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phantomram-b00 · 1 year

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*clap hand and sigh* Look I should not be up at this hour (I was up at 5 am writing this) or posting since I don’t want to accidentally get myself shadowbanned or whatnot (I do have another good omens post coming up regarding metatron so stay tone for that). But I saw like some post regarding how Aziraphale doesn’t love Crowley as much/Azirpahale never did anything for Crowley. And it been wracking my brain because, did we not watch the same show? (I would say book but I’m still reading it)

Look before i continue, I do think we all have opinions, that’s valid. I just want to say my two cent since I can’t find myself agree with those claims.

But imma give Crowley his flowers because this soft demonic husband deserve it, yes, he done stuff for Aziraphale. Some that can risk him getting destroyed by hell such as saving the literal angel of eastern gate. He’s take him out for lunch, help him whenever Aziraphale ask him too. If there was a way to describe the love language “act of service” that’s Crowley to the absolute T. So I don’t think we can deny that fact about him, but Crowley would absolutely disagree with the fact that Azirpahale has done nothing for him consider the fact that there evidence and implication that Aziraphale done stuff for him.

In episode 3 of season 1, during the Shakespearean era segment, it was said that they do each other blessing and temptations since as Crowley stated “they don’t care how it done as long as they can cross it off the list” so who know how many temptation/blessing Crowley and Aziraphale did for each other, (lowkey I would love to see how Aziraphale does temptation, i miss this part as I’m rewatching GO for the metatron post coming up I don’t know how I missed that part but now that I discover this, make me think). The point is, this is one of many indication that Aziraphale does help Crowley.

Same episode, Holy Water, now this is the prime indication that I think we can all agree (or not, I’m just a phantom writing this blog). Now, before, can we see just how Aziraphale didn’t say “oh I can’t give this to you because I’ll get in trouble” no he said “it will destroy you”; that show just how he cares about Crowley, he doesn’t care about his job or that he was breaking the rules no no his main concern was Crowley. Sure he did after words when mention “fraternizing” (which honestly Crowley, me too I would be mad too if fraternize was used. But I can understand why Aziraphale said that as well.) but Crowley put Aziraphale in a difficult position, because while sure maybe Aziraphale could give him holy water but that would be not only breaking protocol but also giving him worry because given this happen after Elspeth episode, of course his mind will be concern of this whole thing. Especially with him saying “if anything goes pear-shaped”. And you know in 1967, he does give it to him overall, regardless of what he said. Because at least imo, he learn that he has to trust him. Just like how Crowley trusted him in 1941 with the magic show (remember this.) he trusting him here.

Okay now this is mostly all of season 1/2 before I mention what he’ve done for Crowley in season 2. The fact that Aziraphale help Crowley try to stop armageddon. Now you might be saying one or two things “Phantom, he back out in episode 3” or even “um, but it was mutual?” And you know you’re right on both those points. He did back out and it was mutual, but it still an example of doing something for Crowley. Why? Because they both love earth, they would do anything to preserve earth. Not only that, they can’t bare the idea of having to fight each other in this celestial war let alone the idea of one of them getting hurt. So they would not have gone through with this end of the world stick if it mean that they lost everything, now Crowley did agree with armageddon on general terms as God said in episode 1, season 1. BUT, actually doing it and going through with it is a different playing field and Crowley nor Aziraphale don’t want to lose everything they love (especially each other). Now it did take a lot of convincing, most because Azirpahale want to stop it more than Crowley but there one thing that is holding him back or make him scared to go against them: Heaven.

It kinda like an analogy where, say, you’re getting bullied or say that you’re dealing with an toxic family member, boss, whoever. And you yourself know they’re toxic, and you have people who can tell you “stand up to them” or “don’t let them get to you, tell them off”. And you can agree and try to build courage. But actually doing it is as the famous saying goes “easier said then done”, and Aziraphale would rather just put a fake smile and try to make everything look good so that he doesn’t get reprimanded by heaven, he doesn’t have Crowley’s confidence which I have this feeling most people forget about. Sure, Aziraphale have all rights to tell them off after the shit we the audience see or hear them do to him, or what Aziraphale had to allow happen, such as the flood for example or witnessing the crucifixion of Jesus Christ or even the fact that they almost killed him with hellfire, just because he wanted to save the universe. (Also the fact that it might have been implied that they drill into his head that if he ever does anything against God’s “plan”, he will fall like Lucifer or any of the other angels). But he can’t. Which is why he back out at first, because he was terrified that he would get in trouble or fall. (Which. Without saying much, I kinda would’ve done the same in fear.) and you can see it in his eyes, that he want more than anything to run away, yet, he still trying to push it down. Bottle it up if you will as his effort to try to back out. Now of course as we all saw how season one ended, he did ended up saving the world after all and I think Aziraphale and Crowley would do it again so they can be on their own side. So Aziraphale did hold his end of the bargain when it came to saving the world which is why I’m including this in my argument because yes this is mutual, Aziraphale still pull through with not just the help of Crowley but with Agnes Nutter’s book and Adam himself.

Now imma go with season 2, which is “season of love” as Rent would say.

Now, we love it, we cried about it, or we want to rip metatron a new asshole (which imma just say, I have never seen a fandom have this much togetherness of hating a character since GOT with Joffrey. But I’m all in, I hate him in season 1, season 2 just made me hate him more. But I will say, Derek Jacobi is doing a phenomenal as him and I can’t wait to see what season 3 will have with Metatron.) but I digress, let continue this rant.

Episode 2, season 2, is the episode that solidified many things for me. But let get to the point, Aziraphale could’ve stop Crowley from “killing everything job worked hard for” but he was gonna let him do it because Heaven said “oh yeah we decided to make this poor man lose everything because we wanted to win a bet with Satan.” But seeing how Crowley didn’t actually kill the goats, made Aziraphale happy, and in a sense began trusting Crowley’s process here. Even when Crowley set the house on fire and turn the kids into gecko, he still trusted him. And sure enough, everything work out at the end as Aziraphale help him through this plan on giving Job back his kids (even though heaven was gonna make job’s wife give birth to seven more kids. Which my crotch hurts from hearing that-). Sure Azirpahale had doubts and had a breakdown, but given as I mention earlier and how he’s the only angel (maybe besides Muriel) that have a conscience and broke a rule by giving away the sword, he have conflicting views but also is trying not to have a conscience to fit in with the angels and follow their lead despite he was never seen as an equal. But this still is example never the less as if Aziraphale didn’t do something thing would’ve ended different.

Now imma get to the one that is probably another prime example of Aziraphale doing something for Crowley, is the magic show (or at last the minisode in episode 4). After Crowley saved Aziraphale, he had to go to deliver something for the black market, and seeing his item was destroyed (most likely from the bomb), he got reprimanded by Mrs Henderson. And on Crowley’s behalf, Aziraphale decided to volunteer as a magician. He even bought the gun to do a show stopping trick so that it can impress her and not reprimand Crowley any longer (but of course just an excuse to do magic, which me too. I love magic). Now Crowley did have his concerns especially with the gun and also that Aziraphale never done this in front of many people. But this episode, they both have to trust each other, Crowley with the magic trick and Aziraphale trusting Crowley with not just the gun but he trust that he would never hurt him.

Now I’m sure I’m forgetting more with season two (mostly because i still rewatching it starting from season 1, so let me know if you think there were other example of Azirpahale doing stuff for Crowley. Whether it was from season 1/2.)

But I think also the other thing is that, they actively protect each other from their side, they keep their friendship a secret. They swap bodies to not get burn by holy water/hellfire. And much more, so I dislike it when people think Aziraphale done nothing for Crowley when he ultimately have. Sure it seem Crowley does stuff more for aziraphale, but we can’t pretend like he didn’t do anything at all and I’m pretty sure he would done more for him if it wasn’t for heaven constantly being in the way.

As for the love point, imma say this, people show love differently. Why do you think we have so many ship dynamic and it usually two with either similar/opposite contrasting with the other love interest. Aziraphale show love in a different way, now I’ve seen people say that aziraphale love language would be physical touch, which, I think make sense considering he did held Crowley’s hand and we’ve all seen the amount of time he touched Crowley. However what if I told you his love language was Quality time? Because, Aziraphale usually talk about “oh why not have a picnic” or whenever Crowley offers lunch, he lights up. Or of course when Aziraphale tries to convince Crowley to use the Bentley he said “just like how that bookshop is technically mine but we get quite a use of it.” Or perhaps, whenever they’re with each other; Aziraphale have a smile. (Even when sometimes he tries to hide it, I love smiles). He can’t go a day without Crowley despite that they always been separate from each decade but I have my feelings that whenever they separate, Aziraphale feel a bit lost without him, not to say he doesn’t have other things but we all miss your best friend/crush/soulmate/etc, and Crowley most definitely does too. (Also who want to bet that most of the diary entry involve Crowley if not just an entire entry is like “dear diary, did you know Crowley’s yellow eyes are my favorite aspect and that’s why I love the color yellow-“ but I’m detailing here my bad.)

But another thing is that, I feel people who say that, don’t understand what it like having to hide yourself but have someone or something drilling to your head and is constantly reminding you that “you can’t love them because xyz” or most noteworthy, don’t know how toxic environment expect an individual. Because Aziraphale does love him he would do anything to be with Crowley, but heaven is not only what is ultimately holding him back, it him himself. He got this promotion and he toke it, (with the mention that he didn’t want to go until Crowley was brought into the picture) and now he knows that the second coming is well. Coming. And now he has to try to save earth, just without Crowley this time. Now why I’m bringing this up? Well, because you can see him once again pushing away any part of him that is telling him to go to Crowley or be by his side, it the same thing as episode 3 when he did tried to back out because of heaven, it the same thing here only heaven really got to him, heaven showed an inch (and I mean an little inch) of kindness and a promising deal and he was on board. But that cause him to “lose” Crowley (and I’m saying lose in quotation because I don’t think he really lose or that this is a divorce, I just more or less think Crowley just can’t trust Aziraphale this time with this plan and pull his support of the table). So now he have to revert back to his old ways to try to make sure the world won’t end again for not just humanity but for Crowley as well, and this is probably another example of Aziraphale doing something for Crowley and show that he love him, even if this decision caused him Crowley ultimately. I’m sure he wishes whenever he read a Jane Austen or any love stories (with happy endings.) that that can be Crowley and him; no worries, no heaven and hell, nothing. Just them basking in their love and have no worries. But he know that might not be achievable. (Oh how cruel Cupid/God can be.)

I going to reiterate this again, everyone have their own valid opinion regarding this. I just needed to get my two cent since I hate when people think they’re toxic when they’re not. Both and yes I do mean Aziraphale and Crowley, do have their flaws that need mending but no way they’re toxic by any means. Truly if they were this toxic, why would Michael sheen be liking ineffable husband fanart, why would Neil Gaiman say it a love story between them, or better yet, why would these two be friends if they were toxic? Do they have flaws that need working on? yes of course no relationship is 100% perfect. Will Crowley forgive him so easily? No, I wouldn’t think so, I’m not saying Aziraphale is wrong with what he choose but the fact that he didn’t take him or the bookshop into consideration that gonna take some time to heal. (I promise I’ll make a Crowley post, I do love Crowley too, it just Azirpahale my all time favorite and I kin this character. But I promise someday I will give best boy his time to shine I just need to find a topic for him.)

Okay, i think that’s the post for today, OH! And also happy spooky season! It about to be Halloween! I love halloween! So I hope you all have a good October, and don’t worry more post will come I’m just trying to make sure I don’t accidentally shadowban myself or be annoying with my post lmao. But tell me what you think? Do you agree? Disagree? Let me know ^^ all your options,questions, and statements are valid ❤️

#good omens #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #good omens 2 #good omens fandom #i’m rambling because i say so #aziracrow #this show is my bread and butter and i eat it up everytime #I love this show 😭

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stormvanari · 8 months

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imagine a tf2 and toh crossover...which magic track(s) would the tf2 mercs pick?? what do you think??

i’m down to see how the TF2 mercs can survive in a magical world since they have experienced Merasmus’ chaos in Scream Fortress, and at least many of the magic users on the Boiling Isles aren’t too chaotic like Merasmus himself.

right?

RIGHT?

Scout: Becomes a “LORD OF ALL (wild) MAGIC!!!” because fuck the Coven System all the way

-Gives the Emperor’s Coven a living hell by pranking and putting them in a marathon across the Boiling Isles to the point the Golden Guard, Lilith (before Young Blood, Old Souls), or a Coven Head is involved. But the Golden Guard serves as Scout’s main competition until Hollow Mind.

-Always lands in the Detention Track and Scout doesn’t even care! What kind of moron says using one magic is legal, yet doing all kinds of magic is illegal?!

Soldier: Abomination

-He surprisingly got into the EC and is currently a Captain. But Sol primarily specializes in Abomination magic the most because think of the army he would summon and yell commands Pokémon trainer-style

-Soldier wanted to take on all, yes ALL, of the Coven Heads at once cause he heard they are the “most powerful witches on the BI”

Pyro: Bard, Illusion, and Potions

-There are a few Coven Scouts that report feeling frightened by their encounter with this wild witch (and the Scouts even compared Pyro to Hooty but like. without the bad Mickey Mouse voice impression. just an almost silent “cryptid.”).

-Pyro doesn’t agree with the idea of using only one type of magic, even though they primarily specialize in three certain types of magic the most. The merc wants to have fun in this magical world, y’know?

Demoman: Potion

-Conjures magical potions of mass destruction

-Amplifies his scrumpies to boost his attacks, such as his Demoknight Charge ✨🍾✨

-Frequent visitor at Grimgrub’s Pub

-Is a member of Salty’s crew and Demo fought numerous sea beasts with his bare hands

Heavy: Construction

-They say his strength matches that of Mason’s, but those that share close connections with this merc say Heavy’s strength is greater than the Construction Coven Head’s.

-In fact, he was petitioned for that title but Heavy denied the offer and chose to focus on his family’s needs instead

Engineer: Abomination

-Engineer would eventually do Construction and Bard magic post-S3

-One of the EC’s main defense suppliers

-He’s inspired by Alador’s inventions

Medic: Healing (ofc)

-Well. Things are gonna look....splendid when Medic meets Hettie on one of his work days at a Healer House (this isn’t an official name for clinics during Belos’ reign btw)

-Archimedes becomes his palisman in this AU

Sniper: Beast-Keeping

-Some half-bird demon

-Works as a Demon Hunter (which is kinda ironic for Sniper’s species in this crossover AU, but least he got the job due to his sharpshooting skills)

Spy: Illusion (ofc)

-Was doing rebel work on his own, and sees Adrian Graye as an “embarrassment to illusionists everywhere” after Labyrinth Runners. Prior to the Hexside invasion, Spy originally saw Graye as a “close second to the deadliest illusionist I know,” due to the latter’s Coven Head status.

Although the two have not properly met each other, Spy would consider Gus as a “close second.” The merc still considers himself as the deadliest illusionist on the BI.

-On the other hand, Spy would commend Darius’ fashion sense. Those two would get along pretty well.

Speaking of which:

i did in fact made TF2 x TOH dubs before! ⬇️

#ask #although the dubs are primarily coven head focused cause i was hyperfixating on them during that time

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imaginesforjohnnydepp · 5 months

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young sidney #2 (sidney's first interview)

june 2005

"from the adventures of sharkboy and lavagirl in theaters next friday, please welcome sidney depp!" there was a lot more people than she expected, it was so loud! she quickly refocused on jay leno, who extended his hand and shook it as she sat down, and after a minute the applause died down. she wasn't expecting the lights to be this bright, it always seemed more dim when she would watch at home. "look at you! you've gotten so tall! the last time i saw you, you came up to my knees!"

it is true; just a few months shy of her thirteenth birthday, sidney towered over most of the boys in her grade and she's already taller than taylor and cayden, her costars. "just eating all of my vegetables i guess." the audience laughed at that, although she couldn't tell if they were laughing to be nice or if they genuinely thought she was funny. "i see, i see. how old are you now, fourteen?" "no, i'll be thirteen in september," she responded.

"thirteen. gosh, the last time you were here, it was 1995 and you were asleep on your dad's lap, right on this very couch. do you remember that?" sidney could barely remember what she had for breakfast this morning; she just shook her head as the audience laughed (apparently they remembered like it happened this afternoon) so jay recounted the tale to those who didn't know the story: her dad was in this very studio during an appearance to promote nick of time. johnny was trying to get sidney to take a nap but she was not going down, even though he knew she was tired, her body just hadn't gotten the message.

her dad said leaving her alone with kate would make the situation worse, and no one else backstage had any experience with children, so he had no choice but to scoop her up with her blanket and snack and take her with him onto the stage as the show was just coming back from commercial break, and it was only then that she was (finally) able to go to sleep.

now the topic was finally back to sidney. "was it a wig or did you really dye your hair pink?" "they actually dyed my hair, and it took an entire day. by the end of it, i was like "i'm never doing this again." the audience laughed again, seeming to actually find it funny. as the segment went on, sidney found herself becoming more comfortable as leno asked her everything under the sun: her hobbies which sidney admitted her love of reading, the type of music she likes to listen with her friends ("destiny's child, britney spears, mariah carey."), and finally school and her plans for the summer.

"school's not so bad, and i get straight a's, so i'm not too bad. the only thing i hate is waking up so early but now that it's summer, i can just sleep in, but i still have to complete my reading list which is fine." sidney only has two more books before she's free, not that she minds. "and then after the press tour i'm just gonna spend the rest of the summer with my dad, so i'm pretty excited about that." her dad would be getting ready for his own press tour for charlie and the chocolate factory, so she and her brother and sister would try to squeeze in as much time as possible with him.

soon, sidney's segment was over and they cut to commercial break with jay promising to be back with the musical guest. "...and clear!" someone yelled from off stage. "how do you feel now? was i too much?" "no, no, you were fine. it's just a lot to take in." throughout her interview, sidney had to remind herself to block out the noise and just focus on leno. "it's so much brighter than when i watch at home."

leno laughed, patting her on her back. "trust me, to start to get used it, which is something you'll learn to do too. you'll be fine." sidney walked off backstage where her mom was waiting for her. sidney was hungry and tired at this point so they went through burger king drive thru before going back to their hotel. she was allowed to watch one episode of that's so raven while she ate and then go to bed; the premiere was tomorrow as well as additional press. she couldn't wait for it to be over so she could enjoy the rest of her summer.

"i don't know how dad does this for a month straight for every movie. for a month straight." the episode was almost over, so sidney made the transition of getting ready for bed: texting her friends good night and putting her phone on the charger and turning back the covers on the bed. "that's because your dad loves what he does, and he has to feed his kids, and if you're serious about acting, you're going to have to get used to not sleeping in your own bed for periods at a time. just think of it as an extended field trip. you get to travel, meet new people."

as her mom turned off the light, she said, "just one more day and you're done and you can have the rest of the summer." and that's what she's hanging on for. just one more day.

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melohax · 4 years

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Why Basil isn’t “evil” or knowingly manipulative:

Warning: Major MAJOR Omori Spoilers Ahead

When people aren’t saying Sunny is a psychopath who deserves to be in jail, they’re saying Basil is an evil obsessive mastermind who tricked poor dissociating Sunny into defacing his sister’s corpse.

I’ve already explained before why I disagree with either interpretation but I haven’t gone in depth with Basil’s character. I’ll write about why I don’t think Basil is this dark yandere intentionally manipulating Sunny into dependance on him.

