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aminiatureworld · 3 years

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Injury II

Characters: Kaeya, Ningguang, Xiao, Zhongli, gn!reader

Word Count: 5,650

Warnings: Various injuries, blood, burns, minor villain death

Premise: Sometimes the pain of others can hurt even more than one’s own. In which the reader is injured.

Author’s Note: Okay so after the mind numbing fear of my computer almost dying and now maybe emitting a weird smell I’m five seconds away from pure panic. But the show much go on! Even if my word document keeps blacking out.

This is my first time writing for Ningguang! I hope I do my girl justice, she’s voiced by my fav VA, she’s a total powerhouse, I love her so much.

I tried to make all of the injuries personal to each character in some way. Funny enough Zhongli’s was the hardest to figure out. I eventually settled upon the act of you being injured causing Zhongli’s personal angst, rather than the cause of the injury. I hope it came out well!

Kaeya

Kaeya didn’t often let himself fall into fear. Not since he’d been young did he feel that he could indulge in such a sentiment. True to his vision he’d frozen that part of himself, and now when panic seized him he could feel nothing but stone cold determination, and the need to continue forward without hesitation. Fear was hardly alien to him, he could conjure up the emotion all too well, but it had been dulled and replaced by cynicism and coldness. And occasionally guilt.

Looking back on it Kaeya wasn’t even sure why the two of you had strayed so close to Dragonspine, so close snowflakes were congregating in your hair.

You’d called him a winter fairy in jest at the time, wondering if he wasn’t truly the ruler of that mountain of frost. He’d laughed then, before threatening to take you away to his fairy court. “That would be quite an easy task.” You’d replied. “You’ve already captured my heart after all.”

The two of you were strolling on the rocks that lined the river which separated Dragonspine from the greater Monstadt area. Although adventurers usually roamed the area in the daytime it was now evening, and the lack of people certainly made up for the cold in Kaeya’s mind. He could only be his true self around you after all. Otherwise it was the charming and slick Cavalry Captain, a man who always knew what to say and never harbored any doubts in his mind. Not that he wasn’t still charming around you, he loved seeing you blush from his effusive praise, loved the way you buried your head in his shoulder if the flirting and the teasing ramped up enough. But there was a sincerity to his words that one couldn’t find normally in Kaeya, and he loved to show you bits and pieces of his soul, relieved to finally have someone to talk to.

“Watch your step.” You warned, grabbing onto Kaeya’s hand as he slid a little ways along a rock.

“Thank you darling, although I daresay I’m more worried about you. After all who’s the snow fairy here and who’s the wind sprite, liable to blow away at any moment?”

“So cheesy.” You mumbled, shaking your head, though Kaeya could’ve sworn your cheeks were slightly redder than they were a few moments ago. Laughing he wrapped his arm around your waist. You snuggled into his fur lined coat. “Cold.” You murmured, though you made no move to disconnect yourself. Kaeya smiled and brought his other hand around you in a soft embrace.

“Sorry my dearest, but you’re in love with an icicle.”

“Only terms of magic.” You shot back. “Otherwise you’re a nice warm fire. And don’t you forget that.”

The two of you headed a little ways down, closer to the river. A small group of frost flowers had made it to this side of the banks, and you were adamant on picking some. “They’re so beautiful!” You explained to Kaeya. “And incredibly strong, I can’t believe they managed to grow in that permafrost. They’re simply lovely.”

“Just be careful.” Kaeya commented, standing a little ways back. He didn’t like getting near the river, a river so cold it was always at nearly freezing at the bottom. Cold water and a vision of Cryo didn’t mix well.

“I’ll be fine.” You hopped to your feet, a bouquet of pale blue in your hand. You were smiling from your victory, face full of light and happiness.

It was an expression that changed swiftly as you lost your balance and plummeted into the freezing waters.

Immediately Kaeya leapt down from the rocks he was standing on, kneeling near where you were standing a moment ago. The river wasn’t very fast, bogged down by its width and how far it was away from the waterfalls in the warmer parts of Monstadt. Still it cut off very quickly, having barely the semblance of a beach before opening into a deep chasm, and anyone who fell in it would quickly fall into cold shock. Already your limbs had started seizing, and you were hyperventilating hard. Your arms felt like dead weight, and every second that passed your head dipped lower into the freezing water.

Kaeya gingerly put his hand out to make a platform of ice for him to stand on. Whatever happened he couldn’t fall in as well, it would mean the death of you two. Fear had reared its ugly head again and Kaeya twisted those feelings into action. No matter what he had to act fast and sure. Hesitation was fatal.

Plunging his hand into the water, sucking in a deep breath as the ice that still coated his palms and fingers made contact with the freezing river Kaeya hauled you up onto the icy platform. Taking off his coat he wrapped you up. Removing your gloves so the frozen water wouldn’t be in contact with your already freezing skin Kaeya cursed as he ran towards Springvale, the nearest place he could think of. He’d lugged you onto his back, and could feel the freezing water through his shirt. As he ran he kept up a stream of slightly shaky conversation, rattling off what little he knew of hypothermia.

“It’ll be alright darling, I promise it’ll be alright. You’re just going through shock right now, okay? You’ll be alright, I promise. Just stay awake a little while longer. I know you must be tired from all that excitement, but just stay awake a little longer, just a little longer and then you’ll be nice and warm, just stay awake right now okay?” His voice became more and more desperate as his fear started to tumble out of his grasp, but he kept moving. He wouldn’t lose control of himself now, not until you were safe.

Finally he arrived at Springvale and you’d been rushed to the village doctor. Kaeya was told to go and wait somewhere else, and preferably change out of his freezing cold shirt, but you’d grabbed his hand as he turned to leave and after that he refused to budge, instead borrowing a shirt from the village. He’d reimburse the people who let you two borrow their clothes later.

The entire process was a terrifying one, as you were slowly brought back to warmth. Kaeya took the opportunity to learn as much as he could, noting that you shouldn’t massage limbs back to warmth for fear of heart attack and – much to his chagrin he later joked when the situation was far enough in the past – alcohol was too much of a depressant on your system and could lead to death. All throughout he kept talking to you, even though there were times you didn’t seem to hear, times when he thought his heart would split in two.

Still it was evident you were going to survive and when you’d finally finished being warmed up Kaeya thought he could cry in relief, if only he’d been numbed from such an act for so many years. You’d run into some sort of rock in the water, and the long gash down the side of your leg was later determined by the doctor to reveal torn muscle. It’d take about a month and a half for you to recover. Kaeya thought he should’ve felt worse about it, but in the moment he felt nothing but relief, utter relief in the knowledge you were going to be fine. Utter relief that came with having almost lost you.

Kaeya had carried you back to Monstadt, much to your consternation. All the ways back you mumbled about how his penchant for drama seemed to have increased tenfold. Kaeya simply shook his head, not bothering to ask how you would’ve gotten back otherwise with your leg in the shape it was. Still it was a relief to both of you to see the city walls. Even more of a relief when you finally arrived home, safe and sound.

“I’m so glad you were there.” You confessed as Kaeya sat you down on the couch, propping up your leg and pulling a chair up next to you. “I don’t know what I would’ve done had I fallen and you weren’t there.”

“You probably wouldn’t have been there in the first place.” Kaeya remarked, unable to keep the bitterness out of his voice. You brought your hand up to his cheek and he leaned into it slightly, grateful for the contact between you two. It’d been hours but the panic that he’d felt still tugged at his consciousness, as if any moment you might slip away again and leave him panicked and alone.

“Were you afraid?” You asked.

“Of course I was afraid.” Kaeya’s reply came swift and sure. “I was terrified, terrified in a way that I haven’t been in years.” Kaeya’s eyes clouded over, as if reaching deep into his memories. He brought your hand up to his lips, kissing your knuckles and then your palm. “I thought that you might die, and in that moment I was ready to curse the world all over again.”

“But I didn’t die.” You said solemnly.

“No, you didn’t.”

“And that’s because of you. Because you reacted quickly, because you had the magic with which to do so, and most of all because you never hesitated. And because of that I’m alive and well now. Injuries aside I’ll be fine. I promise.”

Kaeya knew you were right. You were alive. You weren’t going to go where he couldn’t follow. The fear coiling in his stomach began to subside. He’d been so afraid, yes, and in that fear he’d managed to find the strength and determination to save you. But now you were safe and he no longer needed to rely on that strength; he could give into his relief. Realizing this, realizing how frightened he’d been and how that was now part of a past he could move forward from, could truly forget, Kaeya could only marvel at his relief. Only then did the tears begin to fall.

Ningguang

If there was one thing Ningguang wasn’t expecting out of today it was your leg collapsing and her winding up in the waiting room of the Liyue hospital, mind replaying the last week or so, wondering where she might’ve realized something was wrong.

It seemed like the kind of thing Keqing would make a joke about. Here Ningguang was, the Tianquan of the Liyue Qixing, the most powerful woman in the trade capital of Liyue; here she was, her world completely gone awry, completely shattered by your injury.

A stress fracture, the doctor had said. It was the kind of injury that developed slowly and came about after weeks instead of in moments. The initial strain was usually something mundane, a sprain, a bruise, maybe you’d walked on your foot for too long. But after sometimes weeks of ignoring pain and swelling your body couldn’t take it any longer. Ten weeks, that’s how long you would be laid up. And Ningguang couldn’t help but feel every one of those ten weeks was her fault.

She should’ve noticed it. That train of thought continued all throughout the process of you being treated at, and eventually discharged from, the hospital. You weren’t just one of the people she worked with daily, weren’t just her closest colleague. You were the person that Ningguang loved more than anything in this world. How could she possibly not have noticed the signs?

Ningguang found herself obsessively trying to connect the warning signs that must’ve been there. She knew that your foot had been aching for some time, but though she’d been vaguely concerned she’d said nothing other than a simple “be careful”. She’d never thought to check after you later, sure that it was nothing. Now she felt nothing but shame, both that of a personal and of a greater kind. How could she manage looking after all of Liyue if she couldn’t even look after you?

You noticed Ningguang’s silence as you two made your way out of the hospital and towards the apartment you shared. Although Ningguang was perhaps seen as a reticent individual you’d found her surprisingly open, always ready to discuss things that were of interest either to you or to her. She wasn’t the kind of person to walk along in silence; not when she was around those that she cared for, not unless she was thinking about something important, not unless…

Finally you two arrived home. You collapsed on the couch, tired and ready to either read or nap. Ningguang was preparing some tea and a various array of fruit, not that there was much food in the lavish apartment you two shared. Considering the workload between the both of you it was perhaps unsurprising that there was nothing much to eat. That would have to change, Ningguang noted; she’d make sure that you were recovering in the most comfortable way possible. It was the least she could do.

“Are you feeling well?” Ningguang asked, placing the food and tea on the table in your room. You nodded.

“I feel fine, although I’m not looking forward to the walk to the Qixing headquarters. I have to admit dear this might be the only time I’m a bit glad that I don’t have to make my way to the Jade Chamber every day.” Ningguang smiled at that, but it didn’t reach her eyes. She sat silently, sipping her tea slowly. Your expression clouded over. “Hey, can you tell me what’s wrong?”

“Oh it’s nothing my love.” Ningguang spoke up quickly, leaning over and kissing you on the cheek. “I’m just sorry to see you like this.”

“Well you can’t blame yourself. You know that, right?”

Ningguang found she couldn’t bring herself to lie to you. Your gaze, though soft, seemed to pierce right through all her excuses and all her bluffing. She sighed softly. Maybe it would be better to be upfront about it, clear and concise, how one should always be. At least then she could apologize properly.

“In truth I do blame myself. I can’t believe I was so neglectful of your health, so blind to your pain.” She shook her head, staring at the hand that was holding yours. A disconnected part of her thought of how well the two fit together, fingers intertwined softly, your palm warm and comforting.

“If you were blind to this then so was I.” You spoke softly but firmly, refusing to sugar coat your words. Ningguang admired you for it, even if she didn’t believe you, something painfully clear in the expression on her face. “You cannot blame yourself.” You continued, “I won’t let you. I don’t want you beating yourself up for something that neither of us predicted. If you feel the need to blame yourself for this you must also blame me; I was the one walking on the injury without paying enough attention.”

“But – ” Ningguang paused, realizing the truth behind your words, slouching slightly she sat in deep thought. “I… I realize there’s not a lot of logic behind my thinking.”

“Well feelings are hardly logical.” You pointed out, squeezing her hand. “And because they’re illogical they don’t go away quickly. But I at least want you to try and combat your guilt with what I’ve told you. Because just like you hate seeing me in this cast I hate seeing you in pain.”

Ningguang nodded, heart filled with a deep sense of love and tenderness. Leaning over to give you a kiss she smiled softly. You did too. For a moment you two basked in each other’s presence and happiness, before you smile turned mischievous.

“Although… I won’t object to a little pampering.” Ningguang chuckled, shaking her head. But her smile was real this time, and you wouldn’t ask for anything more.

“You’re lucky I love you so much.”

“I know I am.” You replied. “And you’re lucky I adore you.”

“I am.” Ningguang’s reply was just as sure, was full of quiet but strong emotion. She was lucky. And she would never take you or your love for granted. No matter what.

Xiao

By the time he’d met you Xiao had long come to the conclusion that he’d never find it in him to like humans.

Humans were dirty, they were untrustworthy and full of darkness, they broke things without thinking about it, mangled their own people, their own families and friends and countrymen. Humans slaughtered one another without thinking of how it might stain them, and when they weren’t killing they were stealing and lying and ruining the land around them. How could he, a being designed solely to destroy the darkness in the world, ever find in himself the will or the ability to look past all that?

When he’d met you and had fallen in love in earnest this view had still changed ultimately very little. But even if you’d admitted that what he said was mostly true, you’d found that you still wanted him to learn to care at least a little bit about humanity. I mean you were ultimately one of them at your core. It didn’t feel right to prop yourself up as the one great exception, not when there were other people who were certainly like you in mind and in morality. Xiao silently disagreed with this analysis; to him there never was and never would be someone like you, in all of Teyvat. Still, he felt compelled to try, though more for your sake than for his, and as the weeks had gone on he’d begun to look at humanity not with any sort of respect or hope but with a sort of begrudging curiosity, and an admittance that maybe, just maybe, there was a bit of that light you saw in it.

What a fool he’d been.

Although Xiao was aware of the growing threat of treasure hoarders across Liyue – so widespread that they’d even managed to eat away at the tranquil lands surrounding Jueyen Karst – he’d never considered them a serious threat. So when the two of you accidentally ran into a group of them while exploring some of the older Liyue ruins Xiao didn’t bother to do much more than wrap an arm around your waist, sure that even the most idiotic of treasure hoarders wouldn’t be so foolish as to pick a fight with either an adeptus or their beloved. You seemed unfazed at any rate, explaining that the two of you were simply passing by and had no desire to pick a fight; if they’d be so kind the two of you would be on your way.

Perhaps the treasure hoarders were well aware of the fact that you could report them to the Liyue Qixing. Perhaps they were simply in a bad mood. Either way your words apparently did nothing. Xiao was becoming tenser and tenser, feeling as if something catastrophic was about to happen. That moment came to pass when one of the treasure hoarders pulled out a knife and threw it, lodging itself with deadly accuracy into your torso.

At that point Xiao felt himself overcome with a supernatural sort of calm, a calm which raced to cover up the anguish and rage that was coursing through him, threatening to burn him from the inside out. He only paused to make sure you didn’t hit the ground hard, before summoning his spear. Ignoring the cries of the treasure hoarders he made quick work of disposing of them, for what was a measly human, a piece of trash, when compared to that which had slayed countless demons? A small part of him cried out against the act, pointing out the fact that every time he wielded his polearm to kill it might bring him closer to the precipice, the fact that you were hurt mattered more than revenge, the fact that he was going to regret killing in front of you. He ignored it. At that moment there was nothing in his mind, it was as empty and staid as a clear pool of water. The only ripple in it was the way you’d jolted back in surprised, and the way you’d let out a cry before crumpling.

Xiao didn’t look back to see the havoc he’d wreaked. Instead he ran to your side. Peeling off his gloves, worried that they might bring infection, he pressed his bare hands to your wound, desperately trying to staunch the blood that was spilling out, ignoring the shocks that jolted through his hands, the result of the dagger somehow being infused with electro. The feeling of blood, your blood, beneath his fingers was nauseating, and for a moment Xiao felt his head filling with static as the pure panic that he’d felt began to overcome the initial rush of adrenaline. Snapping out of it when you let out a groan of pain Xiao looked into your eyes. They were clouded, and for a moment the adeptus was afraid you might be on the verge of passing out – had you really lost so much blood? Holding you tightly, one hand never leaving your wound, Xiao summoned a burst of air. His thoughts were still too chaotic to be processed, there was only one thing connecting them all. Let them live. If there’s any justice in this world, please let them live.

Verr Goldet had grasped the situation as soon as she saw Xiao appear on the balcony, face contorted in fear. Taking you to her room, she’d instructed Xiao to get one of the doctors from Liyue while she and the resident apothecary took care of you. Xiao did the task without thinking, and once he’d arrived with the doctor he refused to leave your side. Xiao knew death better than most adepti, certainly more than most humans. It was cold and unfeeling, and had a nasty habit of leaping onto people when they least expected it. It didn’t matter to him that all three, Goldet, the apothecary, and the doctor, said that you would be fine; Xiao was going to be there the entire time.

Eventually you managed to rouse yourself from the pain induced stupor, and when you did you saw Xiao first, eyes wide with fear and relief, tears threatening to spill down his face.

In the end you’d been lucky. Although the dagger had ruptured your spleen Xiao had acted quickly enough to avert catastrophe. You were going to survive, though it’d be 12 weeks most likely until you were completely recovered. The moment of crisis having passed the two of you were finally given a moment alone.

“Are you alright?” Xiao immediately asked. You didn’t make a move to answer, instead cupping Xiao’s cheek before moving to take his hand. At that moment how Xiao remembered. Oh; the blood. Quickly moving away he ran to the nearest basin of water, scrubbing furiously. As the water turned red a faint smell of iron filled the air; it was the most disgusting thing Xiao had ever smelt, and he scrubbed even harder. You waited silently as he finished cleaning his hands and disposing of the water. Finally he came back to sit next to you, still hesitating a moment before placing his palm in yours.

“I… I don’t understand how you could ever like humans.” That was the first thing Xiao could think of. “They betrayed you. Without even blinking. That man, all those men and women, they would’ve ended your life without even thinking about it. They would’ve killed you and lived without ever having such a thing weigh on their conscience. Humans never think about the weight of their sins. They just keep committing atrocities.”

“And what about you, Xiao. Will their deaths weigh on you?”

“As much as all the others.” Xiao wished he could be matter of fact about it, but he found that trait of his had somehow disappeared. Instead an emotion washed over him, so unfamiliar and unexplainable it seemed to choke him. “Perhaps more.” He managed to get out, before beginning to cry in earnest.

You would’ve died. If he hadn’t been there you would’ve died. For you he gladly shouldered the weight of human life, would do so again and again if only to ensure your safety. And yet it was such a heavy weight, and no matter how many Xiao killed it wouldn’t heal you.

“I’m sorry.” He choked out. You shook your head.

“Xiao I always knew that you weren’t going to be able to see humans as I see them immediately. And I know that you have a relationship with death and killing that most humans, most beings, will never have. I’m not going to blame you, nor will I turn on you. I cannot pretend that what happened didn’t make me angry. In retrospect it made me incredibly angry. It’s also true that – had you not been there – I would’ve raised my own weapon in self-defense. But now I’m going to ask you for one thing, and one thing only.”

“What?”

“Help me recover. Help me recover and let me help you recover. If there’s one thing I don’t want to happen now it’s for you to turn away from me and from everyone else, to let yourself be consumed. I want you to have somewhere you can let your feelings exist, and I want somewhere I can feel happy and comfortable as myself. You make me feel that way, so even if it’s selfish I don’t want you to turn away. And I don’t want you to grieve for me. Injured as I may be I’m not dead.” There was a pause as you let yourself catch your breath, having gotten more and more excited as you went on. “I realize that’s more than one thing.” You concluded, a bit sheepish.

Xiao said nothing for a while before leaning towards you. “May I?” He whispered. You nodded and Xiao pressed his lips to yours. The kiss wasn’t one of fire or passion. It was different, defined within the parameters of fear and relief, there seemed to be a sort of desperation in it, yet it was surprisingly sedate. Pulling away Xiao buried his face in your neck, careful to make sure he wasn’t touching where you’d been stabbed.

“I will. I promise.” He whispered. You nodded, smiling softly. But Xiao couldn’t bring himself to smile, not just yet.

Xiao couldn’t understand humans. They were dirty and cruel and lived without fear of consequences. Their actions haunted him and he found them easier to hate than to understand. But for you he’d try, because to him there was one thing strong than all, strong than fear, stronger than mistrust, stronger than hatred.

And that was the love he held for you.

Zhongli

If there was one thing Zhongli hadn’t been prepared for when it came to falling in love with humans it was their combination of fragility and utter ignorance to said fragility.

