thing thing he held onto. The one thing that kept him afloat.

His trust in her.

delicate taglist: @emmojoy @bakugouswh0r3 @thefridgeismybestie @strivingforelegance @ilovespideyyy @xpurpleglitter @bluelakeee @darkacademic2 @eclipsedplanet @paradisedixon @crazy-beautiful @coffee--writes @lilithknight1111 @buckybarnesishot310 @softladyhours @alwayssandy @those-sea-green-eyes @hero-ically @devilswaldorf @cc13723things @small-death-and-codeine @avengersgirllorianna @cataves @thatbitchsposts @talktomeaboutthestars @surrealpsycho @headheartbellarke @bubbly-moonwarrior @bluemoon-icecream @buckeyecreates @augustbucky @itsthemaree @undiadeestos

[ikeromantic]

Fake It Til You Make It

A Mitsuhide Akechi fanfiction - approx. 2200 words. This scene takes place post-romantic epilogue. Fluff and a little spice.

First: Mitsuhide and the Maiden

Previous: Adrift

Kyubei watched the innkeeper through narrowed eyes. Though the man was clearly nervous, he didn’t seem to be lying. His story hadn’t changed in the last three tellings, so either he was an accomplished liar or he was telling the truth.

“L-lord Akechi and the woman left with one of the Akechi warriors. Right after we saw the fire across the lake,” the innkeeper said for the fourth time. “Then the storm came and after that, no one saw him.”

“Do you remember anything else? Did anyone else come in after they left? Did you see anyone acting strangely?”

The man shook his head. “No, I mean, not really? Everyone was a bit strange after we saw the blaze. Wondering if Azuchi was still standing.” He frowned. “You think it might have been Lord Akechi? Him disappearing like that right after -”

Kyubei cut him off. “No. That was the work of the Mouri clan.” It wasn’t the first person he’d spoken with that suspected. And why wouldn’t they? Mitsuhide was only just back from his misadventure at the shogun’s side. An ally in disgrace. A man not to be trusted.

The worst part of all this was that Kyubei really had no idea what his lord wanted him to do. Should he quash the rumors? Encourage them? Mitsuhide’s instructions from his last letter said nothing about an attack on Azuchi - not like this - and nothing about disappearing. Of course, he pretended like he knew exactly what was going on. He had to, until he received additional instructions.

“So . . . am I free to go?” The innkeeper was frowning now. His nervousness replaced by a desire to get back to making money at the inn.

“For now,” Kyubei said. He gave the man a hard stare. “If I need anything else, I will send someone for you.”

The innkeeper bowed and left, leaving Kyubei alone with his thoughts. It really seemed that in the storm, his lord had simply vanished into thin air. And Miyake too.

Perhaps they'd left with Ranmaru, who was also missing. But if so, there would be a letter. A message. Something!

The castle staff had no idea where he was - they’d waited for him to return for hours. Miyake’s squad couldn’t find their commander either. Both men were expected.

And the chatelaine . . . his lady. Kyubei worried that he had failed to protect her again.

***

Morning came with pale light through a high window. It fell across four careworn, sleeping faces. Sasuke and Miyake lay in a tangle of blankets on the floor, and in a bed, Mitsuhide clung to his little mouse. He woke with the first notes of bird-song, but kept his eyes shut. He wasn’t ready to confront the strange world of 500 years in the future just yet.

His little one stirred in his arms as the sound of morning birds turned into a hum of outside activity. “Is it . . . are we really . . .” She opened her eyes and looked around Sarutobi’s flat. “We’re really here.”

Mitsuhide nodded.

“I want to be happy about it, but . . .”

He shushed her with a kiss. “It will be fine. Worrying won’t return us faster.”

She sighed and buried her face against his chest. “I know. I just hope everyone is alright.”

“They will be,” Mitsuhide reassured her. He didn’t think of it as a lie - simply an assumption he based on his past experience. Nobunaga would handle this threat as he did others that came before it.

And Kyubei would see to what the left hand needed to be doing.

Sasuke sat up, rubbing his face. “I apologize for the accommodations,” he told them. The same apology he’d given the night before.

“At least we had somewhere to sleep.” The chatelaine sat up and wiggled out of the blanket. “I should probably check on my flat and see if it’s still mine. If so, we won't have to impose on you a second night. Although,” she sighed. “I don’t have my ID or my keys or anything.”

“I don't mind,” Sasuke replied. “You are welcome to continue crashing here. Although, we may not be here for long. Weren’t there activities you wanted to do in this time? While you can?” His left eyebrow lifted almost imperceptibly.

Mitsuhide gave her one of his slow, warm smiles. His fingers traced a path down her spine. “Yes, you did mention some things I would like to see, since we are here.”

His little mouse arched like a cat against his hand. “I did . . . yes. Alright. Since we’re here, we might as well try to enjoy it!”

Miyake rolled over on the floor and pulled the blanket over his head.

“I take it that means you plan to stay here for the day?”

Sasuke answered for the half-asleep warrior. “Actually, I would really appreciate it if Miyake would accompany me. I need to go to my university and make some arrangements.”

Miyake groaned and sat up. He blinked as his gaze went around the room, taking in all the strange objects. Finally, he settled on the ninja. “You need protection or something?”

“No. I don’t think anyone will attack me.” Sasuke felt around for his glasses and slid them on. “But I expect to be moving some heavy equipment in the lab. And I may have a friend who can help us out with those arrangements, if you're there to corroborate my story.”

“Corr what?” Miyake frowned.

“Authenticate. Like a two factor security key.” The ninja grinned.

The warrior looked to Mitsuhide uncertainly.

“If Sarutobi believes you can assist him today, then that is what you will do. I am sure my fiancée and I will be fine.”

The chatelaine looked less certain about this, but she nodded agreement.

The four of them took turns dressing in the ‘washroom’ to give each other privacy. His morning was one of surprise as the . . . toilet . . . squirted him with water. And warm or cold water came from a metal spigot at the turn of a handle too, spilling into a porcelain basin. There were more smokeless lanterns - electric lights they were called - and other wonders.

Had Mitsunari been there, he was sure the scholar could have spent weeks studying every device but Mitsuhide just needed to know how to use it.

In this place, he was the naïve child, and his little one, the wise teacher. Such a shift in their positions was hard to take. Mitsuhide didn’t think of himself as arrogant but this situation was humbling in the extreme. Thankfully, he managed to get through dressing and breakfast without any serious mishaps.

Sasuke and Miyake left to the university. The flat was silent in their wake. Mitsuhide and his little mouse sat on the edge of the bed. She was tapping away at a . . . tablet . . . to get access to her accounts. The electronic scroll was interesting, at least. With pictures and writing all lit up so you could read it even in the dark.

Mitsuhide stood and stretched, trying to get used to moving in his new clothes. They were Sarutobi’s and didn’t quite fit. He was dressed in a pair of pants that clung tightly to his legs and ended short of his ankle. The top was a soft weave, dyed black. It sported an odd blue character on it and the word Sonic. Sarutobi said the picture was a hedgehog, whatever that was.

He would have liked to wear something without a picture on it. He’d had the choice between this one and something with a lizard that walked on two legs and shot fire from its mouth. Those were the only two shirts the ninja had that were long enough to cover him to his waist. And there was no way he was walking around with a bare midriff. Even if his little mouse looked interested in the idea.

Her midriff was bare afterall, she’d laughed. And it was - sort of. She tied one of Sasuke’s shirts in a bow under her breasts and had a pair of his shorts on. Though Mitsuhide wasn’t familiar with the clothes of this time, he thought she looked like a child trying to fit into her father’s clothes. Endearingly cute, but ill fit. Some of the clothes they saw women wearing on the way in the night before would have looked much better on her.

She looked up as if she knew he was thinking about her. “Ok, I think we’re ready to go.”

“Where to, my love?”

“Well, first to my apartment. It looks like my rent payments have all been made. And the building manager knows me so I should be able to get a spare key.” Her smile was all relief.

They arrived to the apartment, a small space in a tall building that reminded Mitsuhide of a castle, if the castle was robbed of all charm and beauty. Her room was utilitarian and sterile, and while there was still the wonder of technology, he could see none of her personality in the space. He said as much.

“Hm, yeah. I didn’t really have time to decorate. The apartment came furnished. I moved in and then, well,” she laughed. “I ended up in Azuchi with you.”

Mitsuhide pulled her into a hug. “A fate worse than death, little mouse?”

“You know it wasn’t,” she giggled, laughing harder as he ran his fingers down her sensitive sides. Holding her like this felt like home, even if nothing else was familiar.

After several slow breaths, they let go of each other.

“I must confess, I cannot see you living in this place. It doesn’t seem very safe. And you don’t have much room for your sewing.” Mitsuhide couldn’t help but poke into her cabinets, shelves, and drawers.

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s pretty small but it was a place I could afford on my own.”

Mitsuhide heard the pride in her voice. He smiled. “I can imagine you coming here, determined to make it on your own.” He turned from the cabinet he was inspecting to see her stripping off her shirt.

Her pert breasts were a pleasant surprise, but she crossed her arms over them as soon as she saw him looking. “I’m just changing clothes! I didn’t want to wear Sasuke’s basketball shorts all day.”

“Please, continue.”

“I - I can’t while you’re staring at me!” She turned so that all he could see was her back.

Mitsuhide laughed. “Are we not lovers? How many times have I kissed, nibbled, caressed every bit of your skin from head to toe?”

She shivered, skin dimpling with remembered touches. Slow, nervous, she turned back around. Her arms lowered, revealing her chest again. “You can watch if you want to.”

He wasn’t sure if it was nerves or mischief that made her voice squeak at the end. Either was amusing. “Mmm, I’m a lucky man to get a show.”

“You are,” she smiled. Her fingers went to the tie on the shorts. They fell away, pooling around her feet. Underneath, she wore nothing.

Mitsuhide sucked in a breath.

Her hips swayed as she walked to her wardrobe. She glanced over her shoulder at him and fluttered her eyelashes, trying to be saucy. The effect was a little spoiled by the blush that ran from her cheeks to the tips of her ears. From within the wardrobe she pulled out a little twist of cloth. It was light blue and made of some embroidered material.

He didn’t realize he could see her skin through it until she slipped it on, slowly pulling the fabric taut over her curves. Though she was technically covered, it was somehow more tempting than just skin alone. “What . . . is that?”

“Panties.” She giggled. Then she pulled out a matching bit of cloth and wrapped it around her chest. The rise of her breasts were restrained by this new piece of clothing as she reached behind her as if to tie it.

“And that?”

“My bra.” She turned right, then left, letting him get a good view.

The sight made Mitsuhide want to simultaneously rip the clothing off her and still enjoy looking at her in them. It wasn’t possible to have both . . .

“To be honest, it’s been kind of nice not wearing these the last few months. But I think I would feel weird if I didn’t wear them with my modern clothes.”

“I like them.” Mitsuhide smiled widely. A grin that brought heat to her gaze before she looked away, suddenly shy. He knew this ground well. Even here in a world where everything was strange, his little one was the same.

He stepped forward, reaching to cup her cheek. His other hand settled lightly on her hip, fingertips stroking the skin just above the fabric of her panties. She inhaled sharply, lips parting. Mitsuhide took the invitation.

The kiss was, at first, gentle and sweet, but the press of their bodies built heat between them. Their breath mingled, tongues entwined. Hands grasping, stroking, pulling. Tearing.

Mitsuhide stopped at the sound of fabric ripping.

His little one gasped and reached down to feel the damage. Her eyes widened. “You . . . tore my panties.” Then she started to laugh.

He laughed too. Never in his life had he expected a woman so wonderful. A woman he would want badly enough to - literally - tear the clothes off her. This kind of passion he’d always believed was fake. Yet here he was. It was unthinkable. Incredible. “I love you,” Mitsuhide told her, smiling so widely that it hurt.

“I love you too.”

She gestured to the wardrobe. "I should probably, you know. Finish." It took only a moment for her to shimmy into her own clothes. Then they headed out into this strange world that was his home 500 years after death.

Next: Kitsune's Day Out

[bluwwo]

I dreamed that Yor has stopped a missile (which I discovered it was actually a torpedo, thx Lacrow) some days ago so... I made this

The image is merely illustrative

The actual thing is down bellow~

-----

The ship floats softly and calmly on the blue sheet as those men and women moved hurriedly, slyly and were maliciously running towards a thorny hole, they were walking towards their own death.

The woman, owner of such trap, used her mastery to eliminate one by one in her thorny trap. And one of them was a man hiding in the vessel's hold and who had access to bugs spread throughout the ship.

The place looked like a small command room, but the woman didn't mind because as the director had already told her, many parts on that ship were once parts used in Ostanian warships.

Next to what was once a "coworker" of hers was a small desk with assorted buttons, a control panel. Everything seemed to be fine until a green and yellow light caught the woman's attention.

Her scarlet eyes gleamed, reflecting that light as she curiously approached the dashboard. She realized that this was just a radar, with its waves trying to find some other vessel or threat. At first, Yor thought it wasn't even working until a loud and repeated "beep" caught her attention.

As she looked at the radar, her eyes widened in horror. A small blinking dot slowly approached the ship that was represented by a large triangle in the center of the radar. The radar was big, so whatever was approaching was really far.

Yor didn't have to be a Marine Lieutenant to know that it was…

"A torpedo…" Her voice barely left her throat.

Her body trembled, and the color drained from her face. A powerful weapon like that targeting innocent people, children and families?

Her muscles tensed and she quickly fled away from that place. And with her heart beating unsteadily and fearful of the impending catastrophe, she chased the Director across the ship with agony coiled in her throat.

"Director!" Her voice was a loud whisper, fraught with anxiety. "Please tell me you have a secret entrance and exit to the sea."

"Thorn Princess, why all this commotion?"

"Director, you told me this ship has parts from old warships, right?"

The man narrowed his eyes and just nodded.

"It seems that this is not the only one... According to radar, a torpedo is heading for this vessel." Yor exhaled, trying to maintain a serious facade.

The director's normally stoic, expressionless face contorted in surprise and confusion. The man gulped.

"Are you sure about this, Forger?"

"Mister Director, why would I lie about this?"

The man sighed, and the tension in the room was so thick that people around them could feel the sweat running down their spines.

"Luckily for you, there is an emergency exit in the depths of the ship that gives access to the sea, but you'll need great lungs." The exasperated man said, looking seriously at the Princess.

The woman just nodded and followed the director, Olka, who had heard everything along with her fake husband, followed the assassin.

The director had some keys that gave access to certain areas of the ship, and using that, he made his way to a deep room, and they stopped in front of a heavy door.

"And what do you intend to do with the projectile, Forger?"

"I'll deflect it up." She pointed to the sky.

"But there's still the risk of it falling somewhere else." retorted the director with mild irritation.

“And that's when you two…” She points to the director's two partners “… get into it.”

"How?" asked one of them, scared.

“My husband seems to have a lot of knowledge in military equipment, he always slips a thing or two correcting the action movies…” Yor reveals with a slight smile. "And according to him, this type of projectile can be distracted by fireworks, creating new targets and preventing it from hitting the actual target." She said, taking a box of fireworks and handing it to the man.

"I need to launch these fireworks, but when?" He replied, still pale.

"You'll know when, just look at the sky, if you see a trail of smoke, release the fireworks." Reaffirmed Yor with an inspiring smile.

“Forger, there's a pier a few miles from here, when it's done, go there and wait for the ship, one of the guys will be on deck, and I'll stay here with Olka, he'll see you and send the signal and then I'll open the way for you to board." The man explained, and the woman nodded. "And, Yor, what if it doesn't work?"

"I need to try... My family is on this ship." In a voice full of sorrow, she said. "And in case I don't make it, I'll be just another dead flower in the garden." She smiled. "If I don't come back, just say I fell overboard and drowned."

The woman opened the heavy door, meeting with a staircase.

"When you get to the end of the stairs just hit the wall twice and I'll open the passage."

The woman nodded before starting to going downstairs, the quick sound of her heels impacting the metal was in harmony with the racing hearts of the five people in that room, but the rose’s heart lost its beat and beat slower and slower, the cold sweat made her shiver and she seemed no longer able to breathe.

Upon reaching the end of the stairs, Yor gulped and with clenched fists placed her hands on her chest, asking any deity who could hear her, for a miracle, a miracle to help her save the many lives that were on that ship. And in a sudden movement, she punches the wall, making a loud noise and closing her eyes, she punches it again.

The wall in front of her reveals a door, opening a passage to the sea, her red eyes met the calm blue waves, but in her mind, that blue world was churning in waves that engulfed her, an almost thalassophobic feeling swallowed her, but closing her eyes and taking a deep breath, she ran and leapt toward the ocean.

She tried vaguely to open her eyes and to her surprise the salt didn't bother her so much, surfacing quickly to catch her breath, she spotted Olka, being held by her husband and the director McHannon at the door of the sea passage, the expression on her face was worry, fear, the simple discomfort of “seeing her little brother give himself up on such a dangerous journey”, at least that's what Yor felt.

The black-haired woman just waved to the woman she was supposed to protect and dove again. Her trained legs moved quickly and skillfully, giving her a quick swim. The woman rarely surfaced to catch her breath, but when she dove once more, her keen sense felt something heavy approaching at high speed. Yor’s chest writhed in fear, fear of failing and hurting her family and others on the vessel.

She couldn't fail at that, so she surfaced again. Yor touched her chest and took a deep breath, her lips trembled and even though she was already wet, she felt her eyes watering, she couldn't deny she was terrified. She just couldn't fail.

The woman held as much air as she could and dove once more, and her other side slowly revealed itself, the fury of an assassin, a mother and a wife. Her scarlet eyes blazed with bloodthirsty anger as she clasped her arms in front of her face and using all her strength, she pushed herself, swimming as fast as she could, and that sense of impending danger increased each second.

Finally, the time seemed to have come, as Yor felt the hot, pointed tip of the projectile in her hands, the impact of the weapon was spot on, pushing the woman for a few miles, but Yor regained her strength and began to push the torpedo trying to change its direction.

However, as strong and resistant as she was, she was still a human. Her lungs were threatening to reach their limits, her chest ached and her head throbbed, her body was shaky and wobbly… She couldn't take it anymore.

.

.

.

.

Mama! Mama!

Mama! Let's play!

I love my strong and cool mama!

"Anya." Her conscience whispered, in a desperate attempt to wake her up and remember why she was there.

She needed to stop it; she needed to do it; she needed to deflect it.

She needed to survive.

She needed to see Anya again; needed to hear her voice again, needed to see her smile. She had to see her grow up; had to see her mature; had to see her become a beautiful, grown woman.

She had to be there to see this.

The red eyes snapped open and with a muffled cry across the sea, she gripped the projectile by the base and launched it with all her strength out of the sea, after the adrenaline had passed, her body remembered she couldn't breathe, so she quickly swam to the surface, where she could see the torpedo exploding in the sky, really far from the boat, along with the lights and "booms" of the fireworks.

The woman smiled as the bright lights of the explosion decorated the sky. Blowing up the torpedo wasn't quite the plan, but at least everyone was safe. Yor took a deep breath and kept smiling, if she wasn't keeping a secret, she was sure Anya would love to hear what she just did, the smile faded little by little when she noticed the smoke vestige on the horizon, she had noticed that there was also a trail of bubbles behind the projectile, if she followed that track, she might find the person behind the attack.

Again, her scarlet eyes were filled with fury as she slowly went down the water, the woman swam fast and rose a few times to catch her breath, and then she found a submarine.

While trying to approach the submarine, Yor was quickly captured by a net. The woman struggled but when she realized she was being pulled into the submarine, she faked a faint.

.

.

"Yea! It's her! Thorn Princess in person! I really thought she was going to be tougher, but it was easy to get rid of her.” A male voice spoke animatedly.

Yor woke up and watched closely the male figure who spoke exultantly on the phone. She lay a few more minutes to listen to him. The woman had to hold back her laugh as she heard the man say that "I would even try something with her… a date or such, since 'the royalty' is a gorgeous woman."

That man didn't have a third of her husband's charm… her fake husband.