Basil is a tragic character with bad abandonment issues who legitimately wants to help the people he loves most. Unfortunately he also happens to have a broken “normalcy compass” (common in abused and/or neglected children). This means his well intentioned actions are often more harmful than helpful.

Aubrey says during a part of the real world segment that outside our main friend group, she’s always been an outcast. I think it’s no accident that we see in Sunny’s memories that she was the one who introduced Basil to the friend group, implying he’s also always been an outcast like her.

With Aubrey though, we can attribute her outcast status to things like living in the poorest neighborhood in Faraway town while also living in the visibly most worn-down house of said poor neighborhood.

Aubrey has a hoarding alcoholic mother that neglects her and a strict father (Aubrey casually mentions as a kid that her father is weirdly strict about her appearance) who ends up abandoning her anyway. Aubrey’s hot temper doesn’t help either and so even though she manages to be popular and well-loved among her hooligan friends, the rest of the town judges her harshly as if she’s at fault for her horrible life circumstances.

Then we have Basil. Basil’s economic circumstances are visibly better than Aubrey’s and he lives in a nice house surrounded by pretty flowers. Yet even with everything around him (even his appearance) looking so prim and cute, he’s still treated as an outcast.

We know that mentally ill children are way too often shunned by their peers and the adults surrounding them for being “weird” even though it’s not their fault that they have different brain chemistry. Without counting the bullying Aubrey carried out with her friends, Basil was already being ostracized by people outside the main friend group. In one of Sunny’s memories, Basil tells them that he’d always been alone before meeting them.

This lets us know that there’s always been “something” that’s made Basil unpopular with almost everyone. We see hints of why in the contrast between Dreamworld Basil and Real Basil. Whereas Dreamworld Basil is well-spoken, charismatic and cheerful, Real Basil is a nervous wreck that is prone to panic attacks and bouts of screaming. We could say he’s this way cus of what he did to Mari but from knowing Basil’s always been an unliked outcast, I get the feeling he’s not like this only from the Mari situation.

Then we have the probable root of his very obvious abandonment issues: Basil’s parents’ are completely absent save for some pictures in his home. Sunny himself has never seen Basil’s parents in person. Datamining apparently suggests his parents abandoned him when he was a toddler. To top it off, having a constantly ill and mostly unresponsive grandma as his only remaining family doesn’t help with his mental health issues at all, either. No wonder the kid’s clingy.

There’s also the caretaker at his house, who is introduced as Basil’s caretaker, not his sick grandmothers. Basil is at the age where he can legally emancipate himself yet we’re shown he still needs a caretaker to look after him. That Basil needs looking after kinda says to me that he has issues he can’t be left alone with.

So all these paragraphs were to explain the evidence that point to Basil likely being mentally ill since before Mari’s death. Now we get to the parts that make me think he’s been suffering from psychosis even as a kid.

12 year old Basil doesn’t seem capable of understanding the concept of Sunny being angry and accidentally shoving Mari down the stairs. He seems unable to consider the possibility that it was an argument between siblings just at the wrong place at the wrong time, as if that just can’t happen. To Basil, it HAS to be “Something” maliciously causing the incident and/or forcing Sunny to do it.

About the Mari incident and Basil’s fucked up idea: I think a lot of fans forget that first, not only was Basil a 12 year old kid back then (not even a teen yet) but also a lot of the reasoning behind many of Basil’s most important actions seems to be rooted in delusions he genuinely believes.

The same thing happens when the photo album was scribbled over: in his mind, there was no way any of his friends (*cough* Sunny) could have done this. It had to be the same “Something” attached both to him and Sunny that decided to ruin the photos. Basil doesn’t seem to remember doing anything to the album at all.

We could say all of this isn’t psychosis but metaphors for extreme denial instead, like the way Sunny decides things that remind him of The Truth don’t exist (like the closet door).

I don’t think this is all there is to it, tho.

Basil throughout the game tries to guide Sunny to the truth both in Headspace and that the time in his bathroom where he tries to talk to Sunny about the Something following them. Too afraid to hear him out, Sunny runs away instead while Basil screams for Sunny not to leave him again.

This shows imo that Basil’s brand of denial isn’t the same as Sunny’s. Sunny escapes into his own head and pretends everything involving the incident is either perpetually frozen in a time before anything bad happened or that it simply does not exist. He’s all about repression and suppression.

Basil on the other hand, acknowledges that the incident happened but he saw a Something committing the act instead of Sunny himself.

Then, the final battle against Basil confirms to me that Basil’s delusions and hallucinations go beyond denial of Sunny’s guilt.

Even when the truth is finally out in the open for the both of them, Basil still insists it’s “Something” that did everything. He attacks Sunny because he genuinely believes he is attacking Something evil and that this will protect Sunny from it. The most important detail to me: Basil slashes or gouges Sunny’s eye out specifically on the side where Somethings eye peeks out from Mari’s hair.

Saddest of all, we’re never shown if Basil ever managed to realize that there was never a monster doing everything. Although we are shown the burden of the secret is gone in that last scene between Sunny and Basil, we don’t know if Basil ever understood that Sunny wasn’t forced by any monster to kill Mari.

There’s more that can be said but this post already got long af lol. My conclusion is that Basil isn’t some evil yandere mastermind. He’s a sad wreck of a teenager who’s always struggled with mental illness, trying to do the best he can for those he loves while being plagued by nearly constant delusions and hallucinations.

Tricking his best friend/love interest isn’t part of Basil’s modus operandi when a lot of times he can barely tell what’s real and what isn’t.

#omori spoilers #omori #omori game #basil omori #omori basil #mari omori #omori mari #aubrey omori #omori aubrey #mental illness #cw mental illness

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nev3rfound · 4 years

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someone i once knew : b.b - p.6

now that your memories are resurfacing, it’s finally time for bucky to get the answers to his questions and to see you, the real you once more. (4.1k)

oh my goodness, this is it?! a quick non soppy thank you for reading, but seriously all of your comments, feedback and excitement have made writing this series so joyful for me, so thank you and i hope you like the last part!

PART ONE . PART TWO . PART THREE . PART FOUR . PART FIVE . PART SIX (THE ENDING)

(anything in bold/italics are flashbacks/memories!)

WARNINGS: mentions of hospitals, references to bucky’s ‘death’ in CATFA, blood, angst - i think that’s it!

masterlist / permanent taglist / etsy shop

Bucky ignored everyone as he stormed through the compound once he got off the jet. He didn’t care about the warnings being yelled at him, all he could hear were the words you uttered before you were taken away. ‘I remember.’

“Buck, wait,” Steve grabs Bucky by the shoulder, forcing him to a halt as he stares at Steve coldly. “she’s still fragile, Fury needs to see us, now.” Steve states, watching as the rage in Bucky’s gaze melt into sadness.

“I need to see her, Steve.” Bucky pleads as Steve lowers his hand from his friend.

“I know,” Steve sighs. “but she’s in good hands, the sooner we speak with Fury, the sooner you can see her.”

Opening your eyes, you blink rapidly as a series of faces greet you, all wearing bright smiles. “Hello, Y/n.” Someone steps forward, dressed in all black and with an eye patch covering one eye.

“I-”

“No no, don’t try and talk just yet.” The man states as he glances over his shoulder to the woman with a device in hand, tapping away at it whilst you watch in confusion. “I’m sorry to say it has been longer than it should’ve been since your last check-in.” He explains as you furrow your brows, remaining quiet. “We are aware that they are supposed to be every few years, but there was an accident involving Howard Stark.”

Your heart drops into your stomach, Howard, your dear friend who has helped you through all of this. “Is he?” You mutter, your voice is hoarse as the man simply nods.

“Due to Stark’s demise, it has taken us years to have access to your chamber.” He continues to explain, stepping away and past a group of people, strangers from those you knew whilst you remain inside your chamber.

“Years?” You ask, still tied up inside the chamber. Usually, once your eyes opened you would be released, allowed to walk with Howard and Peggy if she was available; but this feels wrong, somethings changed. “How long?”

The man pauses as he turns back to face you. “The year is 2011.”

Shaking your head in disbelief, you look over at all of the people before you. “No, no that’s not possible.” You breathe out, feeling your chest tighten as you fight in the restraints keeping you inside the chamber. “It was 1989!” You state, but the man simply turns away from you. “It was 1989.” You repeat under your breath as three men approach you, one with a needle in hand and without warning, plunges it into your forearm.

“You’ll be safe, Y/n.” The man tells you as your vision blurs once more until your head rolls forward.

“Take a seat, Sargent, Captain.” Fury directs them both into the room, seeing Tony already sat, waiting for them.

Sitting down apprehensively, Bucky remains perched on the edge of his seat, hearing the plates in his metal arm whir loudly as he clenches his fist. The action doesn’t go unnoticed by Fury who spares a glance at Maria, watching her close the door to the conference room.

“Are you finally going to explain what you know about my assistant and what the hell is going on here?” Tony asks, leaning back in his chair as he rests his feet on the table.

“Yes, we will.” Fury starts and Maria hands out a file from SHIELD, dated back to the late 40′s.

Taking the file in his grasp, Bucky eyes it carefully, noticing your name etched into the cover.

“What is this?” Steve questions whilst Tony and Bucky open their files, a photograph of you clipped onto the front page.

Running his thumb over the image, Bucky remembers being there for that photo. You had just gotten your summer dress, and he couldn’t keep his eyes off you. A photographer captured your smile as you walked into the hall for the weekend dance, Bucky right behind you, just out of shot.

“This is Subject 359 from Project Revive.” Fury presses a button on the tablet in front of him, revealing a projection of photos, showing you stood alongside Howard Stark and Peggy Carter, images causing heartache for the three men. “Miss Y/l/n volunteered herself after the war for an initiative to suspend life.”

“She went into cryo?” Bucky speaks up, sadness etches his tone as he focuses on your bright smile in the photo of you in between Howard and Peggy.

“She did, Sargent.” Fury states. “Y/l/n was Howard’s first subject to succeed in the trials, and was put into the induced state for organised periods of time and then awoken to ensure she was still healthy in all respects.”

More images flash up, showing both Peggy and Howard getting older, but you remaining youthful between the two.

Steve can’t help but feel his heart sinking at the sight of Peggy, the years he’ll never have with her, the forgotten time as a golden band remains on her ring finger.

“So how come she doesn’t remember anything?” Tony breaks his silence, tearing his eyes from the images of his dear old Dad to focus on Fury whose frown only deepens.

The projection disappears as Fury rises to his feet before pointing to Bucky. “The winter soldier happened.”

Bucky lowers the file from his grip as he watches Fury carefully. He remains quiet, too afraid of what will be said next.

“After the winter soldier executed Howard and Maria Stark, access to the chamber Y/l/n was held in was restricted.” Fury explains, now looking over to Tony who lowers his feet from the table and sits upright.

“That’s why you needed me.” Tony can’t help but scoff. “You took my DNA.”

“Howard was a smart man, but he knew his systems could easily be overridden by someone more intelligent in the future. So he ensured the only way the chamber holding Y/n could be accessed was by his own bloodline.”

Tony laughs quietly under his breath. “Tony,” Steve starts, but Tony carries on.

“God, Dad truly had a reason for everything didn’t he?” Tony remarks. “Too bad he wasn’t alive to see what a car crash he created.” He jokes, leaning forward to glare at Bucky whose head remains buried in his hands.

“It’s all my fault.” Bucky mutters. “Everything, after all this time.” He slowly sits upright as all eyes remain locked on him like a target.

“Not necessarily, Sargent.” Maria speaks up from the sidelines. “You see, Y/n had been left in cryo for just over two decades when we finally got to her. She was disorientated, and had missed an entire segment of history, the turn of the century, evolution of technology and much more.”

“So, we did what was written according to Howard, which Y/n had agreed upon if the time came.” Fury adds. “We took her to Wakanda, and suppressed her memories.”

Bucky shakes his head, throwing your file aside as he stands up. “No, she would never do that!” He yells, slamming his metal fist into the table causing it to split.

Remaining unphased, Fury carries on. “She did, Sargent. Look in her file and see for yourself.”

Bending down, Bucky picks the file up and skims through the various pages, past your health reports and to a legal document where your signature remains inked on the bottom of the page.

“Y/n Y/l/n was a broken woman after the loss of her best friend and fiance. She trusted those that were left behind and put herself into their hands, knowing she would be making a difference and aid the future of science and medicine.” A fraction of a smile forms on Fury’s face. “But bringing her into the twenty-first century meant changes had to be made in her mind. Memories had to be rewritten and others to be permanently hidden.”

“So how come she’s now remembering?” Tony asks. “And how come she ended up here, as my assistant of all people?” He huffs loudly.

Fury spares a glance to Hill who nods, before exiting the room. “Y/n was always going to have a job of some descript within SHIELD.” Fury paces around the room as the three pairs of eyes burn into his every move. “However, when Y/n returned from her time in Wakanda, after her memories had been rewritten we got in touch offering her a job opportunity which would lead to being Tony's assistant. What we didn’t expect during that time were two super soldiers to resurface from the dead.” Fury motions to both Steve and Bucky.

“So they triggered it?” Tony pieces the details together, pointing the blame to Bucky who tenses under Fury’s cold gaze.

“It seems that way. But now that she’s remembering, the details of the life she has supposedly had all these years are fading away. She’ll be confused for a while, but the memories implanted can be removed.”

“She can forget about that life?” Bucky questions quietly, having heard you briefly discuss memories of the life you never truly lived with such vividness. “She’ll only remember the life she lived with us?”

“Yes, Sargent.” Fury states. “Y/n Y/l/n will be the same girl you left in the 40′s, give or take some level of trauma.”

“Can I see her then?” The question leaves his lips instantly, barely allowing Fury to take a breath.

Yet, Bucky watches the glances exchanged between the other men, the uncertainty in their expressions whilst Bucky remains still.

Steve slowly stands up and pats Bucky’s arm, giving him a knowing smile before heading toward the door, Tony right behind him who doesn’t spare Bucky a glance.

Now alone with Fury, Bucky can feel his body tensing under Fury’s scrutiny. “Is there something else I’m supposed to know?” Bucky tries to remain composed as his leg bounces beneath the table, his foot repeatedly hitting the floor.

“Y/n will be unconscious, in a comatose state for the next week or so.” Fury explains, watching as Bucky sinks into his seat. “It’ll take time, Sargent, for her to recover from this.”

“But she’ll be Y/n.” Bucky comments, watching Steve and Tony walk in separate directions past the glass screens of the conference room without looking back.

Fury reaches down beside him, lifting up a metal briefcase. “Before you go, Barnes,” Fury unlocks the latches on the case, lifting the lid up. “there’s something you might like back.”

Bucky raises a brow as Fury reaches inside the case, taking something out and places it on the table.

Feeling his breath hitch in his throat, Bucky doesn’t trust his legs to work properly as he eyes the small box. “I, I never thought I’d see that again.” Bucky admits, a tired chuckle following.

“We kept it as per Y/n’s wishes.” Fury remarks, sliding the box across the table as Bucky grasps it in his flesh hand, opening the lid to reveal his prized possession, unable to forget the memories laced around the diamond ring.

Smiling at the jewel, Bucky closes the lid to the velvet box and places it into his pocket. “Thank you.” Bucky mutters. “For looking after her.”

“Y/n has been SHIELDS best-kept secret for almost 6 decades, Barnes.” Fury comments. “It’s about time she’s allowed another chance at living, don’t you think?”

Nodding to himself, Bucky pushes his chair back, hearing it scrape along the wooden floorboards.

“One more thing,” Fury interrupts as Bucky reaches for the door handle. “none of it was your fault, Bucky.”

Sparing a glance over his shoulder, Bucky focuses on Fury as he remains straight-faced, but reaches forward, bringing the projection back up of you, Howard and Peggy.

“I hope she knows that too.” Bucky thinks aloud as he opens the door, closing it behind him before he can hear Fury’s response.

Watching the former soldier walk down the corridor, Fury sighs deeply as he removes the projection. “I’m sure she will.” He closes the empty briefcase, knowing that this is the end of Project Revive, once and for all.

Hanging from the railing, Bucky could hear Steve screaming his name, his arm outstretched for him to grab.

The wind was hurtling at his body full speed as his fingers began to slip from the rails, but he knew he had to make it, he couldn’t leave you for the second time and not come home.

Steve began to climb down from the train, moving across the broken frame toward Bucky, stretching his arm. “Just hang on!” Steve yells, fear rising through his tone as the bolts of the railing Bucky is grasping onto begin to creak, pulling away from the metal lining of the wall.

“Steve, I,” Bucky calls out, moving along the rail closer to his friend.

“Grab my hand, come on!” Steve cries out, knowing he can save him, he has to save his best friend. “Come on, Buck.” He mutters, thinking back to the morning before they left, seeing you in Bucky’s arms with the ring on your finger, a whole future for you both awaiting to be lived.

Looking up in desperation, Bucky cannot stop the scream leaving his lips as the railing breaks as his body becomes weightless, his arm still outstretched as he falls.

Steve screams as Bucky cries, falling through the air toward the ground at full speed.

The train carries on, turning a corner leaving Bucky truly alone as Steve breathes heavily, his heart has broken into pieces as his best friend is gone.

Lying in the snow, Bucky can feel his breaths slowing, life draining from his body as the white ice surrounding him is turning crimson. “Y/n,” He breathes out, looking up at the bare branches reaching for one another from different trees. “I’m sorry.” He whispers as his eyes begin to dip, just as several men appear above him.

Panting heavily, Bucky looks over to the clock on his bedside table. 7 in the morning, again.

He buries his face into his hand, feeling guilt course through his body knowing you’re awake and he has yet to see you. Part of him was nervous to see who you’ve become and whether you’re still the same girl he loved and lost all those years ago. Or if you’re this new version that he knew as Tony’s assistant, one who views him as the former winter soldier, not James Barnes.

Playing with the ring in his fingertips, Bucky walks toward the medical wing within the compound, already hearing laughter sounding from the room causing his heart rate to spike.

“She was amazing, truly.” You tell Steve, resting your hand over his as he tries to stop tears falling from his eyes. “And she was happy in the end, you know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Steve mutters, wiping his eyes. “but she seriously punched Howard for not taking Maria on a date sooner?” He asks again as you nod, gentle laughs sounding from you both as Bucky hovers behind the entrance, a wall of apprehension stopping him from entering.

“Do, do you think he’ll visit?” It’s almost whispered as you look down at your marked hands, scratches and dark bruises now littering your skin.

Hearing faint movements from the doorway adjacent to your bed, Steve smiles to himself for a split second. “Why’d you think he wouldn’t?”

Bucky leans closer against the doorway, his heart hanging together by a mere thread as you shakily sigh. “I just, what if I’m not who he remembers or even wants in his life?”

Ever since your memories flooded your mind, you couldn’t stop thinking about him, wondering what he’d think of you.

“I’ve been awake for two days, Steve,” You add, doubt clouding your mind as Steve silently prays for Bucky to just walk in. “and, and he hasn’t been yet I just, I,” You stumble over your words, eyes locked on the sheets covering your body as you remain unaware of Bucky turning the corner, walking toward you.

“Hey, doll,” Bucky quietly calls out, standing still in the entranceway with the box now in his pocket, out of sight as he clasps both hands together, flesh into metal.

Your hand slips from Steve’s as you force yourself further up the bed, itching to climb out.