One of Zhongli’s favorite things to do was to simply sit and listen to you talk about your life. Humans fascinated Zhongli, it was one of the reasons he’d ultimately given up his place as Rex Lapis; inside him lived a desire to interact with humanity in a more intimate way, to know what made people behave as they did and to perhaps grow closer to them in the process.

But despite all that he still wasn’t ready for the utter fear he felt when listening to the stories of you getting hurt. You’d laughed off scrapes and bruises and fractures. The time you’d accidentally ripped off your nail was a painful yet funny anecdote, and the fact that you’d fractured your kneecap as a child was something you now looked back on with an odd sense of nostalgia.

Zhongli didn’t understand why these stories frightened him on such a visceral level. Such injuries were nothing to gods and adepti. Although the idea of a broken bone was certainly an irritation there was nothing more in it, and the kind of injuries that could easily kill humans would to Zhongli be the kind of thing that would be unpleasant for its novelty, not for its potential fatality.

He didn’t bring up these thoughts to you, feeling as if they’d somehow place an undue burden on you, or perhaps he was afraid you’d stop telling him about yourself. Still it lurked at the back of his mind, the fear of what might happen to you.

The fears that Zhongli harbored were proven in the most mundane, and thus most poignant, way. The two of you had been preparing a meal when suddenly you’d stumbled on an uneven part of the floor. Reaching your hands out to steady yourself your arm had landed flat on the hot stove, the stove which had been heating up for the past fifteen or so minutes. The scream that you let out sent a shock through Zhongli which shook him to his core. It rang through his ears incessantly, a terrifying reminder of how breakable humans were.

You’d immediately yanked your arm off from the stove but the sight that met both his and your eyes was a ghastly one. The skin on your arm was charred various colors, white blisters mixed with black flaky skin, all outlined in a terrible circle of red. You were shaking, and you face had turned a frightful ashen color. Springing into action Zhongli wracked his brain for all he could remember about burns. If the burn is serious enough go to the hospital. Never try to treat intense burns yourself as the burning has gone deeper than the initial layer of skin, raise your burn above your heart. Go to the hospital. Slinging your arm around his shoulder so that it was raised, whisper soft words of reassurance as you let out a shriek of pain, Zhongli half walked half carried you to the hospital, all while the same thought was running through his head.

How fragile humans are.

The doctors had insisted you stay overnight. Apparently the burn was bad enough to require surgery. Zhongli’s stomach had dropped as he was told that, but he managed to nod in response. Walking back home Zhongli felt all in a daze. He barely made it in the door before he collapsed, fear having seeped the energy out of him. The world pressed down on him, heavier than it’d ever been before. At least you’d be okay, he reminded himself. If he had anything to cling to at least he had that.

Zhongli was the first visitor to arrive at the hospital, having given Hu Tao the run of the funeral home as he spent as much time as possible with you. You were well enough, although a bit bogged down from the painkillers you’d been given. You’d once offhandedly commented that although magic infused medicine tended to be safer for the patient – more successful and less addictive – it was also more powerful; now Zhongli could see you weren’t kidding.

Your burn was wrapped up carefully, the doctors had managed to take the charred skin of, you’d explain, but now the burn had to be treated with the utmost care until the surgery later in the afternoon, infection was no joke.

“Well this’ll certainly be an interesting anecdote.” You let out half a laugh. “Not that I’m happy this happened, but at least this will shut up the next person who complains about how cardio was the most painful thing they’ve experienced.”

“I don’t know how you can be so cavalier about it.” Zhongli replied, tone soft and introspective. “It seems to terrifying to me, how easily humans are hurt.”

“Hey, I’ll be fine.” You assured him, voice soft but firm. “I understand how to adepti and archons and gods this might be terrifying. I’d be the first to admit we can’t really keep up with you in terms of pure healing and resistance to injury. But we’ve continued on this far haven’t we?” You smiled softly. “I promise I’m not about to die from something like a kitchen accident.”

“But what if next time it’s not your arm?” Zhongli replied. “What if it’s your neck or your chest? What if you cut yourself too deeply, what if your cut becomes infected. There are so many things I haven’t thought about until now, so many things that could hurt you. It frightens me terribly.”

“I’m very grateful that you’re worrying for me like this. But Zhongli?” You waited for his eyes to meet yours, smiling once more when he faced you. “You cannot be consumed by your anxiety. Believe me humans worry about these kinds of things. What if I tripped and fell and broke my neck, what if I scratched myself and developed and infection, what if I choked on an apple? These fears live with us, sometimes constantly, but we cannot let them consume us. As much as I’m flattered and glad you care for my wellbeing so much, I also don’t want you consumed by it, nor do I want to be treated like glass.”

“I cannot understand how you’re so resilient.” Zhongli replied after a short pause. You shrugged.

“We are because we must be.”

Zhongli knew in his heart that these fears he harbored weren’t going to go away. He knew that they were going to become more and more apparent through the month of your initial recovery, and through the longer period too as scar tissue formed and subsided.

Humans were indeed fragile. But if there was one thing stronger than said fragility it was their even greater determination to supersede it. Humans may be fragile in body, but they were stronger in spirit even than the gods.

That was something Zhongli wasn’t going to forget. Not for a very long time.

#my computer's about to die but this was totally worth it #also I never want to learn that much about burns again oof #tonight was wild #also I love ningguang so much aaa #kaeya #ningguang #xiao #zhongli #kaeya x reader #ningguang x reader #xiao x reader #zhongli x reader #genshin impact #genshin impact fanfiction #scenarios #my writing

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wesimpforxiao · 3 years

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Say My Name and I’ll Be There: 9.3

Childe elected to ignore your groan of pain when he yanked you to your feet. "No hard feelings, comrade."

"I-I'm gonna kill you," you breathed. "I'll kill you and that damned witch if it's the last thing I do." A cold hand pressed to your side while the harbinger threw your other arm over his shoulder to escort you inside.

"I suppose I'll have to train you then if that's your goal."

He wasn't joking; the two of you would remain at a stalemate until your strength grew. He taught you--what you assumed was--almost everything he knew, though for you to reap the full benefits of his knowledge would take years of training. Despite this he pushed you over and over again, every day, after the wound he gave you closed. He didn't give you the courtesy of healing completely before initiating fights with you. He didn't go easy on you either--but it's not like you would've wanted him to in the first place. At least your sparring sessions gave you an outlet to take out your frustrations on.

You didn't count the days that passed. You didn't call for Xiao. You didn't rely on him to save you when all is said and done. It was time to rescue yourself; if you overran the palace on your own, then other nations wouldn't need to get involved on your behalf. If the palace fell, no one except you would be held responsible. You were okay with that. If it meant Xiao, Aether and Zhongli would be excluded from the wrath of the cryo archon, then your struggles were more than worth it.

Yet with every passing day, more and more Fatui agents were injected with the serums that contained your blood--and survived. The only thing that made their successful adaptation possible was the sealing of your and Xiao's bond. With that thought in mind, you were growing increasingly impatient. You were the one that insisted upon training for most of the day, not Childe. You were the one looking for a fight.

"Why're you doing this?" You asked one day while your hand absently trailed down to the fresh scar on your side where he had impaled you.

"Doing what?"

"Training me. Isn't it a stupid move to train someone how to fight when they're intent on killing you? If I was you, I would've just let me bleed out in the snow back then."

"If I didn't train you, I would be missing out on one of the best fights of my life."

"Is that supposed to flatter me?"

"It's the truth. Where else am I supposed to find a worthy opponent? At my current power level, I'd have more luck with creating one." Childe conjured his bow and twirled it in his hand, seemingly debating something that was on his mind. "With your improved skills, I think we'd be able to take the other harbingers."

You froze. "What? Why would you say that? Whatever happened to your undying loyalty?"

"My loyalty for the Tsaritsa and my respect for my coworkers are two entirely different matters. What I really care about is fighting. It's been so long since I've had an exhilarating battle, even after Aether showed up. I would give anything to feel that thrilled again. And that, dear ojou-chan, is where you come in."

"I'm not fighting you for the thrills. I will kill you, I'll make sure of it." It's insulting that he'd even look at your anger as a type of entertainment! The nerve of this guy--

"Well until then I think we could stir up quite the trouble, you and I, don't you think?" His eyes finally left his weapon and locked onto you.

"...What exactly are you implying, Tartaglia?" Narrowed suspicious pupils returned his mischievous ones.

He didn't answer, instead leaving you with an ominous smirk and returning to the palace walls. Why should you trust a word that fell from his mouth after the Lantern Rite stunt he pulled? Maybe a small part of you wanted to believe he had some inkling of good in him, but you forced that wishful thinking down into the depths of your soul. Childe betrayed you so many times; it was in his nature to do so. He would never be done deceiving you either. You were sure of it despite the doubts that weighed on your mind.

.........................

"Bow before Her Majesty, the Tsaritsa." La Signora crossed her arms over her chest when you just glared at the dark throne that sat beneath the shadows.

"I think not."

The clicking of the harbinger's heels echoed in the silent room as everyone held their breaths. No one dared stand up to the cryo archon; it was unthinkable, even considered treason to question her actions. This would be the first meeting with the god since you formed a contract with her. And yet despite your quivering knees, you didn't remove your disrespectful glare from the throne.

"I wasn't asking." Fingers gripped your chin and forced you to look Signora in the face at an uncomfortably close distance. "You know the drill. Bow."

A beat of silence hung heavily in the air and then an awkward cough came from one of the Fatui advisors to your far right. You didn't blink. "Did I stutter?"

Signora's lips curled into a half-amused smirk before her fingers let go of your chin and were replaced by a palm slapping you instead. Her nails broke skin, but your expression never changed even when the stinging pain rang through your ear. "Have you forgotten who you serve?"

"She's not my god."

"Maybe not the one you worship, but I am the one you serve," the Tsaritsa leaned forward from her place on the throne and gestured for the Fair Lady to return to her side. "Tell me, why did you request to see me?"

A quick glance was sent Childe's away as if to check yourself. You had decided it best to at least try the peaceful way out before throwing yourself into a suicide mission. If worse came to worse, at least you'd be able to put your new knowledge to the test. "I'm no longer working for you." The archon's silence urged you to continue. "You don't need me here anymore. You got what you wanted. I'm going to return to Liyue."

"Is that so?"

"I will leave regardless of your answer."

"And you think I'd just let you walk out of here after all I've done for you?" The temperature dropped, but it displayed an emotion that you couldn't put your finger on. "I gifted you your vision, spared your life and that of your friends, and you insult me in return?"

What is this feeling of dread in my stomach? Your fists tightened and you took a deep breath to steady your nerves. "The trials are over now that Dottore's injections work. That was our deal, was it not? You want to break our contract? I thought you were more credible than that," you tested.

"I know what you've been thinking," the archon's thin lips formed a sinister grin. "I know you're plotting to cause an uproar, and I am telling you now that you will fail. Heed my words, Mezzetin, you are and always will be under my control."

"Wh-What did you just say...?" Your heartbeat drummed loudly in your ears and you knees felt like they would give out beneath you. This...This happened before. When did she say that? Where did I hear these words from? Cold, desolate eyes watched you carefully as the room spun beneath your feet. "Stay...away..."

"You work for me, not the other way around. If you leave now, I'll give the order to kill those friends of yours. You're not done until I say you're done."

"You wouldn't--!" Bile burned the back of your throat, and a shaky hand covered your mouth in case you suddenly couldn't hold it in. "You...you..." An unsettling realization came to light.

"Do you understand the position you're in, Mezzetin?"

"It was...You gave me those nightmares! Those were all you?"

"You don't think I'm oblivious to your desires, do you? You will always be under my control."

"If you dare touch him I'll--!" Hundreds of shards manifested behind you and simultaneously shot at the throne. The more that shattered against the seat and back wall, the more that manifested and replaced them.

The ones that barreled nearest to the Tsaritsa diverted their path and shattered against the back wall like they had a mind of their own. Signora used her catalyst to redirect the remaining shards to you. Luckily none of them landed a strike on your skin, but a charged arrow of Childe's landed before your feet and you slipped on the forming ice. His hydro blade was immediately at your throat, along with Signora hovering over you with an annoyed look on her face. The three of you were surrounded by Fatui officers in an instant; despite their capabilities, they were slower than the harbingers.

"If she makes a move, kill her," the archon calmly ordered, completely unbothered by the commotion.

Signora had her men drag you away to the all-too familiar exit that led to the cells beneath the palace. They forced your head forward so you didn't see the Tsaritsa recline back in her seat and into the shadows.

The archon swiped her finger across her pale cheekbone and warily inspected the fresh blood that had run down the side of her face. I missed one? One of your shards did manage to hit her. Such a measly attack shouldn't have injured me, she thought as she stared at her fingers in awe and concern. While your power had grown to a certain extent thanks to Childe's training, it was by no means anywhere near equivalent to his--much less equivalent to a god's. Your strikes, while powerful, shouldn't have been able to hurt the cryo archon. Yet here she was, staring at the blood you drew from her.

She recalled the wild look in your eyes when you decided to attack her. Such a beautiful, pitiful sight that held an immeasurable lack of sanity and rational thought. Your rage was feral, but just like a wild animal, so was your fear of being caged. She could see it in your stance; you were all bark and little bite. The soft interior within her hardened heart actually admired your bravery...only a little, though. If she were to achieve her goals, that flame of admiration would quickly be extinguished since it had no place in such a cruel world.

Her thumb smoothed over her bloodied fingers while she thought quietly to herself. It shouldn't have been possible to harm her. Not on your own, not even with your vision. It was then that it dawned on her the true meaning of your bond with Morax's sole-surviving warrior adeptus.

So this is the power of the Vigilant Yaksha.

#genshin impact #xiao genshin impact #genshin impact xiao #say my name and ill be there #xiao fanfiction #genshin x reader #xiao x reader

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yostresswritinggirl · 3 years

Text

Antinomy

Part 1; establishing grounds. VIBE

"Do you know the spiritual meaning of 11? What about in numerology? You'll find it quite intriguing, funny even... until it starts making sense." You've witnessed and harnessed the way and days he had grown to be; this fic enumerates the trials of the 11th before he became a Harbinger under your care. From strangers to mentor to friends to love- Childe made a grave mistake, now you’re once again strangers.

Pairing -> Childe x Harbinger!Fem!Reader

Word Count -> 3277

Themes -> Friends to admirers, slow burn, mentor, fluffy, suddenly ANGST

Series -> #Sojourner Specials (600 Followers Event) Part 2

Warning -> Blood and injury, decent? amount

The biblical meaning of number 11 comes from one's understanding that it is associated with things that would be considered imperfect, a disorganization of systems, and the disorder or chaos of things. The 11 carries a vibrational frequency of balance. It represents male and female equality. It contains both sun energy and moon energy simultaneously yet holding them both in perspective separate-ness. Perfect balance.

act i. first sighting

The first you've heard and the first you've seen the likes of him was long before you were anyone important in the organizational structure of the Fatui. You were a simple agent making rounds around Snezhnaya's city borders, nothing more, nothing less.

During these parts by the winter forest of Morepesok where time seems slowed down as the snowflakes flutter without urgency, it reminds you of what home feels like, and you felt more free to delve into a sense of relaxation away from other chatters from your co-workers.

You were ready to lean on a tree and just dissociate from the world of stress you had put yourself into— and then you heard a distant cry, accompanied by the pants and howls of wolves. Your body immediately lunged forward, finding your ankles sinking deep into snow as you trudged through the terrain as fast as you can. A child, a literal child somewhere in the forest getting chased by wolves.

When you've arrived by the scene, you registered a tuff of orange hair almost topple you over as they smack into your body, a startled cry eliciting from them as you throw him behind you in quick succession, your polearm manifesting to throw off the wolves that had locked in on the sight of him, "Go! Get out of here!" You urged at the sound of his silence as you carefully swung the first hit on the lunging wolf, being a tad too late to hit it with the edge's blade only for it to be knocked to the side by the shaft. At the sight of the battle you finally relieved a sigh when you heard him and hope that he knows his way back. But your work was not cut yet, you thought as you realized how the pack of four now encircles you with hungry gazes and drooling jaws.

The moments after that was filled with song and dance as you fought hard to overcome the might of four ferocious beasts, the polearm swiftly twirling in your arms to counter attacks from all sides. You twist your arm behind, lodging the tip of your spear in the throat of the wolf before delivering a kick to the head of another one lunging from the front. You made quick work to disengage your spear from the dead wolf, but the two idle wolves had noticed this as they lunged in coordination.

Now bloodied and bruised, exhausted from fatigue and frostbite, your final wolf to slaughter was inches away from your face. Its jaw had locked around your weapon in muffled growls and you can only keep him there with your arms losing its strength. Your blood sprayed around the battlefield of once white snow as the third wolf's sharp canines had lodged itself around your leg before you killed it through a stab.

You humored yourself with a wry laugh at the thought that it would leave a pretty nasty scar. The amount of blood you lost is already taking its toll at your consciousness and the last thing you saw before you finally succumbed to oncoming death was the wolf's awaiting maw, and a prickle of ice.

You only wish then that the kid you saved, only a few years younger than you, had left the forest in safety.

act ii. second assignment

Zapolyarny Palace was a magnificent architecture that towered all other manmade structures in the nation of the Cryo Archon. Now you, the most recent addition to the Harbingers roams these hallways regularly with agents following your trail. Lady Columbina, the 10th Fatui Harbinger, wields a peculiar job within the ranks of the organization.

It was years after the incident in Morepesok on which you came out with a nasty scar on your leg, but a proud Cryo Vision stuck to the side of your torso. When you donned it after the Tsaritsa had called for your presence (she must have sensed the bestowal of the elements) and reported your rounds during that mission, the Cryo Archon's piercing gaze had softened in intensities that washed over your whole soul with the warmth you would not expect of her element. Ever since then she had regarded you with attention to spare, your potential and line of work exposed, and had you easily rising up the ranks at the guidance of the 9th. Despite the gruesome and painful trials you had to go through before you can proudly walk on your own.

The informant by your side had handed you a thick folder earlier and you had been pacing around the hallways the whole time you had been investigating the contents. Said agent feebly and awkwardly following you as if expecting you'd walk away or disregard him for his absence. It was stupid from a bystander's perspective, but you were too focused on work to worry about it.

Well, focused, because you were interrupted by the sounds of clashing and sparring by the quadrangle within the Palace. You stopped your pacing and look up to see a batch of agents training with a few skirmishers in routine. A majority of them easily getting body slammed to the dirt floor in martial combat, and some are working on weaponry. But at the very middle is where your eyes linger with a flash of familiarity—

A tussle of orange hair unhidden by the Fatui hood clashes with a giant of a man, weapons and Vision drawn at the sparring. The agent moves with quick succession, and you can see Pulcinella getting overpowered pretty quickly. As expected of his form, of course, but he still bit back with his delusion now equipped. Cheater, you scoffed to yourself, as the orange-head agent still managed his footing to strike consecutively at the bigger man.

You watched on for a little while longer as the orchestration of the match continued. Your observant eyes clearly noticing how the Harbinger could barely leave the area he had been standing on as he was barraged by blades from every direction, fully defensive. The match ended indefinitely when the Harbinger had noticed you, and quickly ended the match as an escape to his obvious downfall. "Halt," his voice reverberated from the sheer authority it brought and the agent stopped only a few centimeters from slicing the gloved hand in front of him, "We have a guest."

"Hardly," you scoffed at the end of your temporary entertainment as you sauntered over to the edge of the veranda, waving your hand dismissively at the training agents that had kneeled to greet you. With this they all went back to their training away from your side to give the privacy of a talk, except for one person. You can feel his intense stare even if it was hidden behind the standard protocol Fatui mask. You wondered if he had recognized you, "Pulcinella." You nodded.

"Columbina, it has been a while," he made a move to swipe the sweat at his forehead and you murmured an affirmation at his statement. It HAS been a while since you had lingered in the Palace, much less the country. As the head of the information brokers department of the Fatui, you're frequently found in missions beyond the headquarters where you soldier your subordinates in field missions. At this thought, you felt conscious at the fact that you still had your dancer outfit on.

To avert your embarrassment you shifted your attention to the agent with a tilt of your head. You swore you saw him gulp as subtly as he can. "This is Ajax," at the mention of his name, he had bowed his head, hand across his chest in greeting. "He has the potential."

Your mouth formed into an 'o' at the mention of the special word, eyes slightly widening at the intonation as you continued to look at Ajax. When he raised his head to meet yours once again, you found yourself averting in newfound fluster. "You mean to tell me..."

"Yes," the way you gingerly placed a hand to quietly hide the redness of your cheek had Ajax amused, the edge of his mask hiding the slight quirk of his lips. "The Assembly ceremony would be called upon soon."

act iii. 3 pm assembly

The 3 PM Assembly comes before the Dusk Convention which is not the current point of the information. You've only been in it once and it was in a different circumstance, yet your nerves still stayed the same, if not more perfectly hidden than the first occasion.

Ajax, now dubbed Tartaglia alias Childe, stood kneeling by the steps of Your Majesty's throne at the information of his ascension to the ranks of the Harbingers. He was the final piece to the puzzle, and his addition to the ranks meant multiple things. The start of the war against the divine, the Tsaritsa worded after Childe has received his Delusion from Pedrelino.