Sly and furtive as a black serpent, the woman rose, her dark-colored dress giving the impression that a black mamba was on board the submarine.

The man had already finished talking to whoever it was on the phone. He was holding a file, probably his next "customer".

"In a little while, you'll be next, your little manwhore." The man chuckled to himself, looking at the file, not noticing the beast that came behind him.

Suddenly, his head was being held in one hand while a sharp needle was slowly piercing his back. Sweat ran down his spine as his mind had simply made him sure that he was just a helpless rabbit against a towering, dominant panther.

"Please, I really want to believe that you are so much more than a child with your expensive little toys." The whisper reached his ears, carrying a defiant tone.

And the coldness in the woman's words made the man shiver. He swallowed hard and didn't even try to turn around, just shivered and remained motionless, waiting for his end.

The bloody eyes continued to watch their hostage intently, waiting for some kind of reaction. But that man was simply too scared to react in any way.

"You… you really are… the… royalty." He stuttered, and Yor could feel him struggling not to choke on his impending tears.

"So I was wrong, you really are only your toys."

The man began to hyperventilate as the color drained from his body, his cheeks tinged red from the humiliation he was feeling… coming from the person he most admired.

But he needed courage, to at least make the Thorn Princess take back what she said, so, aiming at the red button on the control panel, the man tries to stretch his arm to reach it, but the powerful princess holds him back.

The man spins, making the woman fall on top of the control panel and coincidentally, triggering the big button she wanted to avoid.

The man ran through the submarine, while the red lights flashed a warning of the destruction of the vessel. He searched all compartments for his diving suit, while being chased by the princess.

The annoying sound of the alarm made the woman even more distressed, she had no idea what that button did but, whatever it was, it wasn't good. Then, she finally finds her "coworker" and jumps on him, pinning him to the ground.

"What does that button do?" she asked.

"It activates the submarine's self-destruct. If you hadn't offended me I wouldn't have activated it."

Yor's face contorted in anger as she gripped the man tighter.

"If I hadn't offended you? If you hadn't launched a torpedo, threatening the lives of many innocent people, it wouldn't have even started!" She growled.

"Too late princess." The man replied maniacally, smiling.

The woman didn't even have time to think, all she could hear was a sharp noise as the temperature inside the vessel rose. She turned around and the orangish and yellowish lights lit her red eyes. Suddenly, a loud bang was heard as it simply tore the submarine into pieces.

Yor had to hurriedly hold her breath as she woke from the sudden explosion. Looking up at the surface, she spotted the man who owned the vessel, floating in the sea. She didn't know if he was unconscious or dead, but he would give some good information anyway, so she swam to the surface, and was soon surprised by the pier the director had determined as a rendezvous point.

She swam to the building while dragging the man with her, the woman climbed onto the pier and lay down on the cool wood to catch her breath, however, looking to the side, she noticed a paper near where she had placed the man.

The woman walked over and unfolded the paper, recognizing it as the file the man was reading earlier.

The back of the file read: Twilight, Western Spy. Height: 6'1. Known aliases: Robert, Lionel, and … Forger.

The woman looked closely at the file, and her blood froze when she read "Forger". The first name was smudged by the water as well as much of the file, but the other words were more readable. This "Forger" couldn't be her husband, could he? There must be many people with that last name. Her husband is a good and respectable man. He wouldn't be a spy, a liar and… a manipulator…

Yor swallowed and reread the file once more just to be sure: Twilight, Western Spy. Height: 6’1. Known aliases: Robert, Lionel, and … Forger.

She took a deep breath and turned the file, finding a photograph of the "Twilight", her eyes widened as her hands trembled, the traitorous spy was a blond man, it was the only thing she could see of the blurry and almost unrecognizable photograph, however, unfortunately, Yor was good at deciphering facial features, and using her skill, she realized that the man had blue eyes, and was probably good looking… Just like her husband.

Yor shut her eyes and just refolded the file and tucked it inside her dress, she shouldn't make rash decisions, she trusted Loid... But, that could be a sign that he might not be who he says he is. The woman then took a deep breath and when she turned around, she was greeted by the open passageway to the ship, waiting for her.

She then caught the unconscious man on the pier and brought him with her as the woman boarded the ship again. Her scarlet gaze was lost and wavering, as well as the red sun hidden by clouds in the twilight.

[katsukikitten]

Back at it again since tumblr didnt want me in the tags the first time

Bakugou was irritable today. Not that his irritability was anything new but every little thing set his skill crawling. His forearms littered with threatening pops as he bared his teeth to anyone brave enough to look his way. 

He figured the only way to get his agitation out was to hit something, anything.

 So he headed to one of the two closest gyms from his small apartment to blow off some much needed steam. The local 24 hour gym that was open to the public was a no go, not just because it was always over crowded but also because he got banned after cussing out some damn extras who were snapping pictures of him instead of working out like one should. Leaving his only other option to be the agency's "gym". 

When he first set foot into the sorry excuse of a gym he demanded a better upgrade for it, if they expected to keep him and Kirishima in top shape. Otherwise he would begin to look elsewhere considering other agencies were dying to have the newest upcoming pro hero in their rankings. The agency obliged, delivering his expectations and more in less than a week. Guess being in the top five really did have its perks. 

The ash blonde pulls his shiny new coupe into the parking garage and finds a spot closest to the entrance. He grabs for his water bottle from the passenger seat before exiting the car, locking his black beauty as he made his way inside.  He swipes his fob over the keypad before it beeps while flashing green, allowing him entrance to the back door of the basement. Walking past the long corridor of support labs that had long since closed to get to the gym. The rooms illuminated by the low light of locked computers, secrets and redesigns stowed away behind bullet proof glass. 

Nearing the end of the dimly lit hall he spies harsh light flooding onto the linoleum floor, indicating that someone seemed to be collecting some major overtime. From his experiences at UA he figured each room would be filled to the brim with over eager support, eccentrically yelling at one another over specs and improvements, sharing their love of science at a volume much too high for Bakugou's taste. Shortly after his hero debut he discovered just how wrong he was about the support labs. He had needed a 2am, mid shift, costume adjustment so he came here, expecting the place to be brimming with brilliant minds only to find one person still working. 

So it should be no surprise that at 10:30 at night there was one room that was clearly occupied. Still a rare curiosity takes over the hot head as he peeks into the room while passing, wondering if he will catch a glimpse of you again. 

He found you odd, as you seemed to be nocturnal or better yet maybe you didn't sleep at all. No need for it as your hunger for knowledge seemed to outweigh any basic human need.

Bakugou had only seen you a handful of times, here and there in passing towards the gym at all hours of the day and night. Maybe it was just coincidence that he would find you hunched over something with this gleam in your eye as you destroyed and rebuilt the item over and over again.  

He shakes his head, he doesn't get it. Doesn't get why you dedicate so much time when no one else in your department seemed to give as much of a damn as you did. Or maybe he did get it, maybe it was similar to how he pushes himself so he can be number one, except yours was just for intellectual stimulation. 

After an hour and a half of throwing weights and punches around and becoming heavily drenched in sweat, Bakugou finally calls it a night. Gulping water from his water bottle before wiping at the sheen that collected on his forehead. He sighs out, before catching himself in the mirror. Smirking as he flexes, letting go a few pops. Admiring not only his improved physique but also his new hair style. Sides faded but top long, ash strands looking borderline messy, as if someone had just caught him and a lover kissing heavily in a dark hall during a house party, their fingers desperately pulling at his hair. 

He reaches for the ceiling in a grunting stretch as a yawn forces its way out. He leaves the gym, switching off the lights before making his way back to the parking garage. A furrow of his brow as he notices the light to your lab is still on, maybe you had forgotten to kill the light when you left or maybe you were still tinkering away.  Crimson eyes peer into the room, spying you as you begin to stretch. Your eyes latch onto his as he watches your expression go from concentrated to elated. You jump from your seat, causing Bakugou's brow to furrow more before you're flinging open the door and yanking at his wrist.

"Wow what are the odds?! Well I guess they would be around 4.64% considering you don't normally frequent this gym but I should also factor in your recent ban raising it up to.." 

"Oi, shitty woman, quit the nerd talk!" He yanks his wrist from your small, delicate hands. Totally unsure of what your name is and even if he did know it, he would sooner address you with an insult than your family name. 

"Ah I forget, not everyone loves numbers. But still I am quite lucky tonight." You beam up at him, hair threatening to fall loose from its haphazardly shaped bun, "You're just the man I needed to see, Bakugou." 

He isn't sure why but a faint blush creeps to his cheeks, was it your bright smile that threw him so off guard or was it the way your lips formed around his name?

He sucks his teeth, looking away from you with crossed arms. 

"Well I'm sweaty as fuck, so you really don't need me." He huffs but before he can turn on his heel you're clamping cool black metal to his forearms. You guide him to the door to the testing area of your lab, turning his arms this way and that to make sure your measurements are perfect as you ramble on. 

"No! No! That is the perfect condition for this experiment. I've been working on your winter costume since there are deficiencies with your current one. Since you, and I'm sure you already know, sweat less in the winter there needs to be some sort of counter balance to offset the possibility of little to no stored sweat. Preventive measures could be made sure and you collect sweat from previous activities but 'stale' sweat does not ignite as quickly or as violently as fresh sweat. One could argue that using heavier and denser materials could help aid in more sweat production but this risks overheating should a mission need you inside or a rapid change in environment all together outweight any benefit. So not only are these bracers less obnoxious than your gauntlets, no offense, but they collect 56 to even 62% more of expandable sweat compared to the normal 54% all while reducing the amount needed for ignition. Sure my colleagues could say that's a marginal improvement at best but…" Heat radiates off of him in waves, pulling your eye upwards. You're met with a red hot gaze that seems to rake over your skin. An odd chill runs down your spine as you realize your mistake. 

Nerd talk.  And rambling nerd talk at that. 

All the while Bakugou wonders why your hands are so damn cold and yet they feel good, soothing to his warmed skin. Refreshing even as it reminds him of a passing breeze in the summer or hiding in the shade from the sun.

A bit of heat rushes into your cheeks as you suddenly realize how close you are to THE Ground Zero. Someone who you knew so intimately through paper and yet knew nothing about all at the same time. You knew his measurements, the circumference of his head, his biceps, the number of inches around his thighs. Hell, you had them memorized since the big boss upstairs assigned you his costume and accessories well over a year ago. And yet you couldn't even fathom to name his favorite color or favorite food for that matter.

You swallow thickly, clearing your throat as you move on, dropping his deadly hands as you do.

"Ah, anyway, these bracers are designed to help with not only better sweat collection in both summer and winter but to aid in some stealth missions as they make no sound compared to your heavy gauntlets." You smile at him once more causing his stomach to flip before those small icy hands press harshly into his toned hot back, pushing him into the testing chamber behind diamond glass. 

"I just need you to test them. I need to make sure they can withstand your heat and power." With that you shut him away, quickly trotting to the mic on the other side. Pressing the button to speak as he turns his arms over looking at the smooth black material 

"Now, remember, it takes less sweat. So don't go all out!" At first you worry it falls on deaf ears before he gives a nod your way. Suddenly you are in awe of the power house that stands before you as his expression changes from utter agitation to complete determined focus, all with something as simple as a deep breath out. He focuses on producing enough sweat to ignite, calling on his quirk as if it were an extension of himself. Pooling it onto his skin, permeating the air with the slight smell of burnt sugar before he let's go a small pop. 

But the medium sized explosion he had expected was anything but what was produced.  Suddenly the brace on his arm explodes from the pressure as does the diamond glass in the room. Fear grips Bakugou as shards of glass go flying towards you before you flick your wrist harshly.  

The deadly shards bypass you, glistening shrapnel sinks deeply into the tile floor around you like a piece of jagged art.

And yet you seem unphased, delighted even as a manic smile paints your lips before it sours. Eyes noticing that the bracer barely stood up to the challenge. 

"Fuck…the density still cannot withstand the joules output or force that Bakugou is capable of…" A string of murmurs that remind him all too much of Deku as your fingers curl in the air, calling forth the failed experiment with unseen forces. The blonde long forgotten as you hunch over the workbench, going back to square one. 

Crimson eyes dissect your form and actions as you pull various books and tools towards you with the influence of your quirk, hovering around the work space. 

Suddenly you feel heat radiating behind you when normally you're enveloped in the cool air of the air conditioning, kept extra low in the labs to prevent overheating of parts. You look over your shoulder, suddenly remembering the Pro hero who's beginning to wonder why you're in support with a quirk like that. 

"I know, I know. The last bus and train left hours ago. I'll catch them in the morning." You guess at why he's lingering as you wave him off with your hand. He's caught off guard by your statement before he notices the clock, going to open his mouth to scold before snapping it shut. 

Why should he care if you work through the night? What was he gonna do? Offer you a ride when he didn't even know your name? 

He sucks his teeth biting out as he leaves. 

"Just call me when you're ready to test these again." 

Weeks pass and it's as you never left the lab. Glued to the same spot as he tests the product every other week only for you to grow more and more frustrated with each failure punctuated by shattered bracers. 

And every time he enters the lab room he learns something new about you. He can tell when or if you've left the lab for longer than a few minutes by how tidy the space is or lack thereof. A chaotic circle encompasses you filled with random items that you hope will ignite a spark of inspiration. Anything from books to thin sheets of metal and even to soft fabrics that haphazardly lay atop metal tools. Anything one could possibly imagine was probably there, sitting along-side several empty cups that once held iced coffee. He notices the bags beneath your eyes as they darken with each passing week and he's beginning to wonder if you've ever left as he leaves anywhere between 12 to 3am most nights. 

Tonight is no different as he makes his way to the gym at midnight while you're hunched over his bracers. A part of him wants to tell you to stop being an idiot, to rip you from your little stool and drag you to your bed or wherever the fuck you'll sleep as the other part points out 'why do you fucking care?' So he watches silently, eyes fixated on you until he runs out of glass to look through before he locks himself away in the gym. 

Bakugou puts in his black wireless earbuds before cranking his music up, tossing his phone onto a nearby workbench. He stretches this way and that, reaching for the sky as he looks at his form in the mirror, his hard earned V and bottom two abs wink at his reflection beneath his signature black tank top and his black hoodie. 

His fist connects easily with the heavy black bag suspended by a large chain. The sandbag swings back and forth with a creak with each heavy handed blow. Bakugou loses time with each kick and hit thrown at the bag, each passing song fueling his desire to melt his frustration until his hair is plastered to his forehead. He lets out a steadying breath as his heart roars in his chest,he rears his fist back for a final blow backed by a bit of his quirk. It connects with the well worn leather with such force a weak link in the chain snaps as the fabric obliterates, the 200lb bag flies into the mirror behind it. Shards of reflective glass glitter as they rain onto the matted floor. 

"Fuck." He huffs, stretching and turning to the opposite mirror. Sending a quick snap of his tongue out with the caption "Oops" as the background showcases the decimated gym to Kirishima. He picks up his bag, removing his ear buds to be met with the cool air of the hallway. 

Your light is still on causing him to grind his teeth as his phone reads 2:45am. He's angry enough he chooses to avoid looking into your enclosure as he walks past, fearful his sharp tongue will give him away. He misses you perk up, frantically waving for him to come in before you're at the door, flinging it open to yell out much too loudly in the empty halls. 

"Bakugou!" Your voice is hoarse and cracks from disuse before you clear your throat, lightly jogging to catch up to his large stride, "I've done it!" 

He ignores you, lips pursed in a tight line before your cold hand wraps tightly around his wrist. Pulling him back to the lab with eager steps. He rips away his wrist with a growl and follows you reluctantly, you seem unphased by his harsh actions. 

"I've finally perfected it. I'm sure this time. I was looking at it all wrong. Larger surface area does not always equate to better absorption. Not to mention the pressure for the explosions beneath the bracer is what was causing the failure in the first place. A marginal error that I should have caught earlier. This new design covers less than 15% of your skin but increases…." You ramble but it all falls on deaf ears. 

Bakugou sees that your hair is so loose in its ponytail it might as well be down. The bags beneath your eyes weigh heavy on your pretty features, your skin showing signs of dehydration as it seems to have lost some of its elasticity. Your lab coat is wrinkled and your nametag, that you're wearing for once, is pinned on upside down. He commits your name to memory although he finds it odd that it must be your first name instead of your family name, then again you do hail from overseas. As the two of you walk into your lab he realizes instantly that it has become your main living space. Shards of diamond glass still litter your floor, there is no rhyme or reason to the placement of objects.  Tools, and trash commingle in dangerous piles and stacks around the room. Something knits itself as it floats in the air, wavering a bit when you pause your rambling to yawn.

"Oi nerd!" Bakugou's voice is sharp, authoritative as he grips onto your wrist. Eyes still washing over the room before they land on you. Somehow you're too daft or too tired to pick up on his concern. 

"Yea yea nerd talk. I fucking get it." A half snap from your exhaustion, "Just…" 

You lose his grip before grabbing onto his arm, finding a mesh woven bracer somehow on that disastrous desk. It seems to be made of a soft, elastic fabric as you slip it over his thick forearm after shoving away his sweatshirt sleeve.

"Perfect, your sweat output was pretty close to max earlier. I could smell caramel from the gym. This is going to be so fucking great!" You giggle in delight as the other mesh bracer finishes itself, dropping before you frantically reach for it. He notices your faulty step, your under the breath curse and the long moment your eyes flutter. He almost bites his tongue clean off. 

Again your cool hands find his burning skin as you try to keep your tired brain focused on the task at hand and not how his forearms have grown nearly a half inch since your first encounter. It's difficult not to fall victim to his intoxicating smell as you force yourself to not sway on your feet and collapse into a lovely muscular man. His heat seems to have some sort of affect on you, causing an odd affinity between you both.

"Okay all done! Please give a medium sized blast!" You encourage, shoving him into the testing chamber as he glares down at you. He isn't sure why your chaotic state is bothering him but it does. He rolls his eyes as you slam the door shut. He brings clarity to his mind, focusing on his quirk and how the sweat feels against his skin. How it yearns to be something more, to explode into a whispering flame that may catch something ablaze. 

He gives in, just a little, giving it what it wants, igniting it with a simple thought. An explosion he would have considered large if he were still at UA but since all he's done is grow these past five years, earning him the number 3 rank, it comes to no surprise when the glass shatters yet again. 

Except this time you're too entranced with the smoke clearing, of seeing if your baby you've slaved over has made it through to comprehend the sharp threat. You notice the flying glass a moment too late, flicking your wrist to change the trajectory from what was supposed to be your entire body but your arms are grazed by the razor sharp shards. You grit your teeth, cursing to yourself calling forth a first aid kit. 

But nothing shows up in your peripheral except for a looming presence. One you give your back to in order to find the first aid kit with your gaze, when was the last time you ever had to look at something to summon it? 

Damn it, how could you be experiencing quirk failure from exhaustion right now? Sure it took a lot of brain power for your quirk but it takes weeks of no sleep for a failure plus you had been eating...your eyes glance around the room. You hadn't been eating, or so it says from the lack of any sort of plate or take out aside from your iced coffees with the added protein and carbohydrate shots your body needed to process your quirk with ease. 

Fuck, guess it really was quirk failure. You bite your lip, unable to find that damned kit hoping the hot head wouldn't catch on to your short coming. 

Vermillion eyes watch crimson spots bloom across the white fabric of your coat. He grinds his teeth, searching for the first aid kit only to find it knocked beneath a shelf. He rights himself, stalking your way with a grimace just to stop in his tracks. He watches you slip your oversize jacket off of strong shoulders, toned arms adorned with several thin slices that weep red, but what has really caught his attention was that body con dress. 