“I wouldn’t do that, you know what Bruce said.” Steve reminds you, yet you tear the sheets from your body and uneasily rise to your feet.

“Since when did that stop me, huh?” You joke back, Bucky unable to stop himself from smiling at your playful antics with Steve, giving him a glimpse of what he once knew.

Moving closer to one another, you both can’t help but note the changes. Your gaze hovers to his metal arm, the black plates etched with gold leading to his shoulder, his long hair and stubble lining his jaw. But he still had the same loving blue eyes, even if you could see the pain lingering behind them.

Yet, Bucky could still see it’s you. Despite the bruising and cuts across your skin, you hadn’t changed one bit.

“James?” You speak up, too afraid to reach out as your hands remain by your sides.

“Y/n.” Bucky responds softly, taking a step closer as Steve watches from the sidelines, having never anticipated seeing this moment happen after he saw Bucky fall from the train all those years ago.

“It’s really you, isn’t it?” You ask sadly as tears begin to fall across your cheeks.

Taking another step toward you, Bucky lifts his arm up to brush the tears from your face. His hand shakes as he takes a deep breath, allowing himself to cup your cheek in his hand.

Closing your eyes, you rest your hand over his as he holds back the sob in his throat. “It’s me, doll.” Bucky whispers as you squeeze his hand, not wanting to let go. “You have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He breathes out, knowing no words can truly describe the past sixty years, not yet at least.

“I’ve missed you so much, James.” You try to compose yourself, knowing it’s no use as you look up at him, the man you’ve loved. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Chuckling sadly, Bucky nods in agreement. “I thought the same until I heard you playing the piano the other week.”

“Wake and dream medley.” You remember it, having danced many a time with him at his Mother’s house, twirling around the living room whilst Rebecca laughed with you as Bucky dipped you and dropped you by accident. “I, I,” Stumbling over your words, Bucky glances over to Steve.

“I’ll leave you two alone.” Steve speaks up. “But it’s good to see you both, together after all this time.” He adds sincerely before stepping out of the room whilst Bucky guides you back toward the hospital bed, knowing you still need your rest even if you deny it.

“You’ve read my file, Y/n,” Bucky sighs. “I, I’m not the same man you knew.” He looks away, still cautious of himself, of his own mind. “There are things that I’ve done that I’m afraid of you learning about.”

Unable to take your eyes off him, you take hold of his metal arm with both your hands, gliding your fingertips over the cool metal as the plates whir into place.

And then the last thing Bucky anticipates hearing causes his ears to perk up. You giggle, a smile growing across your lips as you shuffle closer into Bucky’s embrace.

“I know James,” You tell him, lifting his arm to rest around you as you lean against his chest, inhaling the scent that was a foreign memory intertwined with old pillows after he left for war. “but I want you to know, I’ll love you, whoever you are or whoever you turn out to be. Nothing, and I mean nothing will change that.” You assure him, feeling his heart beating rapidly against his ribcage.

“You still love me?” He breathes out, trying to disguise the evident surprise in his tone, but you quickly move from his embrace, staring at him with sorrow in your gaze as your brows furrow together.

“You think I could ever have stopped?” You retort.

“Doll,” Bucky starts, but you shake your head.

“Why would you think I would’ve stopped, or possible could?” A scoff sounds from you as Bucky lowers his gaze to the marble tiles on the floor, shame overcoming his mind.

“James, for years I mourned you, I strove for a better future, dealing with losing you and Steve. My parents were gone, I had no one left besides myself.” You explain, fighting through your emotions that have been suppressed with your memories for so long. “In all that time, not once did I ever stop loving you, even if you were gone.”

“I was never very good at loving you though, Y/n.” Bucky admits. “We both know that I, I left you, twice. Both times with the promise of coming home.”

“And you did.” You comment, resting your hand on his stubbled cheek as Bucky glances up, seeing a shy smile form on your face. “You’re here now, we both are.” You chuckle in disbelief. “By some means, we’re both here, in the twenty first century, alive.”

“Never thought I’d live to see the turn of the century, let alone live in it completely.” Bucky jokes, hearing you laugh quietly. “Will, will you still have me then, Y/n?” He asks softly as he reaches into his pocket, revealing the small velvet box.

Your eyes widen in shock at the sight of it. “They gave it back to you?” You ask in disbelief, feeling the corners of your lips bury further into your cheeks whilst Bucky nods.

“And now I’m giving it back to you, its rightful owner.” Bucky states, lifting the lid revealing the ring, your ring. “That is, if you’d still like it, doll?” He apprehensively asks.

Yet, you roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from huffing in response. “Are you seriously asking me that?” You remark, and Bucky blinks for a moment. “And like this? Come on, Buck, at least give it a little class.” You joke, only ever calling him ‘Buck’ in times of relief.

Moving from off of the bed, Bucky grunts as he kneels down in front of you on one knee. “Y/n Y/n, will you do me the honour of becoming my wife, my doll and my best friend forevermore?” His words mirror those he uttered decades ago in that old dance hall, and yet they still roll off his tongue with the same ease.

Following his action, you lower yourself from the bed, Bucky reaches out to support your waist as you kneel in front of him. “Yes,” You smile. “and I guess this time, forever means forever, huh?”

“You’re stuck with me doll,” Bucky jokes as you lean closer, your lips ghosting his.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way, James.” You whisper, closing the distance between you both as you kiss him, the sensation of coming home after all this time hitting you like a ton of bricks as you wrap your arms around him, wishing to never let him go.

“Close your eyes.” Bucky whispers, and you oblige. “Think of him, think about any details that you have relived, any conversations or scenery you noticed.” Bucky suggests, trying his hardest to not reach out and take your hand in his.

Keeping your eyes closed, you try to focus on his face, hear his voice, but it’s all too much of a blur. “It’s no use.” You sigh, burying your face in your hands. “I just, I know if I ever saw him again or met him somehow, I’d know who he was.” You mumble into your palms, unaware of Bucky tearing his eyes from you, the ropes pulling his heart snapping for good, now beyond repair.

“You’ll find him, Y/n.” Bucky pats your back, hearing you sniffle.

“You think?” You ask, lifting your head back up as you half-smile to Bucky who nods.

“I’m sure of it.” He forces a smile, but you can tell it’s not reaching his eyes.

And after all this time, Bucky was right, you had found him; only to discover he’d been there all along.

T H E E N D

(thank you to the following for all the love on the series - i couldn’t have done it without your support :) )

@mellmellmell12@theofficialzivadavid @fandom-princess-forevermore @lokilovefoever @vivalakatee @chgevorgian @captainwinterwriter @carliewinchester @spn-obession @buckysquad @shower-me-with-roses @basicgukk @yasminwashere @sunfouler @feminist-fan-girl @stealapizzamyheart @soccer-100000 @sunflowerbunny2 @kickingn-ames @choerriesmotion @why-thats-just-delightful @officialfictionalwreck @romanoff-nataliaalianovna @hersilencedscreams @b-r-stark @dezzxmx @thearcher-temis @i-lost-my-shoe-down-a-drain @girl-obsessed-with-things @loitsurohto @shawnie--jo @alainabooks143 @dorothea-hwldr @bakugouswh0r3 @chloe-skywalker @btsiguess-kpop @austynparksandpizza @tomisagod @22-frozen-memories @peachy-aisha @emilytheukuleleplayer @pass-me-jeez-it @yuukiahim

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certifiedskywalker · 4 years

Text

Breaking Oaths and Following Orders - Din Djarin

thebounty said: Hey!! I was wondering if I could ask for a request for a Mandalorian x Jedi!reader? It’s inspired by this song (Jenny- Studio Killers) which is basically about friends turned into lovers.

AN: Ah, yes, the TikTok song...I hope I did your idea justice! (I cut the rest of your request out on this official post because I didn’t want to totally spoil what happens!)

You were familiar with the carbon stink of blaster bolts and the excited tension of battle. Limited stints in combat during the Clone Wars, when you were barely old enough to be a padawan, had introduced you to the harsh adrenaline and smells of war. A gunfight in some alley on some Outer Rim world was nothing compared to what you had seen. Though, now, you knew all of what was at stake; you loved all that was at stake.

“I don’t think they’re Jedi,” Din observed as he ducked down behind the thick stone wall you were using as cover. You shot the helmeted man an incredulous look.

“Really? What gave you that idea? The fact they’re not using laser swords or that they’re shooting at us?” Din didn’t respond to your sarcasm and instead popped up above the wall to let a few bolts fly. Based on the yelps of pain, they hit their marks.

“We need to get out of here,” he said once he ducked back down. You nodded and glanced at the Child, still tucked away in his cradle. His big eyes were glued to you, as they often were in the heat of battle. Expectant, waiting for you to make your, the, move.

“Yeah, we do,” you agreed, before you pressed the button on the Child’s cradle that closed the little creature within. The last thing you wanted was more pressure.

“They have us pinned,” Din said and tipped his head back towards the wall behind you. “And there’s at least five,” the Mandalorian popped up from behind the wall again and nearly missed a blaster bolt to the head, “six up front.”

“Can’t you jet us out of here?”

Wordlessly, Din reached around to his back and rapped his gloved knuckles against the fuel tank of his jet pack. An empty, metallic clang echoed the knocking of his hand. No fuel.

“Karabast,” you cursed as you turned your attention to the enemies firing luring shots at the relative safety of the wall. There were too many. A step beyond the stone would mean certain death. So did staying put. Direness set in, loomed like a storm cloud in your mind. You glanced back at Din and the Child’s cradle only to have a lump form in your throat.

As if on cue, the cradle covers opened and revealed the watchful eyes of the Child. He was still focused on you. As you took a moment to study him in return, you neither heard a coo of worry nor did you see flinch of fear. He was calm, eerily so; as if he knew what you were thinking, what you knew you had to do. You moved your gaze to Din and watched as he let a few shots go towards your attackers. A stray blaster bolt from the enemy knocked against the beskar plate on his chest, right above his heart. Too close to where his armor ended and his clothing began. Too close for comfort. You couldn't lose him.

Adrenaline, pure and vile rushed through you. Before you could move against your instincts, your hand reached out and pulled Din back down behind the stone wall. The dark visor of his helmet met your gaze. You could feel the question on his lips, despite having never seen them. You had spent enough time imagining them; how they looked and how they might feel against your own.

“Grab the kid and run on my word,” you said with a tone of seriousness to break yourself from your wonderings. “Got it?”

Din was still for a moment and you realized that your hand lingered on his arm. Warmth spread through your fingers, up your arm, and to your face. Quickly, you let go, and the Mandalorian seemed to have recovered. He nodded wordlessly and reached out towards the cradle. When the pod was tucked under his arm, you moved to face the stone wall you all were hidden behind.

“What are you planning, Y/N?”

Din’s tone was cold, laced with concern. After all the cycles you and the man had worked and lived together, you had noticed he only said your name when you were about to do something dangerous. You had wished he said it more, in different contexts, like one of affection. Though, you had reasoned long ago that Din’s concern was his affection. Like the Jedi, it seemed that Mandalorian of Din’s Creed forewent too-personal, entangling attachments. It was the first principle of the Code that you had wished you had broken long ago. In a sense, you had. The care you held, the love, for Din and the Child...you were a Jedi no longer.

But that didn’t mean you couldn’t pretend.

“You can ask me questions later.”

Before Din could attempt to stop you, you reached down to each of your hips and pulled the two metal, somewhat cylindrical pieces of your lightsaber from your belt. In a practiced motion, you latched the two segments together and pressed the ignite switch. As soon as the blade ignited, you focused your mind on the small, stone wall that sheltered you. Once you pictured it clear in your mind, you threw your hands up and pushed forward. When you opened your eyes, the stone wall hurtled towards your attackers and drove some down into the dirt. You glanced at Din.

“Now!”

At your word, Din rushed towards the now dwindling group of criminals that had been shooting at you. Due to the laser sword in your hands, most of their fire was focused on you. With an ease that surprised you, you twirled your saber in the air and deflected the shots. Most landed in the chests of those had taken aim, giving each a swift death. You gave an extra flourish to redirect a blaster bolt towards one of the attackers that was more interested in Din and cradle.

The man fell quickly and a surge of confidence rushed through you. You still had it, even after all this time of hiding! Only a few criminals remained and you drew closer and closer. As you moved, their aim grew more and more precise. One even dared to charge at you. With you busied dispatching him, another shot off his rifle. White-hot and searing hurt ripped through your lower leg, then your shoulder. A yelp of pain escaped your lips. Overcome by heated rage and long ago lessons forgotten, you tilted forward and struck him down.

Then there was silence. Only your haggard breath filled your ears. The pain in your leg and shoulder overwhelmed your senses. It had been a long time since you had taken a hit. An even longer time since you had used the weapon of your dead Master.

You fell to your knees, tried to focus on forcing your breathing steady. When you hit the ground, your thumb instinctively struck the power switch. With a hiss, the blade closed and you found enough strength to lift your gaze. Your eyes locked with Din’s darkened visor.

“Y/N.”

There was that concern again. It was the last thing you heard before you fell back, let your body rest against the dirt of the alleyway and splatters of blood.

You woke with a start. The wild beating of your heart propelled you, so you sat up straight in the sleeping nook. Your head nearly slammed against the ceiling. When you recognized the interior of the Razor Crest, you allowed yourself to catch your breath.

“Hey, hey, hey” Din appeared in the entrance of the sleeping nook with his hands raised towards you. He looked as if he were approaching a wounded animal. “You’re safe. You’re home.”

You nodded but your head did not clear. On your skin still clung the stink of the alley, the carbon of blaster fire, and, against your hand, you felt the cold hilt of the lightsaber. The moment your eyes landed on the weapon, you felt your breath get caught in your throat once more. Memories of the fight rushed back and your heart still thundered in your chest. You focused on Din’s helmet, studied his now straightened posture, and swallowed hard.

“The Child, is he-”

“He’s fine,” Din replied before the question could leave your lips. You shook your head.

“No, did he see...did he see me?”

“It was hard not to see you,” Din said softly.

Tension filled the silence that trailed after his words. It was heavier than the pressure of battle. Din always had a way of making it difficult for you to breath. But this was like trying to wade through the muck of a full trash compactor. The air between you was thick, weighed down by everything you both wanted to say to the other.

You shifted in the sleeping nook in an effort to find a more comfortable position. As you moved, your shoulder knocked against the wall and you hissed in pain. Din lurched forwards and towards you. You felt heated skin against your arms and, when you looked down, you found that he had not donned his signature gloves.

“Here. I’ll help you step out.”

Din was careful as he eased you out of the sleeping nook while you tired not to be lost in tender touch of his bare hands against your skin. A wave of affection washed over you when you noted the bandages on your lower leg and shoulder. He had taken his gloves off to take care of you. You wished you could have been conscious to remember it.

“Thanks,” you said once you were on your feet.

Though, Din didn’t let go. Instead, he helped you over to the crates you both used as makeshift seats during meal time. Only when you were both sat down did his hands slip from your arms. The silence seemed to have followed you both over as it settles back between you.

Your mind swirled with worry and doubt, every word you wanted to say. Betrayal was the word that came back most often. You had betrayed the year of trust you had built with Din by not telling him about your past. You had betrayed the Child by not using the Force to forge a deeper connection with him or hear his story. You had betrayed yourself, the oath you swore long ago to never use the teachings of the Jedi. The thought made your stomach twist.

“Is it yours?”

Din’s question broke you from your down spiral. You met the dark gaze of his visor and shook your head. “No. It’s my old Master’s. I lost mine in battle and took his when he…fell.”

“Master? So, you’re a Jedi?”

“No, I never finished the Tri-”

“You can’t do that.” You cocked your head at his interruption. “You can’t keep saying ‘no’ and then give a reason that implies ‘yes’. Are you or are you not a Jedi?”

You swallowed hard, the truth, as Din knew it, balanced on the tip of your tongue. “Yes.”

“Why didn’t you tell me sooner?” There was an edge of anger in his voice but as heated as you had expected. “Why didn’t you tell me when we were sent to look for Jedi, for him?”

“Like I was saying, I didn’t finished my training or the Trials. I don’t know the mysteries the Council kept hidden or where any others are.” Din stood up at your reasoning and stared down at you. Even masked behind the helmet, you still felt the intensity of his eyes on you.

“You should have told me.” He said, the heat a little higher in his voice. “Do you not trust me enough to keep you safe?”

Stoked by the flames of his voice, you stood from your seat. Din’s visor remained trained on you, waiting for your next move. There was only a step’s worth of space between you now and it was either the close proximity or the pain of your wounds that made your face flush. You weren’t entirely sure as to which but you did know your own truth.

“No, I trust you, Din, with my life,” his name left your lips without a thought. Between thoughts, you realized it was the first time you said his name aloud after learning on Nevarro; but you couldn’t stop now. “The Jedi’s way is old, just as old as the Mandalore, and we have our customs. Following orders is one of them and I was given an order to stay quiet, to stay hidden. I will not apologize for following that order, even if I am a Jedi no longer.”

All of the sudden, the fight and anger left you. You thought of your Master, how he would be disappointed in your outburst. Overwhelmed by the feeling, you sat back down on your crate while Din stayed standing. Heavy, you head fell into your hands. In the dark behind your eyelids, you found little solace or comfort.

Just as you were about to admit defeat and retire back to the sleeping nook, hands gripped your wrists. Gently, Din pulled your hands away from your face and, in response, you looked into his visor. For a moment, you swore that you could see his eyes shining beneath his helmet, his own order and oath manifested in beskar. Before you could ask what he was doing, his hands fell from your wrists and tucked up under the bottom of his helmet.

“Din,” you said, the same concern that swaddled your name in his voice now held his own. “Don’t do this, not like this.”

“I trust you, Y/N, with my life.” His words echoed your own only softer and you were too caught off guard by that tenderness to try to stop his hands as they pushed up.

You saw the first slivers of tanned skin. Then a scruff covered chin and slope of his jawline. Lips were next on the tour of Din’s features; the very lips you had tried to imagine hundreds of times before. They were pinker than you thought, a little chapped too, but you still longed for them. Then the tip and bridge of his curved nose. A pair of dark brown eyes.

You held Din’s eyes with yours as he finished removing the helmet. He set it on the floor of the Razor Crest with a dull thud, his eyes never leaving yours. Strands of brown hair were set against his forehead, tantalizing enough for you to touch. You fought the urge so you could take in his features a little longer. Despite knowing, based on his voice, that Din was handsome, it was another thing to see it confirmed.

Unable to hold back anymore, you reached a careful hand out. Din recoiled, flinched away from your reach and you pulled back. Just as you were about to apologize, Din recovered and lifted his own hand. Warm, he guided your hand with his until your fingertips brushed against his temple. When he let go of your wrist, you brushed the hair off from his forehead.

At your touch, Din sucked in a shakey, sharp breath. Scared for a moment that he wouldn’t exhale, you traced your hand down from his forehead to the side of his face. Once you had cupped his cheek, Din closed his eyes and let the breath go. His head tilted, leaned into your touch.

“We’re both oath breakers now, huh?”

Din’s eyes opened at your question. Dark and knowing, his eyes met yours before they flickered down to your lips. You trailed your hand along his jaw until you held his chin between two of your fingers. His breath hitched at the suggestive touch.

“Tell me to stop if you don’t want this,” you murmured, the pain of your wounds long forgotten. “Din?”