He almost seemed starstrucked- dazed after the chance meeting of finally seeing the great Tsaritsa face to face. You gulped as the words of the first continues upon mention of his new arc of training in honing his skills and exposure to the ways of the Harbingers. Next to you, in silent and slight comfort, Innamorata simply touched elbows with yours without sparing a glance as she stared straight on. You smiled at the gesture.

"During the phase of your training, you shall be commandered by the Harbinger that had come before you. And she will be your last test to show that you had earned your ascension," Childe followed the trail of Pedrelino's sight as he spun to watch the end of the line up of the Harbingers.

A figure layered with multiple chiffon and flowy cloths and yet seemingly underdressed in the winter nation steps on the red carpet of the throne room, a spear polearm manifesting as she twirls her hand to catch it mid-integration, the action suddenly producing a blast of icy wind enough to reach him and make him stumble.

Childe felt the tingle of excitement twitch his fingers at the apparent power difference. When they both finally made eye contact, masks off and irises laid bare, a petrifying glint of amusement lies within them both. The female offers a toothy grin as she lodges the spear's point into the ground, the metal clanging through the room in piercing reverbs.

"Meet Columbina, the 11th Harbinger, your last mentor."

act iv. counting crows

It had been a while, a very long while, since you had gone stationary in a nation. Much less Snezhnaya. While it is home the removal of your olden routine to put yourself in the shoes of a mentor had really been maddening you, more so with the inclusion of your line of work still in operation and a certain someone as your trainee until who knows how long.

Your brows furrowed as you watch the annoying caws of the crows overhead, four of the black birds making symphony as if to rejoice over your repeated victory. Underneath your thin shoe laid a gasping Childe who was just as irked at the piercing interaction.

You had just finished a 'spar' or what you could call an opportunity of ascension. When you explained to the newest addition as to how his true ascension works (which involves beating your mentor in a fair fight) he had been nothing but a thorn on your side with his repeated requests to spar. He was really, really adamant for a fight, something you had come to realize a day after he ascended to your care.

"Shoot them down," you ordered as the man finally got his grips enough to stand once again, his outfit filled with marks of dirt and obvious footprints from your numerous kicks to make him stay back. At the order he shoots you an amused grin, as if to say 'really?' but succumbed when you continued eye contact.

"Master Columbina," Childe started as his bow and arrow materialized. You knew full well just how inefficient he is when it comes to bows compared to other weapons, and you tasked him such challenge to use it more under your supervision, topping his oath to master it already. "Do you know what four crows mean? I'm not really adept with crowology but I'm pretty sure they have significance in numbers."

The first shot fires and kills one. The action had startled the other birds and they scrambled to flap away, but Childe was already materializing three new arrows to fire at once, this quirked your eyebrows in amusement. Something he noticed and smirked at, eyes still focused as he fires his shots- one missed. "Four crows may mean many things," you watched as he desperately chased the crow with a barrage of arrows and you had to stop yourself from laughing at his failed attempts, "It could mean birth of a male newborn, highly unlikely. Aaand, wealth and prosperity, and finally..."

His arrow finally pierced the poor vertebrate, an emphasized sigh of relief escaping his lips as he whips his head to look at you for affirmation that you had seen his victory. You gave an amused yet soft smile, his eyes twinkled in double-layered delight, "New beginnings."

act v. his siblings

Childe had a mentor once, who fuelled the flame of his reckless spirit through countless beatings and repeated dangerous encounters. When he was given an opportunity of once again being under an official mentor, with his newfound lust for battle, he was extremely ecstatic over the idea. But unfortunately, as he walks around with you through the familiar streets of Snezhnaya, it was not all fun and games as he'd expected it to be.

"You look so disappointed for someone who just received one million mora under their name." Appropriate to the occasion, you don now a traditional Snezhnayan winter attire yet with details that alerts everyone of the price of the genuine fur that's stitched on the edges of the lining. It was over the top since you had developed an immunity.

"I didn't expect being mentored to be a killing machine requires knowing about taxation and interest rates," was his childish grumble. Which received a frosty laugh from you. You had reiterated again and again just how powerful money is to a nation just as information, which Pedrelino and you operate in order. Thankfully Childe was ever so smart to pick things up easily (if it was viewed as a challenge) despite his early recruitment into the Fatui that surely would have hindered his education.

You opened your mouth to reiterate over the fact that perhaps his main concern would be in the issue of debt collection when a scream had resounded through the crowd, one of which belongs to someone Childe would recognize, you thought as you observed how he had perked up and looked around. When his eyes settled on a direction, you suddenly realized a crowd of five coming your way, you immediately took a step away as three younger figures latched onto him and started chatting him up like there's no tomorrow.

You hummed to yourself as you watched with hands intertwined behind your back. From what you can hear and gather, they were his siblings, all five crowds with one probably missing. One seemingly older to the 11th yet not donning the same striking orange hair spots you and offers a sorry smile at the inconvenience, observant, you thought as you flashed a polite smile too. He's probably Andrei, the one who's the same age as you, if you remembered his oversharing correctly.

"Big brother, please join us! We haven't seen you for so long, we're preparing a huge feast for mother and father's anniversary, it would be really good if you can attend!" Wow, these children are really good at bargaining. You can already see Childe's resolve crumbling the more they fluttered their eyelashes with such doe eyes.

Whether a plea for help or look for approval, his ocean orbs had found his way to you, begging that you be at least a considerate Harbinger to offer him this once in a lifetime break. You were about to open your mouth (to let him be, of course, you're not the heartless Harbinger everyone had generalized the ranks to be) when suddenly all six pair of eyes had fallen on you. It wasn't the same tantalizing or spine-wracking gaze the Tsaritsa holds, but the attention made you gulp either way.

"Hi," your voice reached a sudden meekness neither you nor Childe expected nor heard before.

And suddenly you found yourself around a table with plentiful dishes scattered all over it, your crowd of five (seven if you count you two) had turned to a staggering, solid 10 as the whole family had forced invited you into their abode to share the meal. Thanks to the nature of your work and training, your social skills commandered any suspicions or questions off easily, and you behaved just like a girlfriend meeting her boyfriend's family for the first time.

Childe watched as you clenched your jaw and offered a hooded, tilted glare when you met eyes. He gulped. That look looked very much like Scaramouche.

act vi. sixth nation

Childe barely knew the world beyond the frosted wasteland, past the outskirts of Snezhnaya. Yet from the stories his father had adopted to him ever since he was able to remember, he views the world outside with a sense of familiarity, longing and relieving satisfaction. It was such a pure look you felt like barfing from the intensity of the innocent aura it held in comparison to your line of work.

His eyes would then land on you where you once again don your master dancer outfit, yet unlike your homeland, this setting matched it better. The sun at Fontaine hits the golden sequins at a certain angle to make it glitter, and the thin white veil that hovers over the back of your hair flutters gently in the soft breeze that comes by. You'd look angelic if you wore more white, he bites back the words when you met his eyes.

His first look at your line of work and his first visitation outside of the nation. And into the land of entertainment. This was your main land of operation and the way you dwelled with the citizens brings about a sense of replicated home at the nostalgia. Many recognized you as a simple entertainer and many of the citizens look upon Childe with intrigue and wonder.

"Based on my network, this would be his last stop," you adjusted the bangles that holds on to the thin cloth that runs over your arm, "Again, we are here to observe and get information, not look for a fight."

"Yes, master." He grumbled flatly but his eyes were wide and wandering the marble walls and statues that littered the nation. He's distracted, just like a true child. "What's the name of that rogue vigilante again? The one that keeps busting down the doors of the Fatui headquarters everywhere."

You hum, hand wrapped around his wrist as you guide his distracted self through the crowd.

"Diluc Ragnvindr, and try to remember it this time please."

To be continued.

Accidentally posted so now it's a freakin two parter.

@zelos-simp @legionqueensav @moaa @dandelion-dreams @snackgod @rxsalinee

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #childe x Reader #genshin impact oneshots #exile.flower #sojourner special #followers special #diluc was here #god i hate myself #why did i accidentally post this #female reader

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chubbybuckydumpling · 3 years

Text

A Valentine's Miracle

@endlessbucky you got a gift! I hope you like this and you’re left satisfied <3 This is my entry for the @marvelxreaderfanfictionfest Bucky Barnes Valentine Exchange! My prompt was: Best friends to lovers, Bucky and reader being cute and in love. This was my first secret santa experience and it was really fun! Thank you for having me :)

words: 2.8k

pairing: Bucky Barnes x female Reader

warnings: swearing, fluff, kissing, making out, a little embarrassment, modern AU, canon divergent, implied smut, friends to lovers, clichée

My Masterlist

You were viciously knocking on the sturdy wooden door of Bucky’s apartment, a bottle of red children’s sparkling wine in your unoccupied hand. Your coat is heavy on your shoulders, but the harsh cold and cutting wind forced you to put on the extra warm clothes. On your way here it even began to snow, some flakes still clinging to your hair. Your fingers feel numb and you mentally scold yourself for not wearing gloves.

Suddenly the door swings open and a grinning Bucky beams at you, “Finally you’re here doll. I thought I’d be starved by the time you’d arrive” Rolling your eyes, you step into the flat, “Stop being so dramatic, it’s two in the afternoon and I know for a fact you ate a burrito for lunch”. The man clutches his chest in mock pain and groans, “You wound me, Y/n”, he whimpers, the smirk never leaving his lips. “Wait, how did you know I had a burrito?” You throw him a playful glare, “You posted it on Snapchat”.

Bucky’s eyes widen in panic and he pulls his phone out of his pocket to check his Snapchat for any unwanted posts. “No, I didn’t”, he finally states and averts his gaze back to you so he can show you how unamused he is. A giggle slips past your lips as you carefully remove your jacket, “Oopsies, it must be the fact that you have been having burritos on Valentine’s Day for as long as I can remember. Weird how things sometimes slip your mind”.

Reluctantly, Bucky holds out his hand for you to place your coat into. The gentle warmth of his apartment envelopes you and makes you sigh in content. “Did you light a fire?”, you ask your best friend while you take off your shoes. “Oven’s lit, just for you, you chilblain”, his deep voice rumbles and calms you even further. “Ha, ha, you’re so funny James”

Upon hearing his real name, the man scrunches up his face in distaste, “Ew, you sound like my mother”. You chuckle and finally wrestle yourself free from your footwear, falling into Bucky’s big arms. His familiar scent fills your nose, the undertones of cedar wood and butterscotch making you grin. “I missed you doll”, he mumbles into your head. “It’s been 3 days”, you grunt as you nuzzle yourself further into his warmth. “I missed you too”, you admit after a moment

He slowly pulls out of the embrace and smiles at you. Suddenly you remember the bottle in your hand and gasp excitedly, “Look what I found!”, you yell and hold up the bottle. A huge smile forms on Bucky’s face and he takes the Robby Bubble out of your hand. He stares at it and chuckles, “I can’t believe they still make this: Where did you even find this treasure?”. “Some small shop near the old bakery. It was pure coincidence, but once I saw it, I couldn't’ not buy it”

The man looks at the bottle in astonishment, “I haven’t had this since we were, what? 14?” Giddily, you shuffle forwards and push down his arm until he looks at you, “Are you going to pour us some or are you going to make me stand here all day?” Something seems to snap inside him and he nods, “Yes, please come in. Take a seat”

Carelessly, you throw yourself on Bucky’s grey couch and cuddle up into one of his fluffy blankets. The fireplace is cackling as the flames lick the air greedily. The man comes back quickly, two champagne flutes in his hands. Gently, he places one into your palm as the sweet smell fills you with nostalgia. You nod at your childhood best friend before you both take a sip of the drink. “It tastes…”, you start carefully, “horrible”, Bucky finishes.

His eyes twinkle with an emotion you can’t pinpoint, but it’s gone soon enough as the two of you break into loud laughter. He throws his head back in joy, the dark soft hair framing his face beautifully. The air is stuck in your throat as your eyes linger on him, lips forming into a fond smile. Bucky’s voice has always been able to make you smile and your cheeks heat up.

Soon the man calms down and grins at you. His eyes bore into yours intently as he slowly raises his glass again. In a heartbeat, he gulps down the entire red liquid and lets out a loud sigh once he is done. “You’re so dramatic”, you roll your eyes, but a warm feeling spreads through your chest at his antics. Bucky smirks playfully, “You love me”. He’s not wrong about that.

“So”, he begins, “I’ve got nachos, gummy worms and chocolate”. “No popcorn?”, you ask, giving him puppy eyes. “How could I ever forget the popcorn? You hurt me doll. Why don’t you put on a movie and I bring out the snacks?” You nod at him, “Romance or horror?”, you yell at his retreating figure. “Whatever you want, doll. I’m fine with either!”

When Bucky returns with a huge tray of snacks the opening of Tarzan is playing on the huge TV on his wall. “Tarzan? Really?”, he hears himself say as he carefully places the tray on the couch table and sits down next to you. “Only a couple more months until you’ve got the look down, Buck”, you point at his hair, grin and cuddle up to him. His big arm stretches over your shoulders and you lean into his side, warmth immediately seeping into you as your stomach vibrates with butterflies.

You never meant to fall in love with your best friend, really. But then it just kind of happened. One day you looked at him, his arms suddenly bigger, his figure towering over you, the deep voice rattling your body and you were a goner. All the girls were salivating over him and you were no exception, but with all the people he was dating you doubted you had any chances. So you did what you knew best, being James Buchanan Barnes’s best friend.

You smiled with him, played with him, went out with him and studied with him. You were a different person when you were around him, more careful and joyous, happy and lighthearted. He just made you forget about all your troubles and fears with just a smile or a wink.

And while you pretend you don’t enjoy them, you love your annual Valentine’s Day celebrations. Since you can remember, you and Bucky spent the day together eating all kinds of shit and drinking the overly sweet children’s sparkling wine. Nothing in the world would ever make you miss out on one, but a sparkle of hope inside you was hoping that one day the two of you would spend the day as a couple.

The end credits begin to roll two bowls of popcorn, a bag of gummy worms, too many crisps and a lot of nchos and tears later (which Bucky would of course deny, he doesn’t cry over kids’ movies) and you wipe the wetness from your cheeks. During the movie the man has tucked you tight against his side, so close that you’re almost sitting on his lap and let his fingers comb through your hair, gently scratching your scalp. If you were a cat you’d be purring by now.

Reluctantly, Bucky stretches his arms, causing you to immediately miss the warmth he provided. “Can’t believe you ate so much crap, doll! Aren’t they feeding you enough over there in Manhattan?” You roll your eyes, “You ate just as much of this as I did, James. And just because you’re salty that I have a cooler place than you doesn’t mean you can disrespect me like that”

“Oh, it doesn’t?” he asks in mock wonder. You narrow your eyes and before you can think twice you jump out of your position and tackle Bucky to the couch, fingers running over his sides and tummy, tickling beautiful laughs out of his mouth. “Stop, please!”, he gasps out between desperate attempts to stop his giggles. “Apologise!”, you demand. “Never!”

All of a sudden he flips you over, his hands holding onto your wrists. A high pitched screech leaves your mouth and you immediately begin to squirm under him, desperate to escape from any potential tickles. Of course you couldn’t win against his massive strength, but once his fingers skim over your sides and helpless laughs fall out of your mouths you find a new wave of deterination flooding over you. Quickly, you wrap your legs around Bucky’s waist and somehow manage to make him lose his balance, so his heavy body fall onto your chest.

A puff of air leaves your lungs and you look up, ready to make a stupid remark, when you see how close he is to your face, lips just mere inches away. Blood rushes to your cheeks, heating them up, and you can feel your heart pounding quickly. Bucky’s blue eyes bore into your, his mouth opening slightly. “Bucky?”, you whisper, eyes trailing to his lips.

Suddenly his cheeks turn a dark shade of red and he pushes himself up, “Uhm, I think I need to use the toilet”, he explains, not looking into your eyes. “Yeah, makes sense. I’ll be waiting here”, you answer, the tension thickening the air. The sound of his retreating steps makes you relax and you finally sit up.

“Shit”, you whisper to yourself, hands balling up into fists, “Way to go, Y/n”. The fire is warming up the room, flames licking at the air, but a shiver runs down your spine, a cold sensation gripping onto you. Time seems to slow down, seconds turning into minutes, but when Bucky returns, it’s still too early.

“So, doll, do you want to seize the last bits of daylight?”, he asks, his voice completely calm. If he’s pretending, so are you. “Yeah, totally. You might have to unfreeze me when we get back here though. Walking here once already turned me into an icicle”, you chide in, a smile on your lips which you figure Bucky must know is fake. If he does, he isn’t showing it.

“I’ll warm you up, I promise. Do you want one of my sweaters?”, he asks, a grin decorating his lips. A hopeful shimmer flimmers in your eyes, “Please?”

Soon you find yourself bundled up in one of Bucky’s gigantic sweaters, your coat and a snapback (“Relly, Buck? This won’t protect me from the cold at all!”, but the puppy look in his eyes made you agree) and he looks just as ridiculous, but you can’t find it in you to care.

Outside, the sky relentlessly releases snowflakes, the paths already covered in thick layers of white. The cold air makes your breath visible and the sound of the snow crunching under your feet makes a genuine grin appear. The two of you walk along the streets in close proximity, quietly listening to the sounds of the occasional car that passes by or the pigeons that search for leftover crumbs.

Once the nearby park is in sight, Bucky has an idea. “Last one at the entrance is a slowpoke”, he yells and starts running. “Not fair!”, you shout, taking chase. Carefully you jump over big lumps of snow, but there’s no chance that you’ll catch up in time. The man already stands at the entrance when you arrive, a proud smirk on his face, “Took you long enough, doll. I was beginning to freeze to the ground”. You huff out a breath, but still manage to roll your eyes.

“Hardy, har, Bucky. You’re so funny, how will I ever survive this humiliation?”, dramatically you walk past your friend and follow the line of the trees. The view is very pretty, especially when everything is coated in white, a sense of innocence in this harsh world. “Wait, doll”, he yells after you and comes barreling towards your figure. You turn around just in time to see his panicked face, arms paddling through the air helplessly as his body crashes into yours.

A scream leaves your mouth and you manage to desperately clutch onto Bucky’s jacket before you hit the ground, the air leaving your lungs. Luckily the snow feathers your fall and only a slight pain spreads through your back, but the weight of Bucky’s torso presses your shoulders into the ground. So you find yourself underneath your best friend, again, panting heavily.

“I’m sorry, doll, let me-”, he begins, but when his eyes find yours he stops, breath hitching. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, a mesmerizing sight to watch. Out of the corner of his eye you can see more snowflakes coming down, making the whole scene seem like a winter wonderland. “Bucky?”, you question him, your voice unrecognizably soft, as his face comes closer to yours.

“If you don’t want this to happen, doll, then stop me, but shit, it’d be a lie if I said I didn’t want to do this for years”, he whispers back, his tone matching yours. One of your hands reaches out to cup his cheek, a cold thumb stroking over his defined cheekbone. The butterflies in your tummy are going crazy, but you find yourself feeling calm. This is your Bucky, you’ve known him for years, this will be fine. Everything is fine with Bucky. Always.

You can feel his breath fan over your lips and you whimper, “Bucky, please”. His head moves closer and then, finally, his lips meet yours. They are slightly chapped from the cold, but still warm and tender. It’s perfect. Your hand runs behind his head and you play with the frizzy hair at his neck, pulling him further into you.

When he pulls away his cheeks are red, both from the cold and the blood that rushes into his cheeks steadily. You open your eyes and then you see his face, beautifully coloured and sculpted and tears shoot into your eyes. “Hey, doll, what’s wrong? “, he sounds concerned. “It’s just”, you sigh, “I wanted this for a really, really long time. These are happy tears”. A relieved sparkle flits over his eyes, “So you wouldn’t mind if I..?”, he raises an eyebrow and quickly presses his lips to yours again.

“No, love, not at all”, you grin, “But I wouldn’t mind getting out of the snow”. His blue eyes widen, almost comically, and you can’t stop the fit of giggles. Quickly he jumps up and holds out his big, strong hand for you to take. The muscles in his arm tense as he pulls you up and right into his chest. You wrap your arms around his neck and grin, his hands finding your waist.

You bite onto your lower lip, smirking at his groan, “I swear doll, you’ll kill me one day. Especially when you wear my clothes”. “What, you like?”,you retort, a teasing tone coating your voice. A growls ripples through his chest, “So fucking much” and before you know he pushes his lips onto yours again and his hands tighten around your body, pulling you this much closer.

This time he is greedier, more forward, his mouth pushes harder against yours, almost hungrily. His eagerness makes a fluttery feeling awaken in your tummy, a dull want and you push yourself closer to him, your own lips copying his need. Slowly his tongue drags over your swollen mouth, asking for entrance which you grant him. Bucky pulls you impossibly close as if he wants every part of your body to touch his.

He explores you, intertwining his tongue with yours, letting them dance together to steps only th two of you know. He tastes like candy, but not quite, something that is very distinctively Bucky. It’s perfect. A moan escapes your mouth and you close your arms around him tighter, greedily consuming more of him. His scent fills your nose, evoking a warm feeling in your chest. The knot in your tummy grows stronger with need.