Sticking to you like a second skin, but looking somehow comfortable at the same time, he wonders for a moment if you've made it yourself. It's similar to the fabric used to make his shirts, breathable, soft, always smelling a bit sweet like you when they are fresh from the lab. His hand twitches as he can imagine how supple your curves would feel in the delicate yet sturdy material, palm already too familiar with the soft sensation. Red catches his eye once again pulling him from the trance that is your body. He sneers at the cuts as he grabs onto your cold shoulder, shoving you into your chair so he can work on you. You look up a bit shocked with a pinch of anger mixed in and a dash of hurt pride. He takes no notice as he wraps bandages tight around your arms, your eyes locked onto the bracers. The smile on your face cannot be helped as you stare proudly at your work, it was able to withstand so much power and remain not only in tact but unsinged. You grab onto his wrist turning it this way and that, a pen and pad float near by as you take notes. Bakugou cannot hide his astonishment as he watches the invisible hand borrow your neat yet rushed script as it is unable to keep up with your thoughts. You pull the bracers from his arms, fabric begins to tear itself thread by thread before spooling itself, wrapping around wood as if it were a snake. He pulls away, eyes hard as he talks himself out of whatever the stupid "heroic" side of him is saying. He takes a step back and with it taking his warmth. You shiver but you are too busy to notice, teeth chattering ever so slightly but you're too busy studying. He growls to himself. 

Suddenly you're enveloped in a dizzying sweet smell and warmth, it is then you realize that Bakugou had shoved his hoodie over your head. Slinking your arms into the holes to move the hood of the sweatshirt back, quickly realizing the material is not damp as you had once thought. It's warm from his quirks use, material dry as a bone, reminding you of pulling your favorite blanket fresh from the dryer just to wrap yourself in it as rain taps on the window of your apartment. 

Subconsciously you snuggle into it, opening your mouth to state how much work you have to do but instead you have to stifle a yawn. 

Had the cold of the lab always kept you awake, were you starting to actually feel the weight of your work only because you were warm? 

"I think it's time for bed, nerd." 

He places his hot palm on the back of your neck in a power move as he speaks. He enrages you and entices you all at once as your face snaps up to meet his gaze, your own eyes burning holes into him. He smirks down at you, deciding in this moment that he really likes you.  

"I'm taking you home. Get your shit." He squeezes your nape as a warning. He isn't taking no for an answer.

"I'll take the bus and train in the morning, three hours is child's play." Hitting his hand away, trying to return to your work. He scoffs in response. 

"You sure are oblivious for someone so smart. Tomorrow is Saturday." He crosses his exposed arms, unable to hide his smug smirk as realization washes over your stunning features, "That means the bus won't be in the business district til 10am." 

"I think I'll be okay." You say after a moment of silence, "I've waited longer. Or I could walk..." 

"Will you?" He retorts, "Your office says otherwise." 

You follow his gaze, your entire office in disarray, as if a bomb went off. 

You guess in a sense one had gone off. Biting your lip as you mull it over, eyes finding Bakugou's file shuffled across your desk, spying your own hand written cliff notes. 

Stubborn your script reads, you sigh admitting defeat as you wave your hand over the file. It tidies itself, papers folding neatly back into the Manila folder before you snap your fingers. 

Bakugou watches items soar around the room, books fighting and bickering over their order, pens and pencils long forgotten in corners of the room race back to their place on your desk. Papers flutter and fall into the trash or shredder in defeat as plastic cups sink into the plastic bin in the corner. The diamond glass follows suit as your own hands grab onto the bracers, giving them a gentle squeeze before you access an invisible drawer on your desk, hiding away your project before pushing it back. Wood flush against wood as if there were no drawer at all. 

A question burns on the tip of Bakugou's tongue, it dies in his throat for now as a new one is born. 

"That Kirishima's faceplate?" The question comes out in the form of a bite, for some reason the thought of his more likeable friend coming in here as often as Bakugou has set his blood boiling. 

"Ah yes, I just got this assignment from the big boss. Kirishima's new unbreakable breaks his faceplate everytime. Otto had it before me, which was odd. He is more of a reverse engineer. Taking an unknown material and figuring out how it works." Your eyes linger over the empty office across the way, "But he's been out and Kirishima can apparently no longer be on the back burner. Especially now that I've finished with the company's top hero." 

His heart melts just a bit as he watches a smidge of pride form in your dazzling eyes. He scoffs to change the topic.

"Come on, shitty woman." He guides you to the parking garage. 

Once there he acts out of character. At least what you would believe to be out of character as he holds open the door to his car for you, waiting for you to step in. 

"What?! I ain't fucking kidnapping you but I ain't letting you weasel out of this shit either." He growls, waiting impatiently by the door. You step in as he gently shuts the door behind you. He steps in himself, the engine purrs to life as you give him your address. 

"That far out? And you were gonna fucking walk?" He laughs, "Hell no, never again. You'll call me before you do that next time." 

"I don't have your number asshole." You grumble to yourself but he grabs your unlocked phone from your hands, plugging in his number and calling it. 

"There now you do." He locks it and puts it in his cup holder, demanding your attention. No longer can he keep that burning question to himself, "Why are you on support?" 

It puzzles you for a second before you realize he means it as a compliment to your quirk and not an insult to your intellect. 

"Oh that's easy. Being a hero wouldn't benefit me, it's too restrictive. I'm more of a…." You ponder on your words, vigilante was wrong, you wouldn't take justice into your own hands for the sake of others and villain was too strong, "Chaotic neutral. My moral compass is pretty grey and being in this lab benefits my need for knowledge." 

Bakugou glances your way, respectful of your honesty while your eyes become heavy watching the street lights blur, the hum of the engine pulling you deeper into relaxation.  There was something about a car ride that took you back to your childhood days in America.  The outskirts of the city would quickly wind into back roads lined with corn stalks that scrapped the sky. 

The street lights slowly became fewer and farther in between as the black coupe took you further from the heart of the city, soon more stars began to dot the sky.  You see just the tip of his zodiac constellation, it stirs a question within you. 

"So why do you want to be a hero?" You keep your eyes focused on the backdrop that lies beyond the tinted glass, missing Bakugou's knuckles turn stark white. 

He doesn't speak and that's answer enough for you.  

It took him an hour to get to your side of town, an hour. One you had said you would walk, one you mentioned you had walked before. He pulls up the sidewalk by your building, turning to you. 

"We're here…" His announcement turns into a sigh as he sees your slumped form. Head limp but thankfully not leaning on the glass as you're snuggled into his hoodie. You're murmuring how you need to update your measurements in your sleep causing Bakugou to roll his eyes. He pulls away to parallel park. He debates, should he wake you? 

No, who's to say you wouldn't attempt tor eturn to your work? He sighs, pocketing your phone and pulling the lanyard out of your purse that has, what he assumes,your house key on it. 

Katsuki's blood runs ice cold in his veins as realization sucker punches him square in the chest. He had NO fucking idea which apartment was yours. He turns your key over and over but why would that have the number on it? 

"Fuck." He would have to pray your mailbox was both clearly labeled and inside. He shoulders your purse before scooping you into his arms, sure to cradle you like the princess you are. 

He steps through the automatic doors, relief washes over him as a wall of mail boxes greet him. Better yet, they were neatly labeled with names AND apartment numbers.

But it is not long lived as his red eyes rake over the names, the family names, last names. He only knew your first and of course, of fucking course the Gods would laugh at him as panic rises in his throat. You had to have the most common first initial didn't you?  He had spotted it six times already but none of the last names seemed out of the ordinary, if anything they were all ordinary, run of the mill Japanese last names. Nothing foreign about them. 

"Fuck." He murmurs, plan B wouldn't work either, he can't just try out every fucking apartment with your first initial, how weird would that be, some guy shoving keys in random doors with a passed out woman in his arms. 

"Fuck." He cusses again. Was he going to have to take you to his apartment? Fuck, fuck fuck! He couldn't do that, the press slunk around his apartment like vultures, even at this hour.

"Oh you must be the guy that's been keeping her up so late at night." A voice sounds behind him, he turns towards the sound. A smaller young man smiles at him as if he and Bakugou share an inside joke. 

"Quite nice of you to bring her home, and get her mail." He laughs softly reaching for something in the desk, he approaches slowly, "But she must have forgotten to tell you she lost her key a couple of weeks ago. She always asks me to get the mail instead of paying the lost key fee. Don't blame her though." 

The desk clerk, Wantanabe, rambles on as Bakugou's sharp eyes watch closely. Silently thanking the Gods' for their blessing as he watches Watanabe slide the spare key into your mail slot. He commits your last name to memory, but more importantly 5C burns into his retinas. 

"...she hasn't been home in four weeks,  so she has a lot of mail." That snaps Bakugou back to the present, a small stack of mail is presented to him. He stares down at your form unable to keep the scowl off of his face. The dark circles beneath your eyes seem to become darker by the second. 

"Thanks." He growls through gritted teeth, snatching the mail as best he can without disturbing you. He looks for an elevator and when he sees he will have to climb five flights of stairs he wonders if this is the reason you don't come home often. 

Soon enough 5C is staring Bakugou in the face. He is hesitant, even if he does bring you home safely he wonders if you would misread his actions. As the saying goes, no good deed goes unpunished. Still his hands move quickly, sliding the key into the door and unlocking your mysteries. The apartment is sizable for the area, clean at least what he can see from the light of the hall flooding in. He flips on a switch with his elbow, he expected harsh light but instead ambient string lights that line the ceiling illuminate the space in a warm light. A three chair island with a marble water fall looks out into the living room, a large sectional couch swallows the space, a TV atop a nice entertainment table while books litter the coffee table and one part of the couch. The apartment feels as if it had been warmed by the sun through the drawn curtains but not overly hot, it feels cozy really.  As if Bakugou could imagine himself spread out on the grey sofa while you're curled against him, half dozing half reading your book. 

The thought jarrs him, he feels too close to you now, feverish almost as he rips your key from the door, shutting it softly before placing the lanyard onto the kitchen island. He spies a hall and passes a full bath, then a freshly vacant guest room to see a final door closed that he assumes is the master. He flips the switch and again light snakes around the ceiling washing the room in this comfort. He can understand the soft yellow lights considering you spend forty plus hours beneath harsh, bleaching white lights. He pulls back the comforter as best he can and lies you down gently. He removes your red bottom heels and praises the Kamisama when he sees you do not have on tights not that he would remove them anyway. You snuggle deeper into his hoodie, smiling as you do, dreaming of whatever little scientist's dream about. Katsuki imagines it's all math, measurements, molecular structures, nerd shit. You begin to murmur in your sleep.

"...gotta update his chart…" 

"Fucking nerd." Bakugou smiles to himself, you look peaceful even as your mind races with reminders. Another snuggle deeper into his hoodie, he goes to reach out to push hair from your face and stops himself. 

"What the fuck am I doing?" He growls aloud, he doesn't know you. Barely figured out your last name and that was by both chance and stupidity on the desk clerk's. He heads for your bedroom door, stopping with his hand gripping the handle. He peers over his shoulder before killing the switch, flooding your room with darkness. 

He shuts the door and with it the odd ache that's growing in his chest. 

[lovelytarou]

you make me go uwu

pairing: midoriya izuku x reader

genre: fluff, angst

tags: inspired by the song uwu by chevy

a/n: i'm just projecting my izuku feels and me literally going soft whenever i see his chubby face in the manga ang going uwu over it, also i still have a christmas hangover so sorry if you don't celebrate that or not fond of it! hearts, reblogs & feedbacks are greatly appreciated 💗

midoriya izuku is a lot of things.

he's one of the best students at UA and was quite known to be a reckless person who never thinks twice about helping someone. his knack for breaking his bones was a testament to that fact.

he's no doubt going to be one of the best pro heroes out there soon, with a big heart, a kind soul, and a courageous spirit.

midoriya izuku is a lot of things and possessing such cute, squishable cheeks is one of them. or more likely, being cute is one of them.

this thought occured to you when he offered to help you in one of the classes you're having trouble with. being at such close proximity made you aware of just how green his eyes are and when the sunlight hits them just right, they look like beautiful gems. or how he always seem to mutter under his breath when he's thinking too hard, or how his right leg would unconsciously shift to you like he wanted to get closer.

but one of the things you noticed the most, is his cheeks while he puffs them out of frustration.

he's gonna give me a heart attack one of these days with how cute he is

incident #1

you were currently at the cafeteria, sitting at a table with the dekusquad (kaminari came up with it, izuku claimed their little group don't have a name) which consists of ochaco, shouto, tenya, and izuku.

everything is going well, the group had already bought their food and are now digging in after a collective, “itadakimasu!”

you just had the most fortunate opportunity to sit in front if izuku, of all people, who is too busy eating.

he paused for a moment to answer iida's question who's beside him and it made his cheeks bloated with the food inside.

you choked on your drink because you just felt your heart swell with how cute he looks. it almost reminded you of a hamster.

shouto who is sitting on your left, gave you a concerned look and offered you his water.

“are you okay, l/n-san?” his question made izuku turn to you both, you felt your cheeks heat up when he looked at you while looking like that.

“i-i'm fine, thanks.” you took the water from him and gulped it down to clear your throat, and cool your nerves.

“you should chew your food properly when eating or else you'll choke!” iida scolded, waving his hands in a chopping motion you all grew to be familiar with.

“s-sorry...” you can't help but scratch at your nape in embarrassment.

incident #2

“midoriya, you're up.” aizawa called one afternoon on another day of training.

the rest of class 1-a stood back while izuku stepped in front. this was another one of aizawa's endurance training and one of the challenges was to beat a bunch of the robots from the entrance exam once again. how he can call this endurance training, you don't know.

“SMAAAAASH!” you heard izuku yell, tearing through what was once a robot and turning it into scraps of metal.

he did this to the other robots and he landed on his feet with a very serious look that instead of making him look intimidating, it actually made him look more adorable.

“he's like an angry bunny–” you cut yourself off with a hand on your mouth as you laughed quietly, another flush blossoming on your cheeks.

“i know right?! look how cute he is, but he's scary when he shows how strong he is like that.” mina added, looking at izuku who's walking towards the both of you now.

you immediately composed yourself when his eyes landed on you.

“y/n! are you okay? your face is all red! are you sick? do you need to go to recovery girl? shall i take you to her? what if you're overheating?! it's so hot out and your hero costume's probably too heavy–” he began to ramble and you can only stare at him with wide eyes as he continued with his wild thoughts.

quickly dismissing him with a hand on his mouth as everyone started to look at the two of you, izuku stared down at it and felt flustered at how soft your hand felt on his lips.

he's practially kissing your palm, do you even register what you're doing to him?!

“shh! i'm fine! it's just...you're so–” you were about to tell him that he's just so damn cute but you were called by aizawa.

“uh, i gotta go! see ya later!” you scrambled away from him, heart beating fast inside your chest.

that was close.

incident #3

“hey, y/n? can i ask you a favor?” you looked up from your phone when izuku approached you on the dorm's common room.

worry is written all over his face as he fumbled with his fingers, thinking about you being too busy even though you're literally on your phone all day.

there he goes again.

before he can overthink more, you smiled at him warmly and stood up from your seat.

“sure, what's up?”

izuku gulped, “well, uh, i was thinking of a gift to give to someone but i, um, don't know if they'll like it? i kinda, um, need your opinion on it, if that's okay?”

he stared at you with big doe eyes and you can't help but swoon when he looks at you like that. of course, how can you say no to that face? he looks like he'd cry any moment if you denied him.

“alright! what gift did you get for this particular someone?” you teased, nudging his side.

he led the two of you to his room, which isn't the first time since it became a usual thing for the two of you to study together there or simply hang out and talk about your problems, about what you did that day, rambling about your favorite heroes...basically this has became your second room. and your's his.

“um, i got them this,” he opened his bedside drawer and pulled out a small box. inside it, he revealed a beautiful necklace with a letter D as a pendant.

“it's for ‘deku’ which sounds kind of cheesy since it's my hero name, but i just thought that if i gave it to them then that means i'm with them wherever they are,” he reached for something inside his shirt, showing you an identical looking necklace with a familiar letter on it.

you don't want to assume things, but whoever is this particular someone that izuku is going to give the necklace to, they sure are one lucky person. not only is he kind, thoughtful, caring, and not to mention cute, but they'd be lucky to have someone like izuku fall for them.

ignoring the sudden pang of hurt in your chest, you forced a smile on your mouth and cooed at him.

“aww, that is so cute, izu! i'm sure they would love that very much. i know i would! if they don't, you can just always give it to me,” you joked, laughing to mask your hurt.

“r-really? you think so?” when you nodded in response, izuku heaved a big sigh of relief, “well, i trust you, y/n. i'm sure they would love this.”

after that, you excused yourself out of his room and proceeded to go to yours. sleep didn't come to you easily that night, thinking about the special someone that izuku was talking about and how much it would hurt once you saw them together.

over the years you spent being his friend, you never thought you would harbor such deep, intense feelings for the green-haired boy. you don't doubt he has great things ahead of him, and because of that, you started to like him for how strong he is and how he continues to be a better hero, and an overall a great person. that awe soon turn to adoration. and before you knew it, you're falling hard for izuku.

last incident

it's christmas, and the day before, aizawa had made all of you draw lots for your secret santas. your heart stopped when you saw izuku's name on the paper you pulled from the bowl.

you didn't think too much of it and decided to give him something all might-related and called it a day, still a little sour over izuku falling for someone else.

when the dreaded day came, everybody was so chaotic and high on their holiday spirits. even bakugou, which they convinced to wear a santa hat and haul the gifts in a bag. although, he still had a big scowl on his face and basically threw the gifts to their designated owners.

“shitty hair!” bakugou barked, pulling out a gift from the bag. kirishima hopped over to where bakugou was sitting and accepted the gift with a big smile on his face.

“whoa, bakugou! you're my secret santa?!” he asked in shock, eyes shining.

“it does says my name there, doesn't it, idiot? now hurry up and open your gift already,” kirishima did just that and bursted into tears when his gift was a crimson riot themed crocs. he thanked bakugou over and over while the latter hid his smile poorly with a cough.

“whatever. dunce face! you're next!” he practically threw kaminari's gift to him which the boy almost failed to catch, earning him a snigger from the explosive boy.

“man, why do you gotta be the santa for christmas? you're cruel!” kaminari pouted, turning around to go back to where he was squished in between sero and mineta.

“you got a problem with that, dunce face?!” he growled, his palms crackling with his quirk. kirishima tried to diffuse his anger.

when everything is calm, bakugou proceeded to dig into the bag for gifts.

“here, you shitty nerd.” he tossed your gift to izuku, you almost yelped a ‘be careful!’ but izuku had great reflexes and caught your gift swiftly. his eyes widened when he read who his secret santa was. your eyes met each other but was abruptly cut off when bakugou called your name.

“y/n! here's yours,” he was oddly calm when handing you your gift, albeit a little bored.

that received a lot of complaints from your other classmates and you can only shake your head while chuckling at their antics.

deciding to get some time for yourself, you went to the balcony for some air and sat down on one of the steps at the entrance.

placing the gift on your lap, you read the tag attached to it. it was wrapped in a simple green wrapper with red ribbon that finished the look.

to: y/n

happy holidays!

from: D

the name made you curious and even if you hated yourself for it, lit a sparkle of hope inside yourself. what if it was him who gave you the gift?

you had no time to dwell much on the thought and opened the gift instead. your breath hitched in your throat as you recognized the familiar box. lifting the lid with shaky hands, you felt your eyes sting as you looked down at your gift.

it was the necklace that izuku showed you before. you were such an idiot for thinking it was for someone special and did not think it was for the secret santa.

you carefully lifted it in your fingers and the light from the inside catched the D attached to it. it was beautiful. izuku's words echoed inside your head.

“i just thought that if i gave it to them then that means i'm with them wherever they are,”

“did you...not like it?” the boy in question appeared beside you and upon noticing your tears on your face, he immediately thought it gave a negative effect.

gasping, you quickly wiped away your tears and shook your head wildly at him.

“izu, no! i-i love it! actually, it's kinda funny...”

“funny?” he tilted his head in confusion, concern still etched onto his face.

“i was sad that you care a lot about someone else to give them this wonderful gift. i didn't realize that you would give something like this...to me,” you laughed through your tears, sniffling a bit.

“why would you think that?” his voice is so soft and genuinely confused that you can't help but feel your heart beat even more, and fall for him harder than you should.