Wordlessly, from where he kneeled before, Din rushed up and towards you. Messily, his lips found yours and his hands gripped at your waist. Quickly, he pulled you against his chest where the cold kiss of beskar greeted your skin. Not that you minded. You were too caught up in Din’s lips against yours, how you had waited a year for this. You weren’t about to let that go.

Not for any order.

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enigmainvestigations · 3 years

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**The events of this mini-episode take place after the events in Season 1, episode 12. AO3 post: ??? Series link: ???

Season 1 Mini-Episode - The Most Dangerous Enemy

The bats above him screeched as he exited the Batmobile. The engine’s rumbling always agitated them, but by the time he’d climbed the steps up to the large computer tucked into one of the cave crevices, the bats had started to quiet down. Batman entered his personal code on the keyboard and pressed his hand into the handprint identification reader next to it. The computer turned on with a lazy hum, and the area was flooded with the red light emitting from the multiple screens as they flickered on.

After a few agonizing minutes, a message popped up on one of the screens. Batman leaned forward on the computer console and pressed the authorization key to download the file. Oracle had finished her search of the city records -- lightning fast, as usual. After a few more impatient moments, the files popped up on the screen and he typed in the code for the computer to begin analysing the information. He scowled as he saw the results of her investigation; with this amount of data, it was going to take a lengthy amount of time for the interface to complete the search. It seemed he was in for a long night, again.

In the distance he heard a motorcycle approaching, followed by the sound of the south entrance’s door rising out of the water. The bats stirred once more, and by the time the bike had pulled up to its platform, they were in full upset. The sound of footsteps filled the cave behind him, followed by a drawn-out yawn from his partner. Then Robin appeared beside him, and the teenager’s attention immediately fell on the screen before him, scanning the information.

“Wow. That was fast.” Robin said.

“She’s good at what she does.” Batman responded, continuing to watch the slow progress of the analysis.

“Good? I thought you said she’s the best?”

“She is.”

Robin smirked. “Any more information on Two-Face?”

“He went off the grid again.”

“We really need to figure out how he’s doing that.” Robin said, stretching.

“He’s avoiding any of his previous connections. It just makes it more difficult to follow him, but not impossible.”

“I don’t blame him, but he’s not just avoiding his friends. He keeps vanishing. He’s figured out some way to disappear right under our noses.”

“As long as we get to his next target before he does he won’t have time to vanish.”

“If you say so.” Robin rested his staff against the side of the computer. “Has he let anything slip about why he’s targeting the locations?”

“No. But the computer will find the connection.”

“You still think he’s doing all of this because he was locked up during the attacks?”

Batman didn’t look at his partner, but the muscles in his neck clenched. “Yes.”

“All of this chaos, just because he feels emasculated,” Robin said in a huff.

“It’s more complicated than that, Robin.”

“Doesn’t sound like it is.”

At that, Batman decided to drop the conversation. Robin was right: it was a childish and emotional reaction, but those are some of the most dangerous ones. And with all the damage he was causing, it sounded wrong to trivialize Dent’s motives, and the subject had started to make him uncomfortable. Robin took the hint and wandered off for a time, eventually returning with a large glass of water -- which he downed half of right away.

Batman eyed him briefly, then resumed his impatient glare at the screens. “You’re back early again.” Robin grumbled in response and finished the rest of his water. Batman decided to continue with his assumptions. “Nigma kicked you out again, didn’t he.”

“Actually, no. I had a normal departure this evening.”

“Why did you call Batgirl to his apartment?”

Robin paused. “We’ll have to talk about that in a minute. I’m currently waiting for an update from her.”

“I thought you were calling for back-up.”

“No, no, it’s not that. Nigma hasn’t escalated to throwing fists or anything foolish like that. He was… actually pretty decent tonight. Bizarre, but decent.”

Batman watched as the computer began segmenting some of the data to one of the other screens, and he leaned forward to give it a brief read. “Bizarre?”

“Yeah. I’ll explain it all to you in a minute.” Noticing Batman’s brief look of impatience, Robin said, “I’m just testing a theory. I’d like to have that answered before I delve into all of this.”

“After what happened the last time, I’m surprised you went back.” Batman admitted.

Robin ruffled his wind-beaten hair. “Not going to lie, that thought did enter my mind. But, hopefully, a dramatic scene like that won’t happen again.”

“Why is that?” Batman asked, reading over more of the segments the computer found in the documents. It looked like his theory that Dent was targeting his previous associates was holding true, and if it was, it shouldn’t be too difficult to predict his next hit.

“I set up some boundaries with him.” Robin said in another yawn.

Batman paused. He pushed himself off of the computer console and stared directly at his partner. Robin looked startled by the attention, confusion clear on his face. “What?” he asked, but Batman just continued with his unnerving stare.

“What?” Robin asked again. “You're looking at me like I said something stupid.”

“You… set up boundaries, with Nigma?” Batman tried to clarify.

“Yes.”

Batman frowned. “What kind of boundaries? Personal boundaries?”

“Yes.” Robin drew out the word as he said it, and Batman returned to his silent stare. His partner let out a huff in confusion, “Why, what? Stop looking at me like that, you're freaking me out.”

“What were these boundaries?”

“Just -- normal human boundaries.” Robin could tell that answer just upset his partner more and elaborated. “I told him to stop taking out his frustrations on me. That I wasn’t going to put up with that anymore. I explained it in a way I think he understood, that it was stalling the investigation and it’s a complete waste of time. He seemed to understand.”

“And Nigma agreed to adhere to your boundaries?”

“Yeah.” Robin answered, and as Batman returned to staring, the boy hissed. “Stop looking at me like that, you're making me think I made some sort of mistake.”

“No, Robin. That's not it -- it's... continue.”

Robin gave an animated shrug. “There isn't much else to add.”

Batman’s frown deepened. “You're telling me, you set up an expectation to be treated fairly by Nigma and he agreed to your terms? And that was it?”

Robin made a slight grimace. “Well, that sounds nicer than what actually happened. He was still a huge jerk about it.”

“What did he say?”

“He made the insinuation that I was expecting him to cater to my every whim, y’know, instead of just treating me like a person. I asked him to stop being so dramatic about it, and -- he did look angry about that -- but, he agreed, and then he wanted to change the subject. That’s about it.”

Batman began the stare again, but his partner hurried to set down his empty glass as Batgirl’s voice came through on their earpieces saying: “B2 to R.”

“Go ahead, Steph.” Robin replied.

“Well, he didn’t stay inside.” Batgirl reported, triggering a grunt from Robin as she spoke. “But all he did was go down to the bar next door. Then he went back inside his office. But, now we have another problem.”

“Great, what now?” Robin asked.

“Harley showed up. She went up to his place, but they’re not screaming at each other like last time. And,” Batgirl stressed that word, “there’s a car parked across from his building now.”

Batman looked at Robin, who gritted his teeth. “Great. Are they just watching him? They’re probably looking out for you, so stay out of sight.”

“No worries there, Boy Wonder. They haven’t seen me, and they look kinda spooked. I think they’d be more scared to see me up here, think they’d just run off.”

“Don’t chance it.” Robin said, and Batgirl sighed.

“Stop pestering me, I’m not so green anymore.”

“Stay out of sight, Batgirl.” Batman cut in, and the two adolescents went quiet.

“Will do. I’ll keep you posted on any developments.” Batgirl responded, before the line went silent once more.

Batman turned to face Robin, now giving him his full attention, only barely registering the computer’s blips as it continued its analysis.

“Bizarre.” Batman said.

Robin blinked. “What?”

“You said he was acting bizarre.”

“Oh.” Robin gave a brief nod. “Yeah, but, like I said, I kind of get why.” His partner took a deep breath and leaned against the computer stand, signaling this was going to be a long discussion. “Remember how Nigma went nuts on me the last time?” Seeing Batman’s confirming nod, he continued. “Apparently I was right. He was scared, and really rattled. Echo and Query are back in town.”

“I heard.”

Robin frowned at that. “Well, did you know that they’re working for Penguin?”

Batman’s white eyes narrowed into thin slits upon hearing that information. “No.”

“Yeah. And, he’s posted them outside of Nigma’s place.” The two of them exchanged a serious look before Robin spoke again. “Nigma told me that Penguin has been threatening him. Not verbally, as far as I can tell, but he’s been showing signs of it. He’s had men following him around the city, watching his every move. So, I don’t know what the hell that meeting at the Iceberg Lounge was all about, but it’s starting to look like the others are turning on him, Batman. I think we might be wrong, I don’t think they’re working together.” Robin crossed his arms, giving Batman a firm look. “He was scared, Bruce. That night, he looked terrified. I’m starting to think that if all of this ‘private investigator’ stuff is some Riddler plan, the others aren’t in on it.”

Batman slowly let out a breath through his nose. “If Oswald is targeting him then that means he knows something Oswald doesn’t want spoken about.” Batman’s gaze wandered around the cave as he thought. “Has Penguin tried to take him out, or is he just threatening?”

“Well…” Robin began, but then he paused for a moment. “This is when things get bizarre.”

Batman gave his partner an expectant look. “Go on.”

“Nigma kinda had a meltdown, at least, that’s the best way I can describe it. He let some of that wall of his drop, and he told me a lot of things that I’m pretty sure he wouldn’t have under any normal circumstances.” Seeing the immediate attention Batman gave him, Robin smirked. “He said that Penguin keeps tightening the grip, so to speak. That he keeps turning up the heat but not acting on the threats. Which Nigma determined means that he doesn’t actually want Nigma dead, he’s trying to intimidate him.”

“Why?”

“He said he doesn’t know why, and I think I believe him about that. He was -- Bruce, he was completely out of his mind trying to figure it out. You should’ve seen him, talking a thousand miles a hour, talking with his hands and rambling.”

Batman pondered that information for a moment. “I can see how you’d think he was being honest. Edward has always preferred to have all the answers, that’s most likely part of Oswald’s plan.”

“Exactly.” Robin went silent, thinking over what else he needed to say. When he spoke again, he himself sounded rather bemused. “There’s another thing, well, two other things. I’m sure you’re still wondering why I called Batgirl, the thing is… Nigma told Query and Echo he’s working with us -- screamed it at them, to be more specific.” Batman’s eyes widened at that information, and Robin could see the apprehension in his expression. “Yeah. So, now the Penguin knows about this little test of yours.”

“Why?” Batman wondered. “Why did he do that?”

“That goes into the other subject, the one that makes me think it's possible he’s being truthful. He told me that he had no idea why he told them, that it just came out and he didn’t have a reason. But, that he knew somewhere in his brain there was a reason.” Seeing the look on Batman’s face, Robin chuckled. “I know the feeling, trust me. That’s really when the meltdown happened. He said that he’s been having a really tough few months, he said something about his mind attacking him all the time. That his doctor told him to be more truthful, to be honest with other people.” Robin pushed himself off of the computer stand and uncrossed his arms. “He said that he’s tried it in the past and he does feel better, so that was the solution he jumped to when he was put in such a tough spot. At least, that’s what I got from all of that rambling.”

Batman remained silent for a time, finding it difficult to believe most of that information, but his partner was right, it made sense. “He’s listening to his doctor.”

“He’s talking to his doctor.”

Batman turned away from Robin, and his gaze wandered over the cave again. He watched the water drops from the stalactites above drip onto the platform before him, listened to the humming of the computer, as he processed this new information against his theories. “This doesn’t make sense,” he muttered.

“Unless he’s actually trying to get help with something. He didn’t explain it very well, but I think he’s having flashbacks. At least, that’s what it sounded like -- kind of.”

“Nigma would know what flashbacks are.”

“True, but it is Nigma. He thinks everything he experiences is unique and one of a kind. He might not be able to see it for what it is.”

“No. I’m not buying that.” Batman’s frown deepened again. “He said his mind is attacking him?”

“Yep.”

“He used those exact words?”

“He said: My brain is usually my best friend, but now it's attacking me non-stop.” Robin let out a heavy sigh. “I’m not saying I believe everything he said, but, if this was an attempt to manipulate me, it was a very poorly orchestrated one. Most of what he said didn’t make sense,” he paused for a moment, “but, it sounded like he wasn’t talking to me.”

“He was talking to himself, just through you.” Batman added, and Robin nodded.

“Which is exactly what you said he does to you all the time. That’s why I believe it, I don’t think he was trying to convince me, he was trying to figure it out for himself.”

Batman went silent again, his gaze wandering off to look at nothing in particular. “Or he could just want you to come to that conclusion. He’s got to be up to something.”

“Well, when you figure out what it is let me know, because I can’t figure it out.” Robin was about to walk away from him, but a swift look from his partner stalled him.

“You’ve seen nothing? Heard nothing out of the ordinary while in his apartment?”

“No. I’ve told you everything, every single thing from every time I’ve seen him.”

“He has to be hiding the evidence.” Batman said, and his gaze wandered off once again.

“If he is, he’s doing a damn good job of it. That office is so small and pretty bare, and I told you, I haven’t seen any evidence that he’s hiding things in the walls or the floor. He also doesn’t really go anywhere, so I find it hard to believe he’s concocting this whole plan of his at another location.”

Batman looked back at his partner, a scowl forming on his face. “Nigma is very good at making things look a certain way to throw you off the trail. He’s good at hiding in plain sight, at using your preconceptions against you.”

Robin stared at Batman, pressing his lips together as he thought. “I get that, I do. I’m not saying I don’t think he’s planning something. All I’m saying is that I think it’s a possibility that we were wrong. All that means is that we need to start looking at it differently, maybe from a perspective we haven’t before.” He paused, taking a few deep breaths through his nose. “Bruce, he can be trying to work through something with his doctor, and planning something at the same time. It’s possible. We have no idea what happened to him on that island. He might just need some help dealing with it.”

“The idea of Nigma going to anyone for help --” Batman stopped himself; the words he was about to say felt wrong, and he forced himself to rethink his position. “Nigma thinks he has all the answers. He doesn’t feel the need to go to anyone else because they couldn’t tell him anything he doesn’t already know. That’s how he sees the world.”

“I know, that’s what you’ve always said. But, again, maybe it’s possible things have changed for him, and he’s run out of options to work on them, at least on his own?” Robin pondered out loud.

Batman’s scowl intensified. Robin wasn’t understanding the full scope of this; he needed to explain the gravity of this troubling situation. “Him going to someone for help is potentially very dangerous.”

Robin blinked. “Uh, okay? Explain that one, please.”

Batman’s back straightened, his expression turning more serious as he chose his words carefully. “If Nigma has decided to turn to a professional for help, it could mean he’s become more self-aware. It means that he’s learning, and Nigma learning new information is never a safe prospect.” Batman glanced back at the computer screen; the search of the last few files were almost complete. “I might’ve been wrong. He might have changed his tactics.”

Robin stepped closer to his side, and Batman could feel the anxiousness seeping off of him. “Mind explaining that a bit better?”

Batman returned his attention to his partner -- the boy’s expression was one of concern, but mixed with a layer of distrust. He understood why. He must sound too pessimistic in his worries, but this was a situation he’d feared would occur for a long time now, and he needed Robin to understand his reasoning. Batman looked Robin in the eye, hoping for his partner to grasp the truth behind his words. “If Nigma is breaking down his own walls and learning what his weaknesses are, it’ll make him very difficult to stop. I’ve always used the same strategy with him: exploit his vulnerabilities. No matter how much he tried to adapt to my solutions, he could never fully match up with them -- because the issue wasn’t me, it was him. He was so self-centered, so convinced he was superior that he couldn’t see the obvious holes in his logic. If he’s realized that he does have weaknesses, that his own issues are what’s been holding him back all this time, and he’s actively trying to rid himself of them --”

“Then…” Robin interjected, his expression more concerned now. “Are you saying you don’t think you’d be able to stop him?”

“That’s what I’m worried about.”

The two crime-fighters stared at each other. Robin looked surprised by the admission, but his demeanor shifted after a few moments. Batman frowned, knowing that look all too well. The boy thought he was being too dramatic and he was skeptical of the rationale.

The computer blipped beside them. It had finished its analysis, and Batman turned his attention back to the screens. Three locations popped up, one of which was a clear possibility for Dent’s next attack. Robin picked his staff back up, giving Batman an expectant look, and Batman gave him a confirming nod in agreement. As the two began to descend the stairs to the Batmobile, Batman felt an anxiousness seep into his bones. The fear of what Nigma was up to gripped him, and he hoped he would be able to rid it to focus on the current case at hand.

Robin hopped into the passenger seat, the skepticism still clear on his face. He turned on some of the trackers on the car’s console and said, “I don’t know. I know you know him better than I do, but, all of that seems way too calculated for what he’s currently doing.”

Batman climbed into the car, a low growl of disagreement escaping his lips.

“I’m serious, Batman. If he was using his doctor to make him into some unbeatable super-criminal, I doubt he’d be starving and killing his brain with alcohol.”

Batman frowned as the car’s engine revved and the bats began to shriek. “I’ll admit, I can't explain the drinking.”

Robin looked at him, his brow rising. “Really. In all your years working with criminals you've never seen someone deal with problems by hiding at the bottom of a bottle? And it'd make sense, actually, if what he's saying about the flashbacks is true…”

But Batman really didn’t want to hear anymore of Robin’s theories about the evidence. He closed the hood of the Batmobile, revved the engine to signify the end of the discussion, and as his partner readied himself in his seat, he sped off toward the cave exit. As they neared the hidden passage door, Batman decided he was more than willing to see whatever distractions Two-Face could provide for the evening. Hopefully it would be enough to get his mind off of that disturbing hint of a notion that maybe, just maybe, Robin was actually onto something.

#writing post #Season 1 Episodes #Mini-episodes #Batman #edward nigma #Tim Drake #extra content #zorasublime

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oristromboli · 3 years

Text

If You Be Our Star, We’ll Be Your Sky | 6

Chapter Title: Punishment

The fierce sounds of arguments melt into clashing weapons in the Liyue landscape as all frustrations are released in bloody fury.

Punishment is thus dolled out on the sore, sore loser.

(Smut this chapter: Reader/Childe, M/F)

(Warnings: rough and angry sex after a fight, power dynamic struggles, being very very mean to each other - not a fluffy first time between them given that it's Childe and his implied mission. please be careful if this isn’t your cup of tea!)

CW: the first segment describes Childe making a hunt! Canon-typical violence, but just in case: one paragraph starts with "Childe kneels down - " and another one is "With a firm - "

Childe takes a slow breath in, and on his exhale, releases the arrow, watching as it sinks into the boar’s side.

Damn, he was never good with a bow. He strolls leisurely up to the animal, frowning when he notices the pitiful struggle as it tries to move despite the mortal wound. Poor thing thinks it still has a chance.

Childe kneels down and reaches out to the pig, running his hands gently through the matted fur. He watches as its breathing becomes labored; each unsteady drag likely pushes its lungs against the arrow. How many ways did he watch the abyss deny death to the unfortunate prey wandering in? A quick death was mercy never granted in that suffocating darkness.

He feels black armor fighting to grow from his skin, feels the electricity pulling him taut as he smiles softly, running his hand up to cup the boar’s head.

With a firm twist, Childe snaps its neck and the body goes limp.

Blood from the arrow wound trickles onto his gloves, and he raises his hand to lick it idly away. His frown returns when he realizes that the flaming need in him is barely sated.

Warbled and demented noises creep up towards him from between the cracks in the earth.

Grunting, he hoists the animal over his shoulders and starts walking again while whistling a lullaby.