He seems to notice your distress and his hands wander down to your behind, grabbing onto the plump cheeks and pushing you onto the growing bulge in his trousers. A moan leaves his lips as you whimper, needy and filled with lust. Bucky pulls away from the kiss, heavily panting, and rests his forehead against yours. He’s even more beautiful up close. “Shit, doll”, he whispers. His lips are red and slightly swollen. He looks delicious.

Suddenly a shiver runs down your spine and you realise that you’re still standing in the snow. “Bucky”, you whimper, “I’m cold. Can we go home?” He seems to snap out of his trance, eyes flicking to the side. “Yeah, the sun is getting low. We should…”, he helplessly points in the direction you came from. You nod, a smirk playing over your lips, “You know, you did promise to warm me up”

Safe to say he kept his promise.

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aressss1 · 3 years

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Through Fire and Ice Chapter 4

(Technoblade x Reader)

Chapter 4

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Note: the amount of support I have gotten on this is amazing! You guys are awesome! <3 The newest chapter is going to be out soon! :D

~~~~~~

You woke up hazily, an unfriendly boot nudging your shoulder. Your vision was blurry, and to make things worse you were lightheaded. You buried your face into the mattress further making a whine of protest at who you thought was Techno’s boot. You felt the boot nudge you again even harder this time. You let out another whine.

“Gods, why are you such a dick this morning?” You questioned, craning your neck to look at the man who loomed above you. When your eyes focused on the man, you felt your eyes widening, and you tried pushing yourself up. Fatigue had gotten the best of your body, and you couldn’t find the strength to push yourself up into a standing position. So, your only option that was left, was scooting yourself away from the man, until your back was pressed firmly against the wall next to the fireplace. Nowhere else to go…

“What are you doing here?” The blonde man rested his hand on the end of his sword. You let your eyes dart around the room, looking for anything that might help you. “Eyes on me,” The man’s words were dangerous, and his hand tightened on the handle of the sword. “I won’t ask you again.”

“I could ask the same of you then.” You shot back, your eyes narrowing at him. Your vision still blurry, the sickness was still getting the best of you.

“No, you can’t.” He simply said, “Answer me.” You ground your teeth, looking for any way to get out of this situation.

“I was… Resting.” You eyed the man, memorizing his face. He didn’t seem to believe you. His mouth twisted into a frown, and his eyes scanned the house.

“This your house?” He asked kneeling next to his sword which was still digging into the floorboards. You glared at him through the haze of your mind. This was not the best situation.

“No.” Your voice was laced with acid. “I just happened upon it in the fog.” You hissed through your teeth. You watched his fingers tap at the hilt absentmindedly. He didn’t question further on that topic.

“Are you alone?” You felt your breath catch in your throat. You didn’t know if you should tell this man the answer. Either way didn’t seem like it would end in good consequences, no matter how you looked at it. You didn’t have strength to walk, let alone fight… You didn’t know where Techno was, and when he was coming back… The dread started spreading through your chest. You were probably going to die here, and if you told him you weren’t alone, he may just wait for Techno and ambush him… The other option wasn’t so good either… But if he believed you that you were alone, he may just move on…

“Yes.” You breathed out, you found you couldn’t read his expression. He still was tapping away at the hilt of the sword.

“Uh huh,” He didn’t sound convinced. Your heart rate rose, and out of the corner of your eye you could see the poker Techno had used to stir the fire, hung up neatly in its holder. Your focus was brought back to the man when he put his sword up to your throat. “I don’t recommend lying to me again. You thought I was someone else when I woke you up.” The sword at your throat, was enough to get your adrenaline pumping. You cursed at yourself for your screw up.

“What do you want?” You glared up at him, your nails digging into the wood of the floorboards. At the question he lowered his sword. He was silent for a moment in thought.

“Information.” He simply stated, “Things don’t have to go sideways, we can talk like normal adults.”

“I’m not one for talking.” You wrinkled your nose at him. He breaks in here and expects you to just comply with everything he wanted? No, not going to happen. “Put your sword away.” You may be more willing to talk then.

“You’re not in the position to just be making demands.” His eyes leveled with you. “Even if you weren’t sick, you would still be in the same position.” He leaned toward you. “Now… You’re going to tell me what I want to know.” As you saw him lean you took your chance and you bent your knee toward your chest and propelled your foot toward his face, he dodged the kick, and you took that chance to start grasping for the poker hanging near you. His eyes snapped to your hand grabbing for the poker. He was faster than you and he lunged forward with his sword.

In a matter of seconds, his sword had impaled your shoulder. Your voice was weak, and you cry out, hoping anyone could hear you. You felt tears start to prick at your eyes. The pain was immense. You grit your teeth, groaning in pain.

“Okay… That wasn’t how I wanted it to go.” The man muttered and in one stroke pulled the sword out of your flesh. You rolled on your side cradling the wound in your shoulder. The pain was unbearable, and your vision started to blur, you couldn’t focus on his face anymore. The man let out an exhausted sigh and brought his hand up to cover his eyes for a second, as he processed what he was going to do next.

Well… He wasn’t given more than a second, before a loud bang could be heard at the door. The sudden sound startling you. You watched as another bang had landed on the door not a second later. The man wasn’t facing you; he was watching the door. And with a small pause a third and final bang came from the door, but this time, the door flew off its hinges and landed straight onto the man, winding him, and making him fall to the floor.

Losing your grip on consciousness, your eyes skimmed the wound the sword had made. The sight of the blood making you sick. You weren’t necessarily squeamish… but the concept that an immense amount of your blood was now pooling onto the ground beneath you, made your stomach turn. Bile rose in your throat. The world around you blurred and it sounded as if you were submerged in water, accompanied by a ringing in your ears. You felt a pair of cool hands touch your face trying to get you to focus. You willed your eyes to stay open, your eyes meeting Techno’s gaze.

You couldn’t hear what he was saying, but that didn’t matter to you… You got lost in the golden eyes behind the mask. He looked like he was begging you to stay awake, promising you that he would get you help. Your focus stayed on the rough hand cupping your face, and before you knew it… Your eyes slowly closed, and you were gone to the world.

Techno was relieved to see his cottage in the distance, the smoke still pluming out of the chimney, he breathed a sigh of relief, ‘Good, at least she’s warm.’ He thought to himself.

‘Wouldn’t you like to warm her up yourself?’ A voice taunted, causing Techno to tense up.

“Mark her up. Spill her blood.” More whispers of the same caliber stayed in his head. The voices demanding that he protect you or kill you. He could handle it, he wouldn’t lose his grip on reality, that, he would make sure of. Shaking his head, trying to clear the voices away, he trudged further on through the snow.

When he was just a few steps away from the porch, he froze, his eyes lingering over the track marks leading to the stairs. Someone had gone to the door… But… there wasn’t tracks leading away from the house.

‘Danger.’

‘Blood.’

‘They have her,’ The whispers in his mind drowned everything else out. Overstimulated from the voices, telling him to find you, he tried looking for his keys. His hands shook and he fumbled when he found them. But the one thing that he could hear… Was the familiar sound of flesh being torn, and your cries of pain.

That was it, he was done. In one swift movement he had kicked the door. His blood ringing in his ears, the voices spurring him on. When it didn’t budge, he kicked it again. When that didn’t work his boot for a third time landed on the door, causing the door to splinter from the frame and fly off and hit whoever was behind the door. His eyes scanned the room and he dashed to you. His hands cupping your cheeks.

“Hey, stay with me… I’m going to get you out of here.” His words hung in the air. His gaze kept yours, and he felt your hand gently grasp at his shirt before your eyes slowly closed. He swallowed down his sadness, and his eyes scan over the door still lying on the man.

‘He should die for touching her.’

‘Blood for the blood god.’

He sneers, at the parts of the man he can see underneath the door, and he rises to his feet. Summoning an axe forth, he steps toward the man. His steps ringing out on the floorboards. Raising his axe, he stops just short of the door. Using his foot, he kicks the door away all the while ready to swing the axe. When he could see the blues of his eyes, he swings for blood.

An arrow narrowly misses Techno, just inches from his face, making him stop mid swing. Techno cranes his neck at the new threats standing in the doorway. The one who had the bow in their hands… Was Sapnap.

“Stand down Techno.” Sapnap warned, grabbing, and loading the arrow into the bow.

“Or what?” Techno spat out his eyes briefly looking down at the downed man in front of him. His heart sunk when he realized just who the man was… Phil… The axe clatters to the ground, and Techno takes a step back.

“Hey mate.” Phil says awkwardly waving to him from the ground. Techno felt winded, he had almost… Killed Philza… His best friend…

“Who’s this?” A familiar and irritating voice asked from behind him from where you were lying. He turned and saw Dream crouching over you. Techno hesitated, swallowing his irritation.

“Just some rando.” He stated, turning to help Philza up off the ground. “I need to brew some potions; she’s lost a lot of blood already, from when I found her in the fog.” Dream didn’t hesitate, and he scooped up your body into his arms.

“We can take her from here.” Dream simply said strolling out with you in his arms, George followed him. The urge was strong to stop Dream from taking you. He stopped himself, ridiculing himself of his urges and actions to protect you. He had met you yesterday…

“Get your anger in control Techno, Phil might put up with it, but we won’t.” Sapnap lingered by the door, his eyes boring into Techno. “We need people who are level-headed and what you just showed us… Is not level-headed…” Sapnap disappeared down the stairs. Techno kept his eyes glued to the place where Sapnap was standing.

“It was the voices again wasn’t it?” Phil asked. He was cradling his right arm; it was definitely broken. Techno felt the guilt, and he slowly looked over at Phil and nodded. “I haven’t seen you like that since-”

“I know.” Techno interjected, as he looked away in shame. “I-I’m sorry Phil.”

“It’s okay Techno, I know how it is… I’m just glad those guys came when they did!” Phil flashed a smile at Techno, but Techno could hear the shakiness to Phil’s voice. He knew he was feared. Most of the time it didn’t bother him. But there was something that made him scared that you or Phil were going to fear him…

“Why were they even out here?” Techno asked.

“They’re the rescue team. They probably were just checking the house out and found us.” Phil explained. “We got an operation going, back at the community mine.”

“Hey guys?” George popped his head into the doorway, “We need to get back, your friend isn’t doing too well, she’s riding with Dream. He’s going on ahead, so she can get the care she needs. I would suggest bringing anything that might help. We have a caravan for supplies we happen across.” George, just as fast as he appeared, he disappeared.

“Let’s go home, Techno,” Phil said weakly smiling at him. Techno didn’t get how Phil could still smile at him like that… He had almost killed him and here he was… Just smiling. Phil helped to gather everything that would be useful, after wrapping his arm in a sling, and Techno hauled it out to the caravan.

When he stepped outside his eyes scanned for any sign of you or Dream… But the two of you were already gone. He didn’t let his disappointment show, but Sapnap caught him looking for you and let out a breathy laugh.

“Lookin’ for something?” Sapnap taunted. Techno’s glare fueled the amusement in Sapnap’s eyes. Sapnap crossed his arms in a smug manner, and he leaned against Techno’s house. Techno rolled his eyes and shook his head. There wasn’t time for any of this. He wanted to be there for you when you woke up, so that you would have at least one familiar face around. Techno sighed turning and went to go pack the rest of his house.

You felt like you were hit by a train, and each movement of the horse you were on sent another jolt through your body. Opening your eyes, you look up from the arms of the man cradling your body on the horse. He wore a white mask with a happy face on it. You were only conscious for a second, but you hid your face into his chest to hide from the harsh winds whipping around the two of you. His arms tightened around you and that was the last thing you felt before you slipped into unconsciousness again.

#technoblade x reader #technoblade/reader #c!techno x reader #techno fanfic #c!techno #angst #Through Fire and Ice #mcyt x reader

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valkyriesryde · 3 years

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Release the Hounds {15/15}

Chapter 15: Get Down

Chapter Summary: The search continues for Hades in the mortal realm and on Olympus Thor must face the reality that his council will never be the same. The End.

Word Count: 3,700ish

A/N: its been about three months since I wrote the last chapter and I’ve lost motivation to write, had depressive episodes, moved cities away from my family and spent countless hours writing and rewriting this chapter not wanting it to end. Thank you to everyone who read and will read this, your support will forever hold a dear place in my heart and I appreciate all of the messages I have received from the beginning of this story more than any of you will know. Here is the finale, I hope I did you all justice <3

“Harley, Peter, you two take to the south down the mountain, Rebecca will take to the skies and I’ll go west,” Natasha handed out the instructions for their search as if it were another battle plan. To her and everyone else there it was just that. Time was of the essence and if they left it too long there was a high chance that Hades was dead.

From the amount of blood and gold on the snow in front of them, they didn’t have much time at all, and by how weak Harley was already feeling, he knew it was near.

To the east was a cliff, Rebecca had already peered down and Natasha’s owl had done a closer inspection with no evidence of the queen of the Underworld.

“Steve, you’ll go north into the woods, you’ll be stronger in the trees.” That was her last instruction before they parted ways. If one were to find Hades a flare would be sent into the sky that lit up the sky like the Star of Bethlehem. If they came into trouble, well, they’d have to figure that out when they came to that obstacle.

It’s good to know what these gods were going up against, yes they were searching through a mountain range with a forest climbing its sides. But they were also in the middle of nowhere. There was no sign of human life for miles upon miles and that meant one of two things.

The first thing it meant was that this was a hunting ground at the best of times but unsurvivable for humans majority of the time, this was in the favour of the gods, it was the middle of winter, it was slim to none that they would come across a human while searching the land in this area.

The second thing it meant was that with the lack of humans came an abundance of other things. Animals filled the land, from the woods to the cliff faces. Predators like eagles, foxes and wolves hunted the land. Prey like small birds, rabbits and even goats lived as best they could. It was hard for any mortal animal to really thrive in these woods though. With no humans in this land it meant there were no demigods, no half and half’s to protect the preciousness of mortal life, so the supernatural, the monsters that were too rabid for the city roamed the land freely.

The further Steve stepped into the woods the less connected with the mortal world he felt. Cerberus walked in front of him with his nose to the ground but he hadn’t picked up the scent of Hades yet, there were too many other smells. Smells that Cerberus liked, minotaurs, werewolves, even a griffin but too far away.

Steve was on high alert, every noise, every rustle of leaves and breeze that blew past him caught his attention. He had to take it slow, a hunt, not a fight. Go too quickly and he could miss something, a sign, blood, a mark she could have made, anything. There was evidence of the beasts all around him, paw prints and scratches on tree trunks, leftover hunted prey left to the other animals in the woods but no sign of Hades.

Hades sight was hazed. She couldn’t make out details around her as she reached out across the ground and felt the ground beneath her. Cold stone under her fingertips, sharp rocks up the side of the wall. She was in a cave, deep into it with little light around her, it wasn’t just the injuries that had taken her sight.

There was no portal near her, she was too weak to make her own way to the underworld but she could feel the magic around her. She could feel the supernatural beings’ powers and strength more than the weakness that the mortal world put her through. But it wasn’t enough to help her move out of the cave herself.

In the snow, in the middle of the forest, wolves stalked the trees. They kept watch and growled at any noise or critter that came close. It didn’t take much longer for Cerberus to smell the wolves. A scent that Cerberus was familiar with but not for years.

It was getting cold and dark when they came to the small clearing at the front of the cave. Steve could almost sense the wolves stalking the area around him as they walked out of the tree line to be met with one lone wolf standing at the entrance.

Cerberus immediately bowed to the wolf who’s fur was a crisp white like the snow beneath his paws. It stood side on but as it turned to bow down to both Steve and Cerberus, Steve caught a glimpse of something that made his skin crawl and his heart drop.

Gold. Soaked into his fur mixed with dark red in the matted fur.

“Where is she?!” He choked out, trying to be strong even though his body was crippling with fear. The wolf was big, bigger than any he had seen before. It currently towered over both he and Cerberus, who was still bent down to the ground. It stood, looked at Steve and then turned back into the cave. Cerberus sat patiently in the snow now, he knew this wasn’t his place, he knew this pack, he was a part of this pack, he would do what the leader said.

Steve however, he followed the white wolf into the cave, deeper and deeper until it stopped and stepped aside to show Steve the lost treasure he had been looking for.

And there she was.

And there he stood.

She could feel him, that same smell from the first time they met, fresh rain, pollen in the air, it stood out against the damp, the stone and the stench of death she knew was coming from herself. Maybe she wasn’t so much better than Demeter said. Maybe she deserved this.

It took some time to convince the wolves to let him take Hades. She’d fallen back asleep soon after his arrival, not even acknowledging him, he wasn’t sure she actually knew he was here. The wolves were protective of their fallen angel. But Steve was able to convince them that he was her safety, he told them he would protect her, that he would take her home.

“There must be a doorway here?!” He said into the darkness but only stone walls surrounded him. “How am I meant to get her home?” He come all this way, he’d worked so hard this entire time to help her and the Underworld, and now? All of his work, all of the time he’d spent learning about her world when he could have spent it with her. His priorities were morphed to what he thought was right, putting her on the council. But what was right had nothing to do with her position, nothing to do with anyone else but her, she should have been his priority.

She was too light in his arms as he picked her from the group. Her skin was cold, lacking of any sort of colour. The wolves stepped aside as he carried her out of the cave where Cerberus waited, now standing tall in his true form. Three heads, obsidian black fur and paws as big as Steve’s chest.

“Take us home Cerberus?” He asked and the pet growled in response, kneeling as Steve placed Hades on his back and climbed up afterwards. “As fast as possible Spot.”

Cerberus bound towards the edge of the cliff, closer and closer until he jumped. Steve held Hades tight as they fell further and further until the depths below turned black and rimmed with gold.

Behind them, at the entrance to the cave the wolves ventured further into the woods again, their debt owed to the god who saved their youngest. Behind them, as they went out of sight, a birch tree sprout. Taller than any seen before in the mortal realm, leaves full and green in the middle of winter. A normal looking tree apart from its height to many but to those that knew, to Natasha and Rebecca as they saw it grow from the top of the mountain, to Peter and Harley who saw it tower over everything else, they knew what it meant. A new beginning was here and the Queen will be returned home.

One Week Later

Thor stood overlooking Olympus from his balcony. It was filled with life and freedom, as if the past few months had never happened, as if his sister hadn’t been attacked and left for dead by someone he trusted, as if everyone was safe and things we normal.

“Funny how little they really know isn’t it?” Loki stood by his side, as he always had. The green and teal of his cloak reflecting in the sun overhead and against the snow on the ground. “Bucky has come full force today it seems,” he smiled.

“Its in celebration, she woke up today, she’s doing much better it seems. MJ has been by her side continuously to help the healing. She’ll be back to herself soon enough.”

“Say her name would you Thor. What could go wrong if you say it here, no one is around.” Loki slithered behind Thor, his hands dropped onto his shoulders, “Hades.” He said into his ear. “Our darling sister, our first protector, the selfless one, the keeper of our secrets. Say her name in Olympus dear brother, shout it from the rooftops!” Loki leaned his back against the railing as Thor whispered her name and they felt the wind settle briefly around them.

“Hades is awake,” he said quietly, “Demeter is locked in her home and Hades will sit on the council. Are you happy?”

“I am, though I do wish you had given me the pleasure of tearing that godforsaken mother from earth apart myself but to each their own.” Loki smiled jokingly at Thor who let out a deep laugh back. Brothers, until the end of time.

The air began to still in Olympus as the two stood overlooking it, the people in the streets and the market stood still, the bustling sound softened to a murmur that they could no longer hear.

And when the brothers looked out at the steps of Olympus they saw the reason for the silence. First it was the black petals that floated through the air around her, the blackened path that dragged behind her cloak, turning to a gold pathway as the judges followed her in full adorned armour. Pietro in silver, a hero, Wanda in red, to remember the innocent, and Sam in black, for the monsters, his wings mixed with the colours of the judges and dripping gold for his queen as he walked a step behind the other two. One, two and three, they followed her on the gold plated path. A few steps behind them was the final member of her entourage, his armour held the most colour, blues and reds, pinks and greens and a shield on his back.

The queen walked with purpose, she didn’t look to the sides at the nymphs and olympians, she didn’t take in any of their judgements. Even though they murmured with gossip as they watched the son of Demeter follow his mother’s enemy. They whispered about how Hades had kidnapped Steve, how she had lured him with a flower so beautiful he couldn’t resist, others whispered about how it was Steve that turned his back from Demeter, that he was coerced by the judges to join the Underworld before the debate and they had poisoned his mind. Rumours ran hot in Olympus as the five continued to walk onwards towards the temple.