“because,” you think of a way to word your feelings better but instead what came out was, “you're you and i'm...me,”

it was stupid, but with the overflowing emotions you're feeling right now, it's hard to voice your emotions.

izuku huffed, his cheeks puffing up once again because of the action.

“what do you mean by that? i mean, you're the most amazing person i've ever met! and you're always there for me when i'm sad, and happy and-and...whenever i'm with you, i always feel this...this...warmth! it's like, when you come home after a long day and you just felt safe and comforted. or-or when my mom cooks my favorite food it just makes me feel fuzzy inside! it's like when i watch my favorite video of all might over and over again and i never get tired of it,” he sighed after his long speech, eyebrows furrowing into a frown as he stared at you with determination.

“what i'm getting at is...i care a lot about you, y/n.” he let out in one breath. he stared up at you with big eyes, those damn eyes that never failed to make your heart jump and stomach do flips.

chuckling at yourself, you raised both of your hands and squeezed his cheeks with all your might making him yelp in pain.

“ow! y/n...” he whined.

“sorry, sorry! i've always wanted to do that!” you snorted.

“i care a lot about you, too, izu–” he suddenly kissed the corner of your mouth, making you shut up in shock. he had a smirk on his lips, amused by your reaction.

“i've always wanted to do that,” he threw your words back at you. feeling your whole face heat up, you turned your back towards him and held out your hand holding the necklace.

“whatever! just help me put this on, will you?” you felt his hands take the necklace from your grasp. you shivered when you felt the cold metal touch your skin but it was quickly replaced by his warm hands.

“there.” he mumbled, voice far too close to your ear. before you can thank him, you felt his lips brush your nape where the lock was and squealed from the contact.

the idiot only laughed at this and ushered you to stand up, helping you to your feet.

“let's go back inside, i heard they prepared a lot of food today.”

without thinking, izuku grabbed your hand and led you inside the dorm. you could only let him drag you as you stared at your joined hands, playing with the necklace hanging on your neck before staring back up at izuku who's smiling at you.

he's the best gift that you could ever ask for.

[spicycreativity]

Howl - Chapter 1

Rating: Teen

Fic Content Warnings: Blood, injury, suggestive content, alcohol use

Characters: All

Pairing: Analogical, background Moceit because apparently I can't help myself

Add'l Notes: dw if you don't know what a loup-garou is or how the lore works; all is explained in the story / Have I ever been to Louisiana? No 💕Did I write an entire story set in rural-ish Cajun Louisiana anyway because I hate myself? Yes 💕 / If you're from Louisiana and noticed any screw-ups, pls correct me so I can fix it

It also comes with a playlist! For ambience, not necessarily for the lyrics

Summary:

Two things happen to Virgil Landry on Halloween:

1) Logan Doucet, his longtime friend and slightly-less-longtime crush, asks him out

2) He becomes cursed to spend his nights as a half-man, half-wolf monster: a loup-garou

Despite his new affliction, Virgil strives for normalcy all the way up until he can't anymore and everything falls apart.

The floorboards creaked in their familiar pattern as Virgil paced over them, his feet sliding around awkwardly in his over-the-knee boots. He was supposed to meet Logan alone in an hour, an hour! His heart thumped painfully under his ribs. What did Logan want?

Virgil yanked his phone out of his pocket to re-read the message for the 85th time, ignoring a few new messages in his assorted group chats:

Logan: If it's not inconvenient, could you meet me early at the Plaza tonight? Maybe 6:30?

Virgil: yeah sure 

Virgil: everything OK?

Logan: Yes :-)

What did it mean? Was everything okay? Or was Logan just lying to make him feel better? Because if so, it wasn't working. Virgil ran his hands through his hair, careful not to smudge his makeup. It had taken him an hour and a half to perfect his vampire makeup in the mirror and he didn't want to risk messing it up.

With a sigh that turned into a groan, Virgil threw himself down on his couch. It made the walls rattle, nearly displacing a few trinkets on his crappy, rickety shelves. He heard a tell-tale scrape above his head and knew that his favorite painting had gone crooked again. God, this place was a wreck-- Just like Virgil. He made a mental note to ask Patton for help patching up the leaky roof. It was as good a time as any, as they were well out of rainy season, but it did seem a little rude. What was he even supposed to say? Hey, Patton, I know carpentry is literally what you do for a living, but could you help me for free since I'm broke and sad? Thanks, bud. Yeah, right. He sighed again and tugged at his medallion, a rusted old thing with a glass gem in the center. He had picked it up from a thrift store months earlier in anticipation of Halloween, but maybe he should have made some effort to restore it. It smelled strongly of rust and decay and felt terrible between his fingers, all oily and sticky.

So far, the only saving grace of the day was that it wasn't raining now. Virgil had spent his workday in silent anxiety, eyeing the storm clouds through the shop window and rubbing a small piece of sunstone between his thumb and forefinger. It seemed to have worked, as the clouds had dispersed a little and allowed the watery light of the autumn sun to peek through.

Virgil's phone lit up with a few more messages in his group chats: Roman having hysterics over some detail of his costume, Janus and Remus discussing how to avoid the small army of toddlers that always ran rampant at the Halloween parade. Virgil ignored them all. He was in no mood to be friendly, would probably snap at them. Logan hadn't said anything since his message to Virgil, which he had presumably sent on his lunch break. The question haunted Virgil, that great unknown lurking behind him and instilling a fear that no ghost ever could: What did Logan want?

Virgil set his phone down and leaned forward, heaving a sigh that turned into a yawn. Great. Whatever. That meant he was on the verge of hyperventilating, his breathing already irregular. Damn it, Logan knew better than to leave him hanging like this! They'd known each other for so long and he'd always been more perceptive to Virgil's needs than the others.

Especially lately… They'd been spending more time alone, and Virgil couldn't deny the sweet, warm giddiness that enveloped him every time they were alone together. First meetings were always his favorite, seeing Logan's face light up with a smile. He hadn't dared to think that Logan might feel the same way, but it was getting harder and harder to keep his fantasies on a leash. Worst-case scenarios and best-case scenarios dueled in his head: Logan kissing him, Logan telling him they couldn't be friends anymore, Logan confessing, Logan announcing that he had some incurable disease.

Virgil grabbed his phone and jumped to his feet. He couldn't do this anymore, couldn't sit here and torture himself. He would just leave now. He would rather arrive freakishly early than face another minute of this self-inflicted torment 

He double and triple checked he had his wallet and his plastic fangs, which he

was planning on putting on later. The medallion bounced against his exposed chest as he walked and he wondered briefly if it might be more trouble than it was worth. He could always swap it out for one of his pendants, maybe amethyst to calm his nerves. But it looked so good against his skin, falling perfectly in the deep V of his flowy white poet shirt. Unlike his other necklaces, it screamed vampire. And Janus would tease him if he caught Virgil wearing a subpar costume, and then Roman would join in, and Remus, and it would turn into a whole thing . He could wear the stupid medallion for one night.

 -

Virgil regretted this decision as soon as he got his moped going. Even at its 30 mph crawl, the heavy necklace bounced against his chest in a maddening rhythm. At least it was distracting. Every time he started to worry about Logan, the erratic tap-tap-tap of cold metal on his chest brought him back to Earth.

It was a long ride into town down a windy country road. He hugged the shoulder as best as he could despite the lack of traffic; Virgil's neighbors were few, but they all liked to take corners at frighteningly high speeds. The one person who did drive by honked at him and flashed their lights. Virgil's heart dropped and he nearly flipped them off before he realized that they liked his costume. It occurred to him then that he must look pretty absurd: A vampire riding a purple moped, cape fluttering on the wind.

Upon reaching the Plaza, Virgil did a few laps around downtown, smiling at the spiderwebs decorating Vaillant City Hall. Another lap revealed that empty parking spots were already becoming scarce, so Virgil pulled into one and checked his phone. Nothing from Logan. Just more hysterics from Roman, and Patton's best attempts at comfort. Virgil rolled his eyes. Maybe Roman did need some tough love. He scanned through the messages to orient himself, to make sure he didn't look dumb, and then typed out his reply.

Virgil: look, Prince Charming. 2 rolls of body glitter is more than enough. Stop freaking out

Roman: That's DOCTOR Prince Charming to you

Virgil: :*

He put his phone away, tucked his keys in his pocket, and forced himself to walk slowly toward the Plaza. He was still excruciatingly early, but maybe he could pop into a bar or grab a coffee or even swing by his work-- Oh.

There, standing by the reflecting pool with his hands in his pockets, was Logan. Virgil smiled despite his nerves and sped up. Leave it to Logan to somehow be earlier than early.

"Hey, Data," Virgil said once he was in earshot.

Logan's face lit up, and even the yellow contacts he was wearing couldn't mask the fondness in his face. "Evening, Virge," he said. His smile dropped too quickly and he kept his hands shoved in his pockets. Virgil surveyed all this with dread. Was he reading too much into it? Most definitely. Could he stop? No way.

"Everything okay?" Virgil asked, tugging at his medallion and turning his nervous gaze upon the placid waters of the reflecting pool. Great. Now he had two awesome reasons to be nervous. It was an old Vaillant legend that anyone who disturbed the waters of the pool would be cursed, and Virgil did not mess with curses. He usually took pains to avoid the Plaza, even if it meant he had to take the long way to work.

"Yes, Virgil," Logan said in a voice that was far too breathy. He cleared his throat. "As you know, we have been friends for a long time. I…" He paused, blinked. "I forgot what I was going to say."

"Jeeze, Lo," Virgil tried to tease. "You're making me nervous."

"But I--" Logan ran a hand through his hair. "Virgil. I had prepared something far more eloquent than what I am about to say, but I can't seem to remember it at the moment. Forgive me if this comes across as confusing."

"All good," Virgil said, making only a minimal effort to hide his confusion. The medallion was cold and oily under his fingertips, but he couldn't stop messing with it, tugging at it, rattling the chain. He needed some outlet for all this nervous energy.

"We've been spending more time alone together and I

thought-- I wanted--" Logan touched his face and Virgil realized a second later he had tried to push up his glasses, which he wasn't wearing. Oh, how cute. "Virgil, I would like to go steady with you."

A rush of vertigo smacked into Virgil with such force that he had to take a step back just to keep his balance. "Go steady?" he heard himself say. "Like-- Like, boyfriends?"

"If you are amenable to that," Logan said, furiously running his fingers over the piping on his uniform. "If not, I-- We can pretend this never--"

"Yes," Virgil interrupted. "Yes, yes, yes. Logan, I do want that."

"Oh," said Logan, his face breaking into a smile. "Good."

Virgil clenched his fist around the medallion wondering if it was too soon to ask for a kiss. He took a breath and felt something give with a quiet snap. The broken chain snaked along his neck, dragged down by the weight of the pendant. Virgil watched in silent agony as the necklace landed in the water of the reflecting pool with a quiet splash. "Shit."

"Allow me," said Logan, already in motion.

"No!" Virgil caught his hand and held it. "The curse." He realized what he had done and let go of Logan's hand.

"I don't believe in such things, Virgil, but if it's important to you, then I'll leave it."

"Thank you." Virgil stared down at the water and sighed through his nose. He'd already disturbed the water. Would it be better to leave the necklace or take it out? Littering seemed more disrespectful, he supposed. So he bent and grabbed the necklace before he could change his mind. "I'll, uh, de-curse-ify myself later."

Logan nodded, looking preoccupied. "Let me know if I can help. I might be able to repair the chain."

"Actually," said Virgil, stuffing the wet necklace into his pocket, "I was wondering if maybe, um…"

"Yes?"

"Can I kiss you?"

"Please do."

Virgil closed his eyes so he wouldn't get weirded out by Logan's contacts. He had been expecting a short kiss, sweet and chaste, but Logan's hand tightened in the loose fabric of Virgil's poet shirt and his teeth grazed Virgil's bottom lip. Fuck propriety, then; the Plaza was still fairly empty. Virgil raised a hand to grab a fistful of Logan's hair and ran his tongue along the edge of Logan's lip.

They were interrupted by a wolf whistle and golf claps. "I'll be damned." Crap. Why did it have to be Janus? He was never going to let Virgil live this down.

Virgil pulled away so fast it made pain shoot through his neck. He exhaled sharply and covered the area with his hand for all the good it would do, turning to face Janus with a blush blooming on his cheeks. "What are you supposed to be?" he asked, looking Janus up and down. Janus had always been unnecessarily private about things that really didn't matter. He had evaded all of Virgil's attempts to guess his costume, and now presented wearing an old-fashioned suit including top hat, gloves, and cane.

"Don't change the subject," said Janus, dismissing Virgil with a wave.

In true vampire fashion, Virgil snarled and bared his teeth, then remembered something. "Oh, shit, my fangs!" He dug in his pocket for them, leaving Janus to do… whatever he was going to do.

"Logan, I presume?" Janus asked. Virgil stopped in the process of sticking on one tooth, heart hammering again. Janus and Logan had never met, and they could both be… a bit much in their own ways.

Logan nodded. "Logan Doucet." He held out his hand for a shake.

Janus took it. "Thank God you didn't bother to paint your face, else Virgil would have more than smudged lipstick to contend with. You've got some on your mouth, by the way."

"Thank you," Logan said stiffly. He withdrew his hand and used it to wipe away the lipstick stain on his face. "Nice to meet you, Professor Moriarty."

Virgil's eyes darted back to Janus, who smiled. "When I'm not acting as the Napoleon of Crime, you can call me Janus. Janus Bellefontaine."

"Where's Remus?" Virgil interjected, looking around. "Didn't he ride with you?"

"He got waylaid by some angry mothers because his costume made their kids cry," Janus said, nonchalantly running a

fingertip over the brim of his hat. "He'll be along." To Logan, he said, "Virgil tells me you're an accountant."

"Yes," said Logan. 

"And you haven't killed yourself yet, so I assume you must like it."

Virgil busied himself sticking his fangs onto his canines so he wouldn't worry about the conversation at hand. A sideways glance at Logan revealed that he seemed to find the comment amusing, thank God . "I've always been good with numbers. People, less so."

"Never would have guessed," Janus said, and Virgil didn't have to look at him to know he was smiling that crooked, tight-lipped smile that might have been genuine or might have been mocking. Asshole. "Well, if you have any rich clients, send them my way, won't you? I sell nice suits to dumb men with low self-esteem and too much money and I'm always on the lookout for another rube to swindle."

"If the suits are any good, I'd be happy to," Logan said.

Satisfied that his fangs were in properly, Virgil's attention shifted suddenly to the cold, wet medallion in his pocket. Right. He was cursed. Despite his interest in the occult and the supernatural, Virgil didn't have much experience with curses. His friends weren't really the type to play around with magic (well, maybe Janus, maybe- maybe Roman) and he wasn't the kind of guy who made enemies. No one had ever cursed him before. How soon would this one take effect? Should he go home and come back? Should he hop into the bayou, makeup be damned? Did bayous even count as running water?

He was so caught up in his panic spiral that the sudden sensation of hands on his shoulders made him jump. "Fuck!"

To his surprise it was Roman, not Remus, who laughed from somewhere behind him. "What, are Logan and Janus boring you?"

Virgil looked up and flinched again. While Roman looked relatively normal in his glittery Doctor Frank-n-Furter costume, Remus, who was lurking just behind his brother, was a horrorshow of fur and face paint and fake blood. "Um…" He shook himself and noticed Patton standing a ways off, peering at Remus. Distracted, he went to introduce Patton to Remus and Janus only to learn that he and Roman had run into Remus on their way over and rescued him from a brigade of shouty young mothers.

"He's Macavity," Patton said in a tone like he was pronouncing the death of the family goldfish.

"The other Napoleon of Crime," Janus agreed. "And you are?"

"Patton Haydel!"

A pause. "I gathered that. " Janus gestured at Patton's costume, which he had also kept a secret. Virgil had been staring at it as well, trying to figure it out. Patton was wearing what appeared to be a headless bear costume, round glasses, and what might have been a cowboy hat, though Virgil wasn't 100% sure. "What are you?"

"You have to guess!" Patton said, extending his arms and backing up so everyone could get a good look at him.

Virgil stared at him, running his tongue over the edges of his plastic fangs. "I got nothin'."

Logan took a sideways step and tapped Virgil's hand. Virgil nodded, and Logan interlaced their fingers as casually as he might clock in for work. "He's Teddy Bear Roosevelt."

They all groaned. "Good work, Pat," Virgil said begrudgingly.

"You have a big wet spot on your crotch," Remus pronounced, pointing at Virgil.

Janus raised his eyebrows, turning to Virgil with undisguised schadenfreude, but Logan stepped in before anyone could say anything. "It's water. He dropped his necklace in the reflecting pool."

"Well," said Patton, "that's not good."

"You dropped something in the reflecting pool and didn't immediately run for the nearest source of running water?" Janus asked. He looked from Virgil to Logan, then to their intertwined fingers and grinned. "Ah. More pressing matters at hand?"

"Maybe it's not too late," Roman said, drumming his acrylic nails against his thigh. "We can still dump him in the bayou."

"There's alligators in there!" Virgil said. "Fuck that. You know my house is plastered with wards. I'm sure I can make it through one evening."

"Your funeral," said Remus, leering. "Let me know if your dick falls

off.

 -

Despite his friends' concern, Virgil had a wonderful evening. Logan stuck close the whole night through, and they even snuck a few kisses here and there like infatuated teenagers. Each one sent a lightning thrill down Virgil's spine and made him want a dozen more. His friends noticed in turns and either teased or cooed, but each reaction was encouraging.

Logan kissed him goodbye at the end of the night and he practically floated back to his moped. He was so caught up in his daydreams that he only remembered the curse when he caught sight of the nazar hanging on his kitchen wall. Cursing under his breath, Virgil went to his bookshelf and began to compile a few methods of curse-breaking. Did a shower count as running water? God help him, he was not getting in the bayou. Maybe he could combine methods.

A few moments later, Virgil had everything set up in the bathroom. He lit the last candle, tightened the herb sachet around his neck, and stepped into the shower. Okay, time to focus. He was washing himself free of the curse and wouldn't it be nice if Logan were here? Logan didn't believe in magic and his clear-headed confidence would undoubtedly make Virgil feel better, too-- Focus! Wash away the curse. Logan would probably help him if he asked, helping Virgil set up the crystals and making sure his candles stayed lit-- Virgil! The curse! Wash away the curse.

The bathroom smelled of candles, incense, and herbs. Almost like Virgil's workplace, except that Virgil was using lavender and his boss preferred nag champa.

He stepped out of the shower and inhaled deeply, letting the mixture of scents relax him and draw him toward sleep.

[echo-three-one]

Whatever It Takes : RELOADED

Ghost fights his hurt feelings and discovers something in the process. Could this be the key to locating Samantha?

Table of Contents

Previous Chapter : Delayed Flight

Chapter 18 to another story made by Ray (echo-three-one) Comments and Reviews appreciated! I hope you enjoy! Love you all ❤️

Lurking in the Shadows

Simon "Ghost" Riley

Task Force 141 - Disbanded

400 meters east of Safe House 110197, Brazil

Ghost checked his phone by the hotel nightstand. It's 3:34 am and not a single notification from the team. They probably believed he was out to get intel and didn't bother to look for him. He was fine with that.

"What time is it?" a female groan murmured beside him as she circled her soft arms around his bare chest.

"3:34" he whispered, making the girl giggle as he ran his hand on her hair.

"We aren't supposed to be cuddling like this, remember?" She said, sighing as she got up slowly. Ghost immediately followed, groaning as well.

"I'm sorry Alexandra. It's just…"

"Don't worry. I know this sounds too odd for you at the moment. To be honest I got carried away too…" the interpol agent frowned and wrapped herself up with a towel, making her way to the showers. Ghost trailed his eyes at her and sighed.

"What have you gotten yourself into, Simon?" he murmured and turned to his phone, rereading their conversation.

It was as clear as day that they both agreed to this whole "No strings attached" thing together and he only said yes because he was too broken about France. He needed someone who could treat him well but this was the closest thing he could find. 

Sure, he had no regrets about the woman, she was amazing, but while his body was happy, the heart yearned for something more. It was getting worse every day especially when he woke up to see the two lovebirds chasing against each other around the house.