---

Birds call overhead while the wind rustles through the emerald leaves around you in this little outcrop by the river. The sun felt warm, kissing the back of your neck gently as you took in your surroundings, counting each fish that crested the surface as they leaped further upstream.

Though you normally take these moments of isolation to regain your internal serenity, you didn’t necessarily hate the fact that Childe insisted on tagging along. Yet, confusion still wrung your head as to why he came along on a commission so far off the beaten path. Even Aether would complain at such a wildlife excursion.

“Hey girlie,” Childe calls, grinning wide and bubbles up a rare, genuine laugh when he sees your surprised expression. “I got lunch!”

Your eyes bulge as you watch him carrying one of the largest boars you’ve ever seen with a skip in his step like the animal weighed nothing. When he drops it unceremoniously to the ground, you hear the resounding thud and decide firmly that yes, Teyvat’s animals are ridiculous.

Childe cracks his knuckles and materializes his hydro knife to kneel at its side, and you just… You just watch.

Some deeply primitive part of you is hooting like a shameless dog as you watch him handle the meat with ease. Good man. Strong man. Can feed and protect.

“ – girlie, hey, you listening?”

You shake your head and blink at him. He starts laughing and gestures to the fireplace. “O-oh, right!” In a flash, you turn your back to him to hide the rising heat to your cheeks. “Um… That’s a lot of meat, you know.”

“Well, nobody ever complained to me about that, pretty bird.”

Nevermind. Big, strong man gone. “Why are you always cracking jokes? It’s like you never take things seriously.”

Childe pauses for a moment, stilling his hands. He never looks at you before he resumes skinning the boar, though you recognize the flash of a bygone memory nonetheless. “Nothing wrong in trying to get people to laugh occasionally in this shithole of a world. What else can you do? Tell your siblings that this place isn’t the fairytale they grew up believing in?”

You swallow and nod. Some time passes, and as you finish setting up the makeshift stove, it occurs to you that… There’s two of you. And one very big, very fat pig.

You’ll need a bigger fire.

“Hey, how do you plan on cooking this?”

“You’ll see.”

---

An hour later and you’re in awe at how good the food is. The meat is practically melting off the bone as you eat the roasted pork, slight drool dribbling down.

Childe just stares as you lick your lips. “Did you learn this in Fatui boot camp or something?”

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice a pitch lower. “Closer to the ‘or something’ part though.”

Idle chatter starts between you two, soft banter and long talks about nothing. You ask about his past, he gives curt answers and you do the same, but there’s this silent understanding between you two about it. There’s little to say on the matter as neither party wants to remember. At least that’s something you have in common with Childe.

“So, along your travels,” he starts, wiping his mouth with a crimson handkerchief. “Did you come across any gods? Besides our resident funeral consultant, of course.”

“A few,” you reply. “Some also stepped down to join mortals too, but in those lands, they gave up their full divinity instead of just the title.”

“Why anybody would ever give up power willingly is beyond me.”

You laugh, though it sounds more vindicative than you intended. “Don’t you know? The gods envy mortals because their lives are fleeting and any moment can be their last. It’s all the more beautiful to them.”

Childe narrows his eyes. “Who said that? Seems to me the gods here don’t really care for us.”

You smile bitterly. “Yeah, I can see your point. The gods in Teyvat are different, but what about Zhongli? Don’t you trust him?”

“Ha, I trust him to pursue his own self-interests. If they align with mine, then great, there’s no problems between us. He’s reliable and stubborn. Shockingly, he has my honest loyalty, and I trust I can predict his next move.”

“Always the tactician.” You both chuckle at the thought. “I would’ve thought there was more than that.” You pray he doesn’t realize how you test the waters, and with the way he looks in the distance, you’re safe.

“You’re not wrong. I care about him. He drives me insane, but come hell or high water, he’ll be my friend to the bitter end.”

Friend. Your heart throbs again, though in deliverance or bewilderment for their strange relationship, you’re not sure.

“With your powers, were you ever seen as one?” Childe says, breaking your thoughts.

“A god? Sometimes, though only if people haven’t seen real divinity. We were also called demons. Unnatural. We keep to ourselves mostly and avoid too much trouble, but with our powers sealed, we don’t even have that going for us. We’re not really welcome among humans or divine, hah.” His eyes relax briefly, shifting to an indescribable emotion. There’s something in them, some light of understanding.

You hate it.

“Don’t act like you care,” you say, turning away and hugging yourself. Yeah, you know you’re being unfair, but you can’t handle Childe’s pity at the moment. He sighs as he tosses his leftovers over his shoulder and tries putting a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey – “

“Don’t.”

“I don’t care. Look at me,” he says, tone sharp and commanding you to listen. During easy exchanges, it became so easy to gloss over the fact that Childe is, indeed, a general of the Fatui.

He’s all but glaring down at you, matching your petulant stare. “What is with you? I’ve been trying to fix things between us, but I’m starting to feel like I’m the only one. This goes both ways, you know.”

“Us? There is no us, Childe. It’s just you. It’s always been about what you want,” you seethe. Stars, you sounded so much like a kid, but some sick part of you is enjoying this. All your words are underhanded and you both know it. “Did you even care? At any point, any at all, did you care?”

His blue eyes slowly widen as realization dawns on him. “Ah. You’re still mad about that. About me using you, huh?”

“What the f – Yes, I’m still mad! Congratulations, you’ve got a pair of eyes. Don’t you know that I – nevermind.”

“No, say it,” he says, placing both hands on each of your shoulders now and caging you in. His face leaves no room for argument as he says your real name. “Say it. Don’t back out now.”

“Stars, you stupid, selfish son of a – “

“Hey, don’t you bring my mother into this,” he says, though a lopsided grin works its way onto his face regardless.

“Very funny, Childe. I just… I kept it, you know? It’s no Mr. Cyclops, but it’s still mine,” you say, looking down. His eyes flick to the starconch dangling from your journal.

“You didn’t have to,” he murmurs, tightening his grip on your shoulders.

“Of course I did. I made a promise to you, and I have a feeling you’re the type to actually cut my pinkie off.”

“Ha. Who’s being funny now?”

You shake your head. “My question still stands: did you care? I’ve forgiven you – you know that – but I’m mad because… I need to know if our friendship was...”

When you look up again, he’s – oh holy – when did he get so close? His deep blue eyes are resolute and you’re holding your breath. Childe is close enough that you can practically feel the heat radiating off of him as his lips parts. “Honestly? I didn’t at the time.”

Oh. Of course not.

You close your eyes as you feel your heart plummet to your stomach. Great. Just fantastic. Nothing can get worse than this.

“But now…”

His fingers gently grab your chin and lift up as he tilts his own down at you. “I can’t remember that time without guilt. When I saw how Teucer showered you all with adoration, it just reminded me of what we had.”

“What we had? What was that? Friend? Enemy? Sparring partner?” You scoff and lean out of the space he made that threatened to suffocate you. “I don’t want to believe a word you’re saying, because even though I’ve been honest every step of the way – “ You pull his right hand off your left shoulder and lock a pinkie with it. “ – I can guarantee that you haven’t.”

Do you feel a sense of joy when you release his hand with a glare?

“You’re no better than the gods you hate.”

When he has the gall to look offended?

Yeah, you do, and know what? Fuck him.

Suddenly, your hand is harshly yanked up as he leans close again, locking a pinkie before you can escape. “You don’t want to believe me? Fine. But don’t pretend you wouldn’t do the same for your duty if push came to shove. At least this time I had the decency to tell you why I’m here, why I’m ‘using’ you again. You beat me to it though, or did you forget?”

Childe sneers, fury now raging in those watery depths. “I’m not mad, I’m happy that you’re as shrewd as you are strong. Yes, I didn’t care then. Yes, I care now, even if I don’t regret it. I want to leave that in the past because today, this moment, is all that matters. C’mon, eye for an eye.”

“What are you even talking about?” You’re seething now, matching his frustration. Seriously, he can’t spout this crap and expect you to suddenly understand. “I am not doing this with you, to you, whatever ‘this’ is. Despite being upset, you’re still my friend.”

“No, we weren’t just friends and you know it,” he growls. “Or enemies. So just give the word and get it over with, comrade. Fight me, use me, do something and get it out of your system.”

He’s… He’s crazy, he’s just insane, you have to get out of here. You swiftly stand and pull your hand away, staring down at him. “I said no, Childe. Not everything is a battle. I can’t believe you… You would think that. Think that I’m no better than the people who treated you like some pawn.”

You sigh and turn away, but your hand is yanked behind you again. May the stars give you patience.

When he turns you, he’s looking at you with a familiar glint as his lips curl. It’s the same expression he wore in the aftermath of Osial.

“Don’t you dare compare yourself to them. You aren’t one of those out-of-touch bastards. I just… I wasn’t sure what else to do to get you to believe me.”

Who would’ve thought a Harbinger could be so maudlin. Torpor replaced your irritation and quiet resignation flickered in your mind. Why you still bickering with him? It’s pointless.

You take the hand holding you and bring it up to the center of your chest.

He freezes and stares at his hand, breathes growing shallow and quick.

“This is going nowhere. Leave it in the past, right? There’s always more to argue over, ha.”

When you squeeze his hand, you smile at him, meeting his bloodthirsty eyes. “You’re right, Childe. Let’s get this out of our system.”

You don’t want to, you really, really don’t, but seeing the way his shoulders relax with barely contained relief shoves that regret aside. Childe was never the best with words – while his fellow Harbingers wove tale after tale with silver tongues, he simply collected others’ tongues with that sharpened silver.

As you both pace yourselves apart, you pull out your journal, long modified to be a weapon of sorts in this world. You know you are at a severe disadvantage as you were never great with other tools, so you had to find a way to either stay out of his range – difficult with his bow – or get close enough to his personal space to land a direct blow with energy gathered in your hands – difficult with his water shields.

Childe summons his hydro blades and begins twirling them, head bowed as he watches your every step. Slowly, you circle one another as both try to find weak points to exploit. His eyes are nothing short of predatory, and as his lips barely twitch into a snarl, you’re once again reminded of just who is in front of you.

Tartaglia, the Vanguard of the Harbingers, whose arrogant and ruthless madness could only be soothed on the battlefield. He’s not so much like a wolf in sheep’s clothing, but a monster in wolf’s clothing.

On instinct, you immediately tilt your head as an arrow whistles past your ear, nicking the edge. You feel warmth trickle down and your ear stings something fierce as you start to dodge his incoming folly of arrows.

Is it too late to back out? Like, right now? You can handle the proverbial tail between your legs but you cannot handle –

You curse as water rises from the river to wrap around your ankle and shackles you when you drew too close. Cruel laughter bubbles to your left as you turn and see him charging, serrated blades out for the slaughter.

When he gets close enough to leap, nearly too close for comfort, you immediately summon a wall of stone in front of you. A soft thud echoes, so you form a fist and push the wall forward and away from you as the hydro chains break with Childe’s concentration shifting to his predicament.

Normally, you would be more prepared and calculating in your attacks, but the sheer ruthlessness of his onslaught took you by surprise.

Russet-colored hair juts out from the top as he leaps up and over, twirling in the air. With a clear opening, you reach out energetically to the smattering of small – yet sharp – stones around you to use as projectiles. He laughs as he slices each stone, but your goal of interrupting his trajectory is accomplished.

Childe lands a distance away as you sprint farther back, summoning small pillars of stone between you two as he immediately chases after. Though he’s chaotic, his movements are somewhat predictable; you summon one stone in a bluff to get him to move to his right to dodge, but immediately slam another stone to his ribs on his side from the direction he moved towards.

He grunts, but hardly flinches as you see him double his efforts in chasing you. Belatedly, you realize he’s been herding you towards the massive waterfall the entire time. Either you finish him here or he finishes you there with the elemental advantage.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, you’re not as fast as Aether, this is why you stay on the backline, fuck –

Childe’s lance smashes the shoddy stones rising quicker in your panic to separate you two. Not your finest work, but it’s a bit hard to focus on their construction when you have a maniac sent from hell on your ass, thank you. When you see how he leaps from your most recent stone, utilizing the momentum in its rise to propel himself forward, you tuck tail and run.

Safe to say, two thoughts occur as he tackles you and his iron grip is wrapped around your body to restrict movement as you both tumble along the ground.

One, you’re absolutely torn between humiliation and feeling shameless as you realize your undergarments are soaked with his husky pants filling your ears. His head tucked against your own in the roll.

There’s definitely something wrong with you, you decide, since you were nothing short of terrified two seconds earlier.

Two, when your head slams against the ground and you open your bleary eyes, you realize how lovely the snapdragon flowers lining the riverbank are this time of year.

You hiss as you feel heavy thighs cage your arms to your side and look up. Childe is leering down at you and snarling as his right hand curls into a fist, purple lightning slowly dancing across it. His left hand glows blue as you recognize the sensation of the infamous riptide mark forming over your chest, eyes glazed over with concentration.

In a moment of paralyzing horror, you realize just how far from civilization you two are.

Ha, haha, good one Childe. He’s… He’s playing, right? This was just friendly brawling. Ha. Oh shit.

He’s not slowing down.

When his hand clamps on your shoulder to still your frantic movements, you whine – high and feeble – at the pain blooming from his grip. For a split second, he falters as his eyes regain clarity, hand loosening a fraction to no longer being unyielding. You take the opportune distraction to flick your hand and throw a stone to his chest.

It’s not much, not without the power of your book – now discarded somewhere – but it does the job as he is knocked to the side and off of you.

In the action, you scramble to keep with the flow and slam him on his back, perching on his chest as your hands glow with accumulating geo energy.

Seeing his soft pants, a sparkle in his eyes, and how blood trickles down his forehead, the shattering in your heart is deafening when you realize how young he looks. His laughter is wet and harsh as his arms are splayed.

“Do it,” he grunts. “End the fight, ‘cause I won’t stop.”

No. No, you’re not doing this.

“Aw, is little birdie too scared?”

You lower your hand and wrap it around his throat, and stars, is his grin growing?

“Come on, just do it – “

“Shut up,” you hiss, leaning forward. “Stop it Childe, I’m not punishing you.”

“What if I want you to?”

You freeze as your mouth parts in a silent gasp, his expression never faltering. When you jump back, you grind against something hard and insistent against your ass, and oh. Was this his plan all along…?

Childe’s hands fly to your hips and pull you down, and oh fuck, a moan fumbles from your lips before you harshly cut it off. Your eyes glance down to see his hooded eyes and he’s panting as he watches you. “Pretty bird is suddenly backing out now? So weak, you won’t even take your venge – “

His words are muffled as you lean forward and kiss him, but you yelp when you feel sharp teeth suddenly bite your bottom lip. Something angry twittering in you possesses you to reach into his hair and fist it, yanking his head up to meet your irritated gaze. When he moans again, loud and shameless and grinds against your core, you’re seized by the same fierce need.

“You’re sick,” you say as your tongue darts out to taste a hint of blood.

For some reason, those words still him as his eyebrows furrow slightly. “I know.”

Stars, you hate how he stares you down, daring you to do something about it. You hate how it feels like it was your fault, that crack in his shield as you see your own shocked eyes reflected in his ocean blues. They flicker between yours, and that something whispers in you again: for whatever reason, he wants to be punished.

Maybe that’s how he gets his sick kicks. Yeah. That’s it.

(You shove aside any lingering doubts.)

You pull him to you this time, kissing him as you simultaneously begin a slow, rhythmic roll of your hips against his throbbing bulge. When Childe’s mouth parts in a strangled moan, you take the opportunity to dive your tongue into his and hum in approval as he rubs his hands along your thighs.

As you part, a thin trail of saliva stained red with blood connecting you two, you lean back and smirk at his whine from the loss of contact. Instead, you lean back and arch your back to apply more pressure to his bulge. “You’re such a challenge sometimes,” you murmur, scanning his features.

Childe moans, ragged and hoarse, as his hands find purchase on your hips. “Please,” he replies desperately.

“When was the last time someone put you in your place?” you say as your hands slowly trail down to his chest and meticulously begin undoing each button. Each time your nails scrape his skin, the contact is minuscule but enough to hitch his breath.

“N-not since the Tsaritsa,” he whispers, keening as you dip your fingers beneath his jacket to open it fully, baring his pale chest. “The people in Liyue are too… Let’s call it traditional in bed, hm? A bit too tender.”

You both snicker (unknowingly at the same man), but his laughter is cut off as you lean down to kiss along each scar littering his chest. There is a smattering of slashes and burns, enough to paint a picture of a life hard-won and deserving of his name.

When you ghost your lips back up, you pause at a pale, crescent-shaped… Is that a bite mark? You raise your hand slow to that juncture between his neck and shoulder, and you feel blue eyes watching you intently. As you trace it, you murmur, “What’s this? Did a lover leave this? Doesn’t seem very becoming of a Liyue native.”

Childe releases a puff of air instead of a laugh and rolls his head back. “Let’s just say it’s a trophy for the one time I managed to get a stupidly sentimental man to realize I’m not fragile on my last night here. He even apologized for it.”

Huh. You choose not to comment on the strange memory, but instead, opt to kiss the scar lightly. Childe openly moans, breathes becoming shallower as you move down the expanse of his creamy abdomen from there.

Gloved hands fly to your head and grab. His shallow thrusts against your chest halt when you lift away from him, glowering at him to stop. Childe’s eyes narrow, but when he tries again, you lie your palm flat against his bulge and push down.

Childe cries out at the border between pain and pleasure, and good, that fucker needs to learn when to stop.

Oh, gods, when did you get a mean streak? Except, when you lay your eyes on the Fatui again, memories of each time he’s pushed your buttons surface, directly compromising your promise to Aether to be kind to the locals in Teyvat to expedite finding Lumine.

Yeah, Aether isn’t here right now. You can make a special exception.

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you grunt and you lean up again, choking back laughter when you see how his eyes widen at your abandonment. Ha. “Maybe I’ll go slower and, how is it called, ‘make love to you like the people in Liyue? Maybe I’ll stop pursuing you like this, where none else dared challenge the almighty Harbinger, huh?”

Admittedly, the lust in you skyrockets when you see how he tries putting on an intimidating façade again, yet the flush across his face and chest absolutely ruins it. Oh man, you can keep doing this all day.

Only… When the devil smirks at you, your heart begins hammering.

“Oh? Maybe you should,” he pants, and you pointedly look at his erection now forming a slight damp spot on his pants. “Tch, but don’t tell me you’re not curious. You’re too fucking nice all the time, you’d hate that slowness as much as I would.”

Irritation seers through you again as you suddenly – and perhaps unnecessarily roughly – grab his pants, purposefully dragging your nails along his skin as you begin to pull it down. “What makes you think I’d hate it?” you huff.

Childe aids in your struggle, shimmying his pants down and off as he kicks off his boots while you clamber on top of him again.

“Come on,” he sneers, snaking his right hand around your neck to pull you closer while his left makes begins to slide down your belly. When he leans closer, he pauses short of kissing you and stays like that. “Don’t you want a taste?”

“You – “

Fuck, you didn’t realize how he distracted you until one finger brushes your clit and slides along your folds. Fuck, fuck, you hate how he drinks in your quiet and strangled moans as it begins to slowly dip into you. When you feel something smooth and cold instead, it hits you that he never took off his gloves.

“Come on, sweet girl,” he coos and rolls his hips upwards to grind against your ass. You grit your teeth, though Childe takes this moment to kiss you again and suck on your bottom lip, massaging you all the while. It’s… It’s not enough, damn him.