Inside the temple was chaos. Thor and Loki moved quickly to the throne room where the rest of the Olympian gods were already waiting, having been summoned by Hades herself to meet. Something the brothers weren’t aware of until a nymph of Thor stopped him in the hallway and exclaimed as such.

The letters had appeared on their desks, their counter tops or bedside tables late last night and had been kept under wraps from all after the heat of the last few weeks.

The doors burst open before the council and Hades stepped into the room. The twelve gods sat in their seats and stood as she moved to stand in the centre, the judges stayed back, as did Steve, awaiting their next order.

One bowed to the queen, Ares, he kneeled as soon as she entered. No one knew what this meeting was about, no one knew why they were called and everyone feared the worst, especially with the absence of Demeter. Ares feared Hades’ wrath the most, he would have no part in this, he’d chosen his side and continued to be loyal to both Olympus as well as Hades.

“Good morning all,” she smiled sweetly and bowed her head but none replied.

Then the doors opened and in walked Thor and Loki. They moved to their thrones, side by side the biggest of all and at the forefront of the council, one empty on one side of Thor. Hades knelt, her entourage followed.

“What are you doing out of bed so soon?” Thor questioned as he sat, his voice seeped with disappointed.

“I’m fine brother, no need to worry,” she rolled her eyes lovingly at her brother and stood straight. “I’ve come to present my statement, and return what was taken.”

Steve tried to protest, he had no idea this was what she was doing, he thought she was taking her rightful seat on the council. Sam glared in his direction, daring him to speak.

“You’ve already come home sister,” Loki said and Hades cocked an eyebrow at him. “May I?” He gestured to Thor who simply nodded his head. All of the olympian gods looked on confused, they all assumed the same, that she was here to give back Steve, they had no idea what was really going on. “Transparency is key it seems and we have learnt that the hard way here haven’t we? Hades I believe I speak for everyone here when I say we are pleased to honour your rightful place on the council beside us, this throne was and will always be yours if you wish to take it.”

“What of-?”

“She’s been banned from any council business.” Thor stood before the council as Loki sat back down, he slowly walked down the few steps to Hades. “Demeter’s views do not match that of the council, she no longer has Olympus or the mortals in her best interests, only herself. She’s been locked in her home, awaiting punishment.” He looked past Hades towards Steve with sorrow in his eyes, “we were to meet later today to discuss her punishment, but I’m glad you’re here, we can begin business. Now sit, judges, you may wait outside as is custom.”

Hades followed Thor up the steps and so casually that it never felt out of place she sat, on the council of Olympus.

“God of Spring,” Steve heard as he turned to walk out, “won’t you be sitting to speak for your domain?” Bucky smirked at his friend, inviting him to the seat beside him.

Steve looked to the big three, to the other gods surrounding him, they were all waiting for his answer, waiting for him to sit where his mother once had. And of course, he would never keep them waiting long.

“Are you sure about this?” She asked him at the rivers’ edge. He looked up to the gates as they glistened and moved, the flowers bloomed, the gold sparkled in the sun, the daffodils were scattered far and wide and he looked back to her.

“My task isn’t done yet, if I’m to teach Olympians everything they need to know about the Underworld, I need to know everything myself.” He smiled at her, his Queen.

“You don’t have to do this Steve, I can get MJ to reverse the curse,” she was so unsure, with no one around she was always so much more vulnerable with him.

“I don’t want it to be broken, and even if it was it wouldn’t stop me from coming back any chance I could to see you.” A step closer, a whisper under his breath just for her. “The fates brought me to you-“

“That doesn’t mean you have to stay.”

“Would you be quiet,” he laughed and she shied away. “They are not why I want to stay,” a gently hand on her cheek, pushing a boundary they had unspokenly set for themselves. Never to succumb to the fates, to form their own opinions, to have their own conclusions. “I have to have you in my life.”

“And you in mine,” she gleamed and when he beamed back she thought Bucky had brought the sun down to the Underworld with how warm she felt.

“I have to collect some things from Bucky, but I’ll be back later tonight, I promise.” Steve turned to leave before she could even say goodbye but he stopped in his tracks at her voice.

“Take Cerberus! He’ll protect you where I can’t.” The dog shrinking to the Doberman he was familiar with by his side.

Under the stars of the souls, painted in the skies of the Underworld by artists the God of Spring held the Queen of the Dead. He kissed her in front of the Gates of the Underworld, where their symbols were intertwined for eons before their paths even crossed, before either of them knew of the importance of each other.

A kiss that was a promise, a see you soon, a please be safe. The two gods were never away from each other for long. When the God of Spring returned in the darkness later that night, when everything was sound asleep he walked into the home of Hades to find her still wide awake, sitting and watching over the gates, waiting for his return. He was welcomed with a small smile, a “you were gone too long” and tugs towards bed.

The fates dropped him in the Underworld at her feet. They twisted and pulled at their strings together and bound, no knife or scissors could ever break them apart. All the gods knew, all those who were witnesses were well aware now and none feared they were wrong. The protector, had her own protection.

That is the story of Hades and Persephone. Of love and betrayal. Of chosen family. Of new homes and realising ones worth. I don’t think I’m missing anything, they lived happily ever after and all that good stuff. Why are you still here? They kissed, isn’t that what you wanted?!

I know what it is.

What punishment did the council decide on you ask? What consequence did Demeter face?

It was winter in Olympus, the God of Spring returned to collect his belongings to go to his new home in the Underworld where he would spend each winter for the rest of time. But there was one step he had to make along the way.

In the dead of the night Demeter sat at the gazebo that was once her son’s. She’d torn through the drawings and belongings she’d found there, they sat amongst the cold wood. Her tears had quietened as she began to accept her defeat and fall from power. As she did so the leaves began to move.

She heard footsteps in the snow, crunching under the weight of whoever moved towards her.

“Who goes?! No one is allowed in here show yourself!” She yelled into the darkness with no reply.

Through the splitting wood of the gazebo behind her, flora began to grow. Vines, roses with thistle sharp as knives, asphodel in the corners. And at its centre Demeter saw the fruition of the prophecy she once thought she controlled.

In the darkness of her garden, eyes shone through behind her. A man standing tall, his eyes a crisp blue, anger seething from them. Above him were three more sets of eyes, red, glaring at their prey.

No nymph could have this power, no member of Olympus par from the big three were allowed to step foot within this home anymore. She was to be locked away from all that she held so dear. But there were still pathways, there are always pathways even into a locked room. And he had found it.

Demeter felt her breath shorten as it flowered, the daffodil, through the cracks of her son’s gazebo it flowered bright and tall in the night. And when she turned she saw the moon catch sight of the metal weapon in his hand. No nymph would feel her wrath again, no child would think they were less than loved in her presence ever again, no god would think they had no worth because of the poison that left her tongue. Because she would never be seen again.

The eyes slipped back into the darkness and disappeared as if they were never there. He left the same way he came, through the cracks in the stone that the caves reached. Ironic that the place she feared most was just a doorway away from her home this entire time he thought as he left her fearing for her life.

“The scythe will swing low,” he whispered as it closed behind him. The three headed dog by his side, back in the realm of the dead and moving towards the home on top of the hill as if he’d just popped down to the store. Now he was home.

“When the wind is still and the air is cold, the sun will shine in Hades.

When what belongs is brought home the snow will fall.

It will crunch under the steps of the taken, it will slice through the heart of the fallen.

The harvest will not grow when spring is taken.

But the daffodil will grow through the cracks of the grave

And the scythe will swing low.”

The End

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#release the hounds #Steve rogers #marvel au #greek myth au #Steve Rogers x reader #Steve Rogers series #Steve Rogers fluff #Steve Rogers angst #I did it #I finished a major series #yaya

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retvenkos · 3 years

Text

words | a.p.

Merlin (BBC) - Arthur Pendragon x Reader, fluff

tw: mentions of battle, mentions of blood, mentions of violence

word count: 1.4k

A/N: once again, if we can just pretend i know how to write a kiss, i would be much obliged.

prompt: I’m sitting with my back to the fireplace, and my back is burning but my feet are cold, and you are sitting across from me and i think you’re smiling endearingly, but it’s hard to tell.

(Y/n) and Arthur had been friends since childhood, and as such, everyone in the castle knew that where (Y/n) wandered, the prince was not far behind. As it was with any young prince, Arthur Pendragon was a mosaic made of contradictory statements and confusing ideologies, but the one certainty was (Y/n) and his devotion to them. The entire world could be ending, but as long as you knew where (Y/n) was, then you could find the wayward prince. The whole of Camelot knew that the two of them were inevitable, like a prosperous spring after early showers of rain, but exactly when the two would realize this themselves was unknown.

But then, again, how could not know? Surely (Y/n) noticed Arthur’s constant loyalty, interspersed with that intense and unwavering feeling of love, and certainly Arthur had to realize (Y/n)’s particular fondness mixed with the steadfastness of their adoration.

It seemed unrealistic to think that the two didn’t realize they loved the other more deeply than anything. But perhaps they had gotten too comfortable in their love for the other, and recognizing it was like trying to put a name to a feeling they had carried their entire life, so deeply set into their bones it was a fact more than anything else.

Whether they put a name on their true feelings or not was of little consequence. There was nowhere one of them could go where the other would not follow. That was made succinctly clear when Arthur had to go to an outlying village some two days' ride from Camelot to bring peace amongst the people and raiders who were taking much needed grain. It was the heart of winter, and the days were cold enough to make any man wish he were dead, not to mention the freezing nights. Arthur and (Y/n) argued for days over whether or not (Y/n) would join him, but in the end, the two rode off together with a few other knights.

The fight was fairly mild, when all things were considered. Both sides were strong in their resolve to fight, but only so much blood could be spilled before the raiders could no longer justify their stance. When it was all over, Arthur immediately searched for (Y/n), ignoring the deep cut on his cheek in favor of making sure they were alright.

They were fine, without so much a scratch on them, but when they saw the state of Arthur, they were quick to reprimand him. They had patched him up immediately, their fingers cold against his flushed cheeks.

Arthur insisted he didn’t need help - especially when other men were worse, but when (Y/n) had finished, he thanked them sincerely.

(Y/n) kissed his forehead with an absent-minded “Of course,” and moved on to help the other injured. Arthur had watched them retreat with a smile that made his newly patched cheek burn.

The ride back to Camelot was faster than the ride from - everyone was eager to escape the biting winter and sleep on something other than frost and snow. They returned home late at night, after King Uther and many others had gone to bed, so Arthur had resolved to bring news to his father in the morning, telling everyone to get some well-deserved rest.

When walking into the castle, (Y/n) had shivered from the cold and Arthur insisted they come to his chambers and warm by the fire. The knights around them shared looks, raising their eyebrows and nudging each other in the ribs, but neither (Y/n) or Arthur seemed particularly fazed by their behavior.

Inside Arthur’s chambers, the fire burned brightly, emanating a warmth that made both draw close. (Y/n) sat down on the hearth, rubbing their hands together and putting them close to the flames, and Arthur watched them with a tenderness in his gaze. The fire made (Y/n’s eyes sting and they turned their back to the flames, rubbing their toes and pulling off their socks.

“Need a blanket?” Arthur asked, but he was already retrieving two, handing the thicker one to (Y/n). They took it from him with a soft ‘thank you’ and Arthur pulled up a chair to sit in, much preferring it to the hard stone.

“How’s your cheek?” (Y/n) wrapped the blanket around them, their eyes trained on Arthur as he made himself comfortable near the fire, across from them.

“Eh,” Arthur made a non-commital noise and (Y/n) rolled their eyes. Arthur smiled, “It’s alright. You could make a decent physician if Gaius took you in.”

(Y/n) scoffed. “And deal with the idiotic injuries of knights all day? I’ll find something else to occupy my time.” It was hard for Arthur to see their face, with the fire to their back, but he could guess at how their lips were tugged into a grin, their eyes alight with mirth. He fiddled with the laces of his boots, taking them off so he could warm his freezing toes. “Dealing with you is enough to give me a heart attack, I don’t think I could handle worrying over anyone else.”

“Worrying over me?” Arthur laughed, and the sound of it echoed through the room, clear and warm, laced with enough affection to make even the most cold hearted misers smile. “Bit of a lost cause, isn’t it?”

(Y/n) joined in his amusement with laughter of their own, soft but present. “You wouldn’t believe.” They tilted their head and the curve of their cheek was illuminated by the fire, the light caressing the right side of their face and shedding light on the affectionate vulnerability in their gaze. “But I’ll always worry over you, Arthur. It’s inevitable.”

Arthur fiddled with the ring on his finger, tearing his gaze away from (Y/n). It was hard to tell, with the dark of night upon them and the fire casting them in odd, ever changing shadows, but the smile on his face almost seemed endearing.

“So it’s rather pointless to try and get rid of me.”

Arthur furrowed his brow. ”Rid of you? What makes you think I’d want to get rid of you?”

“I never said you wanted to, dollop head—” Arthur guffawed, much to (Y/n)’s delight “—only that you couldn’t.”

“Well, maybe I should reconsider my previous statement.”

A comfortable quiet settled between them, and for a moment the two just looked at the other, not trying to do anything other than relax. There didn’t seem to be anything more perfect than what lay between them - a content sort of love that went beyond need for the world.

“You did well, back in the village,” (Y/n) eventually spoke and their voice was soft, barely heard over the noise of the flames. Arthur leaned back in his chair with a sort of amused confidence and (Y/n) scoffed. “I mean it. You’re going to be kind one day, and I’m not worried about how you’ll turn out.”

Their words struck a chord in Arthur, something deep that made him sober for a moment. “So long as you’re by my side, I’ll be fine.”

(Y/n) nodded slowly, but averted their gaze, a tinge of sadness making its way into the way they bent their head. “Don’t you think you’d want someone else at your side? You’re the future king of Camelot, Arthur. Those are large shoes to fill. Don’t you think your time is better spent with others?”

Arthur blinked, genuinely confused, but he stopped himself from rushing into an answer. There was a vulnerability in (Y/n)’s voice that stopped and reminded Arthur of how precious this moment was, and the delicacy with which things like love had to be handled.

When he spoke, Arthur caught their eye, refusing to let them go. “Time better spent than with the person I love?” And the intensity of his being lay within his eyes; the strength that was so characteristic of the prince, (Y/n) doubted whether he existed beyond it.

“Love,” (Y/n) smiled, testing out the way the word rolled over their tongue. Strange, how it felt no different than Arthur’s name itself, or any other words that were meant for him. “It’s silly we haven’t said that to each other before.”

“Not really,” Arthur leaned back in his chair, a smile of his own growing on his lips, “I don’t think we ever needed it, before now.”

“Yes, well,” (Y/n) drew nearer to Arthur, the thick blanket around their shoulders dragging behind them, “I wouldn’t mind hearing it again.”

Arthur kissed them, his hands as warm as his heart, after having sat in front of the flames for so long, and (Y/n)’s touch was on fire, searing their every movement into his memory forever. When they pulled away, Arthur leaned his forehead against theirs. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

-- taglist: @locke-writes, @randomfandomimagine, @brokenandheadoverheels // message me if you want to be added!

#merlin bbc #bbc merlin #arthur pendragon #arthur pendragon x reader #arthur pendragon x you #merlin #gender neutral reader #reader insert #fluff #one shot #imagine #arthur pendragon imagine #fanfiction #fanfic #holiday prompts #tw mentions of blood #tw mentions of battle #tw mentions of violence

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fluffybluekitten · 3 years

Note

Akkakaka hypothermia with Bruce being the one getting it because pain.

@badthingshappenbingo

Here it is, fill for hypothermia

I really like this one

Read it at https://archiveofourown.org/works/31843678/chapters/79634398

or here

The headache hits first, an all too familiar throbbing filling his head and radiating out through his body. Then cold, biting in his hands and feet. When he attempts to draw them closer, blankets above him shifting, even that small movement is enough to make him want to keep his eyes closed and drift off again to wherever he was.

But he can smell something, a scent his mind registers as both pleasant and dangerous. He opens his eyes to a thankfully dim room. Shadows flicker across the wooden ceiling, crackling and spitting above a distant hum. He remembers being very small, winter nights with his parents, watching flames dance while falling asleep in front of the fireplace, and then floating in space. He forces his eyes open again, and gathers all his strength to roll towards where the light is coming from.

Coarse fabric brushes against his bare cheek as he comes to rest on his side. But nowhere else. He’s still wearing his suit. Gloves too, he sees as his hand moves into his field of vision. Water flaked with snow drips from between his fingers, but the skin’s dry underneath. Suit still intact, though the heating has clearly failed. Moving, even thinking, is exhausting. He stares into the fire like it’s a puzzle, and it dawns on him that in this state he’s unlikely to be the one who lit it.

Adrenaline jolts through him, and it’s certainly needed. He raises his head enough to glance around the room. He hasn’t been making an effort to move silently until now, but he supposes it’s second nature. The Riddler sits just a foot away, on the same rug he’s laid out upon, blanket wrapped around his shoulders and gazing into the fire. Bruce stares. His brain raises questions he can’t process fully right now. He settles for assessing his surroundings. They’re in a room. The windows are bright. Snow. Edward looks different when he’s still. Tired, almost as much as Bruce feels.

He needs to cough. He tries to supress it, but a shiver runs through him and Edward looks over.

Cover blown, he struggles to sit up. Edward uncurls from his seated position and shifts towards him, and Bruce pushes the last of his strength into moving, and leans forward and coughs, hard. A lot.

When he’s able to look up Edward is leaning over him, cheeks red from the fire.

Bruce plants his hands on the floor, takes a deep shuddering breath and looks around for a handy piece of furniture to pull himself up on.

Edward stands. “You’re in no condition to move.” He walks past, and Bruce tenses, turning to keep him in view. But he only grabs a couple of large cushions from a fireside armchair.

“I-”Bruce attempts to get up anyway, of course, but the connection between brain and body isn’t working well enough yet. He just needs a little time, but he can’t afford that now.

Edward drops the couch cushions behind his back and disappears further into the cabin. Bruce watches after him, but the light in the room Edward walks into is too bright, almost blinding him. He blinks, he can hear that hum more clearly now, quiet voices from another room.

When Edward returns Bruce is leaning back against the cushions, gathering his strength. He still wants to sleep very badly, his head still thrums, and every moment has the blurred distance of a waking dream. He forces himself to keep his eyes open.

Edward carries two mugs, and hands him one. Their fingers brush as Bruce takes it, Edward’s are pale, and Bruce watches him sit and wrap his hands around his own mug, moving closer to the fire. Something’s gone wrong, and Edward needs his help. That explains why he’s still alive. Edward can be sensible when it comes to his own survival. But if there’s other people here… that means… He shivers. No, he doesn’t know what that means.

Edward is watching him, and Bruce braces for a riddle, but instead Edward sips his drink. Bruce looks at his own cup. Looks at his shaking hands struggling to hold it upright. He breathes through the next shudder and focuses on the steam rising from the mug, the smell of herb and lemon. It stands out against the musty smell of the layers upon layers of blankets covering him. He supposes he might as well drink. It seems unlikely that the Riddler would poison him now. Redundant.

The tea tastes bitter and then sweet, and it replaces the metallic taste of blood in his mouth. The liquid’s warmth flows through him. He watches Edward drink too, and sees him shiver for the first time, is he trying to suppress it too? He looks back at that white window, the inside of the cabin dim compared to it even with the fire. He remembers snow, filling his vision, blinding and covering.

“What happened?” His voice comes out only a little croaky.

“You fell. Considering the time you spent in the snow, and the time it took to drag you back here, it doesn’t take a medic to diagnose hypothermia. And you must have received a severe concussion to knock you out for the best part of an hour.”

That’s worrying. He attempts to use the sensors on his suit to check his body temperature, but all higher functions are out. Then he realises what Edward is saying. “You saved me. Why?” He glances round as he speaks, checking the cabin a second time now he can look at it without his eyes watering, and realises the voices from the next room are the radio. Edward is likely correct about the concussion.

“What else could I do? What an anti-climax for my greatest rival to die from his own clumsiness.” Edward stands up quickly. “Now your vital signs were normal last I checked, except for a ridiculously low pulse, but then I expect your baseline must be low. I suspect your GCS score will have improved at least.”

When Edward steps toward him, Bruce puts out a hand to stop him.

Edward glares at him, but sits back down. “Fine. Have it your way. I’ll test your brainpower in a different way. Riddle me this - How do you warm up in a cold room?”

Bruce’s hand has gone from firm to shaking already. He raises it to his face. “My mask, it’s still on.”

Edward’s glare intensifies. “Of course. Now Batman, my riddle.”

Bruce finds he’s already forgotten it.

“As I suspected.” Edward sounds resigned. “Well, you’re no use to me for now.” He leans back on his elbows and closes his eyes.