Just as he placed his phone beside hers, Alexandra's notification tone beeped and her screen lit up, as it showed a message from an unknown number.

Simon wanted to take a peek but the message itself is encrypted, his mind wandered more as the security detail of such a message meant that it was of high importance. It might've been from the EMP machinery they're still investigating on which could also be a lead to Nero. He's debating whether he's going to ask her for information just as he intended to, but he's scared that she'll think he's just using her.

"Hey, you got a message." Simon called her from the bed. 

"Who's it from?" she asked, her voice was faint as the shower sounds concealed it. Ghost wore his pants and grabbed her phone, leaning by the bathroom door as he announced the details.

"It's encrypted." he murmured. The water stopped pouring and the shower curtains peeked open.

She didn't even bother how she looked as she quickly wiped off her fingers and grabbed her phone.

"Shit." she cursed scrolling to the contents of text, which Ghost observed as very lengthy.

"Wh-" he paused and hesitated. He didn't tell her of their little rogue act so any questions might come off as suspicious.

"Shepherd wants to exchange Samantha for the I.P. Address." she mumbled, looking at Ghost.

"What's his deal?"

"To fund his EMP Nuke that he'll get from Nero." she replied as she continued scrolling.

"With New York already in chaos, the President would most likely be desperate enough to fund this, now that the economy is in shambles."

"What's stopping them from fighting against the New York attacks?" 

"We have no idea where the small EMP interferences are, and our strongest lead is that the missing persons are being manually controlled to travel and situate themselves near the stock exchange where they blindly emit blasts through their phones. Like the one we found back in Europe." 

"They walk and interact like normal civilians, so with millions of people around the city. It'll look like we're looking for a needle on a haystack." She added, wrapping herself with a towel and quickly dressed up.

"Where are you going now?" He asked as she walked past him.

"I'll try to talk some sense into someone who can talk some sense to the president. The EMP nuke is not a joke." She spat, the worry in her eyes made Ghost want to console her. But now was not the time for that.

"Can I ask a question?" Ghost said.

"Be quick." She said, putting on her jacket and collecting her stuff.

"Do you have any idea where Shepherd is?" 

~

The sun wasn't up when Ghost decided to return to the Safe house. He expected that it'll still be closed but it looked like Price and Jack were already sipping coffee by the balcony.

"Where have you been?" Price asked, his tone wasn't that strict so Ghost decided to lie.

"I just took a walk around the town." he replied, hoping that there will be no more follow up questions.

"For Twelve hours. Okay." Price noted as Ghost got inside the house. Ever since he started this little team of rogue soldiers, Price became protective. And Ghost knew that it was bound to happen. Any injuries under his care will not be funded by any higher department and they need to be careful.

He immediately accessed their little command center and began searching. He got two locations to research on, and he needed to act fast.

He did the best he could, hacking into public and unsecured CCTV footage, squinting his eyes over the poor quality videos just to look for Samantha. She was last spotted in Moscow about 30 minutes ago. Ghost had to admit his cryllic knowledge is a little low and his fingers were trembling in panic. He needed help.

He slowly creaked the door open and saw Alex, Soap and Roach peacefully sleeping, Roach was upside down and clung onto Alex's metal leg, a sight worth taking a photo on but he didn't. It almost made him guilty to wake John up, but knowing the guy, he'll understand the urgency.

"Psst." he nudged his shoulders. It felt very awkward now that he's still frustrated about the guy winning France's heart but he needed to act professional, besides no one but Alex knows about his emotions toward the duo.

Soap groaned and slowly opened his eyes, flinching at the skull face that woke him up.

"Bollocks!" he exclaimed, making Alex and Gary shuffle and reposition while Ghost quickly pulled his mask and shushed him.

"Sorry Soap. But I need your help." he whispered as he slowly got up and collected himself following him outside.

"What about?" his heavy accent echoed against the quiet halls while he rubbed sleep off his eyes.

"Russian Alphabet." 

"Okay." he murmured lazily. "What for?" 

"A lead on Samantha." he said. The expression on Soap's face changed from sleepy-scotsman to what-are-we-waiting-for as he jumped to the control center and began typing.

The two teamed up together translating codes of texts and typing commands on different kinds of webcams all across Russia, all they had was a barely readable plate number of a black van which allegedly housed Samantha and three of Shepherd's men which were designated to protect her.

Hours passed and they barely got through any possible lead. The rest of the team woke up one by one and slowly helped the duo. Once Alex woke up, they got another additional pair of hands to help and it made them more efficient. If only Ghost knew that Alex knew Russian, it would've been less awkward. But then again, he needed this kind of interaction with Soap, so he could finally be comfortable around them.

Then there it was. The first solid lead with Samantha's face on it. A hotel not far from the airport. Alex couldn't help but creep his head close to the monitor, his eyes had that longing look on the blurry screen. He was sure it's her.

They later reported their findings to Price and Jack, and it was indeed a lead worth pursuing. But when asked how they got such info overnight, they all turned to Ghost to which he said that it's still within the phone's encrypted messages. Price and Jack nodded and Ghost sighed in relief. He didn't want anyone to know about his little fling.

"Then let's have breakfast and have a little briefing after. I'll make calls to Nikolai to arrange us a visit to his homeland." Price announced as everyone, especially Alex's, face lit up and felt energized. 

HAPPY TRAVELER INN PARKING AREA

MOSCOW, RUSSIA

8:52 PM

Ghost set up his little command set up at the back of the van. The plan was easy, Alex, Soap and Roach sneaked inside her room, silently knocking down the three guards, taking their clothes and escorting her back to the van to safety. While Price would take down their driver and replace the getaway vehicle with this one. 

The group of five didn't bring any weapons so as to not raise suspicion, after all they're just sneaking Samantha from Shepherd's hands. No need for violence.

"Can you hear me, lads?" Ghost muttered softly against the microphone.

"Loud and clear, mate." Gary responded.

"Yes pal." Alex commented.

"Aye lad. I can hear ye." Soap added.

Price gave a thumbs up from the driver's seat. Ghost pressed some buttons and after a few moments, he now had access to the whole building's cameras and some controls. 

"Chuckles, I'm in." Ghost commented to which Gary snickered. It looked like he was the only one who understood the reference. 

"Okay lads. The janitors are on their break. They're inside that incoming elevator." Ghost informed as he looked at the live feed. The three carefully grabbed the janitors without intention of hurting them. Carrying some rope and cloth, they quickly tied the janitors and hid them on a blind spot away from the camera's eyes. Ghost could hear Alex muttering something to the three in Russian, he couldn't translate it fully but it had the word sorry, don't worry and okay in it. After that, they immediately wore their janitor uniforms and the janitors were already on their way to the 10th floor.

"I don't have cameras inside the rooms. But your hallway is clear."

"Okay. Your ride home is ready." Price muttered, Ghost never noticed the old man exit the van but apparently he already took care of the driver.

"Great. It's all on you three now. Let's save Samantha." Ghost said as the cameras show three janitors knocking on Samantha's room.

Next Chapter : Vlad the Janitor

Notification Squad my Beloved

@samatedeansbroccoli @smokeywhalee @ricinbach @enderio @beemybee @whimsywispsblog

[animebaby00]

I Don't Deserve It: Chapter 1

Summary: When Shoto gets a nasty stomach bug, Izuku stops at nothing to help and take care of him.

But Shoto can't help but wonder...

Why?

Shoto was used to his body's fluctuating temperatures, shifting from hot to cold, then back to hot. Sometimes an odd combo of both.

But when he woke up, he was warm, unbearably so and he knew it wasn't from his quirk...which he found strange.

It was very noticeable that this warmth was different. It was radiating inside and out, pulsing, thickly covering his skin. It was a heavy heat, pressing him down, increasing his rare drowsy state as he lay under the comforter of his futon.

He had to get up though. He had school. And he wasn't about to let the touchings of a slight fever prevent him from doing so.

A slight fever. Yeah, that's all it was. Once he was up and moving he would be just fine. He'd had fevers before. He's powered through them in the past. He had too, because if he dared show any sign of weakness…

Shoto shifted around under his covers, stopping to clench his eyes shut as a spiking pain shot through the front of his head. It stung his temples and traveled over the entire surface of his scalp down to the base of his neck.

A headache ? What the hell ? He just woke up. Why was he getting a headache now?

The pressure drummed through his skull and rattled his brain. It felt like his head was trapped in a hydraulic press. His room was still dark and he was lying down, yet for some reason, he felt very dizzy

God it hurt. Maybe he should stay-

No. Stop that.

Your fine. You're strong.