"Give me a safeword," you rasp as you break apart. "Right now. So I know this isn't a trick up your sleeve."

He grunts and leans forward again to press his lips against your nose, though he pauses in his ministrations. "This isn't -"

"Childe."

"... Calla lily."

You nod and sigh, tilting your head to the side.

The hand formerly around your neck slides down to pull down your clothes, allowing more access as it pools around your thighs.

You pull away entirely – ah, there goes his fingers – and stand, beginning to strip. As he watches you, you see how his jaw clenches, impatient and yet thoroughly enjoying the impromptu strip dance.

When you’re bare, you begin to walk over and have to bite back a whimper at how Childe’s tongue darts along his lips as you approach. Hmm…

You pad over to his head and grab a fistful of his hair again as you kneel by his head, concentrating on how his face contorts with pleasure again.

“What makes you think you’re so special, huh?” you gruff at him as he grins up at you in that wicked, wicked way.

“Because I’m all the sins you never had the courage to commit,” he responds daringly.

“Shut up.”

“Make me.”

Oh, stars forgive you if you (not so) accidentally strangle this man. You swing one leg over his head and pull it up as you lower yourself. At least he needs no further instruction as he immediately rests his hands on your thighs and tilts his head to lap at the wetness dribbling down.

Let it never be said that Childe didn’t know how to use his mouth, because fuck, the eagerness he begins devouring you out with is nothing short of a man approaching his last meal. You become hyper-aware of your wanton moans, how you grind your core further along his lips while his aching cock is behind you, devoid of all attention.

When his tongue dives deeper between your folds, truly fucking you with it, you slam a hand behind his head to prevent your fall. Fuck, you can’t fucking think –

Your thighs are trembling as the pleasure shoots through you, building with each rock of your hips. It’s slow and steady, but you feel yourself surfing the rising pleasure when you mentally short-circuit. At some point, he crept one hand under you and – without warning, the asshole – plunged two fingers deep as he turns his attention to your clit.

It’s pathetic how you mewl, it really is, and like a bloodhound, Childe senses your weakness. He doubles his efforts while humming against your clit, vibrating it with the motion, and fuck, you feel it coming, it’s, it’s –

You open your mouth in a silent scream as it shoots up, pulling you taut and your muscles stiffen. It’s like you’re a bow strung along and Childe is the man just using you like this.

Stars, he needs to stop, he needs to – stop it, it’s too much –

“Stop, Childe, fu-ah – “ When you frantically roll off of him, falling on your side, he merely turns and grins. It’s absolutely sinful how he slowly licks each finger that was knuckle-deep in you, never breaking contact.

You wish he’d say something because for once, he’s not actually talking. He just. He followed your initiative and was promptly shut up, drinking you in. You don’t know what to say to him, so you opt instead to reach over and grab his scarf, yanking him up.

He follows, nearly as eager as a pup, and crawls to you on all fours as you sit up. Childe blinks at you, the smile never wavering as his eyes wander to your chest rising and falling with soft pants. Something in you, some small and evil voice whispering on your shoulder tells you to ruin this man, this arrogant warrior still clad in his Harbinger jacket and gloves and mask –

“Your mask,” you gruff. Childe tilts his head (oh no, that was cute), but follows your command nonetheless.

When he hands you the item, you fidget slightly and fight back that creeping uncertainty. Fuck it, you’re the one punishing him, so why are you getting embarrassed?

In a desperate bid for confidence, you hum and refuse to look at him, pretending to inspect the mask as if just now seeing it. A shaky breath escapes him as he watches you, so you firmly pull on the scarf like it’s some leash. “You always get your way, don’t you?” you hum.

When silence meets you, you yank on the scarf again. “Answer me.”

“Yes,” comes the immediate reply. You smile softly and look at him, look at his wide eyes as you’re met face-to-face. Each of his arms has settled next to your sides as his legs hold himself over you.

You hazard a glance at his cock and smile at how it twitches in response, leaking driblets of pearlescent pre-cum and just throbbing red. Oh, he wants it so badly. “Beg for it,” you say, looking back into his eyes.

Childe narrows his own, gritting his teeth in a snarl. “Beg for it,” you repeat slowly, “or we stop here. Your choice.”

“Please,” he mumbles, and… Oh, oh is he shy? Pink begins to dust the tips of his ears as he dips his head.

“Please what?” you tease and he huffs.

“Please, let me… I want it, I want you.” Each word is punctuated and forced out like it took all of his willpower to hold himself back from taking you then and there.

Some quiet, dark part of you is slightly disappointed he didn’t.

Well, you’re merciful, and he did say please. You lean forward and tilt your own head, catching his lips in a kiss entirely too soft – and yet, Childe doesn’t complain, only sighing in relief as he moves his head with yours.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment, you remind yourself vehemently. That lustful side of you rears its head, screaming at you to stop whatever it is you’re planning because Childe is here, on his knees and begging to fuck you.

But this is still supposed to be a punishment. Damn it.

Childe seems to recognize the idea swirling in your eyes when he pulls back and he frowns. You smirk back and slide his mask into place, thoroughly relishing in how his breath hitches seeing his own face staring back at him.

“You’re enjoying this too much.”

He jerks his head back like he’s been slapped. “Oh, you’re kidding me, right? You just made me beg, you charlatan.”

“Exactly,” you chirp back. You push him back while retaining your hold on his scarf and run your hand down his abs, pausing at the naval above his aching cock. He moans when your nails dig in there and he spreads his legs wide to allow you to move closer. When you finally, finally grasp his cock with a firm squeeze, a strangled groan is wrenched from his chest from somewhere high and deep like he wasn’t expecting the noise either.

“I’m still mad at you, so this is all you get. Nothing more than this, not even spit.”

Gods, how badly do you want to weep and take it back, but you have a point to prove, damn it.

Childe opens his mouth to protest, but you pull on the scarf to effectively cut off his air, watching how his eyes haze over with pleasure when you do an experimental pump. Is this… Is this how you looked when you fought for dominance with Zhongli?

Oh, you really can keep doing this.

Slowly, you shift forward more until you’re pressed close enough to lean next to his head as you gather the pre-cum leaking in torrents to twist around the head of his cock. “Does the Harbinger like this?”

Childe releases another strangled moan and nudges his head against yours, bucking his hips in demand for you to just go faster. You don’t, you’re mad at him, but the insistence is cute. That infamous earring of his dangles in front of you, tantalizingly close, so you grab it with your teeth and pull sharply as the pressure from your hand increases.

Childe cries out in a mixture of shock and pleasure, hands flying to your back to pull you closer to him as you release it to begin whispering filth into his ears.

With each movement, each tug and twist and sin tickling him, you watch as he slowly becomes unraveled and pulled from the seams. The contrast between you two, how you watch with startling clarity as Childe loses his sanity in chasing after that edge, serves only to thrill you. Your core starts to throb again, practically weeping with your own slick as you fight back the instinct to mount and ride him to hell here and now.

As his thighs tense and his breathing drawing quicker, you pause abruptly to stop him from cumming and – oh shit – he yanks your hair back as he growls in your ear, “Don’t you dare – “

Wish granted. You laugh openly and release his scarf to cup his jaw, leaning forward enough that he can catch the whites of your eyes through the slits in the mask. “Then don’t look away.”

And, blessedly, you resume your ministrations with a sudden increase in speed that has Childe panting so beautifully, so raggedly as he whines at the sight of his own mask staring him down. His hips rock into your hand needily, clinging to your back like his life depended on it.

“Ah, f-uck – “ Childe’s words are cut off as he flushes red and you feel warmth spill over your hand. You never pause as you continue milking his cock, jerking it well past the point of pleasure and deep into oversensitive pain. His blue eyes are squeezed shut as a string of Snezhnayan curses tumble from his lips, clinging to what shreds of euphoria are left before you slowly stop.

His chest is heaving, each exhale hoarse and dry as he buries his head against your neck.

Huh, what does a Harbinger taste like…?

As you idly bring your hand up to lap at the cum, you smirk behind your mask when you hear Childe’s breath hitch and he begins mumbling something indistinctly, watching you all the while.

When he’s this close, you can nearly count each freckle dotting his cheeks and nose, and… And you can almost draw constellations between them.

After a moment, he leans back to stare at you before pulling off the mask. When you both see each other again, a lazy smile tugs at his lips before he looking you up and down, then towards the scene around you.

“… Well, this is unsanitary.”

What – what the fuck? You bark out a loud laugh and Childe joins you, though his sounds huskier still as he recovers. “That was a little mean of you to keep going,” he says, pouting when you snort.

“You wanted it.”

“I wanted to fuck you,” he grumbles. You shrug and try to stand, though admittedly you’re no better than a colt with how your legs shake.

Eventually, you manage to waddle your way to the river and take slow steps into the freezing waters. Fish dart between your legs, barely brushing by with slick flutters, and you sigh as you force your muscles to relax.

Some time passes before you hear movement and splashes behind you, though you don’t turn to meet him. If Childe is upset with you, he can deal with that himself, you’re too busy trying to find some peace.

You just need a hard reset. Just once, you need to get one merciful moment alone.

Still, that wish remains ungranted as strong muscles wrap around your front and you jolt at the sudden contact, but more so when you feel Childe rest his head against the back of yours. Neither of you move, opting to instead sway lightly with the currents drifting by. Each wrist is wrapped in a leather brace with a Vision inlaid in the right while the Delusion is in his left.

When you glance down at the water, you suck in a breath upon realizing he’s been staring at you through the reflection the whole time. Soft aquatic plants dance at the corners of your feet, brushing ever so slightly with each tug.

It’s nice, but something about the stillness sparks uneasiness in you. But… It’s not the kind you felt staring down Childe’s lifeless eyes seconds before he struck, no, this is different. This feeling left you feeling both heavy and light, clear and foggy like you were alone with the dawn breaking and somehow that fact makes it all the sadder.

You… You want this to last, you realize. Stupid. You’ve gotten yourself stupidly attached already, two for zero with these men in your life.

He sighs as one hand reaches up, tracing idly over your chest again. “Do you ever feel like it’s some game,” he begins delicately like each breath is an affront to the world around you.

“What do you mean?”

“These gods, these… Not-humans, I guess. The one that took Aether’s sister, the ones that laughed at you for not being good enough in your travels, the adepti that thought Liyue too fragile… Do you ever think it’s a game to them? Like we’re just puppets on strings?”

He whispers these words, writing them like clandestine letters, ones that will surely get him executed should the gods ever see yet he writes them all the same.

“Like the fabled strings of fate?” you reply, and his lips twist in a wry laugh. “I don’t know if it’s fair for me to answer, since I’m not…”

Human.

Childe hums, understanding the tacit sentiment. “Doesn’t matter, you were never welcome among the divine anyway, right?”

“As if the humans would welcome us instead.”

“I would. I already have.”

Without skipping a beat, Childe continues hastily, once again obscuring that something in his voice. “Do you think they understand us? Actually care about their people?”

You shake your head, a barely-there motion, and should any soul look upon you two now, surely they would never see how you squeeze his hands. “I don’t think gods understand true strength.”

You don’t know why, but those two words, that single combination seems to still Childe completely as he listens, utterly rapt with another memory flickering across his expression. At least, that’s what you think, judging from the reflections.

“Gods may shape the world and play with the pieces, but mortals are the ones living in it. I don’t think they remember that humans are not – “

“Things.”

Another beat of silence passes before Childe breaks it again. “They think we don’t understand anything just because we haven’t had an eternity behind us, ha. I don’t blame them, I think I’d take the opportunity to be immortal too.”

You frown and turn in his arms, coming face-to-face with him. “Why?”

“So I can finally make right everything that’s wrong,” he mumbles, placing his hand on your chest again. When you look down, you see how water tickles and caresses your skin – almost lovingly if you were so bold, but you’re not – as it forms a vague riptide mark. You feel cool hydro energy seep into your skin before disappearing entirely, though you suppose more elemental energy could always trigger its appearance once more.

Childe sighs again, massaging the spot from the mark before roving hands move to your shoulders, rubbing along them. When he looks at you again, your heart stutters at the glittering image of wide-eyed wonder and determination staring back at you – the sight of it renders you mute. A cheeky grin pulls his lips. “And more time means more journeys, right? When my plans are complete, I can finally put this all to rest and go adventuring.”

(You vow then to never tell him that Teucer long spilled these secrets to your motley group.)

And then. And then he smiles, though it’s all teeth and wicked intentions, and then you feel your heart race with sudden fear as the sweet moment left as soon as it arrived.

“You know comrade,” he begins charmingly (oh no), “I did warn you about one thing.”

“Y-yeah?” Oh no, you didn’t mean for that to come out as quiet and breathy as it did. Childe chuckles as he slides one hand to cup the back of your neck.

“That I won’t stop.”

That’s all the warning you get before your world is turned askew, everything blurring together in motions of blue and rippling colors.

This is… He’s taking you somewhere, you realize belatedly, this is how he escaped the Golden House. When his face materializes before yours, peering out of the water as the element obeys its master’s commands, he holds one finger up to his lips in a signal to keep holding your breath.

So you do. You hold as long as you can, eyes darting as the world passes by and you��re struck by the kaleidoscope of light as it ripples along the outside of this shell.

When Childe leans forward, slotting his lips against yours, you swear then that he meant to steal your breath.

Hard rock slams into your back suddenly and you break the kiss, gasping for air and flopping your hands about you for purchase. Air, hallelujah, there’s air –

You grumble at him, sulking at the unexpected journey as his drenched hair trickled droplets onto you. Childe rears his head back, roaring with laughter at your cross attitude, but you can’t hear it. As a matter of fact, you can’t hear anything really.

Wait, did he just take you behind the waterfall?

Amusement dances across his face as he watches you drink in the sights around, of how you two are in a small enclave behind the waterfall roaring overhead. It’s not much, probably two lengths of Childe’s body long and wide with temperatures freezing you to the bone.

So, why did he bring you back here –

You keen when he suddenly dips his head to kiss along your sternum, one thigh nudging your legs apart. His hot breath fans across your skin, licking a long stripe up your neck to your ears as he brings one hand up to squeeze one breast.

“Sweet girl is always so far away,” he whispers huskily. “Will you finally let me hold you?”

“Childe,” you huff, your soft breath cutting off into a moan as he pinches one nipple. His teeth graze your jaw, kissing along it and moving steadily towards your mouth. “All this time, you never needed to ask. You already had me.”

He groans, capturing your lips again with the barely constrained ferocity of a starved man as the hand fondling your chest moves down. Stars, you’re already so slick with anticipation; Childe moans appreciatively as one finger slides easily in, then two, then three.

“Fuck,” he mumbles. “Fuck, fuck, you’re so hot, sweet little thing.”

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize that Childe is whispering something about fair trade and equal punishment, is sinking his fingers knuckle-deep into you and ruthlessly finding that sweet spot in you with a single goal in mind. You encourage him further, opening your mouth and welcoming his tongue as he explores your mouth with near-invasive energy.

If you were thinking straight, you’d realize how his cock is already at attention and ready to spear you, how it waits patiently for you to cum first.

Oh, but you’re not thinking straight. You wail as his fingers press harder, palm now rubbing your clit while he nips along your jugular and scatters your thoughts. Childe shifts so he no longer needs his other hand to hold himself over you, and instead places it over your throat as he pulls back to stare into your eyes.

The devil grins at you. “Don’t look away now.”

“Ah – oh, Childe – “ His hands squeeze, tentative at first, then with more conviction – and a terrifyingly practiced technique – around your neck, cutting off just enough air to leave the images blurring around you. Fuck, fuck, you’re clinging to consciousness, holding onto that pleasurable spike for dear life and –

“Come for me, pretty girl,” he pants, leaning forward to brush his nose against yours and you wail. It comes out softer and quiet, like a lamb being laid bare before a wolf, and you’re shivering with the fuzzy pleasure blanketing your body. Calloused fingers work you over as he grins, murmuring praises as you come undone from his unrelenting pace.

Your orgasm is nothing fierce like when he ate you out, but as air steadily becomes harder, the pleasure refuses to fizzle out like the fireworks you felt earlier. No, it only builds and builds and builds like it refuses to let you go, dragging you through this sex-addled haze whether you like it or not.

“Stay with me now,” Childe grunts, dark hunger swirling in his eyes. “Come on, don’t black out on me now, that’s too easy. Do I have to be mean?”

What the fuck is he talking about –

You cry out in sheer panic and blinding euphoria as you feel light sparks dance along your clit. He’s using his fucking electro element, all fine control and just playing you like a fiddle while you writhe underneath him. You can’t take it anymore, this is too much to all once and impossible to describe, you can’t –

Childe blessedly releases his grip and you gasp in lungfuls of air for the second time in a short window; though his fingers slow, they don’t stop. He coos at your writhing underneath him, moaning with you as you ride out a second orgasm from his electro currents.

You’re biting your lip to stop from whining even more, but that must’ve irked Childe because he moves down to kiss you again, pulling your bottom lip away with his teeth. As the stimulation slowly pushes into pain, you hiss and swing your left leg up to kick him away.

Of course the fucker caught your foot and exploited the momentum to wrap it around his right shoulder, of course. “Pl-ease,” you cry out as tears prick at the corners of your eyes, the pleasure quickly becoming too much again. “Please!”

“Mm, you’ll have to beg for it,” he replies, too casually for a man whose fingers are working up a storm to bring you to a quick and merciless orgasm again. Your hands fly down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to slow him, but he curls his lips in a challenge and speeds up, shifting closer to you to brush his cock along your cheeks.

Fuck, fuck – You cum again, though somewhere in you tells you that you never actually stopped. A last-ditch idea desperately hits you. “F-Fuck me!” you cry out, voice pitching a tune that’s dangerously needy. “Please!”

Childe laughs again, all cruelty and thrilled at your begging, but you can’t find it in you to give a damn, you just need him to stop fucking you with his fingers. You need a break.

But the Harbinger is a merciless god.

He hums as his fingers slowly, slowly withdraw and he makes a show of sucking each one clean before he takes his cock to line up with your entrance. As he does this, he tilts his head and looks at you again, pretending like he doesn’t see you plead for – for what, exactly? For more? For less?

And in a single thrust, he enters entirely into you. Two voices bounce off the walls, pitches varying but both as broken, and Childe immediately begins a harsh pace.

“Please,” you whine and he tilts his head again, grinning through each harsh thrust. He’s rubbing one hand along the thigh draped over his shoulder while the other holds your hips in a bruising grip.

“Please? You’re such a greedy thing, look at that, sucking up my cock like that.” Each word is punctuated with another harsh thrust, each word is met with your loud cries – and when he angles his hips enough that you can see the outline of it pushing against your naval with you on your back, you cum again.

The Fatui starts speaking in Sneznayhan again as you clamp down around him, squeezing and milking his cock for all you’re worth, but gods you can hardly care right now. Your back is surely going to be scraped raw with how you’re being dragged across the floor, but you fucking love it, love how pain and pleasure mix in some addicting cocktail you’re absolutely drunk on.

You make a long, anguished whine as Childe begins kissing along your leg and peppers your skin with nips to pierce that pleasurable fog. His words sound slurred, you’re willing to bet your life that he’s trying to call your name, but you’re not sure if it’s him or your perception that’s screwed up on this side of the river.

And then he’s laughing. The bastard’s laughing at your blissful misery.