“You’re tired,” Bruce says. He’s not sure if it’s countering anything, but it’s a fact he can clearly identify. He’s not the only one not at his best here.

“Yes, dragging your mass around will do that. But don’t get any ideas, I’m doing far better than you.”

“What are you listening to?”

“Hmm? Talk radio. Useful to keep up with the news up here.”

“It’s quiet.”

“Do you want me to turn it up?”

“No.” He can’t think why he pointed it out. Why he’s even making conversation with the Riddler. Only that his instincts are screaming at him that this is an opportunity he can’t ignore.

“It’s useful to have some background noise. Solitude is valuable, a relief. But even short periods of absolute silence can induce auditory hallucinations. It says nothing about my sanity.”

“I’m aware. It seems a sensible precaution.”

“It is.” Edward sounds defensive, which is usual for him, and the way he’s looking at him is searching, evaluating, also usual, but there’s something else too, a caution Bruce isn’t used to seeing on his face. It is strange talking to Edward like this. Even this short conversation must be the longest they’ve had without riddles or threats. “Good to hear your mind’s at least partially intact,” Edward adds.

“I suppose I have you to thank for that.” It sounds like a question. But he doesn’t have time to find out the answer now. The fog keeping his mind in this cabin is clearing a little. He needs to get back to Gotham.

“Don’t get any ideas, I still intend to destroy you when you’re well, speaking of which, will you at least consent to me checking your temperature.” Edward holds up an ear thermometer. Bruce raises his hand once again to check that his mask is in place. “Not the type recommended for hypothermic patients, but I suppose we’ll have to make do.”

“No.” Bruce presses forward, gathering himself under him. He needs to get up, keep moving, that’s what will finally get him warm, get him back home. Once upright, he’s able to stand without swaying after only a few seconds. Edward watches from the floor. “Get up. You’re coming with me.”

“You have no chance of taking me anywhere at the moment.”

Bruce grabs Edward by the arm and tries to lift him, but Edward seems stuck to the floor, all Bruce’s pulling just putting himself off balance. Maybe he should leave him here for now and come back later. The important thing is that he gets back to Gotham now. But Edward’s grin looks about to turn into a laugh, so he puts all his strength into one final heave, and succeeds in pulling the other man to his feet. For a moment they balance there together, and then the world tilts. He’s falling forward, crashing into Edward, feeling arms around him in the moment before everything disappears.

#batman #riddler #riddlebat #hypothermia #bad things happen bingo

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mirageofthecrystal · 3 years

Text

FFxiv 30 Day Writing Challenge - Day 15: Thunderous

thunderous (adjective)

relating to or giving warning of thunder.

very loud.

very powerful or intense.

Faiolan stood before Brande, who looked over his pupil with a critical eye. Just beyond this chamber awaited the impatient spectators of the Bloodsands, wishing to witness an exciting bout play out before them, where the winners were not only those who excelled in combat, but those who properly placed their bets. And it was the duty of men and women such a Brande, who drilled and trained the next generation of combatants, to ensure each fight was just as thrilling as the last.

"I hope yer ready for this, boy, and that you remember ye aren't goin' out to fight like some hoity-toity knight. Yer a gladiator now, which means ye'll use whatever ye have to to come out on top. They've got high hopes for ye out there. Put you up against a real bastard of a fighter, a Sea Wolf called Silver Hill. Takes his name quite literally, decked in shinin' silver armor and about the size of a small bloody hill too. Favors the hammer of all things, and the one he's got is about the same size as he is. One wrong move, and he'll splatter ye into a puddle o' yer own blood 'n' guts. Every bone in yer body'll be like dust, yer organs vaporized into liquid, yer skin keeping it all in a neat little sack so it's that much easier to clean up when yer done. I've seen 'im fight once or twice before this, and that's all it took: one strike, and the fight was over. But yer light on yer feet. I'd say ditch the shield, since the damn thing won't do you any good anyhow. Best to be quick with that blade of yers. Probably go for the legs, slow 'im down. This'll be a battle of attrition. Every swing o' that big hammer's gotta take a lot of energy, and so long as you dance around him, ye shouldn't have a problem. And if ye DO have a problem... I'll make sure they name the stain after ye."

"Not much of a pep talk," Faiolan lamented, but Brande was done speaking his piece. "At the very least try not to embarrass me. No gladiator I have ever trained has lost their first match. Do not be the one to break that streak." With nothing left to say between them, Brande departed to spectate the match, leaving Faiolan a moment to prepare himself. He left behind his shield, checked that his armor was closely fitted and properly secured. He checked the sharpness of his blade, and when the portcullis at the end of the passage began to rise, he marched toward the growing light and the thunderous cheers.

The sound of the crowd was almost deafening as the sound of their screams broke upon his ears. His heart raced wildly in his chest, and even moreso when his opponent came upon to the field opposite of he. Silver Hill was indeed a towering figure, and Faiolan wondered if perhaps he was the child of an actual mountain and would eventually grow into one himself. Some in the stands exploded into ferocious praise at his approach, but there too were those who endeavored to see the new blood of Brande's win the day. They were both announced, but Faiolan's focus was on his opponent. He heard their names from above, but heeded not what else was said. He drew his sword, Hill hefted that hammer of his, and the two faced one another. Sand crunched beneath Faiolan's feet, reminding him somewhat of the Coerthan snows. With a bloodcurdling roar better fit for a beast, Silver Hill charged with hammer in hand... and was surprisingly fast for someone of his size.

Faiolan's surprise at this almost cost him the fight. He jumped to the side at the very last moment, Silver Hill bringing the hammer down into the ground. A burst of sand flew up from the impact where a moment before stood the Elezen. With incredibly strength and dexterity, Silver Hill hefted the hammer back up and swung wide, Faiolan jumping back and out of the second strike. One wrong move, Brande had said, and the battle was over.

Getting behind Silver Hill seemed to be the best plan, but the way the Roegadyn swung his weapon with reckless abandon, that seemed impossible. No amount of maneuvering seemed to provide an opening, and Faiolan did more dodging than anything else. And therein lay the key that Brande had hinted at earlier: to wait for Silver Hill to tire himself out. The best defense was an onslaught of offense for this particular fighter, and Faiolan only needed patience.

He envisioned Silver Hill as a dragon, a lumbering hulk of a thing with its claws seeking to tear flesh from bone and leave nothing behind to bury. Deftly dodging each assault meant that he would survive for another moment, bringing him closer to victory inch by inch. To the crowd, however, it seemed more of a dance than a fight, with Silver Hill providing all the entertainment and anticipation of a soon-to-be squashed opponent.

At last, Faiolan saw his opponent falter, albeit slightly. As his hammer came crashing into the wall behind Faiolan, his strength slipped for a mere second. Before he could retrieve the weapon and resume the attack, Faiolan slipped past him and slashed at the back of his left. With another tug of the hammer, Silver Hill pulled it free, but the exertion and weight of his weapon caused his knee to give out. Faiolan slashed again, this time at the other leg, but was beaten back again when Silver Hill threw his weight behind the hammer so thoroughly that the blow spun him around, the hammer making a full revolution that came but a hair too close for Faiolan's liking. Silver Hill was not deterred, for now he knew the Elezen's strategy. It took a very precise slash to strike at the weak points of his armor and the back of his legs, and he had suffered far more dire wounds.

However, both Faiolan and the crowd saw that despite Silver Hill's adrenaline driving him to stand and resume fighting with familiar fervor, his movements were much slower. He was struggling to force his legs forward and back, to and fro. Thus began again the dodging dance, though Faiolan was occasionally offered the opportunity for a quick slash at the side, or a thrust at an arm outstretched in overreach. Silver Hill grew more and more furious, allowing him to further ignore the wounds that were beginning to stain his armor with blood. Another successful strike, yet another slash that would be death by a thousand cuts, and Silver Hill's rage reached its apex. He launched the hammer through the air at Faiolan, the Elezen easily moving out of the way, only to experience the anger of Silver Hill firsthand.

Weaponless, Silver Hill used his fists instead, smashing one great blow into the side of Faiolan's head that sent the Elezen reeling. His sword dropped him his hand as the world around him spun out of control. It was not a deathblow by the hammer, but it was quite a formidable strike. Another wave of cheers and applause from the camp of Silver Hill, while those who had gil riding on Faiolan's victor clenched their teeth and jumped up from their seats. He recovered from the blow, but Silver Hill quickly landed another against his chest, robbing him of the air from his lungs. He caught sight of his sword, just out of reach. He had no hope of standing up to Silver Hill at his own game, for it would be as futile as punching an actual hillock.

Silver Hill drove him backward, striking several more times and almost removing Faiolan from the fight. He must have cracked a rib or two by now, his head throbbed, and blocking the blows were akin to a hammer striking an anvil, if that anvil were made of flesh and bone. Silver Hill delivered quite the haymaker, and Faiolan dropped to the ground to avoid it. This seemed to place him in a position most precarious, on the ground and at the mercy of Silver Hill. Silver Hill hefted himself upward, breathing deeply of anticipated victory before bringing down a pair of mighty fists. Faiolan rolled out of the way, swiping his sword from the sand after strategically falling to the ground just beside it. Silver Hill's fists slammed into the dirt, allowing Faiolan to jump to his feet, drive the blade through the back of Silver Hill's knee. He pulled the blade free, but Silver Hill was still intent on fighting. Faiolan responded by stabbing him through the inside of the elbow where was left space between armored plates so the arm could bend. Silver Hill swung his other arm vainly, but Faiolan stepped back a single step to avoid, bringing the blade at last to rest at his opponent's throat. And just like that, he had won his first match upon the Bloodsands. The first of many battles to be fought for the glory and gil of those whom believed themselves his betters.

#ffxivwrite #ffxivwrite2021 #ffxiv crystal #ffxiv mateus #ffxiv rp #ffxiv roleplay #ffxiv blogging #faiolan penderghast #gladiator #elezen #ffxiv

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hailhydra920 · 4 years

Text

Fight On

Pairing: Bucky x reader

Summary: Bucky has a long way to recover. Songfic. Song is Fight On by For King and Country

Warnings: Blood, violence, nothing too bad though

I was there

On the day

That your world changed

“Bucky!” You screamed as Bucky fell off the train.

The last thing you saw were his scared blue eyes as he fell toward his death. Your eyes began to well with tears as the thought of Bucky’s body crashing onto the white snow filled your mind. Steve hugged you as you soaked his uniform with salty tears.

“He loved you.” Steve whispered to you as you sobbed loudly.

“I-I just wish I could’ve saved him.”

You were scared

Unprepared

For the heartbreak

Bucky lay in the snow. His heart beating rapidly in his chest. He was cold and scared. Luminous blood covered the snow beside him. Frantically, his eyes scanned his body for any injuries. So far so good. Then, he saw it. His arm. It wasn’t attached to him anymore. He screamed.

His heart was beating a thousand miles a minute. Bucky scanned the area above him, looking and tying to listen to the train, but there was nothing. He needed to get back to his friends. Heck! He needed some serious medical attention! All his thoughts began bouncing around in his mind like a pinball machine. The dark red snow was the last thing he saw before blacking out.

Everything you knew

Faded out of view

Stole a piece of you

The stench of bleach and chemicals filled Bucky’s nose. He awoke in some sort of hospital, at least that’s what he had concluded. But he was strapped down, not something very hospitable if you asked him. Everything came crashing down on him, and his eyes snapped toward his left arm. It was there, but it was not the arm he knew. It was made of metal. It reflected the lights above him and had a red star painted on the shoulder. Cautiously, he tried wiggling his new fingers. He heard little gears click and hum as he moved his fingers.

“Ju like ze new arm?” A person said as he walked toward him.

“Who are you?” Bucky barked.

“Ah, straight to ze point, ay Soldat?” He chuckled.

“Answer the question.”

“Ju vill be our Soldat. Hydra’s to be exact.”

“Hydra?” Bucky asked before cursing.

The man chuckled again. “But not to vorry. Ju vill be reprogrammed to do our bidding.”

Bucky tried to break from his restraints, but they just tightened against his flesh.

“Have a nice rest, Soldat.” The man said before stabbing Bucky with a needle.

If I could

Oh I would

Be your hero

You looked at the soldier in front of you. His hair was now longer and peskier. But you weren’t focused on that. You were focused on his eyes. There was a raging sea inside of those blue eyes. Waves of rage, hurt, and confusion crashed upon his rocky shore of reality. You knew the man you once loved was still in there, but it was buried deep down.

“He’s more stable now.” Steve said standing beside you.

You put your hand against the glass separating you from Bucky. Steve looked at his best friend who sat in a lonely room.

“He needs you.” Steve said looking at you.

“S-steve. I-I don’t know if he even remembers me.” You said looking at the broken man.

“The Winter Soldier is really all he knows. Maybe you can help bring back Bucky. He’s hurting, and I can only do so much as his best friend. He’s trying to remember; I can see it.”

You looked at Steve and then back at Bucky. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Be the one

Who would take

All the arrows

“Hey.” You said entering the glass room.

Bucky looked up at you and it took every ounce of strength to not engulf him in a huge hug. He looked so scared and confused. And those eyes. Man, could they tell a story.

“I’m Y/n, and I know this can take some getting used to.” You said shooting him a gentle smile.

“Why am I here?” Bucky asked, his voice just above a whisper.

“Well, we saved you from Hydra. And let’s just say that they didn’t treat you very kindly.”

“I know that, it’s just, why save me, when I’ve killed so many others. You should be helping others who are actually worth it. You should help the people of the family members I’ve killed. I am the last person who should be saved. So why me, of all people?”

Save you from the pain

Carry all the weight

I know that you’re brave

You were a bit taken back by his comments. You wanted to help him. You wanted to share that load of sorrow and guilt with him. Take some of that burden away from him. But what you really wanted was your Bucky back. You couldn’t stop yourself from what happened next.

You hugged him. He froze and didn’t move, but you didn’t care. You wrapped your arms around his neck and hugged him tightly. He hadn’t had physical contact for so long, he didn’t really know how to react. You threaded your fingers through his hair and his eyes slowly closed.

“I know you can get through this, Bucky. Be the brave soldier I know you are.” You whispered as you hugged him for a few more seconds.

Once you pulled away, Bucky missed how it felt. That feeling of comfort and love.

“I, uh, also brought you some food. You don’t have to, um, if you don’t want to. I just thought you might—“

“Thank you.” Bucky said cutting off your rambling. “I am actually quite hungry.”

As if on cue, his stomach growled, and you held back a laugh.

“Well, I’ll let you eat your food.” You said getting up.

Sudden panic began to well in Bucky’s chest. “Will you come back?”

You heard desperation in his voice as he spoke. You smiled and nodded your head. “I promise I’ll be back later.”

Bucky let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding and gave a you a ghost of a smile. “Thanks again., Y/n.”

“Anytime.”

Fight on, fighter

Don’t let anyone steal your fire

Fight on, fighter

The spirit is alive inside ya

“I-I can’t. The screams, the memories, everything! Th-there becoming too much.” Bucky groaned as he shook his head.

“Bucky.” You spoke softly. “Look at me.”

Shakily, Bucky looked at you. The storm in his eyes was getting worse. You could practically hear the screaming winds of despair and the loud crash of waves of grief spilling over. You took his shaking metal hand into yours and squeezed it.

“I need you to fight. Okay, Bucky.”

“It’s a fight, I-I don’t think I can win.”

Your heart almost broke upon hearing that. You hugged him again and this time he hugged back. He let out a few shaky breaths before relaxing in your arms

“Please fight, Bucky. For me, please, please fight.”

There’s a power

That you hold

That you lock down

Bucky punched the punching bag ferociously. His thoughts mocked his endeavors as he tried to free his mind from the horrid memories. He just wished they would go away. That he could be free and forget about everything he had done. THUD! Bucky was taken out of his thoughts as he saw that he had knocked the punching bag off it’s chain. Again.

“Bucky? Are you okay?” You asked entering the training room.

You walked toward him and took his hands in yours. “You’re holding it in. You have so much strength.”

“But my strength can also cause harm.”

“I wasn’t talking about your muscles, Bucky. I’m talking about in here.” You said pointing to his heart.

“I don’t understand.”

“Bucky, you can save you. You are strong enough to conquer this. Just trust in your friends, but most importantly, trust in yourself.”

Let it breathe

Give it wings

Set it free now

Bucky squeezed his eyes shut. He didn’t want to remember, but he had to. Sometimes memories hurt more than reality. Like the whole world just crashes down on you. Deep breath. He was a monster. A life taking monster.

“I killed so many people with these hands.” He whispered. “Destroyed so many people’s lives.”

Bucky laid on his bed. His blue eyes focused on the blank ceiling. He was starting to remember who you were. What you meant to him. He loved you. He couldn’t deny it any longer. And even if you didn’t know it, you made him feel stronger. More human than he had felt in a long, long time.

A noise came from outside his window, and he froze. Was it Hydra? No, it couldn’t be. Right? Suddenly, he felt something hit his flesh arm. He quickly pulled out the tranquilizer dart. He cursed. Then his eyes slowly began to close. Then, there was darkness. Something he knew very well.

Time to make your mark

Break the prison bars

Show them who you are

Bucky woke up in a dimly lit room. He heard people chattering on the other side of the room, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying.

“Ah, Soldat. It’s nice to have ju back.” A Hydra agent laughed.

“Let me go. Haven’t I done enough for you?!” Bucky growled as he clenched his fists.

“Uh, no, ju haven’t. Ve need ju Soldat.”

“I’M NOT YOU’RE SOLDIER!”

“Ju vill alvays be our Soldat.” Another Hydra agent said.

Bucky wasn’t going to become their soldier. He wasn’t going to let them take away his happiness and turn him into a mindless killing machine. Energy began to surge through him. Energy that was powered by his love for his friends, his hatred for Hydra, but most of all, his deep love for you.

Bucky roared as he broke from his restraints. The straps that were containing him snapped, and he stared right into the Hydra agents’ eyes. Their eyes were swirling with terror.

“My name,” He stated, strength resonating from every word. “Is Bucky Barnes.”

Fight on, fighter

Don’t let anyone steal your fire

Fight on, fighter

The spirit is alive inside ya

“Ze asset is out of containment. I repeat. Ze asset is out of containment.” One agent said as Bucky began attacking the agents in the room.

Bucky fought like there was no tomorrow. All things considered, there really wasn’t a tomorrow for him if he fell into the hands of Hydra again.

A crackly, but firm voice came over the intercom. “Longing.”

“No.” Bucky breathed as he punched someone in the face.

“Rusted.”

“Please, stop.” Bucky groaned as he fought the Hydra agents and his own mind.

“Seventeen.”

“Leave me alone!”

Bucky grabbed a nearby table and smashed a group of agents.

“Daybreak.”

Stronger than you ever thought

I know you’re stronger

Braver than you were before

I know you’re braver

“Furnace”

He wasn’t gonna let them take him away from you again. He just had to get through it. He could overcome this. He had to. Soon, all the agents in the room were either dead or unconscious. The trigger words wouldn’t stop coming over the intercom. He felt his mind getting fuzzy.

“No, I can’t.” Bucky whispered. “I have to stay strong. I have to fight. If not for me, for Y/n.”

“Nine.”

“Bucky!”

“Y/n?!” Bucky exclaimed as he heard your voice from the other side of the door. “I’m here!”

“Benign.”

“Th-they’re calling out my trigger words. I-I don’t know if I can resist it.”

“I’m just on the other side of the door with Steve, Bucky, but I need you to be brave. Can you do that for me? I’m right here, so please fight this.” You said as Steve was currently trying to get the door open.

Oh, you don’t have to be afraid

Together we’ll face it

So don’t ever stop, no matter what

Cause you’re gonna make it

“Homecoming.”

Bucky took a few deep breaths. “Can you keep talking to me, Y/n? I-I don’t want to lose you.”

“It’s okay, Bucky. You’re not gonna lose me. I just want you to focus on my voice. You can overcome this.” You said trying to use a soothing voice.

“One.”

“You are so much stronger than you think. You are more than just their soldier.”

“Freight car.”

“I love you.” You said, tears rolling down your cheeks, as the last trigger word sounded out of the intercom.

There was silence. That was never a good thing.

“B-bucky?” You asked trying to compose yourself.

Silence. You began to cry and Steve hugged you.

“Y/n? Steve? You there?” Bucky coughed.

“Bucky! You did it! You were not affected by the trigger words!” You exclaimed.

“I couldn’t have done it without ya, doll. I just wish I could see your pretty face right now. And I love you, too.”

“Don’t worry, Buck. We’re working on opening this door, and then we are getting the heck out of here!” Steve said.

Fight on, fighter

Don’t let anyone steal your fire

Fight on, fighter

The spirit is alive inside ya

“Bucky!” You exclaimed as the door opened.

You engulfed him in a huge hug and he chuckled as he held you tightly. “I missed you, doll.”

Steve cleared his throat.

“You too, pal. Get in here.” Bucky said as you and Bucky held your arms open.

Steve walked over and you guys all had a nice group hug. Suddenly, alarms began to blare loudly.

“Maybe we should get out of here.” Steve said as he hit an incoming agent with his shield.

“Agreed. We can celebrate when we get home.” You said as you all got in fighting positions.

“Let’s fight these little buggers.” Bucky said as they charged out of the room.

They still had to get out of the Hydra base, but he knew that with his friends at his side, he could conquer anything. He knew that with you by his side, he could become a little more like himself every day. And that love and freedom was worth fighting for.

#bucky x reader #Bucky Barnes #cute bucky #reader insert #marvel fanfiction #marvel #hydra #bucky needs a hug #songfic

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writing-the-end · 3 years

Text

Chapter 31- Respect

Masterpost

A Wizard Hermits tale (AU, designs, ideas belongs to @theguardiansofredland)

TFC, as the leader of the Guild of Hermits, has a job to do. But he also sees them as family, his sons and daughters. And sometimes young souls need to learn a thing or two.