That's what the little voice in the back of his head told him. And he listened to it. With a soft grunt, he sat up despite his body's protests and stood, gathered his things and left his room, convinced that a cold shower would knock him back to his senses.

~~~~~~~

Turns out, that was a mistake.

When he arrived at the bathrooms, he was relieved to see that there wasn't anyone in there. The idea of chattering voices as everyone got ready didn't sound appealing at all, especially with a pounding headache. It made sense though, as he was usually one of the first ones up in the dorms as well as one of the few males who showered in the morning.

He had kept the water on cold in the hopes to relieve the uncomfortable, feverish feeling on his skin. It felt nice in the beginning, but after a few minutes, his body had strangely broken out into a violent chill, causing the pain in his head to increase.

He then opted to turn the heat of the water up in the hopes to cease his body's shudders. But it wasn't working. Shoto found himself leaning against the wall of the shower several times as the pulsing of blood in his ears grew more extreme.

Every bone in his body ached, every muscle felt tight, especially his stomach which now carried an uncomfortable, heavy feeling that he couldn't place.

After coming to the conclusion that a shower of any temperature wasn't going to help, Shoto shut off the water and grabbed a towel, jaw clenched tight from his chattering teeth. And he found himself unable to stop.

He took careful steps in getting out of the shower, drying himself off as quickly as his tired limbs would let him and proceeded to get dressed.

That proved to be a challenge too.

He almost lost his footing in slipping on his pants, had issues buttoning his dress shirt due to his trembling fingers, and even before he was fully clothed, his body started to grow warm again as if the chills never existed.

Shoto wiped at the sweat that had beaded on his forehead, bewildered at it's presence since it had only been a few minutes since he had gotten out of the shower. Why the hell was he so hot ?

Maybe it was just because he was closed in a heated, small space, considering that the bathroom wasn't very wide. It was more long due to the strip of sinks and showers right next to each other. And there was an additional warmth to the room due to the final few minutes of his hot shower that had caused some steam to fog up the mirrors.

He just needed to get out of there. Then he'd be fine.

Shoto turned his head around towards a hook by the shower to grab his tie and uniform jacket, and it was there that everything took a turn.

He didn't even move that fast, but everything around him started spinning, his line of vision turned fuzzy, and he could feel his stomach do a backflip. He stumbled, just barely catching himself on the edge of the sink. His heart thumped in his ears as he braced the edge of the sink with his sweaty palms, inhaling deeply through his nose.

That was close.

Carefully, he eased himself up, resting his forearms on the sink's counter. He raised his head, and for the first time, got a real, good look at his reflection.

Though the mirror was still foggy, he could make out the continuous perspiration dripping from his forehead and neck. His heterochromatic eyes were dull and outlined with dark circles. His skin was pale aside from his cheeks and tip of nose, which were blushed a bright, splotchy red.

He looked terrible.

And he felt terrible.

But that didn't matter. Heroes didn't take time off from things like this. And he'd be damned if news got to his dad that he stayed home because of a small fever. He would never hear the end of it.

"Haven't you learned anything?" Endeavor would ask him, "We don't let insignificant things like this get in our way. This isn't how heroes act. We don't show our weaknesses. Are you going to let people die because of some fever? Stay home in bed while they struggle and suffer? Let everyone down again?" 

No. He wouldn't. He couldn't. 

With a deep inhale, Shoto pushed himself away from the counter, but wobbled forward back against it as his vision once again began to swirl.

His insides churned with unease and he clenched his stomach with his free hand, grimacing.

And it was then that he heard a knock at the door. 

"Hello ? Anyone in there ?" A voice sounded from the other side. 

Shoto cursed under his breath and forced himself to stand up straighter, his head highly disagreeing with the action as it thumped against his skull.

"Y-yeah. Come in." 

The door opened, and Shoto recognized the individual immediately, his mop of fluffy, green hair a dead giveaway. 

"Oh ! Good morning Todoroki !"

Shoto had to keep himself from hissing in pain at the tone of his friend's voice. It's pitch just the tiniest bit too high.

"G-good morning, Midoriya…"

He mentally scolded himself on how weak his voice was, but it's as if the freckled teen didn't notice as he nonchalantly walked over to one of the sinks.

"You're up early." Midoriya chided, grabbing his toothbrush from the holder, "Then again, you get up pretty early every morning. Even on weekends."

"Y-yeah." 

The green haired boy beamed, and Shoto watched as he opened a drawer and grabbed a tube of toothpaste.

"Ah, I forgot ! We should probably get downstairs sooner than usual. It's Sato's turn to make breakfast and I heard that he's going to make homemade pancakes !"

Shoto's eyes widened drastically at his friend's sudden mention of food, and the idea of it made the rest of the color drain from his face, gut gurgling violently as an overwhelming feeling of nausea took over his senses. He had no choice but to cover his mouth.

No. He was not going puke. Not here. 

Not in front of Midoriya.

"Knowing him, I bet they'll be amazing! Ah, he could put blueberries in them, or maybe chocolate chips! I can't wait!"

Shoto inhaled a shaky breath through his nose. He felt so sick, and he deeply wanted to tell Midoriya to stop talking about food. But he felt that if he opened his mouth, something other than words would come out instead. 

He shut his eyes as Midoriya rambled on, trying to quell the growing, nauseating feeling in the pit of his stomach, but it was traveling quickly. It was growing beyond his control and he could now taste a metallic like sensation on his tongue, which felt thick and heavy like wet cotton. 

He shivered, hand gripping the sink tighter, and let out an involuntary, tensed groan from the back of his throat. It sounded quiet to him, but maybe not as quiet as he thought. For after the sound of it breached the air, the bathroom went silent, and a cool hand could be felt sweeping his bangs aside.

Shoto opened his eyes slightly. A pair of green orbs were staring back at him, filled with concern and worry. 

"Todoroki ? Are you okay?" Midoriya asked softly.

In that moment, Shoto felt obligated to lean into his touch and admit defeat. The feeling of Midoriya's fingertips alone against his heated skin compared to that of pure bliss. He wanted to say that he wasn't okay.

However, he didn't do that. Instead he pulled away in an attempt to walk towards the door of the bathroom, but his body acted completely against him. He stumbled and fell forward, prepared to make contact with the floor. 

But he didn't.

Instead, he fell into a pair of arms, slightly smaller than his, but warm, strong, and comforting as a voice barked desperately into his ear.

"T-todoroki !" The ill boy groaned, pressing his lips together sourly as a new sensation stormed over his body. He fell numb, and it was then that he could feel something warm creeping up his throat.

"Todoroki ! Y-you're burning up ! " Midoriya exclaimed, pressing a hand to his friend's forehead, "What's wrong ? Are you not feeling well ?"

Midoriya didn't receive an exact answer of "yes" or "no". Only a mumble and an action, but  it was enough to prove his claim as correct. 

Shoto's eyes had widened once more at the question, a low "M'gonna be sick…" leaving his lips before he turned a practically flung himself towards the toilet. 

His hands fumbled with the lid, and once he pushed it up, his body immediately convulsed and he pitched forward. His stomach tightened in on itself in a painful, sharp heave. His mouth became coated in thick, bitter saliva, before he threw up forcefully into the toilet. 

Shoto's hands gripped the toilet's rims so hard that his knuckles stung. Every muscle in his body was shaking with each gag, his digestive system showing him absolutely no mercy as wave after wave of vomit poured out of his mouth. 

It was acidic. The smell burned his nose, and just nauseated him more and more to a point of no end. It was absolute agony...save for one thing.

"It's okay Todoroki...I'm right here." Midoriya's voice sounded calmly, palm on Shoto's sweaty back" You're okay...just let it all out."

Though each heave and convulse was painful, Midoriya's words and soothing hand rubbing his shoulder blades and hand holding back his hair brought a small sense of comfort...but it also brought humiliation. 

He felt pitiful like this, weak and trembling on the floor of a bathroom while someone was there…

Watching him.

Helping him. 

Half of Shoto wanted to push Midoriya away, say that he could handle this himself. But the other half...felt like he couldn't function or deal with the situation if Midoriya left his side.

And that was the side that won. At least for that moment. 

Several more minutes went by before Shoto finally had the opportunity to pull his head out of the toilet to catch his breath, but he didn't feel much better. 

In fact, he almost felt worse. 

His body was sticky, covered in sweat which caused his clothes to mesh to his skin rather uncomfortably. He felt hot and icky all over. His mouth carried the remnant taste of vomit, bitter, sour, and absolutely disgusting. His muscles hurt terribly, as if he had just got done with a 24 hour workout session. His stomach was mostly empty, but it burned and ached from the aftershocks of his endless dry heaving. 

And he was dizzy. 

Very dizzy. 

Unable to keep his head up, he let it fall forward to rest on the rim of the toilet.

Shoto could feel his consciousness slowly slipping away. His eyes were heavy, darkness dotted his vision, and Midoriya's voice and the feeling of the cold porcelain toilet against his cheek were the last things he remembered before he was out cold.

[babylooneytoonz]

Warnings: ANGST // REVELATIONS // TEARS // Sort of cried while reading Bucky parts // Bucky doesn't deserve this :((

Please find links to all the parts in my Masterlist here.💗

You were looking at Bucky so intensely, trying to listen to his words, let them sink in, that you didn't notice a man walking towards you. Neither did Bucky. You were so engrossed, for you had never heard this man talk of those times, infact, he had never said anything remotely closer to you than curses and grunts. This felt refreshing.

"Well, look who's here."

A voice snapped you back into reality, a frown creasing over your forehead.

"Wallis?"

For some reason, you were thankful when Bucky stepped towards you, the side of your arm now brushing against the fabric of his tshirt. He was quiet, but you knew he was watching.

"Since when do you date? From what I had heard, you hadn't landed yourself a man since we broke up."

"Life is more than just having a man, Wallis." You drawled on a smile, not failing to notice a flash of a frown grow over his forehead that he was quick to mask.

"Well aren't you going to introduce me to your man?"

That's when you turned towards Bucky, a faint blush paving its way to your cheeks. You didn't know why, but a current; a sudden surge of electricity flew through you when he called him your man.

"Who the hell are you?" Bucky finally spoke.

"My lousy ass of an ex husband who couldn't keep his cock in his pants," you retorted.

"You still let that affect you, don't you?" He smirked, causing you to stiffen slightly.

Bucky felt you tense up next to him but the warmth that you felt radiating from him was suddenly stripped away from you. But it was only when you saw Bucky wall up to him, towering over him with a glare equivalent to death in his eyes.

"You do know who I am right? I would walk away I were you. And leave her the hell alone, I'd fear my life that can be taken away with just whisk of my arm," you kept watching, as Bucky flexed the fingers on his metallic arm slightly, the arm glistening underneath the pale moonlight. You finally found your footing, and your numbness subsided, and ignoring the buzzing in the back of your head and the throbbing headache in your temple, you found yourself walking up to the men, only to place your arm on Bucky's arm, slowly drawing his arm down so you could take his hand, coiling your fingers against the cool metal.

You didn't know why it happened, and you didn't understand the logistics, but you suddenly felt safe, and you felt warm, although the icy metal was like ice against your skin. It even felt better when Bucky looked down, his eyes trailing over the way you were holding his hand, and he just tightened the grip, not wanting to let your hand drop.

"Let's go Bucky, he isn't worth it."

He nodded, and giving him one glare he turned around, still holding your hand, as the two of you walked away.

"You know, you always play the victim card, using how I cheated on you, but do you ever tell the others what you did? And what I lost? Because of you?"

The venom in his words was enough for you to stop walking, your heart beating wildly inside your chest. It had been a long time you had let yourself think of this, but now, the old wounds had been scratched, and the raw, seething pain was back.

"Why don't you tell the world what you did? And what you didn't do? You keep sitting on this high pedestal, and pretend that it's only you that has been treated like this, but news flash, you're just as guilty as I am."

The tears burst forth like water from a dam, spilling down your face, your chin trembling like that of a two year old. You had zoned yourself out completely now, Wallis' words playing in the back of your mind repeatedly, like bullets being emptied into your heart.

"Bucky," you managed to whisper, your voice low and broken, "take me home."

You were so lost in your thoughts; you paid no heed to the sick, cracking sound that echoed for a split second when Bucky's metal fist collided with Wallis' jaw, or the groan of pain that escaped his lips as he crashed against the cold concrete floor, holding his bleeding jaw. You could only hear the static in your head, when Bucky draped his arm protectively around your shoulder, and pulled you to him, his voice trying to call you back, but you were too gone, too deep into the water to swim back out, you were drowning in your own head.

"Let's get you back now, yeah? Doll, you're okay."

╞═════𖠁𐂃𖠁═════╡

You were obnoxiously quiet all the way back to the Stark Towers. Bucky still hadn't let go off your hand, and he hadn't tried to make small talk with you, something you really appreciated right now. You couldn't talk, you didn't have the energy to, and neither the will.

The minute the elevators flung open, the two of you came face to face with Sam, Wanda, and Steve, who was leaning against the wall, his eyes giving the two of you the looks; the tiniest of smirks playing against his lips. Bucky watched, as Sam's lips parted, and he was about to say something, but at the right time Bucky brought up his palm, and motioned towards him to let it be, and all the smirks on their faces just died, worry filling them up instead.

Bucky quietly turned towards your apartment, walking you down the hallway, still holding your hand as you quietly followed him, your eyes lowered to the floor, while the three behind you followed the two of you, confused, but concerned about your well-being.

"I'll be right out, punk." Bucky said in a low voice to his bestfriend, who understood, that perhaps you needed your space right now, so he nodded and stopped following you, watching Bucky and you disappear into your apartment.

You sat down against the edge of the bed, slowly lifting up your eyes until you had your eyes trained on the super soldier. Your heart ached at the sight; he was standing by your walk in closet, confused, looking for something that you could probably wear for the night, something more comfortable.

"Hey, where do you, uh, keep your –"

Finally, after what felt like ages, you gave him a weak smile, and he gave you one back. You stood up, slowly walking up to him and placing your palm gently on his flesh arm.

"I've got it Buck, thank you, for everything you've done. You can go talk to Steve while I get changed. Yeah?"

You didn't mean to do it, and you had tried so hard for him to not feel like you were kicking him out, sending him away, but it did look like a bit of hurt flashed in his eyes, before he quickly masked it, and nodded, giving you a smile just for the show.

"Well then, I'll be back in my apartment, you can just call me on my cell if you, well, we do have Friday." He said, in a low monotone.

The two of you stayed like that for a few seconds, your heart melting just by gazing into his blues, when he slowly took a step away, ready to leave. You didn't let go of his hand, causing him to stop walking and turn slightly, gazing at how you were still holding his hand like a little lost child.

"I don't want to be alone, I was wondering if, well–"

A soft smile broke out against the corner of his lips, and a faint nod on his face.

"I'll be back, I just need to let them know you're okay. They are worried about you."

"I know." You nodded, both of you walking in different directions; one out of your apartment door, and the other into the closet.

You pulled out a plain white knee length frock, unbuttoning your jeans and rolling it down, until you stepped out of it. You then took off the shirt, hanging it neatly on one of the racks, so you could be reminded of taking the clothes out for laundry. Sliding your neck through it, you pulled the frock over your body, rolling it over until it fell to your knees.

Your eyes were feeling heavy, but you didn't wish to go to sleep. Instead, you laid down, pulling the covers partially over you and started staring at the ceiling. A sudden, hollow feeling hit you and you couldn't stop thinking about the things Wallis had spoken.

You had made mistakes, but there was not a single night you didn't wish to undo the things you had done, and hope that the things had gone differently.

Your chain of thoughts were broken when you heard Bucky walk in. He looked strained, but his shoulders relaxed the minute he saw you laying in bed. You turned your neck towards him, giving him a slow smile as you watched him walk towards the other side of the bed, lowering himself against the edge.

He got into bed with you, the weight of the other side of the bed now heavy. This made you realize, this was the first time you had let a man into your bed, and also perhaps, into your heart, after whatever happened two years back. Reflexively, you rolled over, until you found yourself in Bucky's embrace, your face buried into his chest, fitting like a perfect piece of a puzzle under the crook of his neck.

He smelled perfect.

His flesh hand came to rest at the back of your head, stroking over your scalp in a soft and soothing movement of fingers.

Finally, he took a deep breath and mumbled, his voice low and soft.

"I've seen many horrors, doll. And I thought I could never get back to who I used to be."

You blinked, looking up at him.

"But I realized one thing, although it didn't make the pain go away, talking about things made it easier to bear."

You almost sniffled a sob upon hearing his words, but Bucky heard you and he looked down at you, gazing into your eyes, until he leaned in and planted a soft, chaste kiss to your nose.

"They did monstrous things to me Y/N. Things I cannot even tell you, but I still am here, am I not ? "

You sighed into his embrace, resting your forehead against his sturdy chest, wanting to cry, to let it all out, but that would make you weak. And you didn't want to let this man see how weak you truly felt, how small as compared to the rest of the world.

"I wish it were that easy, letting go. You really can't let go Buck when your actions are responsible for someone innocent losing their life."

He almost raised an eyebrow but he didn't ask you what you meant. You only bit your lip, licking over your dry lower lip as you started thinking back again of how you could have done things differently.

"Well were once happy Buck, me and Wallis. We were in love, we were newly married. And then one day, he came along."

"Who did, doll?"

His ask was so raw, so innocent, you couldn't stop talking. So you did, pouring your heart out to a man who you had known for mere weeks.

"Danny, our son."

You felt Bucky stiffen slightly, but he didn't let go off you, he still held you to his chest, mumbling a small, but audible hum, to let you know that he was listening.

"He was the most perfect thing that ever was. He had my eyes, and he didn't cry. What baby never cries Bucky?" You chuckled, through your tears, that were now freely flowing down your eyes.

The truth was, Bucky couldn't understand all this; these emotions were new to him. He never had his own family, and he didn't understand what it was like having a son. Maybe though, he did think that it wouldn't have been bad, to have his own family, something that he had thought of back in the 1940s, but now, he couldn't anymore for he was not the same man he used to be.

"Well he never cried. He was one hell of a happy kid I tell you. Anyway, he was growing up so fast, and life was good. My boy was two already, and before I knew he was always running around our house, breaking things, knocking my fucking vases off the cabinets," the two of you were grinning at each other just thinking of a toddler running around the house, breaking things.

Until you sombred up, and the smile washed off your face.

"It was three nights after his third birthday, and Danny was with me, at home. Wallis was out, as usual, so I decided we would go take a walk, I really needed to clear my head."

You didn't realize that your lips were quivering now. Your eyes were already swollen, half lidded and glossy, and you were trembling like a leaf, even in the warmth that Bucky provided you, coated you in.

"It was a moonless night, and Danny wanted to have his favourite ice cream when they came out of nowhere."

"Who?" Bucky's voice got heavy suddenly, his eyes darkening two shades, his eyebrows forming a thin line.

"HYDRA."

You felt Bucky loosen his grip on you, the minute you said that word. You didn't blame him. After all, they were responsible for the mess you all were in today.

"I don't know what they wanted, but I was alone, and they were five. I failed, I failed to protect him. I could only watch–"

Bucky's finger flew up to your lips, his index pressing against your plump ones, forbidding you from speaking any further. His soft eyes looked down at you, and you could see that his eyes were moist.

"It wasn't your fault, baby."

You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath; if only you could believe him.

"It wouldn't have happened, if I hadn't taken him out that night, if I would have been able to protect him–"

"You didn't know what they planned, and they were five."

You didn't reply, instead, you scooted closer into Bucky's embrace and he tightened his grip around you, pulling the covers over the two of you, his lips pressed to your forehead. You could feel his heart, because your face was pressed to his chest. His heartbeat was soothing and you found yourself relaxing to his touch, his warmth and the way he held you and your eyelids started feeling heavy.

"My son died with a fucking bullet to his skull." You suddenly pushed yourself away from Bucky and propped yourself up in bed, wrapping your arms around your frail body, pinching your eyes shut, ignoring the warm, thick tears rolling down your cheeks.

Bucky remembered talking to Steve, and how you had gone off the radar for two years and SHEILD hadn't assigned you any mission. Now he knew, that you had probably locked yourself up after what you had witnessed, and it wasn't your fault. He wanted to console you, to comfort you and he wanted to take this pain away, but he didn't know how to.

He was scared now; scared that you would shut him off, only when you were starting to open up to him.

"Y/N, it wasn't your fault."

He didn't know that his words will anger you even more, instead of calming you down. You slid out of bed, much to Bucky's surprise, and turned to face him.

"It wasn't my fault? Don't you see what I've done? Or what I could've done?"

You were screaming at him.

"You couldn't have done anything! Why don't you understand?" He slid out of bed too, almost yelling back at you in the same voice that you had used on him.

"Why the fuck would you still let that jerk get into your mind like that? Fuck your mind? He wanted this to happen, and you're letting him win," he spat, his hands on his hips.

The two of you were on the either side of the bed, giving each other a stare down.

"Bucky, you won't understand," you finally whispered, looking down at your hands, " you never had anyone to lose."

You didn't mean that. You really didn't. But now you wished you could swallow back the words you had just said. Just the look of hurt on the man's face was enough to make you feel guilty. He didn't deserve this. He didn't.

"Bucky, that's not what I meant, come here please?"

"Well, fuck, you weren't wrong. I am not used to this, having people, having connections, feelings and emotions. You're absolutely fucking right."

"Babe, I didnt–"

"But you know what? I'm okay this way. I have no fucking one to care about, or be cared for from, and I am okay with it. Because it's fucking simpler that way. Atleast it saves me the mess of being what you are today. You can't even forgive yourself for something you haven't even done."

He slid his feet into his slippers and turned away, facing the door. His hands were clenched against his sides, so hard, his knuckles were turning white. He finally started walking towards the door, when you called out.

"Where are you going?"

Your voice broke.

"To my own damn apartment, so I can be alone, like I always was."

The door slammed shut, and he was gone.

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[oh-for-fic-sake]

Trophy chapter five

Masterlist

Warnings: Adult situations, Figging, spanking, dub con, smut, coercive behaviour, bondage.

A/n:So yeah there is figging in this if your not comfortable with it turn away now. For those who dont want to look it up and ruin it for themselves dont worry its not grusome or too bad just a little unconventional I suppose. I hope you enjoy xx

Chapter one Chapter two Chapter three Chapter four Chapter Six

You endure Your unusual Punishment as he asserts himself as your Daddy.

Henry held you in his lap the whole way home a tight grip not letting you move to much you saw the long country road that you knew lead to the manor. You began hyperventilating your anxiety coming to its peak you bucked against him as you saw the walls of your prison come into view leaning over throwing your hands to the door handle. In your panicked state you'd decided that you'd rather fling yourself out of the moving car than go back. Henry anticipating this outburst twisted you to sit on his lap back against his pulling your wrists tight crossing your arms over your abdomen.

"sshh...shhh come on..... its ok pet" you cried trying to head but him with the back of your head placing your feet on the seats in front of you pushing somehow thinking it would help. He dodged the hit aimed for his nose tutting holding firm through your struggles , you panted rearing up again as you tired quickly

"nonononono....please I don't-" you cut yourself off with a desperate high pitched sob cowering as the car pulled past the gates of the huge house , you were frightened when he clenched his jaw noticing the damage his car had caused on the gate. You panicked turning your head back past him trying to keep the gate in your sight as it gate closed behind you. You shook your head crying terrified of what ever he had planned. That was it. This was it you had no idea what was in store but you knew that now escape was impossible. Your mind was reeling hundreds of panicked thoughts making you dizzy some trying to think of a decent hiding spot in the house, others passing so fast you couldn't make sense of them. The driver pulled to a stop in front of the entrance turning the ignition off and getting out walking round to your door. Henry climbed out of the car taking you with him. You wailed kicking out as he began to make his way to the house, you ducked twisting around underneath your arms leaving them stretched out in front of you crossed as you tried digging your feet into the ground wincing as the gravel dug into them like hundreds of pinpricks ,Henry was still holding your wrist but was facing you his back to the house.