Oh. Oh no no, no you’re not about to be humbled by some Harbinger –

“T-tartaglia!” you keen suddenly when a particularly fierce thrust hits you.

You both freeze.

Oh no. Oh shit. Cold panic rushes through you at that, at how you just admitted defeat by calling him out – and when he purrs your real name, low and husky and thoroughly vindicated, he knows it too.

“Pretty thing wants to wear my mask, but you forgot who’s fucking you like you wanted,” he snarls.

After he hoists your other leg over his shoulders, he presses his body into yours and folds you in half, the new angle devastating for your pleasure as he somehow reaches deeper. His hips start again, mercilessly hitting that spot deep in as his hands cage you in by your head. Childe leans in and nudges your head aside, brushing his nose along your cheeks. "What's the safeword?"

"C-calla lily," you murmur and he nods, turning to stare you down again.

When you try to look away, close your eyes, do something, one hand brutally squeezes your jaw to open your eyes again.

And it works. You gasp as he forces you to attention, forces you to address him as those dangerously blue eyes threaten to swallow you whole in the treacherous deep ocean. “Baby, look – hah, shit – look at me. Y-you want Tartaglia, huh? Isn’t that right?”

Your throat is betraying your mind, whining and begging and blabbering something in response as the grinding pleasure continues to drown you.

It hurts so fucking good as euphoria tears you apart, rips your insides as you start openly sobbing from the pleasure he’s dragging out, and the fucker has the audacity to shoot forward and press an open kiss to your tear-streaked cheeks. Chi- Tartaglia lets you claw at his back – hell, he encourages it with how he groans – and he torturously continues his pace.

You’re not sure if you have the energy to continue, so you smack at his back weakly as you mumble against his lips. Your cunt is squeezing and spasming around him in a vice grip, but he continues fucking you through it. “P-please, please c-cum, please, I don’t know if I can keep going,” you beg desperately.

“N-no,” he grunts and your heart sinks. “Fuck, pretty birdie is letting me finallyy – hah – fuck her, I warned you, I won’t st-hhop.”

“It’s too much,” you hiccup through the overstimulation and scream – your throat hurts with the force of it – as you feel electricity twist your muscles, clenching around his cock as white-hot plasma seems to seer you from the inside out. He moans in response, a low and gruff noise.

“Then suffer.”

And he keeps going.

---

You never notice how he traces along a barely-there geo sigil with the smallest, briefest Cor Lapis glow beneath your navel. You never notice how it throbs in time with his thrusts, with each exertion of his elemental visions as if protective over your body in a lingering memory of whatever divine beast spurred its awakening.

You never notice how he grins.

---

The Harbinger is a cruel and merciless god.

---

He ruins you, thoroughly devastates you with a meticulous precision befitting the Vanguard of the Harbingers. You’ve been manhandled and manipulated into a myriad of positions until pebbles and scrapes litter both of your bodies. True to his word, you suffer through each orgasm he tears from you.

And fuck, do you love it.

Your back is to the wall as your hands are interlocked with his own by your head, hips rapidly thrusting you up and down against it as you wrap your legs around him for purchase while he nips your neck like a rabid dog.

Stars, you can’t concentrate, your eyes keep losing focus – and each time Tartaglia notices, he bites or thrusts or squeezes with that iron grip, electricity lacing each action jolting you to the present. He refuses to let you sink, refuses to let you black out as you’re dragged through hell and back by the devil himself.

“Please,” you weep as he rests his forehead against yours, dutifully watching how your chest bounces with the movement and how his cock is thoroughly drenched with your juices. The ease with which he slides in and out of you is downright criminal.

“T-tartaglia, please,” you whimper and his blues meet yours again. “Tartaglia… I want…”

A single eyebrow arches as he presses his body impossibly closers, now chest-to-chest as he cages you in and looms over you. “I want you,” you gasp between thrusts, “all of you, please. I – ah – I trust you, please.”

Tartaglia freezes for a split-second before groaning, raw and thunderous and wild as the storms that herald his coming, and when he kisses you, you feel wetness dribble down both of your cheeks.

In your haze, you weren’t aware you were crying again from it all, but a lot of things snuck past your attention.

You don’t know what happens after that, but you know it’s hot and wet as his body flexes over yours. Somewhere in your consciousness, you hear a voice cry out Tartaglia’s name, utterly shredded to ribbons from how it was abused.

Was that your voice?

His cock is throbbing in you as you feel him empty load after load of cum, more words in a foreign language wrapping you in warmth his tone lightens, his eyes grow soft and his lips curl up. It’s all you can do to squeeze your wet cunt around him, tightening around him to milk more out of him until Tartaglia is gasping desperately in time with the stutter of his hips.

Eventually, he slumps over you, draping his muscled body over yours with sheer exhaustion and sweat glistening in a thin sheen over his skin.

He whimpers your name, almost going unheard and the noise is halting as if he didn’t expect to say it either. Frankly, you’re too tired to unpack all the layers woven into that right now. So you don’t. Instead, you squeeze his hands as you start to feebly sing softly in your native tongue.

Childe freezes instantly as he sucks in a sharp breath. “What is that?”

“Hm? My people’s language?” you respond and he nods dumbly. “Sorry, probably sounds bad.”

“No,” he mumbles, shaking his head enough that his auburn locks bounce lightly. “Just familiar.”

Huh? Whatever. He’s probably too blissed out to make sense right now.

You both stay like that for a time in a slow-going bid to steady your breathing. You… You never honestly expected this to happen when he invited himself along your commission. Not that you’re complaining, of course, it’s just… It’s not what you expected.

Some lust-addled part of your brain, utterly fucked out and blissful, is already planning another ‘excursion’ into these deep woods.

And then you start to giggle at the gooey mess pooling between both of you. Childe huffs against you and you feel his smile against your cheek. “What’re you laughing at, pretty bird?” he slurs out.

“Oh, just. This is just unsanitary.”

Childe just grunts, too tired to join your laughter, but that’s okay. Your bubbling joy is enough for the two of you in this little enclave behind the waterfall.

---

Hours have passed, and somehow – through sheer and utter spite – you both manage to drag yourselves back to Liyue Harbor despite the protesting aches from your muscles. Nerve endings are set alight with each step, but judging from how Childe winces, he feels it too. Night has long fallen and you remind yourself to apologize to Aether and Paimon, since you said you’d be back by dinner at the latest.

Do you regret it though? Nope.

Eventually, you stumble (literally in your case, tripping over a rock in your lethargy) across Zhongli scrutinizing various wares on display with a careful eye.

Zhongli’s smile is brilliant and warm as he spies you two, immediately weaving his way through the crowd to make his way over. In a way, the movement is serpentine as he manipulates each person away. It’s fitting, really.

“I expected you two to be back much earlier,” Zhongli rumbles, though there’s no disappointment. He looks pleased to simply see you both safe and sound.

“Ah, it was a little far,” Childe chuckles as he rubs the back of his neck. “Y’know how it is.”

“Where are the others?” you interject, too tired to maintain any sane conversation. Or sanity in general. You need a bed and you need it now.

The former Archon tilts his head as he peruses through his memories. “I believe they moved to Wangshu Inn. They said that since you both took too long, we are to meet again at midday tomorrow near Jueyun Karst.”

You nod weakly and tune out their conversation, trying to muster what little energy you have left to begin the trek to get outside the city.

“I saw the most interesting thing,” you hear Childe say conversationally. The tone feels off, though. “Did you know geo sigils can stay on skin? I got a most intimate view of it! Even left a little hydro mark of my own,” Childe’s teasing voice continues with something else lacing the undercurrents of it.

Your heart sinks and you slowly turn around, thankful that in your brief glance at their faces, Zhongli was all-too distracted with Childe’s words to see you. However, when one eyebrow raises, you immediately duck your head.

Fuck. What the fuck. You’ll sprint if you have to, but for now, walking away is okay too.

“Oh?” You hear a curiously deep rumble from behind you as you slowly make your way out, but you can’t place the tone. Zhongli is as stoic as ever and you can’t get a read on him from his voice alone, oh no. “Is that so.”

It’s not a question. It’s a statement, a fact, an observation, and it’s delivered so flatly you want to cry from sheer mortification and horror as your mind shifts into maximum overdrive with panic at all the worst possibilities.

What’s he thinking? What does either of them think of you now? Did you cross some unspoken line?

Well then! Now’s as good a time as any to flee.

“See you at Jueyun Karst!” you throw over your shoulder as you wave, but the words are broken since you’re shaking like a leaf in a fierce wind.

As you make your exit, you feel two pairs of eyes burning into your back as neither man says anything.

Haha! Terrific! That’ll surely help you sleep tonight!

notes:

i love how the 1.5 leaked cutscene says there’s a liyue saying that goes something like “waiting for rain to fall on earth once again” like hello?? metaphors??

#childe #Childe fanfic #genshin childe #genshin fanfic #childe x reader

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surviving---not---living · 3 years

Text

What the fuck do I do?...

**tw emotional/physical abuse mentions**

posted this on reddit with different ages and such so he wont find it but he doesnt use tumblr so I wanted to post here to see if yall had some suggestions as well any help would be greatly appreciated or to just know someone read would also be enough... with that said I'll paste the post.

to start I'm 23f and the fiance is 38m

I have an idea of what i should do i just sincerely dont want to i dont want to leave him homeless and without money or a job...

but the last few months have me scared and confused...

(during arguments he let's me write down what's happening when I hear something that stands out to me in Hope's itll help me fix my behaviour i got from my parents so ive been able to write down exact wording on some things said) theres just so much going on...

to preface this hes never been physically abusive to me and thankfully it's not there yet. in his defense though i was raised very incorrectly due to shit parents and I have a lot of mental issues that cause self sabotage, delusional thinking- meaning If I personally believe something it usually takes a small war to get my mind to recognize im actually wrong, as well as terrible memory so if I do acknowledge I've done something wrong more often than not my head forgets what happened or what i even did wrong if anything and the next time it inevitably happens again I have no information to pull from to tell me what I did was wrong or why. so basically I'm kind of a fuck up, I'm doing my best to fix my shit but yeah my fiance has been dealing with all of that for 4 years now.

(*some minorly important issues

•he's been interrupting me not letting me finish what I'm saying and just outright changing the topic since we first got together, although wrong of me I started doing that as well because i saw no other way to be able to speak to him except even when I'm doing the exact same shit hes doing it seems like hes the only allowed to be upset.

•we were in an open relationship except he didnt follow the rules we agreed to one time and that broke my trust I had for him. we said no coworkers, we said only people we were both interested in we said no one that's taken and yet all of those got broken over an ugly bitch. and I still get shit for bringing it up to this day.

•he said that until I start prefacing all of my conversations with him he wont count any attempt I've made at talking to him about my problems. so basically everything I've tried talking to him about doesnt fucking matter and it doesnt fucking count. not even when I tried telling him 3 separate times I'm feeling suicidal to top it off everytime i mentioned it, it ended in an argument.

•he told me he got suicidal thoughts for the first time in 10 years due to me and honestly I didnt know how to fucking respond to that. it made me sad yeah but where was the care I needed when I brought up the same thing? where was his give a fuck hes supposed to show if he actually cares about me??

•he says he interrupts me because what I have to say is either false, not grounded in reality, or they're excuses. except he has little to no way of knowing any of that is true unless he hears me all the way out I could be agreeing with him and he still interrupts and gets pissed.

•I believe hes a hypocrite but he says nah hes only doing this because I'm doing bad.

•hes said multiple times that i wont see any improvement in him until he sees I've got my shit together. even though hes the one that caused the first problems in this relationship I'm supposed to be the first one to fix my shit? instead of both of us working on our shit together??? and when I ask those questions he responds with yes you are supposed to be the first one to fix your shit because I'm at the end of my rope and I wont take this anymore.)

but on to why I've been scared. this person told me he used to be abusive with an equally abusive ex for many reasons and after splitting up he vowed to never do that again and never end up like they did.

fast forward to our relationship and well a few months ago he told me he wanted to hit me and made it a point to say he wasnt going to but he really wanted to.

he said that because we were both in my car and he wanted to leave with the car except I wasnt going to get out of MY car so he started yelling, i got scared and left later on he told me that was the first time hes ever wanted to hit me and I should think about what it is I did to get him to that point. after that I left it alone for a month because things got a bit better and then came the next time he said he wanted to hit me. now I dont remember the reason for him saying it the second time but I wasnt going to let that slip as easily as the first so I spoke up about it and what he had to say about me telling him it made me scared of him to know he wanted to hit me was " well if you Weren't a coward, normally when someone says they want to hit you it's a signal that you're doing something so wrong that they want to hit you." and me knowing him i knew this was one of those times he just wasnt going to budge.

so on to the next argument.

he told me I'm the one who thrust those thoughts into him, that I'm the reason they ever came to be, I'm why the exist in the first place. and he doesnt seem to understand when I say that no I'm not the reason your head wants to hurt me they exist there because of your last relationship letting that be an option. he also said he keeps the option of abuse in his head with a line in front of it to remind him to never pass that line and he doesn't understand that keeping that idea in his head at all is not a good thing because now the option is available whether you want to take it or not and

he. just. kept. arguing. and defending.

now on to the last argument.

he says he wants me to stop putting him in a position to do all the thinking and decision making for me, when I've asked him multiple times to stop doing that because I want to do shit for myself and all he keeps saying is show me that you can actually think for yourself and I'll stop needing to do that. like motherfucker at least give me the time to make decisions or thoughts.

I know it's not his fault that I take longer to process things but he knows this fact and keeps expecting me to already have a response half a second later to something I'm barely registering 5 seconds after it happened and again yes I know its something I have to work on and I am but atm it's still an existing issue.

hes trying to call thinking for me and making decisions for me "a gift" (the exact context for him saying this wasnt written down as I was too upset at the audacity of that claim.)

he wants me to show overwhelming efforts to fix my fucked behavioral issues but the efforts I'm putting in atm dont matter to him and that hes hanging on a single thread hes no longer willing to take anything but Absolute compliance(yes he used the actual words absolute compliance) if he doesnt see me losing sleep to figure out and fix my shit he wont be convinced I'm trying. he ended that segment with him saying hes not using these words to control or manipulate me. he says this is a requirement a yes or no and he wont make his decision on whether he wants to break up with me until I say yes or no to his absolute compliance. he said his decision is solely based on my answer and If i say yes i dont get to back off or get out of it.

I also wrote down a quote he said that was just so arrogant i couldnt leave it out.

"You sit before an artisan of problem solving." -my fiance

soo haha yeahh the last argument happened right before going to bed and I started typing this as soon as I got up and finished my hygiene stuff.

I'm pretty sure if he had never told me he'd wanted to hit me this wouldn't be such a difficult thing to answer... I love him and I have no idea if I should pick him and risk any form of my safety or just let him leave me.. he has no job, no money, and no family to go to.. I know he doesnt care about being homeless but I do care..I fucking love him and I dont want that for him not even for a day... as shitty as he and I can both be I still dont believe that's what he deserves... if he ever finds this hell be even more pissed that I'm even concerned about what he'll do if he leaves.. he always told me to not care and that if I ever do want to leave him to not worry about that and just get it over with sooner.. thing is I dont want to leave I just want my baby back... the one that didnt yell or didnt want to hit me at all... I want our old relationship back.. I guess I want to know if that's even possible at this point. any words from anyone would be really nice right now.. if only to just feel like someone's talking to me.. my fiance is literally the only person I talk to and the closest thing to a friend I have. and i dont tell my parents any of what's happening because they're stressed enough so I've been basically alone for 4 years with no one but my fiance to talk to..

granted it's my fault I havent made other friends but I've been so stressed recently that I havent done much about it for many reasons..

update: he just finished telling me that hes only had half a burger in the last 3 days, (due to stress) he just wanted to let me know that apparently.

#abusive relationship #tw abuse #mine #relationship #please help me #help #relationship advice #fiancé #couple problems #manipulative #maybe #physical abuse #lost #scared #lonely #what do i do

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keanureevesisbae · 4 years

Text

The alluring charm of Henry Cavill - Chapter 6

Summary: Henry has some things to think about, especially after his agent Richard calls him

Henry Cavill x Adelaide Park (ofc)

Wordcount: 4k

Warnings: None

A/N: So it has been quite awhile since I updated this fic. Thank you for bearing with me! This chapter might not be the best, so I’m sorry in advance. But writing has been a pretty hard process for a few weeks. I can write a few important parts in a chapter, but it’s not a coherent story itself. It still needs tons of filler. However, I’m slowly but surely getting back into it! Also, I have reached 350 followers (353 to be exact) and I’m doing a little celebration, you can read about it here!

Masterlist // Previous chapter // Next chapter

Henry really needs to think this through.

He meant every single word that he said yesterday to Adelaide, he truly does. He is falling in love with her and he is falling way too hard, he is aware of that. He doesn’t even care about the stupid part of the show anymore, he just wants to get to know her and be around her. Right now and even after the show, with her is where he wants to be.

However, he also meant the other thing he said to her: she can go home if she feels like that’s for the best. However, deep down he doesn’t want her to go. Not yet at least.

That entire afternoon they had spend kissing, like they were two teenagers afraid of getting caught. By the time they had to go home, it was hard for him to focus and bounce back to their routine they had before their first kiss.

Should or shouldn’t he wrap his arm around her shoulders, push that strand of hair out of her face or use his thumb to wipe away the bits of food of her cheek?

During the night however, those doubts disappeared like snow in the sun. The whole world would see how they slept after the haunted house incident, why stop now? While Adelaide was asleep, he would just stare at her, without her looking away as she would turn into a blushing mess.

He never expected her to be like the pro she is, but then he realizes: while she has never been in a relationship before, this woman is the queen of romantic comedies and the one that she starred in, all portrayed healthy relationships, compared to other movies. She knows what she deserves and while that is more than he can offer, he can always try.

Adelaide Park stole his heart and from the looks of it, she has no intentions on ever giving it back.

Not that he minds at all.

Over the course of the next few days, they do some challenges and somehow they manage to do pretty okay. For the YouTube page of the Celebrity Project, they even did a segment on how to cook some Korean dishes and the comments underneath were all about one thing.

Their chemistry.

He admits, there is a lot of chemistry between them and it may or may not have been multiplied ever since their kiss. During the cooking segment, he kept messing up, causing Adelaide to simply shake her head, before wrapping her fingers around his arm, placing the side of her head on his bicep. She would softy reassure him, something that not only warmed his heart, but also the hearts of the fans.

While they are second place now (the Biebers are behind them and Charlie and Jennifer are way ahead of them), they are the fan favorites and Adelaide continues to impress everyone watching.

Tomorrow they are going on a camping trip, as part of their final challenge. After that, it’ll all be over. No more camera’s, no more stupid challenges (meaning never eating fried tarantulas anymore) and it’s only him and her together, getting to know one another on an even deeper level. He even thought about maybe auditioning for her upcoming romantic comedy. Playing alongside her, that’s all he wants.

It is hard for Henry, not to kiss her every time he gets the chance. He looks at her as she is making breakfast for them, but the ringing of his phone disturbs their little moment. He sees it’s his agent Richard and he places his hand on the small of her back. ‘You need me for something?’ he asks her.

She looks up and shakes her head. ‘No, please, take it,’ she says. ‘I can manage.’ He earns himself a beautiful smile from Adelaide.

After he excused himself, he walks outside, away from the camera’s. ‘Yes, what do you want?’