________________________

Iskall can hardly hear his own teeth chatter against the howling wind from the mountain peak, his heavy breathing attempting to take in the cold, thin air at the top of the world. His words are tossed off the mountain as soon as he speaks them. “Why couldn’t we take the tunnels to the mines? It would be mega faster, TFC.”

“I promised to the ZIT boys we’d deliver this to the Shrine of Natasiel.” TFC huffs, turning his head to look at the three youngsters following him. He trudges through the snow, fur lined boots and clothes bracing him from the cold winds. Iskall and Mumbo share similar thick down coats, but Cleo is still in the same overcoat and pantaloons as she’d wear at sea. She’s already dead, the cold doesn’t bother her.

Cleo growls, jumping off the path that TFC stumbles through. She trudges ahead of TFC, forging her own path through the snow. Despite hardly being able to see the ground five paces ahead of her, she continues forward on her own. “Where even is the Shrine?”

“The top of the mountain, isn't it? I-I’m not sure, I’ve never gone here. But this weather...my word is it dangerous!” Mumbo stutters out his words, but he’s not sure if it’s because he can’t remember for sure or because he can feel his breath freezing in this throat. A heavy gust of wind catches on Mumbo and Cleo, sending the two stumbling towards the cliff face. If it weren't for TFC grabbing their collars, they’d be meeting Natasiel in person.

“Nothing is as dangerous as me!” Iskall booms, raising his voice above the weather. “You can’t take me down, mountain! I am an S-Class nuclear mage, I take your nature and turn it on it’s head with my magic!”

TFC shakes his head, continuing forward. In his frozen, gloved hands, he grips the tattered banner as tight as possible. He’s not losing such precious cargo entrusted to him. It’s time to lay them to rest, to give the guild long gone some peace.

Zedaph handed the banner to TFC before they left, fingers tightening for a second before letting it go. “This belongs somewhere better than that bastard’s office. Can you take this to Hanshaa’s mirror? Let Natasiel take care of them.”

Of course TFC took the banner, took the route to the tallest mountain in Lairyon. Mount Hanshaa, the crown to the Queen of Death. And at the peak, the Shrine of Natasiel. TFC has only been up here a few times before, to pray to Natasiel and thank her for her work. To protect those alive, and care for those who have moved on.

And of course Iskall has to challenge everything. Whether it's a creature on the side of the road or the mountain itself, he can never back down from a challenge. TFC lets go of Mumbo and Cleo, and climbs higher into the sky. They’re almost there, he can already feel the soothing calm of Hanshaa’s Mirror.

“I...I don’t think I can do this, TFC. I can hardly breathe, and it’s so cold. I’m not cut out for climbing this, or any, mountain.” Mumbo complains, hands shaking when they clasp onto the guildmaster’s. He hauls the newest member of the guild over the lip. Just one more face to climb, and they’ll be there. So close, and he wants to give up. Cleo, on the other hand, refuses his offer to help, her green skin digging through the ice, snow, and rock and pulling herself forward.

“We’re almost there, Mumbo. You’ve already made it.” TFC breathes, lowering his voice as the wind lowers it’s howls. A sense of calm washes over TFC, watching the snow settle. “Just one more climb, I know you can do it.”

Over the lip, and there on the peak. On top of the world, the Evershade mountains tumbling out beneath them. The winds are quiet, playing with flecks of snow and dancing down the mountain. Peace comes from the fierce bite of snow, and at the center of the peak, the Shrine of Natasiel sits.

Despite it being well below freezing, the round pool has not a single vein of ice in it’s waters. Perfect and calm, not even snowflakes breaking the mirror. In the reflection and around Hanshaa’s mirror, the shrine opens. Multicolored flags flutter in the wind, stone statues resting beneath the pennants. Intricate carvings in stone and wood, offerings to Natasiel, poems of love and loss, food for friends and family, and blankets against the cold. At the center of the shrine, the guardian of Hanshaa stands. A stone monument, intricately carved feathers and fur of Natasiel’s griffin, with it’s head tucked and eyes closed, watching the world unfold before it and the shrine guarded by it’s gaze.

Sprouting from the snow and rock, against all odds of survival, delicate blue flowers glow in the low light of the snowstorm. Petals as thin as paper, bursting from the ice, opening their white pistils to the thin air. The rarest, the most beautiful flowers in all of Lairyon, fighting the harsh climate at the top of the world, growing around the goddess of the dead’s shrine. Finding life in the cold, the death, rising in the meditative peace at the water’s edge.

A calm and quiet washes over TFC, Mumbo and Cleo. But Iskall finds no sense of reverence upon seeing the shrine. He does notice the flowers, and stoops down low. Fingers wrapping around the slight stem, gripping and tugging on the hardy plant. Silence is broken by a loud, harsh shout that nearly teeters Iskall off the edge. “Don’t pick it!”

It’s TFC, one hand crossing Iskall’s torso and pushing him back, the other still gripping the tattered banner. The snap was severe, but not aggressive. Enough to make Iskall stop, but not enough to scare him. “Why not dude? It’s just one itty bitty flower among hundreds.”

TFC lets go of Iskall’s arm, turning back to the griffin statue. Open eyes watching them as the guildmaster kneels in the snow. He gazes at the old banner, the embroidered symbol frayed and color faded. A guild long gone, murdered for power. Massacred for control. He’s here to lay them to rest, to give Zedaph, Impulse, and Tango the peace they deserve. “It’s not about that.” He whispers, looking over his shoulder and boring his gaze into Iskall like a mole in the dirt. “It’s about respect.”

Iskall steps back, his foot scraping off the ledge of the mountain. His heart leaps into his throat, the wind picking up just enough to cause him to teeter. Just one gust, and he’d be plummeting to the earth. Falling from the top of the world, and no way to stop it. No one can fight gravity- even Grian will eventually plummet if he doesn’t counteract it. In that heart pounding moment, no way to stop a gust of wind from sending him over, he realizes that there's one thing he cannot fight. He cannot challenge. Life and death, and that thin line between it. He has to respect that.

And he has to respect life and death. Especially in the presence of Natasiel’s shrine, the goddess of death’s realm so close. The wind dies down and Iskall can regain his footing. He stumbles forward, away from the mountainside, side stepping from the flowers and sitting beside TFC. All four hermits take in the silence, the sound of the strung flags flying in the wind the only commentary to the world. It’s an eerily calm silence, a reverence and connection to those who passed on. Iskal looks down at the banner, ZIT’s first family destroyed by Dolios. He may not be able to challenge life and death, but he will challenge dark magic. And win. “Can...can I put it up?”

TFC raises an eyebrow, but when his eyes lock with Iskall’s, he can only see respect glimmering back in his green eye. Even the blue jewel shines with the same calm TFC feels in his body. He offers the ensign to Iskall, who picks it up as gently as he would an unstable rod of iskallium. Fingers tight enough to keep from losing the fabric, but laid out between his arms.

He stands, walking past the pool, watching the water reflect the sky and himself. Careful not to step on a single flower, he approaches the guardian of Hanshaa’s Mirror. The guardian of the shrine, protector to the entrance of the underworld, Natasiel’s griffin companion. Strong, stony eyes watch Iskall as he approaches, climbing up the podium and avoiding the precarious rock cairns stacked around the statue. A cold brush of wind causes Iskall to shiver, fingers sapped of heat by the stone statue.

“It’s mega cold up here, but you still keep watch.” Iskall wraps the banner around the stone statue’s neck. He folds the insignia out for all to see, and knots the tattered ends together. “Watch over them, for our friends. They’ll keep you warm.”

He steps back, watching the gold and blue press against the stone, blocking out the wind. Behind him, he hears Mumbo sniffle, tears freezing on his cheeks and at the corners of his eyes. TFC reaches out, patting Iskall on the back. His son, if not by blood then by guild. And a soft expulsion of breath escapes Cleo, mist dazzling in the air. “I can feel souls here...they’re at peace. It’s so calm, so content.”

They remain in silence for a little longer. Just taking in their time at the top of the world, in between life and death, at the shrine to the goddess of death. Watching the glassy pool, the snow drifting in the air and waltzing through the flowers. TFC stood first, one hand over his heart and whispering thanks to the guardian before turning around, eyeing the descent they must make now. Mumbo stands beside him, tucking his fingers under the pits of his arm. “I can’t believe we climbed all of that to make it here.”

“You have more strength than you give yourself credit for, Mumbo. You climbed the tallest mountain in Lairyon, you are one of the strongest mages I’ve ever met. Just because a task seems daunting, you shouldn’t doubt yourself. You are more than the sum of your parts, Mumbo Jumbo.” TFC glances over his shoulder to the others, then begins his descent. And all but Cleo accept his help.

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

From the tallest peaks of Lairyon, to the depths of the kingdom are where the group find themselves next. Swallowed whole by the mouth of the Golden Hearth mines, they follow a set of hastily drawn directions marked on a scrap of leather. The dwarven miner they had interviewed was more interested in returning to his mining than telling a bunch of mages where they noticed missing gems.

And for the first time ever, the hermits see TFC lose his parental demeanor. He’s a kid in the candy store, bouncing from deposit to deposit. He pulls free a chunk of amethyst, admiring the deep purple hue with glittering excitement in his eyes. The deeper they go, passing miners and other mages connected to the earth, he can’t help but pick up a pickaxe of his own and mine out a few crystals to add to his collection. Kyanite as dark as an unlit cave, pyrite that lusters against the illuminating energy from an iskallium rod.

Cleo strides ahead, plucking a torch from the wall. “This way. Come on, we have to find Esten’s Spring.”

“Hold up, Cleo, take a breather.” TFC pauses, grabbing at her shoulder and forcing her to stop. She can’t keep running through the mines this way. “Esten’s Spring is deep, one of the deepest parts of the mine. It’s hardly been explored, and the underground river leaves it unstable.” None of them know how to explore caves like TFC does. They didn’t grow up playing in caves, didn’t spend their early years mapping out the crystal mines. They can’t read the seams in the stone, the rolling of rockfalls.

Cleo raises the fire, distracted by the ores and geodes that gleam against the light for a second before returning to her trailblazing. She doesn’t need anyone’s help but herself, she is strong and clever. She knows the way all by herself. She’s independent, even in a group. She’s the captain of her own ship.

The narrow passage opens up to a deep, yawning chasm with only a broken wooden bridge to cross the immense drop. Cleo looks over the edge, biting her lip as she notices sharp stalagmites piercing through the darkness, teeth of some ancient stone beast waiting to swallow an unsuspecting miner whole.

Beside her, TFC hums. “Let me rifle through my bag, see if-”

He doesn’t get to finish his sentence. Cleo strikes her saber between a stone pillar and the ground, tipping it forward and pressing a magic circle against the stone. The rock erodes, decaying to sand at her fingertips, and with one swift yank of her blade it falls across the canyon. She flashes a smile over her shoulder, and struts across the bridge.

She got lucky, TFC knows that. She did that all on herself, but had the rock fallen the other way, they all could have been crushed. She could have hurt herself. As strong as she is, no mortal can withstand the crushing blow of the very earth itself. But Cleo just keeps moving, on her own journey deeper into the caves.

Whether crawling through gaps, jumping across chasms, or skirting across ledges, Cleo was always ahead of the others, doing things her own way, and refusing help. She doesn’t need help. She’s strong, she doesn’t need anyone’s help.

TFC stops, hearing the sound of water dripping through the teeth that rise from the ground and fall from the ceiling. He clambers through the mouth, stepping between the stalagmites and into the open well. “Here we are. Esten’s Spring.”

For a moment, the only light within the cave is the luminescent rocks, a soft glow that ricochets across the smooth stone, casting shadows along the walls and turning the cavern ceiling into a reflection of colors. Arches and ledges run along the side of an underground river, crystals beneath the water illuminating and rippling all around them.

To any person, Esten’s Spring was a godly sight. Gems as tall as buildings and wide as tarasques growing from the earth. But for a mage like TFC, who’s magic draws from the earth and it’s shimmering gifts, it was enough to bring tears to his eyes. Rare stones buried deep in the belly of the earth, all collected together and growing in one mutually exclusive place. Stones that would never be seen in any other place at once, all here. But with such beauty also comes danger. “Watch your step, hermits. The ground is unstable.”

Cleo hardly hears TFC’s warning. She’s already charging ahead, like a ship into battle. She notices a mar in the earth, dirt overturned and scraped aside. And the rusty, dusted ground turned grey like ash. “He’s been gathering them from here.”

Dolios was here. Multiple times, if the marks and stains of darkness were any indication. All across Esten’s Spring, the ground has been uprooted, entire clusters of crystals missing from their perches. Of course he would create the crystals here. In the depths of the mines, the dangerous passage deterring even the bravest miner from wantonly exploring this deep. And here, among the rarest, strongest crystals in all of Lairyon. They were ripe for his corruption, and for TFC to know he’s stolen them from here is heartbreaking.

“He has no respect.” TFC grumbles, picking up a broken quartz stone. Spared from the staining of dark magic, left shattered on the ground. He takes without remorse, without respect for the mountains or the land. Mining isn’t just about taking. It’s about giving back as well. Thanking Lairyon and the Earth god, Esten, for such amazing creations. He feels Iskall’s hand come to rest on his shoulder, a knowing gaze on the mismatched eyes. Even Iskall knows to respect nature now.

“To think, we’ve gone to the highest peaks and the deepest abysses, and no matter where we go, his darkness still follows.” Mumbo breathes. To think that he’s made it to both places, he’s still not entirely sure how. It’s like TFC said, he has to believe in himself, even when he thinks he couldn’t do it.

Cleo’s shoes skitter as the ground beneath her feet collapses, the lip of the ledge falling into the underground river. She doesn’t have time to deal with the past, and whatever the boys are up to. If they hope to stop Dolios, they need to cut off his supply of crystals. Stop him from making more, and for TFC to round up more crystals to use in his spells.

A dim corner catches her attention. All along the cavern, shadows are cast from stalagmites and stalactites. But the purples, greens, blues, yellows, and reds of the incandescent crystals turn even the darkest corners into a misty glow. But down a passageway, one place is devoid of all light. As if the rock swallowed it whole.

Or the crystal within it. Cleo scrabbles across an arch, careening off the rock wall and ignoring the light shower of stone dust in her hair as she comes face to face with the gemstone. It’s taller than her, the faceted edges a milky white, rising like a tower with thin lines perpendicular to the ground. Except for the peak of the tower, which was darker than night. Night still has light, color, whether from the moon or the stars. This is pure darkness, empty of all color, all light.

Dark magic. Dolios must have been trying to corrupt this gem, to use it to siphon magic like the crystal in Gildara, at the championship. “Cleo? Where’d you run off to now?”

She turns, slapping her hand against the crystal. “I found one in the works!” She yells, her voice making droplets of water fall from the cavern ceiling. “I can take care of this myself.”

TFC looks up, eyes following Cleo’s bright orange hair, the white crystal, and the cave wall that it rests against. And he sees the seam in the rocks, the thin planes of stone on the precipice of gravity. The soft shower of dirt, sprinkling like pixie dust in her locks. The dust turns to pebbles, pebbles to rocks. “Cleo, look out!”

The cavern roof collapses inward, and TFC has less than a second to react. His hand is already digging into the depths of his bag, pulling out a jasper and clasping it in his gloves. By the time the rocks have turned to boulders, he’s already summoned his magic and is casting the spell. He pushes his hand forward, and Cleo stumbles back.

His last sight of her is that bright red hair, pale green skin and fear written across her face. Boulders ricochet into a pile, cutting Cleo off from the rest of the hermits. Mixed with the clattering of rock, the soft sound of bone cracking and skin scraping. Iskall and Mumbo race forward, but TFC grabs them both.

“We have to help her! She could be buried!” Iskall howls, fighting against TFC.

“Hold on! The rockfall is still unstable.” He huffs. It kills TFC to have to wait as well, but rushing in will only lead to more disaster. “C-Cleo, can you hear me?”

“I can hear you! There’s a boulder, it’s pinned me to the ground.” A soft chuckle escapes, but it’s strained and high pitched. “Better my leg than the rest of me.”

TFC steps forward, brushing past Mumbo and Iskall. One of which is about to succumb to his nervous jelly knees, the other racing alongside their guildmaster. “Just stay calm, Cleo, we’ll get you out of-”

“I can do it myself!” Her voice snaps through the stone wall. “I don’t need to wait if I just-”

“Cleo no!” The rockfall shifts, growing thicker. Boulders roll towards the boys, and a stifled yelp can be heard through the cracks.

“S-see? I freed my leg. Now I...now I just need to break this wall.”

“Stop, Cleo! You’re going to hurt yourself.” TFC’s voice is strong, but soft enough to make Cleo pause. “Let us help.”

“I don’t need your help! I’m strong enough on my own!” TFC and Iskall leap backwards, a boulder narrowly crushing them both.

“But true strength is knowing when to reach out for help instead of letting it destroy you!” TFC shouts, his voice echoing across Esten’s Well, causing droplets to fall from stalagmites and ripple across the underground river. His harsh breath is the only voice, and TFC brushes back his hair, his braid. “Cleo, you’re one of the strongest hermits in all of the guild. We all know that. How many other of us are literally too strong for death to hold us back? But sometimes there are things that can’t be done alone. No one is stronger than the mountains themselves. It takes an army of dwarven miners to take on the earth. Each one of them strong on their own, but stronger together. Let us help you, let your family help you.”

Silence fills the cave, thick and hot against the stale air of the deep chasm. TFC’s ears prick at the sound of fabric shuffling through the wall of boulders. His shoulders fall, believing that Cleo is attempting to do it on her own again. That is, until her voice calls out. “I will come back as a ghost if you three crush me. I will come back and break your legs.”

Iskall grins, neon green magic reflecting off the glittering gem for his eye, meeting Mumbo’s worried expression. And together, with Cleo’s commands, they free her from the stone tomb. As Mumbo clasps Cleo’s hand and helps her stand, TFC notices a pale blue gem laying at his feet. Stooping low, he picks up the crystal. Iskall peeks over his shoulder, seeing the rock. “Whatcha got there, T?”

“I’ve never seen blue moon quartz in my life. Guess Esten hid it from Dolios.” TFC chuckles, and pockets it. “Let’s get back to the surface before his blessing turns to a curse.”

#light of lairyon #lol #hermitcraft #hermitcraft fanfic #hermitcraft au #wizard au #wizard hermits #wizard tfc #wizard cleo #wizard iskall #wizard mumbo #tinfoilchef #iskall85 #iskall #zombiecleo #mumbo jumbo

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prettynxsty · 4 years

Text

Scented Wood

My first ever fic, femdom!reader x sub!Chan

contains: angst, swearing, futa/girlcock, size kink, choking, smoking, toxicity, dark themes, mentions of killing, smut, y/n is straight up a serial killer, okay?

Summary: You’re a notorious serial killer, but you only kill to keep the balance. Your purpose is to rid the world of it’s garbage, but by day you’re simply a forensic crime scene specialist. You tangled yourself in a serious mess by giving into your selfish desires, indulging in hearts instead of stains on society.

AN: I tried to give a new spin on a unique writing style and write something that gives a fresh feeling.

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Chan enters the station, his breath coming in shallow puffs. It felt like ice out there, it'd never snow in LA no matter how nippy it was outside. He peels the gloves from his hands and tucks them under his arm while scrubbing together his cold fingers. The station was quieter at these hours, the normal hum of noise was quieter.

He nods to a comrade at the front desk as he heads down the hallway, he was still cold, if not colder. But there was a warmth that he remembered, one that tickled him inside and out. Chan slowed to a stop beside Y/n’s office, doubting himself for a second before tapping his knuckle against the wood. He shrugs his jacket down to his shoulders, reaching up and gently scratching at the base of his neck under his uniform top.

You nearly jumped out of your skin upon hearing the knock, the wheels of your chair inching you away from your desk. Peering through the frosted windows, you see the familiar frame of Chan. You relaxed gently, but still felt a bit jumpy. You had every reason to be nowadays - after all you’ve done, it's hard to just go back and calm yourself. You’re now paranoid, spastic, loud... but that doesn't matter.

You saved and exited the document you were working on, then stood up to your full height, putting your hands in your pockets... wincing as the bruised and cut knuckles rubbed against the fabric of your pockets. This was what had to happen - for the good of LA, you just wished that you would have been smarter than to get into a fight with them first. You'll be quicker on the next kill, cleaner. Quieter. But now, you had better things to look forward to. "Come in, Chan," your voice echoed through your office, dominant, deep, assured, enough to chill the room even more.

Chan exhales, his entire frame relaxing as he pushes down the door handle and enters the room. The chill in his skin begins to fade away as his eyes run over the silhouette of the taller form. He swallows quietly, rubbing his lips together and licking them idly as he lifts his eyes to meet yours.

"Hey," he breathes, "you busy?" Lifting a hand, he removes his black cap and combs his fingers through his brown locks to fix them. He hadn't ever outright asked you for what he wanted, he could only ever remember simply taking it, or having it given to him without any word.

You could read the body language of the man as simple as you could a children's book - Chan wanted something. Something he didn't want to say out loud, obviously - his cheeks were a supple shade of red, but that could always be the temperature. You always preferred the cold, so your house is always a steady 65. But Chan was warm-blooded, you could tell that by... everything about him.

You watch his hair as it smoothed out between his fingers, and you could almost feel the silkiness on your own fingertips. Your hands twitched in response. You swallowed the lump in your throat, lifting your chin slightly, eyeing your friend. "Not usually," you lied. "I always have time for you. What do you need?"

"Just wanted to catch up," the corners of his lips twitch up in a lopsided smile. His lids flutter shut as he stretches his back, moaning quietly. His collar shifts, practically putting his pretty tanned skin on display. His neck was fresh, free of markings of any kind.