"NOO! NO PLEASE HENRY DON'T!" you screamed out at him between cries and bone quaking shudders every nerve was alive your breathing erratic as your eyes roamed around you so fast that you couldn't focus on anything. Henry stopped the other men from approaching with one fierce look, a single sharp tug was all it took for your feet to skid across the gravel tumbling against his broad chest he righted you. Capturing your neck you gulped gripping his wrist with both hands trying to loosen his hold as he forced you to tilt back ,his fingers dug into the soft flesh he met your gaze his blue eyes blazing with something you couldn't pinpoint almost manic yet calm and smug. You froze feeling as if you'd been thrown into ice water shivering as his eyes were daggers, cutting through all the panic and terror that had consumed you. His voice was worse flat, you'd expect anger or irritation at least but it was simply chilling.

"THAT is quite enough...look at me..come on kitten look at daddy....LOOK AT ME!" he shook you growling out the last bit you cried your face red tear stained and hot you tried to hold back the sobs but couldn't shaking from head to toe.

"Oh baby girl, you shouldn't be crying you don't have a reason yet" he said smoothing your hair out of your face you shook your head with the little movement he allowed you.

"Nonono please please I'm sorry I...I couldn't help it I was scared please.....please daddy" he chuckled a little at you.

"You had no need to be afraid little one, but now well... you've earned yourself a punishment. If you carry on its just going to be worse." he said spinning you around pushing you forward in front of him. He turned around catching the back of your neck in a strong grip directing you into the house. You trembled as you stood in the middle of the foyer hearing as the large heavy door closed with a loud echoing bang a sense of finality washed over you. You flinched when he directed you towards the stairs pushing you down to his bed room once inside you spied an ominous looking leather chest placed neatly at the side of the bed ,you couldn't take your eyes off of it your stomach tied in knots as he shut the door behind you. He walked past you taking a seat on the foot of the bed observing you for a few moments making you shift from one foot to the other hissing as your feet throbbed. Then grinned crooking a finger at you.come here. You shook your head whining taking half a step back wanting to hide from him. He blinked slow tilting his head.

"Come here little one....come one away from that door..... come on don't keep daddy waiting you wont like it if I have to come and get you...." you contemplated for a second before taking baby steps towards him slowly crossing the room taking shaky breaths as you went looking as the floor moving forward unti you saw he thigh below your face.

"That's it..... come on.... good girl." He praised you as you stopped beside him head still down quivering in fear he placed a hand on your side moving around one knee so you would stand in front of him between his spread legs. Rubbing his hand along your ribs lightly before removing it from you. Crossing his arms over his chest his biceps bulging straining against his shirt.

"Now come one enough I wont be to harsh on you... it is your first time after all... what are we going to do with you hm?...... you defiantly in need of a spanking for a start...." you winced your bottom clenching at the word you started trying to plead with him.

"No pl-please please I I'm sorry I'm sorry please-"He sighed giving a fast stinging swat on the back of your thigh interrupting your pleas with a yelp.

"... Ah ah what did i just say?enough.... you hear me pet? enough is enough.....you think that spanking is the worse I can do then you are about to have a rude awakening. I have many ways to punish a naughty little girls which is exactly what you are isn't it?" He struck your thigh again when you didn't

"Isn't it little girl?" You nodded keeping your head down he tutted

"Use your words or I will keep you silent with a gag what have you been today?" His voice took a stern deep tone that shook your insides

"I-I was a n-naughty little girl"

"I was a naughty little girl? Who? Address me properly its time for you to learn your place in this house. you are my baby girl, my pet, my kitten and I am your daddy I expect you to address me properly form now on is that clear." You sobbed embarrassed

"ye-yes daddy"

"Now what was you today?"

"I-I wAs a naughty little girl daddy." This time you managed to get the words out quicker. He smiled condescendingly.

"Yes you were, a very naughty and you are lucky that I'm going easy on you today and its time to be corrected..... Daddy doesn't like punishing his baby... No but I will because I love you, I will always give you what you need... Now take off all this you wont need it." He said motioning to your clothes. You hesitated but not for long stripping slowly with trembling hands. Henry leaned back on his hands watching intently as you revealed your body to him slowly

"All of it" he commented as to stopped when you reached your underwear you weeped as you continued until you stood before him bare you shivered at his stare. He pulled your arms down at you sides when you tried covering up you whined a little at him.

"So beautiful princess..... its a shame that I cant enjoy you tonight..." he stood up moving to the side

"Up you go little one" he said patting the bed you slowly crawled up on the the high bed as he placed a quick spank on your upturned bottom yelping you scrabbled away up the bed. Henry gripped both ankles and yanked your knees from under you forcing you to lie flat on your stomach in the covers.

"Stay right there baby" you nodded to yourself more than anything steeling yourself for whats to come. you heard him moving across the room to the chest you froze as you heard it open and the sound of metal rung in your ears trying to look over your shoulder he met your worried gaze with a grin.

"Eyes front baby girl you'll know what your naughty bottoms getting in a moment" you shuddered as your body betrayed you your pussy twitching at the threat, you faced forward pressing your hot cheek against the cover in defeat. It didn't take long for him to choose his weapons of choice you flinched as he lifted you by your hips placing two firm cushion's below them raising your bottom by a good ten inches or so, patting your rump before running one hand down the length of your leg ,then you felt it a cuff thick but lined in a soft material it was placed securely around your right ankle then the left before you knew it you found your legs spread wide by something you cried out when you realize what ever it was must have been attached to the bed frame somehow as you couldn't raise your legs off the bed to far, maybe an inch.

"Henr-Daddy?" you caught yourself he calmed you running a hand across your back moving up along side you coming into view. ruffling your hair a little.

" A spreader bar love don't worry its just to keep you in position so we don't have any accidents..... Soon you will be able to hold position on your own but its to early for that yet.... Now your arms.... Wrists please" he said holding out his hands. You looked at him warily he waited patiently as you shifted slowly once they were within grabbing distance he snapped a pair of pink leather wrist cuffs that were lined with black velvet and had small diamante's on them a five inch chain connecting them once on he smiled taking in the sight of you bound on his bed. he groaned low liking his lips as you tested the cuffs tugging them. you quickly realized he wasn't going to attach them to the headboard as he didn't need to, you couldn't reach back you shield yourself from him, you could only stretch your arms out or tuck them against your chest. He left your sight then returned placing a few objects beside you on the bed. your mouth went dry when you saw what he had chose there was a pink leather crop, a vicious looking slim cane the last objects confused you, there was a switch blade and a stalk of ginger. He caught your confused eyes and smirked. You panicked not understanding what the knife and ginger could be used for instantly your mind was jumping to conclusions.

"Please don't cut me....please please I'm sorry but don't cut me!" you wriggled realizing just how vulnerable you were he quickly began calming you.

"shush ssshhh I would never ever cut you...I promise baby girl that's not why that's there" you listened intently still eyeing the knife.

"Wh-whats it for?" you asked gulping then wetting your lips.

"Well figging has been used on naughty bottoms for centuries and for good reason to its extremely unconformable and leaves a lasting impression. It is a very effective punishment." you frowned not understanding what he was going to do he chuckled.

"You will see soon enough now lets get you warmed up shall we?" he said rolling his sleeves up to his elbows. You felt him kneel on the bed by your hips smoothing his large hands across your bottom before lifting one and bringing it to connect with your cheeks the sound was sharp echoing across the room as the pain blossomed across your rear before landing another and another. You whimpered as the uncomfortable warmth become a deep sting it was less then five minutes when you were crying already begging him to stop as your bottom was stinging each slap was harder then the last forcing you to clench your bottom trying to curl away from him. This time he meant for it to leave a lasting impression.

"AH...No DADDY pleasePLEASEplease I'm SORryyyy!" you called as he moved concentrating on the under curve of your bottom you wiggled trying to close your legs as you became wet ,pussy clenching with every smarting spank. He stopped resting his hands on the inside of your thighs you panted as he ghosted his hands along your bikini line slowly running the sides of his fingers back and forth on your puffy lips making your pussy weep onto the pillows.

"Oh? what do we have here then?.... you wouldn't be enjoying your punishment would you baby girl? tut tut we cant have that princess?" you let out a high keen as he moved hand lower to your front pressing on your clit rolling it tightly pushing down caressing the underside of it making you buck. He pulled back landing a slap on your wet pussy you squealed loud as he followed with more in quick succession lighting a fire on your lips catching your swollen bud with his fingers.

"Ah! FUck pleeeaaase stop! No! henRY!" he grunted at his name and landed a harder blow you cried into the blanket unable to do anything to stop him he moved slowly running his fingers up and down your crease then moved beside you looking disappointed smearing your arousal between his thumb and fingers holding it in front of you.

"Now little one do you think now is the time to test daddy? is this appropriate? hmm for you to be enjoying your punishment?" he shook his head mocking you as fat tears fell wetting the bed below you.

"I-I'm sorry I cant help it" he wiped his fingers on your back you groaned in embarrassment flushing feeling the pillow under your hips dampening with your essence.

"Oh don't cry... daddy understands you cant help being so responsive.. We just have to find something you wont enjoy don't we kitten?" he lifted the knife from the bed flicking it open. You gasped watching him inspect the sharp knife with one hand he lifted the ginger and begun to scratch off the tough skin then began carving at it making a tear drop shape the bulbous end tapered sharply into a slimmer neck then spread out again as the ginger took its natural form with a stalk jutting out the side ,once satisfied with the shape he gave it a quick tug making sure it was strong enough for what he hand planned smiling he held it up to you flicking the knife shut placing it on the table by the bed.

"And here is your real punishment baby girl..... do you know what this is?" he asked pleased when you shook your head confused then nodded

"Tell daddy what this is?"

"Its-Its ginger daddy"

"That's right good girl, do you know whats I'm going to do with it?" you shook your head at him fearing the the way his eyes darkened he huffed an amused breath

"This is going up your bottom for the rest of your punishment." he said moving back out of sight. You wriggled not understanding what would be so bad about it, he hadn't made it to big you'd suppose it was about the size of his thumb maybe slightly larger so wouldn't be to bad. You whimpered when he pulled your cheeks apart probing you with his fingers mortified as he began to speak

"Oh baby your pouting at me.. Its very inviting but I'm afraid daddy wont be playing with you here until you deserve it." you placed your face into your hands as he circled his finger around your rosebud a few times then felt him pull more insistently at it.

"Here it comes...Open up baby" you cringed at how happy he sounded as he pressed the ginger to your opening not really giving you a chance to relax as he guided the tapered end into you pressing firmly you tensed at the strange feeling he stretched you around it until there was a small pop as it was seated fully in you the raw end of the ginger keeping it from sinking any further.

"There we go good girl, your taking this very well....lets see how long that will last" he took a seat by your hips again. You twitched adjusting to the invasion, it was uncomfortable but not a painful stretch. you hissed as you began to feel something... a tingling inside of you like pins and needles but sharper and not a pleasant one bit. You squirmed as the tingling began to get worse bordering pain.

"Ah ah what? OH NOoo!" you began thrashing as you realized just what was going to happen your ass burned and stung deep it was still getting worse especially when you tried to push it out by bearing down only resulting on your walls squeezing the ginger effectively milking it making the sting go further up into you. You panted gasping unable to stop your squirming crying loudly in high pitched sobs sniffling and pleading him to take it out.

"Aww I know daddy is soo mean isn't he?" he teased grabbing the makeshift plug and pressing down on it then wiggled it side to side before moving it in wide circles stretching you slightly as he drew it along your walls. you screamed as it burned

"NOOO! DADDY PLEASE STOP TAKE IT OUT! PLEEEAASE!" you shouted pushing up on your hands then dropping back down as shifting had moved it within you and wailed trying to kick your legs as it got to much any arousal you'd had before dissipated as you burned from the inside out. Noticing he stood up taking the crop bringing it between your legs tapping it on your clit peaking out from your swollen red folds.

"NOnonOO please I'll be goOD I will please don't" he was determined it seemed as he continued bringing back the arousal as he struck you again and again lightly caressing you every so often

"This is what you get for your behavior , your naughty bottom plugged. naughty girls get the naughty bottoms punished, if your a good girl for the rest of your punishment I will remove it for corner time" you cried overwhelmed as every tap brought made your wall flutter also gripping the ginger causing more pain. It was one of the worse things you'd ever felt... you might as well have sat on a chilli as your sensitive skin caressed the root with every jerk. He brought the crop up bearly clipping the underside of your clit you screamed as you felt your tummy clenching moans turning into screeches, loud wails pouring out of your mouth pleasure and pain combined in a confusing spiral of sensations.

"Aww kitten am I being to harsh? but iv just had an idea wait here" you brawled into the bed fat tears falling onto your clenched hands gripping the sheets tight.

"I-I NOO pleasepleaseplease daddy stop I cant please Im- I wont leave again I promise please" you called out to him babbling promising anything and everything wanting him to remove the root that was still building the burning in your bottom getting worse and worse as the seconds ticked by. Your sure that your ass would never recover.

"Here we are I will show you some mercy I think instead of spanking you with your plug this will suffice" you tried to see him threw your tears calling for him wanting comfort ,but he ignored you and wouldn't come up near your face you hoped he was staying down at you ass to remove the root but that wasn't the case. You screamed loud as instead he pressed a large wand vibrator to your clit, it was powerful instantly you rocked against it unable to stop even as the motion of your hips hurt your ass. He tipped the vibrator so it massaged most of your pussy and was tight against your clit then he began to rub it in circles the end he held knocked the plug sticking out of your ass. you panted unable to hold back any sounds as your mouth hung open as moans screams and grunts poured out as he forced you towards

"AAHHH! NOO PLEASEFUCK fuckfuckfuckhah!" you shook all over as you release a low long keen as you came all over the vibrator and Henry's hand gushing onto the pillows below you

"Well that was fast wasn't it baby, good girl sshh sshh that's it good girl daddies got you" he praised you then pressed the vibrator onto your over sensitive clit making you jump trying to escape it. as the soft rubber swiped over your sore clit.

"Ah ah no, one more that's it one more kitten fuck you look so good baby girl hold on" you cried as you were sent straight into another climax feeling yourself cumming much faster this time despite the pain, just as you arched cumming you felt him pull the ginger out with one harsh tug the pain made you grunt as you felt your pussy the gush once again hearing as it hit the vibrator with a lewd wet sounds you laid there panting your whole body heaving with your breaths. Weeping into the bed face buried into it, you were limp across the bed your clit was sore and throbbing your ass stung inside and out you couldn't tell if it stung more now that the ginger was out or not, your passage now rubbing on itself slightly swollen.

He moved reaching over picking up the slime black cane

"10 strikes and you will count and thank me for each one" he said he stood beside you quickly flicking your thighs you screeched trying to rock forward as you felt a strip of fire lit up across you taking deep breaths

"I didn't hear you count little one" before repeating the strike an inch higher you yelped swearing then quickly caught your self.

"ONE Daddy THank you" he nodded

"That's better you see this is why I have restrained you, if you move or I miscalculate this could easily cut you and we don't want that do we?" he explained you shook your head desperately managing to breath out

"No no please no" before he struck you again hitting the crease of your bottom.

"TWo THank YOU Daddy" this continued as Henry left stripes of red spaced across your thighs and lower curve of your bottom wanting you to feel them every time you sat for the next few days. You were a mess by the time he'd finished you didn't even register when he released you from your bonds then gathered the implements packing then away .you laid still sniffling upset ,embarrassed ,sore and sticky you felt disgusting yet calm as he praised you. Henry sat on the bed leaning on the headboard he moved your hair from your face before tugging you across the bed to him tucking your legs to your chest cradling you sitting you in his lap you winced sniffling barely holding back sobs, he sighed pulling your head to his chest rocking you slowly kissing you every now and then. You dug your hand into his shirt by his collar with one hand

"Good girl.... I'm so proud of you, you were soo good for daddy I know that was hard for you but it was hard for me to Inever want to see you cry. I had to do it... I didn't enjoy it but you need to learn..What you did was very dangerous especially for a little girl like you." you whimpered into him soaking up his comfort , you didn't care who he was in that moment, you were upset hurt and feeling sorry for yourself. you felt shame wash over you for relishing in his coddling but pushed it aside

"I-I don't want that again...please never do that again" you whispered hiccuping he sighed running his hands across you.

"Then you should behave, you should know that I save the cane for very serious offences only as I know it is one of the most painful..Now come on baby 10 minutes in the corner hands on your head and think about weather your escape attempt was truly worth it. Now up you go" you pouted but did as you were told cringing with every step as you ached all over from tensing and thrashing around so much. He stood watching finding the sight of you with your nose in the corner well spanked bottom on display cute and arousing. As much as he wanted to fuck you he wont until you beg him to even then it wont be after a punishment it would send the wrong message to fuck you into the bed afterwards. However he did feel a little guilty it was your first real taste of his discipline and he had used the cane which he will rarely use but he wanted something to truly deter you in future. Shaking his head he rose from the bed scooping up your clothes throwing them into the hamper then collected the soiled bedding and pillows dumping it in with the clothes. you heard him leave the room then the bath running. your mind was going haywire yet your thoughts were quiet.. you almost felt as it you were underwater feeling a peace in the panic as you came to terms with what he had just done to you shaking your head when a little voice tried to speak up that you had asked for it, that you deserved if for tying to leave him. Once the bath was full he came out finding you in the same position. It looks like he may have finally got through to you as you stood there behaving he could tell by the way you shifted from side to side that you still felt the effects of the ginger and was desperate to rub your tender bottom.

"Times up come here pet" he called you over you slowly walked to him without hesitation still lost in your own thought unbeknownst to him you was falling deeper and faster into a place you had never been before running on auto pilot reaching behind you to rub he caught your hand.

"Ah ah no rubbing come on I'm going to help you" he guided you into the bathroom eyeing you cautiously you wasn't there. your eyes saw the bath ready you felt yourself relaxing just from seeing the steaming water walking quickly towards it wanting to jump into it he pulled you back to the sink pressing you over the counter.

"Daddy?"

"Not yet first I'm going to help your bottom" he reached over running the cold tap wetting a cloth you pressing you to bend over the counter before he ran the clothe across your heated skin you hissed it felt freezing

"sh sh I know baby" he continued wetting the cloth cooling your skin the parted your cheeks you yelped but he ignored you as he brought the cloth up to your twitching back entrance gasping as he pushed a finger into you through it slowly you whined flushing

"n-noo please" you muttered weakly still not really with it ,he would do as he pleased the cool water soothed the burn he pulled back rinsing and wringing out the cloth before repeating each time the sting got less and less and he was cleaning away the remnants of the ginger. Finally he stopped throwing the cloth into the bin. Next thing you knew he had lowered you into the steaming water that soothed you almost instantly. You leaned back but kept your gaze on him as he knelt on the step beside the tub you frowning expecting you to push him away he smiled when you didn't before lathering up an exfoliating mitt with bubble gum smelling soap and began rubbing slow circles across your arms and chest

"I-I can- I can do it daddy" he shook his head, frowning a little at how you sounded ....different

"No from now on you wont be doing anything. I am going to take care of you like I promised arms up" you obeyed instantly not sure what exactly happened but your state of mind was....strange accepting his authority naturally something seems to have snapped in you. you tried to pull out of the calm state you was in, you should be upset, angry hysterical even not calm and dare you say happy? you contemplated these thoughts as he washed you from head to toe massaging your tired muscles as he went making you sink lower into the water.

"Oh! baby I didn't want you to get your hair wet up! up! come on! quick, oh sweet heart now i have to wash your hair" you sat up quickly upset at the disappointment in his voice making you want to cry you sniffed not sure why it had upset you so much then you wanted to cry for wanting to cry.... Safe to say you were very confused. He bent over kissing you.

"It's ok baby lean back daddy will wash your hair" gasping taking deep breaths you got onto your knees you needed out. You'd disappointed him, he was upset you justified. You moved grasping the side of the tub trying to stand nearly falling with how clumsy you were moving. He placed hands on your shoulders looking you in the eye noticing that you looked through rather that at him.

"whoa whoa baby whats wrong?"

"Out-I want-no I-I don't" you panicked trying to raise your leg over the side of the tub hoping he would understand that you wanted to get out, thankfully he did leaning back grabbing a large fluffy towel one hand still holding you he was a little panicked himself not knowing what was going on with you but something had upset you on a new level he only just caught you as you clambered out of the bath tripping nearly flying down the step, scooping you up quickly he carried you into to bed room opening the door calling for Kal hoping that the dog would help your sudden panic. He crossed the room sitting on the chair by the window tucking you in his lap. Kal came up sitting dutifully by you both sniffing around you trying to nudge under your hand that hung down by him. You dug your hand in his fur scratching him lightly your other clutched at Henry as you fell deeper into your own world not understanding your new found need for his attention ,just that you wanted to be held by him. Whimpering pulling yourself to him as he shifted afraid he would let go and you really needed him.

"Daddy no" he froze there was a desperate note to your voice and fear just beneath. He breathed a sigh in relief ,he understood what was going on, your punishment and aftercare was sending you into subspace and you was trying to fight it, you didn't understand. How could you he reasoned, its not like you would have experienced it before. luckily he knew what you needed gently whispering to you holding you close praising and reassuring you.

"Its ok... everything is going to be fine little one... stop panicking I'm here and look even Kal is he wants to help" he said in a soothing voice he tightened his hold you sighed feeling safe in his lap

"I-I don't... whats happening?" you muttered into his chest

"It's ok, this is ok just breath you'll be fine baby this is a good thing... I know its scary now but your doing so well.... Being so good don't fight it just relax" you hummed leaning on his chest listening to his hearts strong rhythm slowing going lax drawing pattering on his pectorals with your fingers trying to 'come back' form what ever was going on as he used the towel and began patting you dry running his fingers up and down your back in slow unpredictable patterns ,Kal was licking the water from your arm and hand finally blinking you looked at him clearly. He smiled brightly

"There's my good baby. Was that scary? I'm sorry I should have anticipated that you'd go into subspace, I didn't think you would fall into it so quickly kitten."

"What?"

"Subspace its... Deep inside of you, a space where you can relax not have to worry about anything apart from pleasing your dom- or in this case daddy." he explained you just stared at him

"I-it wasn't relaxing- how do I stop it" he frowned

"You fought it, you was frightened by it that's why you panicked and you don't stop it.. Not with me baby girl tho I am curious what triggered it. Was it when I cuddled you earlier? or when you was in the bath?"you closed your eyes and shook your head not wanting to talk about it, he just nodded

"Well it doesn't matter at the moment as long as your alright now" he kissed your cheek lifting you to the bed Kal followed jumping up to lay beside you watching the door protectively. Henry returned with a knee length nightly pulling you up patting the rest of you dry

"N-no I can-"

"No you cant , I told you when you was in the bath I'm taking care of you now." you remained silent yawning as he continued drying you rubbing you down he smiled as the day seemed to catch up with you he then guided you into the nightly throwing the towel into the hamper. Hoisting you up into his arms he leaned out of the door calling for the house keeper a small Asian lady that you had seen about the house during your time here, she appeared quickly taking the hamper saying that she would be up with new bedding in a few minutes. he sat back down in the chair with you rubbing your back soothingly letting you rest against him it didn't take long you him to lull you into sleep. He looked down at your sleeping form today was roller coaster. It started good then bad, really bad then better, he was pleased with the ending tho. He was happy that you'd slipped into subspace, it showed that you was perfect for him, for what he wanted and that he would get through to you. His plan , his training would work. He grinned allowing himself to relax for the first time that day. He was finally going to get everything he wanted.

Taglist @havenoffandoms

[xbellaxcarolinax]

Forging A Heart (Ivar the Boneless) Epilogue- Home

Pairings: Ivar x Artemis (OFC)

Word Count: 5105

Warnings: Only that Ivar likes to monologue like a super villain.

AN: And we've finally reached the end! Again, thank you to those who stuck around, liked, reblogged, and left such lovely comments 💙

28- New Beginnings

...

The gods had blessed their journey with fair weather.

The mountainous skyline was finally in their line of vision after months of travel. The sun followed them, searing them through their wool lined clothes. Most of the men grumbled, removing the layers of heated fabric and leather to find some relief under the sweltering heat.

The water was bluer than Artemis remembered, the colorful fish swimming beside their ships as if greeting them. Their surroundings were vivid and full of color, far from the gray skies that dominated the sky in Norway. The Mediterranean skies were full of unimaginable life.

She brings her eyes to the shadowy figures atop the cliffside. One by one foreign men mounted on impressive horses lined up on the edge of the rocky hill watching the ships head closer to their captured coast line. She was hoping it was a lie, or that perhaps these men had left back to where they came from. But those were childish thoughts, and she couldn't hide her disappointment. She grips tightly at the wool covering her knees, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"Andalusian's." Ivar comments beside her, the hood of his cloak hiding the seasick look on his face. He watches her features harden, her eyes holding a reckless darkness to them. He reaches over to cover her hand with his own, successfully loosening the tension between her fingers and laces their fingers together.

She lets out a breath through her nose, muttering something that was most certainly insulting towards those men, but remains silent after that.

"They will come to greet us at shore," He says after a moment, "And they will try to threaten us." Artemis finally turns to look at him, tightening her grip on his rough hand.

"Are you worried?" She wanted so much to tease him, but only succeeded in revealing her own concerns. She was the worried one.

Ivar scoffs.

"I command the most powerful army in the world," He boasts, waving his hand about, "There is nothing to fear." Artemis smiles. She always did admire her husband's courage and ambition.

Under Ivar's command was an impressive fleet, accompanied by his best warriors such as Dafi and Whitehair, alongside Bjorn and his men. The oldest Ragnarson joined their expedition without hesitation, honoring the alliance between Kattegat and Hedeby, as well as honoring his own ambitious heart. He loved the Mediterranean.

Bjorn too had his eyes on the cliffside, commanding his men to have their shields at the ready, and Ivar followed suit with his own warriors.

Artemis struggles to remain calm, closing her eyes as the salty wind caresses her heated cheeks, her ears focusing on the soft grunts of the men steering their ships. For a moment her mind wanders back to Kattegat, to Hvitserk who was ruling over the Kingdom in their absence, and most of all, to their child that was left behind for safety. The image of their little princess appears behind her lids, and she wanted so much in that moment to hold her.

"Baby bird," Ivar calls out to her, releasing the hold she had on his fingers to tug the sleeve of her simplistic tunic, "Our daughter is fine." He reassures her. Even now he always seemed to know what she was thinking. He pulls her closer in an embrace so that she may settle against him, planting a kiss to her brow. "You know Hvitserk is protecting her. He loves her as if she were his own."

"Yes, I know." Was her mumbled reply.

"And I'm sure she is having a wonderful time with Asa and Heracles." Artemis listens, but her eyes go back to the men on the cliff side.

"But she is so young, and if we don't return..."

"Artemis." Ivar reprimands her as if he were reprimanding their own child. He never once thought that his daughter would become orphaned while they went on this journey. It was simply a scenario he refused to mull over. He vowed to return to her, no matter the circumstances.

"I miss her." Was all his wife said, resting her head against his shoulder in comfort.

"I know, I miss her too. We will reunite soon enough, hmm?" He lays his head atop of hers, stroking his fingers over her hair, "I promised you long ago we would journey to your homeland. I did not intend to break that promise." Artemis lets out the smallest hint of a smile, lifting Ivar's large hand to place a kiss on it.

The hours passed slowly, until finally they neared the shore. The ships hadn't quite settled onto the sandy bank, and before Ivar could blink, his wife was already splashing into the water, her bow and quiver in hand. He watches her struggle, the water seeping into the material of her thick breeches weighing her down but still, she pushes forward.

Ivar grunts, swinging his legs over the edge of the small boat before stabbing his crutch into the wet sand. He pulls himself up, moving through the shallow water as quickly as he could manage before the waves could set in. He barks out orders, telling his warriors to be alert in case of attack, their swords and shields on hand. Ivar himself was covered in his weapons, his axe and sword hanging from his waist, as well as his usual daggers hidden within his trousers.

Bjorn settles beside his youngest brother, surveying the familiar area as quickly as he could. The nature surrounding them was just as breathtaking as the first time he had seen it.

"Well?" Bjorn questions him, "What do you think?

"You always did dream of sunnier places," Ivar tells him, "I now understand why." The brothers stayed silent for a moment, enjoying the sound of the waves and the squawking of the seagulls soaring above.

"I took her away from her home and you've managed to bring her back," Bjorn comments. He crosses his arms, licking his dry lips before casting down a look towards his brother.

"She deserves it." Ivar replies, not wanting to disturb his wife's peace. They watched her as she reached down to touch the sand, grabbing a handful of the grainy stuff only to watch it slip through her fingers. Quickly she bends to remove the boots from her bare feet to feel the hot sand between her toes.

With a smile he looks on before whispering to himself,

"Welcome home, my love."

...

Ivar's suspicions were correct. The entourage of men from the cliffside met their own, their horses stomping around in an act of intimidation. That didn't work out too well. Ivar, finally within his chariot, smirks. He leans against the railing, already looking like a predator waiting for its prey. It has been quite some time since he's killed anyone.

"Do not taunt them, Ivar." Artemis mutters a warning as she moves to stand beside his chariot, casting him a look when he scoffs in reply before bringing her attention towards the well dressed leader.

He was a man of a darker complexion with equally dark eyes lined in khol. He immediately recognizes Bjorn, the smallest hints of a sneer forming on his lips. It seemed Bjorn had left an impression in the past, and from the looks of it, not a very good one.

"I see you're back, Bjorn Ironside," He grunts, his accent heavy on the northern tongue, "There is no mistaking those ships." Both Ivar and Artemis look at the man before turning to Bjorn in disbelief. Bjorn was not at all phased with seeing this particular man again.

"A pleasant surprise, Abu Hafs," The oldest Ragnarsson says the man's name as greeting, "The years have been good to you," The man barks out a laugh, tilting his head in amusement.

"I can't say the same for you, Viking." He proceeds to rake his eyes over his companions.

"My brother, King Ivar of Kattegat, and his wife, Queen Artemis." Bjorn answers the silent question. The man makes a low noise of confusion, eyes scrutinizing them. How could they be king and queen looking the way they did? The King was quite tall, but leaned heavily on a crutch. Metal wrapped around his legs like iron serpents. The Queen had on as much leather as a man would, wearing the gear of a warrior. The Arab man blinks, thinking what an odd pair of royalty they were. He did not miss the look they both held in their eyes, though he noticed the King's gaze promised far more danger then he let on.

"It is a pleasure, King Ivar, Queen Artemis," He politely greets them with a tiny bow of his head, and the pair return his sentiments. He then shifts his gaze towards their warriors behind them bearing their weapons. "I don't suppose this is a friendly meeting?"

"We're not here to raid." Artemis responds in her native Greek, far too tired of fake pleasantries and small talk. She approaches the man with careful steps, being mindful of the large horse he was mounted on. The horse whinnies, but does nothing more at her presence. Said man was taken aback, his brows shooting up so high they could have hid under his bright orange head wrap.

"You're Greek?" He asks in disbelief, wondering to himself how he hadn't noticed it before.

"Yes," She answers, "From this very island." Her tone was far from agreeable, it could have been picked up from anyone in hearing distance. The leader narrows his eyes, not appreciating her insinuation. He mutters something in Arabic that she couldn't make out, causing his men to snort in quiet laughter.

"Then what are you all here for, woman?" Artemis scowls, pushing down the strong desire to shoot this man with an arrow. She could already sense what he was about and what he thought of the opposite gender. Crossing her arms, Artemis lifts her chin up to look at him directly despite how much shorter she was.

"I seek a blacksmith in one of the main villages in Chania."

"You've come all this way for a blacksmith?" The man replies to her, finally jumping off his horse. He wasn't very tall, much shorter than anticipated, but still, he towered over her.

Ivar immediately moves his chariot forward in response. He picked up on a few words in their conversation, getting a sense of what was being said, and he did not like the sound of it. He steps off the chariot, masking his discomfort well, and stood behind his wife, ready to defend her if need be.

Bjorn stares between the Arab leader and his sister in law, catching very few words as he did not pick up Greek as well as Ivar had.

"We've come for my father."

"Ahh," Then Arab man quickly sweeps his eyes over her again before coming to a conclusion, "You were taken by these people as a slave."

"With all due respect, that is no concern of yours."

"How cunning you must have been to become queen of a foreign people." Artemis blinks, not sure how she should retaliate without potentially endangering them all. She glares at him, and the Arab man smirks back.

"Should I kill him?" Ivar asks her rather loudly, his fingers lightly dancing on her waist, "I could kill him."

"Ivar." Bjorn warns, but is cut short when Artemis removes a hidden dagger from Ivar's side, bringing the pad of her finger to the tip.

"Or I could do it myself." She says casually, speaking as if the man weren't there. She teasingly points the dagger at the Arab man, waiting for him to react. The Andalusian warriors immediately point their weapons at them, swords and bows just a few feet away. Ivar's men did not hesitate in reciprocating their actions, axes glimmering in the sunlight.

Bjorn stomps over to snatch the dagger from Artemis's hand with a hard yank.

"Enough," The older Ragnarsson says, putting a hand up in a form of surrender, "When did you become as impulsive as my brother?"

Suddenly the Arab man barks out another laugh, clearly amused. He orders his men to lower their weapons before putting his hands to his hips.

"I see you both make for better company than Bjorn ever did," He jokes, watching Bjorn furrow his flaxen brows in displeasure before bringing his attention back to Ivar, "Your wife is very vivacious, King Ivar. An admirable trait."

"I wouldn't have it any other way." Ivar bites out a quick response, a smirk settling on his lips as he holds her tight.

"Very well, I will accept you are here in search of someone, a certain blacksmith, but what have you to offer in return for allowing you and your men into my lands?" Artemis scoffs, rolling her eyes at the sheer audacity this man had at calling the island his. Before she could spit out a sarcastic comment, Bjorn interjects.

"We wish to trade," He tells him, "I'm sure you will be satisfied with the items we've brought." The leader hums.

"Go on."

"We bring furs from all over Scandinavia," Ivar continues, "The best pelt's of brown bear from Norway." He motions to Dafi, ordering him and a few men to drag a crate off one of the ships. Once opened, Ivar digs a hand inside, pulling out a shiny pelt of fur belonging to a large brown bear. He runs his thumb over the soft hairs, offering the pelt to the Arab man, who took it from him with eager hands.

They all watch the man inspect the fur, impressed with the fine quality. He nods with a grunt of approval, handing Ivar back the pelt.

"Very well," He says, "I will grant you my hospitality," He mounts his horse, steering the beast round with his men following his lead. Picking up the reigns he turns to glance at them, "I humbly welcome you all to the Emirate of Crete."

...

The Emirate of Crete.

Artemis thinks bitterly, her eyes glaring daggers at the Arab leader's back. She didn't like him, she didn't like his men, and she most certainly didn't like his arrogance.

"I fear your face will remain that way." Ivar jokes, peering up at her with his charming smile. It was his attempt to calm her nerves.

"I don't like him."

"Neither do I, my love," He mutters, "Though he trades with us decent goods."

"Slaves?" She mutters defensively, and Ivar thinks that perhaps Bjorn was right, she was taking after him.

"Some slaves, yes," He responds, "Among other items." Artemis only grunts in response. "Such is the way of the world, Artemis, you know this."

"And they will not be as lucky as I." She says, finally deciding to rip her eyes away from the offending man and towards their surroundings.

Part of her didn't want to be there.

How long had she dreamt of this very moment, only to feel like she wanted to run and hide?

4 years?

4 years of sadness, pain, happiness and peace all in one congested mess of emotions that had her questioning her sanity in such moments.

She remembered that day vividly.

It was as if it all occurred just days ago. Sometimes when she closed her eyes, she could reimagine it all again, the screams, the blood, the tears.

She chooses to watch Ivar's face taking in the foreign sights. It was a lovely distraction. He'd never been this far from home before. Ivar wouldn't admit it, but he was fascinated to be in such a land so unlike his own, where the sun never seemed to set and the heat was beyond anything he'd felt on his pale skin.

He seemed so childlike, like a curious babe entering the world.

Artemis wanted to appreciate such a moment, the rare sight of her husband being absorbed into his surroundings was adorable. He swore no lands could outshine Kattegat, but judging by his curious eyes, he found something close to it.

Finally, her eyes catch the sight of the monastery. That was when the dam of her emotions broke, and she couldn't hold herself together any longer. She fights with herself, the stubborn tears already pooling at the rim of her eyes, threatening to spill. She sniffles, wiping the falling tears angrily. Her hot tears fall against Ivar, droplets landing on his hand.

He gazes up at her again, seeing how she wiped at her face furiously, skin flushed from fighting her emotions. Ivar frowns, taking up her hand to brush a kiss over her knuckles. He lets her have a moment to herself, deciding to wrap an arm about her waist in simple comfort.

Keeping a tight grip on the reigns, he turns to look at the infamous monestary, made of white stone and now donning a symbol that he knew was not that of the Christian's.

Abu Haf's men led the procession along into the bustling village, the roads small and rocky under the wheels of the chariot. It looked war torn, signs of battle and struggle through every corner. The people gaze at Ivar's men with wide eyes. Many glared, and many others hid in their homes and shops. Just like the Andalusian's, they were not welcomed.

It was a short ride. Bjorn took it upon himself to stay back and watch over the ships with a few of his own warriors under the watchful eye of the Andalusian men.

A few moments later and the procession stops in the main square of the village.

"The blacksmith," Abu Hafs says from atop his horse. He points to the familiar shop, but Artemis already knew the way. She grips Ivar's shoulder tightly in her nervousness. Everything appeared the same, though the stones were a bit eroded since she was there last. Smoke escaped from the chimney above, a clear sign that someone was at work.

"Artemis?" Ivar questions, moving to push a few stray hairs behind her ear. She turns to him with shining eyes, a look of fear settling within the dark pools. She hadn't looked that frightened in such a long time. It broke his heart to see her in such grief.

"Are you ready?"

"No," She whispers, "No, I don't think I am." Her feet seemed rooted to the base of his chariot, and it appeared she wouldn't be moving for a while. Ivar stood with a grunt, quickly placing a kiss to her cheek before stepping off into the direction of the shop.

"Ivar?" She calls out to him frantically, "What are you doing?"

"Going to meet my father in law, is it not obvious?" He turns around to look at her with a smile, "He is part of the family, no?"

"Yes but-"

"You come in whenever you're ready, hmm? Dafi, watch over her." Ivar orders the warrior, giving a quick glance to Abu Hafs, his eyes sending a warning.

Once he pushes the door, he immediately catches sight of an older man. He was of moderate height and quite burly for his age. He worked as every blacksmith would, dipping a sword into a bucket of cold water. The steam rose and cleared before Ivar decided to speak.

"Giannis?"

The older man turns around, immediately stiffening at the sight of him. He stares at Ivar long and hard, raking his eyes over his form before whispering.

"Viking."

Ivar smirks, hobbling in to get a closer look at the man who truly had a strong resemblance to his wife. It was unmistakable.

He searches his mind for the proper words before speaking.

"Your daughter has been waiting for this moment a long time," He tells him, finding a stool to sit on, "And in some ways, I have as well. She speaks fondly of you." It was quite amusing really, to see the man as frozen as a deer moments before its death by an arrow.

The man says nothing, his hand twitching over the pommel of the sword left to cool in the bucket. He scrutinizes the northerner before him and his calm actions. Ivar doesn't bat an eye when the man lifts the sword in a defensive stance, pointing it towards him.

"I want no trouble." The man, Giannis, says, thick brows furrowing when Ivar scoffs, waving his hand about as he usually did.

"I'm not here to cause trouble." The blacksmith was even more confused, slowly lowering the sword cautiously. Isn't causing trouble what Vikings did?

"You know, she is a queen now." Ivar tells him, choosing to observe his surroundings. It was a quaint little forge, supplied with what was necessary, similar to the one back home. He could already imagine Artemis scurrying about in there once upon a time.

The man blinks, quite stunned into silence. Frankly, it appeared as if he were struck in the face. He couldn't fathom what was more odd, a pillaging Northman sitting before him, or the fact that he spoke Greek. Both were equally odd.

"You understand me, yes?" Ivar questions him, eyebrows raised. He leans his arms on his crutch, waiting for the man to answer him. The blacksmith nods, placing the sword atop the table before removing his gloves. He then glances at Ivar's braces and crutch, finally bringing his gaze to look him in the eyes. The same eyes of his wife.

"You like them?" A smile begins to curl at the corners of Ivar's lips, "Your daughter's creation. You taught her well."

"How do you know my daughter?" The man's voice was suddenly like a whip. Any normal person would have flinched, but Ivar was far from normal. Ivar lets out a chuckle, as it became clear to him where Artemis had inherited her temper from.

"She is my wife," Ivar articulates as best he could, enjoying the way the man's face went from panic, to an even greater panic, "And that makes you my father in law."

"What?" The blacksmith sneers.

"As well as a grandfather." Ivar continues his chatter. The man was greatly overwhelmed. He runs a hand through his graying hair, his aged skin seemingly more pronounced as he ponders the situation.

"I don't understand," He says, "My daughter was killed by your people."

"She was captured," Ivar corrects, though not very happy to have said that, "And is very much alive." The older man grunts, picking up the sword and placing it back into the bucket with a force that surprised Ivar.

The blacksmith says nothing, walking toward the far corner of the forge and quickly producing a clay jug along with 2 clay cups. He pours himself wine, quickly gulping it down before filling the other cup and handing it over to Ivar.

"Drink."

Ivar sniffs at the wine out of habit, not much a fan of the fermented grape drink as his wife was, but decides to take a sip.

"It has been nearly 4 years," The man begins, bringing a stool over to sit a few feet from Ivar, "Artemis is dead. I have come to terms with it." He pours himself another cup and downs it with a deep grunt, holding the cup so tightly Ivar thought it might shatter in his grasp. "We haven't seen your people around here in quite a while, so tell me, has a man of the North come to kill me, or pester me, hm?"

"Neither." Was Ivar's simple reply.

"Then what is it you want? Weapons?"

"Just a man wanting to reunite his wife with her family." The older man was skeptical, looking at Ivar with narrowed eyes.

"If what you claim is true then where is she?"

"Right outside."

As if on cue, Artemis bursts into the forge, her chest heaving as if she ran for miles. She swallows thickly, her throat feeling dry from the anxiousness.

Both Ivar and her father turn to look towards the outburst, only to find a nervous young woman wringing her hands together as she slowly steps forward.

She didn't know what to think, what to say, what would he-

Her fathers eyes found hers instantly, and the cup fell from his hand, shattering across the floor in pieces. She takes a step back on instinct, her eyes following the shattered clay pieces that scattered towards her feet.

"I must be dreaming," The blacksmith says, shooting up from the stool, yet makes no movement to approach her, "The devil tests me." Ivar snorts immediately, bringing them both out from their haze.

"This is no work of the devil, I assure you." He tells him.

Father and daughter merely stare, eyes battling each other, waiting to see which one of them was the illusion.

"Father," Artemis's voice cracks, "I thought you were..." She stops herself, choking back a sob. She couldn't speak after that, giving in to the grief of painful separation. It hurt Ivar to see her in such a state. He hated it. He attempts to reach for her but stops himself short when her father finally strides forward, grabbing her into a tight embrace.

"My sweet girl." He struggles to say through his own sorrow, enveloping his daughter in a tight embrace. This was the moment that Artemis had been waiting for, the moment she thought impossible. To feel her father's touch again was almost bittersweet, as her new home was worlds apart from his.

After a few moments her father pulls away from her.

"Let me get a proper look at you," He says, holding her at arm's length, "You've not changed, though your state of dress is certainly different." He gives her a teary smile, hearing the tiny hiccup of a laugh within her sobs. Her delicate face hadn't changed much, but it was obvious to him that she had matured. She was far from the young girl he remembered. Her eyes held many tales from across the seas.

"This Viking says you are a queen, that you are his wife." Her father's tone was gentle as he was known to have a soft nature by those who knew him well. His previous panic with Ivar had subsided and was replaced with a new found curiosity. Artemis nods, wiping her face free of tears.

"His name is Ivar," She begins, "It is true...I am his wife. We rule a kingdom in the far North." She tries to keep her voice leveled, wanting to be strong. She was proud of being wife to her husband. Turning to look back at Ivar he offers her a reassuring smile. He was listening intently, making sure to follow their conversation. She smiles back, feeling much more confident.

"I thought I would never see you again," She admits, turning back towards the older man "And when I was told about the Andalusian's, I assumed nothing but the worst for you." Her father nods, running a hand down his face.

"It has been a challenging few years," He admits, "But we still persevere. We always do." He then turns away from them for a moment to collect his thoughts, a question burning in his mind. He turns back round with a sigh, placing a hand on his daughter's shoulder. "I was told you have a child?"

"A daughter, Sól," Artemis smiles at the thought of her little girl, "She is back home with Ivar's brother for safety." Her father hums in response, though he was saddened at his daughter's idea of home.

"Home? Is it not here in Chania?"

"This place is just a memory of what it once was. There is nothing for me here. There is nothing for you here either, father." Her father frowns at her response. It was true. Though the Andalusian's ransacked their island, it was still home.

"Her home is where her family is," Ivar finally interjects, "And her family is in Norway." The older man gives Ivar a stern look.

"Tell me, Viking, do you know the pain of losing a child?" His voice was calm, but behind the cool exterior was a slow boiling rage. Ivar clenches his jaw, his lips forming into a tight line. He gives the man a hard look before bringing his gaze towards his worried wife, and then towards his hands gripping his crutch.

"No," Ivar answers bitterly, "I do not know of such pain. Nor do I ever wish to feel it with my own child."

"I have lost a wife, a son, and for 4 agonizing years I believed I had lost a daughter," The blacksmith explains, grunting as he sits back down upon the stool opposite of Ivar, "Your people have caused damage to many hearts here." Ivar remains silent, fingers tightening over his crutch while he listens to the words of the old man.

"Forgive me for wanting my daughter to return home." He raises his eyes to glance at his daughter, who stood beside the northern as if she were always meant to be there, "But I could already see that remaining here is not part of her plan," He sighs with smile and a shake of his head," Artemis has always been a force to be reckoned with."

"Oh?" Ivar grins, bringing his eyes to his wife. Her cheeks burned red.

"Father-"

"Did she ever tell you of the butcher boy? Scared the poor boy to death when she tried bringing a hammer to his head. Put me in much trouble with the boy's father." Ivar grins hearing the tale, his fingers trailing over Artemis's lower back.

"I would very much like to hear more of these stories." He laughs at his wife's embarrassment, squeezing her tight from round her waist.

Her father beckons his daughter forward, offering his aged hand for her to grasp,"Oh daughter," He stands, embracing her again, "My heart both sings and weeps for you." She hears the pain in his voice, the grief of an old man at wits end.

"You mustn't worry for me. I am well and Ivar takes good care of me."

"He treats you well?"

"Like a queen." She responds, and the father could feel her smiling against his tunic.

"And your daughter?"

"Takes after her mother," Ivar answers, "She is the jewel of Kattegat." The blacksmith smiles, quiet content with the answers received. They stayed silent for a few moments before he lets out another sigh, speaking with slight amusement in his tone.

"Well then," He begins, looking down at Artemis, "I suppose I can't threaten to marry you off to the butcher's boy anymore, hmm?"

Artemis breaks out into a smile more blinding than the Mediterranean sun.

...

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