Chan tucks his gloves into his pocket, shrugging off his leather jacket and spotting the second chair beside your desk. He helped himself to the seat without asking, quietly fishing out his peppermint chapstick. For an officer of the law, he was acting awfully shy at this very moment. He quickly looks away from you as he glides the balm over his dry lips. "Uh, how have you been?"

You kept an eye on Chan's every movement, every twitch, but stayed completely still yourself. You watched the shine of his lips as he rubbed them together, you would swear you even saw the pink of his tongue slip out for a moment. You suddenly felt slightly flustered, but buried it quickly with your other thoughts.

Catch up? What did that mean? You ran through the locations of your crimes in your head, and as far as you knew, you left nothing but the little folded paper on the victim - some wife beater from Glendale, which you enjoyed killing very much so, even took one of his teeth as a trophy, which was sitting in a jar on your bedside table at home.

So Chan had to be here as... just a friend. Easing up a bit, you pushed your kind persona to the forefront, offering a smile to Chan. "Good as I can be, with all this rain we've been getting," you laughed slightly, making your way around the desk to stand by Chan. "How have you been? Working the old 9-5?" You leaned against your desk, hands still in your pockets as you looked down to Chan, catching the honey of his brown eyes in the light.

The inkling of desire swimming in his blood began to grow and spread like poison. He just couldn't get enough of you, there was just something about your presence. Your imposing height, the mystery of your character, you were more beautiful than you'd ever realize. The quirk in your charm always made his heart flutter for some reason. In a room full of people, his eyes went to you first and foremost, but why?

He rests his jacket on the back of the chair as he leans back against it, nodding actively as the other man spoke. The chill that was within him was replaced with a fire, a fire that wouldn't be quenched without his desire being fulfilled one way or another.

"Ah yeah, nothing big lately since they have me on patrol until something happens."

He couldn't help but sneak a few glances at your lips before forcing himself to hold your gaze.

"Got any breakthroughs?"

You thought carefully of what to say next; you’re far too good of a forensic scientist to have nothing by this point, so saying no would seem suspicious, but you could lead them in the wrong direction. You reached behind your desk, grabbing a pen and a notepad, scribbling down some info to give to Chan.

"The footprints at uh... the first scene were partial, but my guess would be they're a men's size 8, so you're probably looking for a guy of average height - 5'8 maybe. The killings are brutal, but I don't have to tell you that. They're probably done by someone of great strength."

Or great stealth. You almost laughed at the thought, before glancing up just in time to see Chan’s eyes on your lips. Oh. So that's what he wants. You cocked your head up again, what a pleasant surprise. Maybe you two could have a little fun together.

"See something you like, officer?"

Chan hummed, nodding as he shifted in his chair to sit up straight, scanning the notes given to him. His lips tingle slightly with the sweet cooling notes of peppermint and menthol in his chapstick, he softly smacks his lips together as he thought for a moment.

Was this a good idea? Chan felt like he was more than likely pushing his luck. Your teasing remark pulls him from the disappointing thoughts, bringing him back to reality. You were probably just joking with him, better not push it.

"Maybe I do," he laughs as he stands up from the chair and stretches.

"I won't keep you too long, Y/l/n. You probably put off some work to talk to me." Chan got ready to turn back and grab his coat, playfully nudging his friend's shoulder.

Your smirk turns into a full blown cocky smile now. There was something nice about the way Chan referred to you, like you were his superior. It warmed you from your thighs to your stomach, and made your heartbeat pick up ever so slightly. Noticing Chan about to leave, you quickly grabbed his arm before it reached his coat.

"Why leave so soon? You just got here," you breathed softly, though your grip was no doubt tight; your thumb grazed right underneath the sleeve of his shirt, right along the little blue vein of his wrist. You licked your lips, stepping closer to him.

"Stay a little longer. We can... go over the case." You didn't want to seem too forward.

Your voice sent chills down his spine, his face grew hotter. He couldn't believe what was happening right now, you wanted him like that? He swallows dryly as his arm was grabbed, it wasn't really harsh per se, but it completely took his breath away. Chan’s mouth fell slightly ajar as he allowed himself to be pulled back into the space of the taller.

The normal beating of his heart gains a nervous and excited flutter as he stands before the other, gazing up into your eyes. They smolder with something deep, hot, something that could burn him, but the warmth was good. "Uh, yeah." He babbles blankly, nervously nibbling at his lower lip.

You watched his lips carefully, watching them quiver ever so slightly. You knew Chan was thinking exactly what you were. You met his eyes, leaning down closer to him, looking for any sign of distress or disagreement. When you found nothing, you moved in quicker, catching his lips quickly. Your own lips tingle at the contact, the taste of peppermint flooding your senses as your other hand shoots to Chan's collar, pulling him in even closer by the neck.

Chan felt his lids fall shut automatically as you leaned in to kiss him, he waited eagerly to receive it. Suddenly he felt a hand on his collar tugging him forward and he moans in shock. This was exactly what he wanted, what he needed. Some roughing up, and he was more than ready to get it. He leans into your touch, grabbing your shoulders as he moves his lips against your own. It felt so good to just let someone else take the lead and take what they wanted, giving him what he craved.

You were a bit taken aback by the moan, but quickly picked up on what to do. You took Chan’s bottom lip between your teeth, biting just hard enough to see how he'd react, but not enough to draw blood. You adored this; having someone squirming under you. Usually it was some high-priced hooker, or someone dumb enough to fuck you in the bathroom, but lately you haven't had much luck - so you were more than desperate, and Chan was the perfect target.

As your pants grew tighter, you kicked Chan’s chair aside to make more space. It bounced off the wall and clattered to the floor. Breathing heavily, you switched position to pin Chan to your desk. You completely lost any inhibition that told you this was probably a bad idea, and instead completely lost yourself in the slim, muscled man underneath you.

Chan jumped as your teeth scraped across his lower lip before sinking in. He took a sharp breath in, exhaling with a deep sigh. The flame inside of you was licking his skin, heating him up in the best of ways. His head spun as blood rushed to his nethers, aching to be filled and used.

Chan barely heard the noise of the chair until it fell onto the floor, opening the space around you. His dick jumps when you pin him back against the pine desk. He was drunk from the smell of earthy cologne and the rough touch, his mind was empty save for one woman, you.

You smiled into the kiss before parting your lips, "You like it rough, huh, detective?" You chuckled, keeping one hand tight on his collar. You move your other hand to lift his chin, dragging your fingertips down the column of his throat before digging your thumb into the base of his neck. Just enough to apply pressure.

You wanted to be rougher - wanted to make the man whimper and beg - but you still needed to toe the line, if you crossed a boundary, you could get fired. You pressed your hips into his, looking down on Chan’s supple lips, his half-lidded eyes, taking in the fact that you could do anything you wanted to him in that moment.

"Tell me what you want, then."

Chan felt his cheeks prickle with heat of shame, to admit something like this out loud, he could never. He opens his eyes, his pupils blown wide with pleasure as you lift his chin. He couldn't contain the shaking moan that came from his lips as his throat was squeezed. Feeling you press completely up against him felt good, felt so right to him. His lips were only slightly swollen from their lip lock, a renewed tingling from where he was bitten. Chan almost couldn't process the demand he was given, babbling the first words that came to mind.

"Fuck me," he breathes quietly, leaning further into your touch.

You smirked once more, leaning in to kiss the last bit of peppermint off his wet lips, before pushing him roughly against the desk. You took a step back, goosebumps raising on your skin from the cold air. "Take off your clothes," you commanded, before looking down and beginning to work on your belt.

You were going to fuck him until you couldn't fuck him anymore, maybe if he was good you'd even let him cum too. When you finally got off your belt, you kept it in your hand, walking to the office door and locking it. Couldn't take any risks, you thought, as you set the belt down on the desk, keeping it close as you quickly unbuttoned your shirt.

Chan obeys immediately, reaching up and making quick work of the buttons on his top. He keeps his eyes on you, not peeling them away for a second as he undresses. He allows the garment to slide from his shoulders seductively, taunting the domineering woman with light, playful eyes. After pushing aside the top of his uniform, he moves down to his well fitted black slacks. Chan unbuttons them with ease, shimmying them off to reveal his snugly fit boxer briefs. Afterward he kicks his pants to the side, dumping them beside his discarded shirt, awaiting his next commands.

You glanced backwards to the frosted glass with a worrisome look, but there was still no one there. You unbutton your black dress pants, pushing them and your underwear off in one solid motion. Your cock sprung free easily, a solid, cut, girthy 7 inches, hard as a rock and shiny at the head from your own excitement. You really hadn't been laid in a while, so you were more than eager to get this show on the road.

You looked to Chan, who stood with a playful look on his face. Oh, so he's a brat, you thought. I can play with that. You took a few steps forward and brought Chan into a kiss, deep and hungry, sliding your middle and pointer fingers in the elastic band of his boxer briefs. You pulled away after a moment, catching your breath once again as you pulled back the elastic and snapped it against his skin.

"Everything."

Chan idly licks his lips, tracing every dip and curve of your body with his eyes. For so long he admired you from afar, not daring to make a move. Now he wondered why the hell he hadn't tried anything like this before. His lips twitch into a sly little smile as he watches the other man make quick work of his clothes, hurrying back to him. He receives the kiss easily, leaning in to the larger form as if it were second nature to him.

His breath hitches as the warm fingers hook under his black undergarments, pulling them back and snapping them against his unmarked skin. Chan hooks his thumbs under his boxer briefs, holding your heated gaze as he slides them down and over his thighs. His cock sprang from the confines of the cotton, standing at attention as he kicked his underwear aside.

You were getting impatient now, especially with the sight of Chan’s cock eagerly awaiting you; if you wanted to, you could get on your knees and suck him until he couldn't stand on his own. If you wanted to, you could fuck his throat until he couldn't speak. But you weren't being paid hourly, and you had stuff to do tonight - particularly search for a new victim.

This wasn't a date, Chan came here for a fucking, and that's what he's going to get. That's all he's going to get. You wrapped your arms around Chan’s waist gently, staring down at the firm rise and fall of his abs, the dip of his hips and his cock, licking your lips hungrily. "You wanna get fucked, huh?" You mumbled.

"Turn around. Bend over."

Chan almost wanted to breathe a sigh of relief, things were getting right to the point. Things were moving without stopping, just the way he liked it. There was too much to be done later to spend too much time fooling around, as much as he would enjoy it. A quick round would help clear his head and put him in the right place to start piecing up this case.

The look in your eyes made his dick jump, sending a shiver through his compact frame. He bit his lip, turning away from you and bending over the desk. Suddenly he felt much too shy to look you in the eyes, being exposed like this. He hated and loved it all the same.

You placed your hand on the small of Chan’s back almost instinctively, running your hand over the tan, smooth flesh.

"Good little slut," you whispered as you exhaled, not even realizing you were saying it. You brought your right hand up to your lips, spitting on your long fingers. You slowly brought it down to level with Chan, moving the hand on his lower back down to spread his firm cheeks lightly, soaking up the sight of him.

"God, you're hot." Your fingers shook slightly as you pressed a lubricated finger to his hole, prodding just enough for sensation but not enough to penetrate, your love for teasing getting the best of you for a moment.

Chan arches his back, allowing his head to loll forward gently. Your warm hands coming in contact with his cooler skin, one resting in the dip of his spine. He chews on his lip anxiously, swaying his hips in anticipation as he hears you spitting on your fingers. He felt a hand part his cheeks before a wet finger rolled against his rose colored hole. Chan let out a quiet sigh, trying to stifle the noise daring to exit his lips. He couldn't be any more ready for this, but he could not get caught, and neither could you.

You decided that you shouldn't waste anymore time. You pressed your finger in slowly until your knuckles got in the way, watching the man's back rise and fall as his breath got quicker and quicker. You twist your finger as you pulled it out, adding a second one easily - a sign he's probably done this before, with some guy at the station, you assume.

You picked up the pace gradually, scissoring your fingers to loosen him up, searching for that spot that would really make him moan. Just thinking of those sounds made your cock twitch, prompting you to reach your free hand down to slowly pump it in response.

Chan felt his body jerk, a moan slipping from his kiss swollen lips. "Shit," he curses quietly as his hole is breached. He felt the long finger twist before slowly retracting before he was being stretched out with two fingers.

This was good, but Chan really wanted the main course, now. He couldn't finish the thought, his eyes rolling back with white hot pleasure. You hit the nail right on the head, curling against his prostate mercilessly. "Fuck me, Y/n," he whines, burying his face in his hands. He felt shame for saying it so loudly, anyone could've heard him.

You felt pretty proud of yourself. You’ve always prided yourself on your power over people, specifically in relationships. You could get anything you wanted easily, it just took the right plan; people were just pawns to you, technicalities. Not that you were completely cold-hearted, you’ve been known to indulge a few of your emotions from time to time- but you’ve never felt better than when you’re on top.

Which is why you kill, apart from wanting to better the city that you hope to one day raise children in - power. Around the workplace, no one knows this, though; they push you around as just the forensics girl, like you’re the technicality. You’re so much more than that. You feel your blood boil at the thought of it, as you pull your fingers out. It felt wonderful to see the tough cop begging to be fucked.

Eventually, you tire of playing around and gently remove your fingers from his entrance. Wordlessly, you reach over your desk and clumsily pull open the top drawer. Rifling around for a few bare seconds, your fingers brush over the crinkling packet of lubricant. Awkwardly pinching it between the tip of your ring finger and index nail, you lift it out of the drawer and maneuver it into your palm. Tearing the corner carelessly, you cradle your length in your hand and dribble it from base to tip. You busy your hand with spreading it along, pouring the remainder along the cleft of his ass.

A delighted hum rumbles in your chest when he jumps at the cool liquid sliding over his skin. You toss the now useless packet into the trash can beside your desk. You collect some of the lube on your fingers, taking care to spread it around before pushing back in. Once you’re satisfied with your own meticulous preparation, you lean back into the embrace of carnal desire. Pressing the head of your cock against his glistening hole sends a chill up your spine. Planting your feet, you begin to press inside of him.

It felt good to loosen up like this, no strings attached, nothing really at stake. Things would probably fall right back into their neutral friendship as if nothing happened. Afterward he'd head to his desk and take the information that you wrote down for him and try to make some connections.

There had to be a way that these murders were connected, it didn't make sense. His invasive, calculating thoughts were silenced immediately as he felt you begin stretching him out. You were much bigger than your fingers, for damn sure. Chan felt a sting, but it excited him.

You felt disappointed almost that Chan was trying to stay quiet, you always loved to hear the sounds of someone below you, but all you were getting now was a choked back whimper or the occasional soft, quiet groan. Clenching your teeth, you ground into Chan without warning, the warmth around your cock coaxing out a soft moan of your own.

You definitely needed to get laid more, if Chan keeps this shit up, and you'll be coming within minutes. You took a moment to let Chan adjust before moving into a punishing pace, reeling his hand back to smack his ass.

Chan thought he was managing well with keeping himself quiet enough, but you seemed to have a different idea. The powerful thrusts were enough to rock his whole frame and he couldn't bite his lip any harder.

"Oh!" He cried out, trying to clamp his lips shut while catching his glasses before they shot off of his face. Each moan was long and drawn out, despite his struggle to be just a little bit quieter. He bit his tongue so hard that it bled a bit, crying out in shock as the large hand claps over his ass cheek. "God- damn!" He pants, squeezing his eyes shut.

You smirked, feeling the heat pooling in your stomach already. You felt proud, finally getting Chan to show the world just how much of a slut he was. The man was practically a mess of syllables and moans, not making any sense at all, if not for the occasional curse. The desk creaked threateningly as you pounded in again, and you couldn't tell if you should be worried about the receptionist walking in or the wood splitting in half.

The 54-year-old, almost retired woman would cross herself, then immediately collapse if she heard them, undoubtedly filing a complaint to HR which would subsequently cause you to lose the one job keeping you from being arrested. Unfortunately you weren't in the best state of mind to be worried about these things, or even consider them. You leaned forward until your stomach met Chan’s back, wrapping your arm around his throat in semblance to a choke hold. You were gonna make Chan come harder than anyone had before, you were determined.

Chan whines every time you strike that special bundle of nerves, the sound keening. The sensation was beginning to get overwhelming, he was reaching his limit. "Y/n-, ah!" He moans, cutting himself off and allowing his head to hang down limply, pushing his glasses back up his nose. The smaller man could feel you leaning forward, your breasts pressing against his back.

Much to his surprise, an arm wraps around his throat and yanks him backward. His dick dripping precum, pulsing and twitching fitfully. Chan felt the heat climbing his cheeks, the lack of air pushing him to focus solely on the feeling. Soon after, it was all too much. He whimpers pitifully as he cums, shivering with each shot.

You groaned through clenched teeth as you felt Chan fluttering around you, that alone was enough to send you over the edge. You keened, loosening your grip on him immediately. He rattles with a few sharp coughs, gasping to catch his breath. "Fuck," you managed to groan, pulling out of him and frotting your length in between his cheeks.

You came, and you came hard. Thick, syrupy ropes splatter over the small of Chan’s back as you rest your head on his shoulder, planting sloppy kisses along his neck and behind his ear. You hadn't cum like that in awhile, your legs even shook slightly as you caught your breath and tried to wind yourself down. After a moment, you chuckled slightly to yourself. "Where have you been all my life, Bang Chan?"

Chan pants heavily, scrubbing a hand over his face. He allowed himself to lay limply over the edge of the desk as he recovered from the earth shattering orgasm. The wet kisses cause a shudder to run through him, sending a felt more bolts of pleasure through his sensitive body. Never in a million years would he have expected you, his friend, the bookish forensic scientist to fuck him like this. "Honestly, I don't know," he breathes, slowly regaining his strength.

You smiled slightly upon seeing the disheveled man, stepping back. Without missing a beat, you grabbed a tissue out of the box sitting on your desk and swept away the mess you created. You’d need to tackle the cum on the front of your desk next, that was a conversation that you weren’t willing to have with the custodian.

You turned your attention away from him, swiftly moving to clean up the evidence of your recent escapade. It was a quick fuck and there were no feelings to be shared, you assumed that Chan felt the same. You dressed yourself as quickly as you undressed yourself, making your way back over to the desk, rifling around for your pack of marlboros in the top drawer. Dumping yourself in the seat, you turned on the small fan on your desk to try and mask the scent of smoke as you lit one up.

"Don't tell anyone about this. DK would have my ass," you mumbled with the cigarette between your lips, inhaling the smoke deeply, and puffing it out in rings. You thought of what Dokyeom, your real boss, would think if he found out not only had you fucked a cop in your office, but offered him a cigarette afterwards.

Chan peels himself up from the desk, stretching out his back with a few cracks and pops. He pushes his glasses into place, and combs his finger through his hair to put himself back together. Decidedly, he would get dressed and head straight to the bathroom to completely clean himself up before he went back to work on the case for a bit. "There's nothing to tell." He agreed, bending over and grabbing his boxer briefs.

Chan made quick work of pulling them up and over his thighs and jumping into the rest of his clothes. Upon straightening his collar, he grabs his cap and jacket. He glances back, nodding at you before seeing himself out quietly. No words were needed, what's done is done. However, he should have definitely wiped the lube out of his ass cheeks before he left, sheesh.

You knew what to expect, so hearing the door shut wasn't that bad of a blow. You take this time to sit at your desk, skimming through anything that could possibly look bad on your part. You weren't stupid enough to keep any evidence incriminating you on your work computer, but you still had stuff to double-check in case Chan wanted on.

You updated the files with some basic information, making sure to get the rough description of the unusual suspect, or unsub, as far away from yourself as possible. You had to feel a little proud; you were only two murders down, but you had big plans, a list, even, of people to target next. You cleaned your email too, deleting all emails from your therapist, making sure to make yourself look as bland as possible.

Chan spent a few minutes in the bathroom, freshening himself up in front of the mirror. He stops, inspecting himself idly as he allows his thoughts to roam. Why did she give me so many details earlier? I didn't really mean anything serious by asking her that... Whatever. Quietly fishing around in his pocket, he pulls out his chapstick and glides it over his lips. He smacks his lips together with a soft pop, putting away the small lip balm as he pushes open the door and exits. Chan strolls down the hallway, entering the office and finding his desk. You weren't far from his mind, just sort of looming for some reason. He stares blankly at the dark computer screen, glancing up as someone walks by. Jinyoung, the chief of his department. Should he question Jinyoung about his sudden suspicion?

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