‘You are not responding to my texts,’ Richard informs him of the obvious.

He sighs. ‘I have been busy.’

‘With Adelaide.’ He tries to formulate as a question, but his agent fails miserably.

‘What is that supposed to mean?’ Henry asks him annoyed. He really hasn’t got time for this, especially not when he can make breakfast with Adelaide, as part of their morning routine. He loves these little moments and their cottage has become such an important spot for them.

‘You’re losing, Henry. You know what that means, right?’ The asshole answers his own rhetorical question. ‘You’re not getting James Bond.’

He doesn’t care about James Bond anymore. He doesn’t even want to portray James Bond anymore. But he doesn’t want to come across as a simp. ‘We’re not too far behind,’ he says. ‘I’ll get her to man up, so we can win this.’ Like a dagger goes straight through his heart as he says that. He doesn’t want Adelaide to man up. He wants her to stay exactly the way she is.

‘Are you sure?’ Richard asks and he can even hear the cockiness and arrogance in his agent’s voice. The second Henry gets back, he is going to switch from agency. He hates Richard. ‘Because from the looks of it, she is continuing dragging you down.’

That is not the fucking case. ‘We’ll manage,’ Henry hisses through clenched jaws.

‘And I never knew you were such a good actor. I almost believe you actually care about her.’

‘Maybe after this I’ll get even more jobs.’ Henry doesn’t mean it and even saying it out loud, pains him, however, it left his lips before he could even think about it and that’s what worries him. Does he mean it deep down?

He looks over his shoulder, to see Adelaide placing everything on the table outside. He can’t possibly mean it, right? ‘I’ve got to go.’ Without waiting for Richard to answer, he hangs up and marches up to the table.

This idiot is making him furious from the inside, completely ruining his excellent mood. The only thing he wants is to spend his day with Adelaide, without distractions.

While he was fuming of anger a few seconds ago, all his annoyance disappears as he approaches her. ‘Just in time,’ she says with a genuine smile, that makes him regret all the things he said to Richard.

Normally he would sit across from her, but today he sits right next to her, as they watch over the garden. Birds fly from tree to tree, the clouds are slowly dissolving in the sky and a stray cat wanders around their yard. ‘What’s the plan for today?’ Henry asks, as he grabs a cracker from the plate.

‘I think we have… pre… per… pre-pa-ra-tion time for the the final challenge tomorrow.’ She looks a bit annoyed, for her tumbling over her words. ‘Fuck,’ she hisses under her breath.

‘Addy,’ he says in a soft voice, causing her to look up. ‘It’s okay, remember that. You are with me.’ He can’t help but push a strand of hair out of her face and as he is doing that, he knows this is what fans comment about, if this shot makes it into the episode. He doesn’t even care at this point. He actually quite enjoys the fact that they are the fan favorites now.

‘Sorry,’ she whispers, clearly a bit distraught from stumbling like that. She was doing great these past few days.

He decides not to continue this conversation, because he knows that it annoys her and makes her feel insecure. Especially on a beautiful day like this, he shouldn’t bring up something like that. ‘We could go into town, buy some things.’

She nods. ‘Of course. Sounds like fun.’

‘And maybe you and I could go for a swim later this evening.’

‘Why?’

‘Because it’s fun,’ he chuckles. ‘Maybe you can finally swim by yourself. Just a little bit. You’ve been doing so good these last few days.’

Adelaide simply smiles at him, before taking a bite of her cracker. ‘Maybe.’ She lets out a sigh, placing her head against his bicep. Despite them wanting to keep whatever they have a bit of a secret, he loves this moment and doesn’t care about the camera’s picking this up. He doesn’t care about eventual comments from the fans. The only thing he cares about is that she feels safe enough to let her guard down around him and be vulnerable like this.

He places his hand on her leg. ‘I saw there is a little cafe, maybe we can have something to drink there.’

She nods. ‘Of course.’

They finish up their breakfast and she quickly tells him that she is going to put on some make-up and get dressed. He doesn’t think that she needs that, but he simply stares after her. When she’s out of his sight, he lets out a deep, slightly frustrated sigh that he had been holding in for a while now.

Richard is really annoying the shit out of him. He means, of course he wasn’t too excited about working with Adelaide in the first place, but that was before he got to know her. That was before she looked at him with those eyes of her, that hid so much, but on the other hand told him a lot. That was before he felt her body against his. That was before she sat on his lap and kissed him.

That afternoon, he was falling for her a little more with every kiss that they shared. It just clicked, it matched perfectly. Her petite frame fits right in his arms, like they were made for one another. He loves feeling her soft skin underneath his fingers.

‘Ready?’ Adelaide asks, when she walks back in. She is wearing a blush pink dress, that is pretty tight fitting. He bites his lip as he tries not to gawk at her, however he barely manages and simply nods. She grabs her purse and he holds out his hand. ‘What is it?’ she asks him, her voice as sweet as honey.

‘Give me your purse,’ he says with a smile. ‘Come on.’

Adelaide rolls her eyes and reluctantly hands him her purse. ‘Looks good on you,’ she chuckles. When they closed the door behind them, they decide not to take the car, but to walk instead. He holds out his arm for her to take. Her hand rests on his under arm, her finger nails grazing over his skin.

Henry can see them walking around like this in the future, her as his girlfriend and he wouldn’t be complaining about that at all.

◎ ◎ ◎

They have bought a few items, like some extra clothing and a first aid kit (that was something that Adelaide thought of), and now they are in a pretty fancy store, because Henry saw something in the window, that he really wants Adelaide to try on. He grabs the dress from the rack and a pair of heels that would match. ‘Try this on,’ Henry tells her.

She frowns, crossing her arms in front of her chest. ‘Why?’

‘Just to humor me. Pretty please.’

Adelaide simply rolls her eyes, before he spots a tiny smile on her face. She walks over to the changing room, as he follows her to shut the curtain. He watches as the camera’s start to spread over the store, capturing every moment. He hears her hum softly as she gets changed, forcing a smile on his face.

She is too adorable.

‘You done?’ Henry asks.

‘Almost,’ she says. ‘But you can open the curtain. Maybe you can even help me zip up.’

He would love that. With the upmost discretion, he opens the curtain, making sure the camera’s can’t pick up on them. ‘Give me kiss,’ he mouths, so the mic’s don’t pick up.

‘Why?’ she soundlessly whispers back,

‘Just do it,’ he says without making noise.

She steps into the heels, before leaning in to give him a soft kiss. Her plump and soft lips against his, nearly makes him hum in content. He wishes this moment could last forever, but it’s Adelaide that pulls him back into the real world. ‘Zip me up,’ she tells him, as she turns around.

He zips her up, glancing at her body and with a certain elegance and grace, Adelaide steps out of the changing room, twirling in front of the mirror. Henry has seen a few of her red carpet looks and he has to admit: she absolutely knows how to work the camera, with that an innocent look, but also a certain confidence.

‘You look beautiful,’ he says and quickly closes his mouth, because there is so much he wants to say to her. This tight black dress, shows off all her features that she should flaunt a lot more. The deep neckline, her exposed back and the way it hugs all her curves…

‘You like it?’ Adelaide asks him, looking at him through the mirror.

‘I don’t just like it, I love it, Addy,’ he admits, leaning with his shoulder against the wall.

‘Why did you want me to wear this, mister Cavill?’ she asks him, walking up to him, stopping right in front of him, with her hands resting on her hips.

‘Just because,’ he mumbles.

Adelaide scoffs. ‘That’s not a good enough reasoning for me.’

He wonders what it would be like to have an honest to God relationship with the lovely Adelaide Park. She teases him a lot, she uses him as a personal pillow and seems to enjoy his presence. Henry would love to do this a lot more often: take her out shopping. It doesn’t have to be extravagant like this, even a domestic run through the grocery store would suffice. Besides, just being around her would be all he needs.

Shit, he is really falling for her hard and fast.

Adelaide’s hand grazes over his chest and he places his on hers, engulfing her hand underneath his. ‘I just figured it would look beautiful on you and I was totally right.’

He can see it; she is lost in his eyes for a few seconds. She visibly shakes herself out of her thoughts, before simply rolling her eyes—a defense mechanism, pretending that she doesn’t care about his words, while actually she does. It’s adorable, really—and stepping back into the changing room. ‘Addy, give me the heels and dress.’

‘Why?’ he hears her ask from behind the curtain.

‘Because I’m going to buy them for you.’

‘I thought you were my partner, not my sugar daddy.’ She pulls the curtain aside and she is wearing her own dress again, while she is slipping on her own shoes again. ‘You don’t have to.’

‘I do,’ he tells her. ‘Please, let me buy this for you. Admit it: it looks really good on you.’

She scrunches up her nose. ‘It does,’ she whispers.

‘Then you should have it.’

‘It’s really expensive,’ Adelaide retorts.

‘Doesn’t matter. I have not one, but two cards with me. I think I will be fine.’ He takes the black dress and the heels with him and walks over to the counter, to pay for them.

Henry insists on carrying all the bags for her and when they arrive at the cafe, she slides next to him on the bench, so they can look at the pedestrians walking by. She sits so close to him, that he is afraid that she can hear his raising heartbeat. No matter how comfortable they are with one another right now, she still makes him a bit nervous.

‘You look forward to camping with me?’ she asks.

‘I look forward to do anything with you,’ Henry chuckles, causing her to blush intensely. ‘You’ve ever been camping before?’

That is such a stupid question, he thinks to himself. Probably not, since she told him about her family situation. If people barely have money for food, they don’t go on camping trips. Henry, you stupid fool.

She simply shakes her head and from the looks of it, she’s not bothered by his question. ‘You?’

‘As a kid, yeah. But I mostly just followed my dad.’

‘More experience than me,’ Adelaide chuckles. She takes a sip of her cappuccino and says: ‘Just have to tell you, that I don’t really like night time.’

‘Why not?’

‘It’s dark and outside,’ Adelaide tells him. ‘And I might be a little bit afraid in the dark, if you hadn’t noticed that already with the haunted house.’

Henry chuckles. ‘A little bit, but don’t you worry about a thing. I’m going to be right there with you. Besides,’ he says, ‘I don’t care about winning.’

‘Sure you do.’

He shakes his head. ‘No, I don’t and don’t fight me on that,’ he jokes, pinching her chubby cheek. ‘I just look forward to spend more time with you.’

◎ ◎ ◎

‘Henry, could you come in here?’

Adelaide’s voice is coming from the bathroom and he stops in front of the closed door. ‘What’s wrong?’ he asks, worry running through his veins.

‘There is a spider here and I want you to kill it.’

That’s actually quite the relief and it causes Henry to chuckle. He opens the door, only to discover that she is simply leaning against the wall. Adelaide places her finger on her lips and gestures to close the door. The door clicks shut behind him and she walks over to him. ‘What are you—’ He can’t finish his sentence, because she plants her lips on his, wrapping her arms around his neck. Henry melts against her body, placing his hands on her waist and chuckles. ‘Never knew you could be this sneaky, Addy.’ He lifts her on the counter and gives her another kiss. ‘I missed your lips.’

‘I missed yours too,’ she whispers. ‘I fear that this is because it’s all new and exciting, but I really can’t stop kissing you.’

He never expected her to be this bold, but he also feels like she has been holding back all along. The world is seeing one version of Adelaide Park, the one that she wants them to see, that she has gotten used to be. However, there is an even more complicated one hidden behind a large wall that she has build over the years. Slowly but surely, she lets her guard down every so often, to show him what she is like.

He can’t wait to see more of that.

‘I can’t stop either,’ he confesses, leaning in to kiss her again.

She tilts her head when he lets go of her, her thumbs slowly caressing his cheeks. ‘Henry,’ she whispers, ‘I’m worried for tomorrow.’

‘Why is that, Addy?’

She simply shrugs. ‘I’m just afraid that I’m going to let you down.’

Richards words flash through his mind for a single second, but he quickly shoves them aside. ‘Don’t be. I don’t care about winning anymore, especially because I won the greatest prize already.’ He buries his face in her nape, to press a delicate kiss on her skin. ‘We’ll see how it goes, okay? But remember, you and I are together every single minute. I’m not leaving you alone, because I know that is what you are worried about too.’

Adelaide nods, as she looks a bit caught. ‘Pinky promise?’

He holds out his pink, hooking it behind hers. ‘Pinky promise,’ he whispers, pressing a kiss on her fingers.

‘Now get out, I need to get ready for our swimming session.’ With a wide grin, she pushes him out of the bathroom and he can’t help but laugh. A blush is set on his cheeks and he grabs his own swimming trunks.

Henry sits on the bed, the smile still evident on his face. Shit, he is way too much into her. He waits as he hears Adelaide hum again, before she walks out of the bathroom, a towel wrapped around her body and a huge smile on her face.

After he changed into the blue shorts, he walks out of the cottage, towards the pool. Adelaide is already sitting on the edge, her back as straight as a ruler and he sits next to her. ‘Ready?’ Henry asks her.

She takes a deep breath. ‘I am.’

He gets in the cold water and places his hands in the dips of her waist. Henry enjoys these swimming moments they share together. Her body is always so close to his and the evening sun making her like an ethereal goddess. He knows that it’s hard for her to trust anyone, but he somehow managed to build something with her.

Like usual, she hisses as soon as she hits the water and wraps her arms tightly around his shoulders. Her legs snake around his hips and that is the first time that she does that. While he is not complaining, Henry continues to tell himself that his teen years are over and that this shouldn’t make him this excited.

Adelaide manages to actually sort of swim, but he keeps his hand on her stomach, making sure she keeps floating. ‘Don’t let go of me,’ she tells him.

‘I wouldn’t dare.’

The water hits her in her face, but she starts to laugh.

‘You’re almost there, Addy,’ Henry encourages her and she places her underarms on the edge.

A chuckle of disbelieve leaves her lips. ‘I did it, Henry!’ She wraps her arms around his shoulders.

He pulls her closer to his body. ‘I’m so proud of you,’ he tells her. She pulls back and from the looks of it, it seems like she doesn’t care about hiding anymore, not when his hands are placed on her back. Her hot breath makes his lips tingle. ‘Thank you.’

It takes him all of his willpower not to lean in and kiss her, because the temptation is nearly killing him. He kissed her a few times today, however it’s not enough. He can’t stop thinking about her, about kissing her non stop and getting to know her even more. Maybe it’s because it’s all new and exciting.

Adelaide starts to shiver a bit and he presses his forehead against her temple. ‘Let’s get out of the pool. It’s becoming colder.’

He gets out and grabs her towel, holding it out her for her, wrapping her up in her large towel. He doesn’t want to let her go, but he keeps thinking to himself that in a matter of a few days, she is all his and the camera’s are finally out.

Adelaide takes a quick hot shower and walks over to the bed all dressed in her pajamas. He quickly gets himself ready, before he steps in the bed with her. He shuts out the lights, wrapping his arm around her upper body, as he presses his chest against her back. ‘Sleep tight,’ he whispers, burying his face in the back of her neck.

‘Good night,’ she says, holding his hand tightly in hers.

It doesn’t take long before he feels her asleep. He doesn’t know how she does it, but she always falls asleep pretty quickly and he has spend enough nights next to her to hear the change of her breathing. She twists and turns in his arms, like she usually does. Adelaide turns around and wraps her arm and leg around him and her face in the crook of his neck. He simply holds her body closely to his, as he feels her lips against his skin.

Henry’s fingers run through her hair and carefully presses a kiss on top of her head. He doesn’t care about winning anymore.

The one thing he cares about, is Adelaide Park.

#henry cavill #henry cavill x ofc #henry cavill x oc #henry cavill x asian ofc #henry cavill fandom #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill x adelaide park #the alluring charm of henry cavill #asian ofc #adelaide park

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vidalinav · 4 years

Text

Queen of Monsters: Chapter 5

Summary: Nesta and Cassian visit the Ironcrest clan and are forced into close quarters ft. an Illyrian wedding

Read also: Chapter List, General Masterlist

Warnings: None for this chapter I think

Updates every Tuesday/Wednesday... mostly Wednesday. I will edit this tomorrow since I can’t look at it any longer.

Nesta scowled as Cassian set her down on the platform, crossing her arms as a permanent fissure took up space between her brows.

“Don’t touch me.” She said, patting the skirts of her gown with one hand as she tried to carry a basket full of exotic fruit with the other. Delicious reds, vibrant greens, and some that smelled of candy. The scent made her gag through the flight.

Cassian rolled his eyes, sighing dramatically as Nesta glared. But he grabbed the handle of the basket before she could take a step forward.

“Stop that,” She grumbled, swatting him away, but he didn’t let go. Instead, he moved to face her, blocking her view of what waited beyond him.

“Nesta, listen.” Cassian said his voice lowering. “I know you’re intent on making everything difficult for all of us, and you have the tendency to run off to Mother knows where, but here, I need you to stay close to me.”

At the words, Nesta wanted to tell him off, imagined kicking him between the knees like that day many moons ago. But Nesta saw the look he gave her, the red of his cheeks blooming to full color.

He was angry—angry enough that he spouted curses without even opening his mouth.

She saw it in his eyes. The hatred burning.

Nesta nodded her head, and Cassian, at her assent, turned to face the Illyrians.

The rigid males were gathered in the town square, the space situated between the residents of the Ironcrest Clan. Unlike Windhaven, most of the small city had been occupied by buildings instead of tents. Some two or three stories in height. Their triangular roofs ran up the mountain like pictographic trees on a map and there was hardly any space between each hut.

Brown. The city was brown and painted with mud-ridden snow. In the back of her head, she thought she heard Elain’s voice, you can always find something beautiful if you look hard enough. Nesta could not see beauty where there was none.

The Illyrians were lined up as Cassian stepped ahead of Nesta. A male, she could only assume was the camp lord, raised a stern hand. He was stout, with a goatee made of wisps of grey. He stared at them harshly, as Cassian’s wings almost seemed to rise to full height.

Nesta wanted to snort at the action. She’d read in a book once that when birds felt threatened, they brushed up their feathers to antagonize, and when they wanted to mate, those feathers would flutter open so that all the colors would be displayed in its full glory.

He was peacocking, Nesta chortled silently.

“The High Lord sends his greetings,” Cassian announced, the words so formal for the puffed-up bat she’d always seen. “He regrets that he can’t make the trip himself.”

“Too busy to do his job?” Another male inquired. A young man by her standards, that drew up short to Cassian’s impressive height. He was lanky, certainly not as big as Cassian’s physique, but he was well-muscled and built strong.

He was handsome, she supposed, plain by fae standards, but… handsome enough.

“He has more important affairs…” Cassian glowered, “like running a court.”

The male sneered at that and Cassian clenched his fists. The two Illyrians bristled, Cassian looking down at the male, the male sizing him up. Nesta thought they might settle it right here, in the middle of all of them watching.

She doubted the Illyrians would mind so much.

But a voice broke out from the silence, and Nesta stood on her toes, her neck reaching to see a male wading through the crowd. The lines parting for him.

“Now. Now. Our High Lord is busy settling the conditions of the state. We were in a war after all.”

To Nesta, the male looked like Father Time. Sleepy and white. His skin pale and grey. His hair seeming to be dipped in winter. For some reason, looking at him made Nesta want to yawn, and she imagined falling asleep to the rhythm of clock hands turning.

Cassian dipped his head at the male who extended a solemn hand, “Lord Ymran.”

“General,” the male bowed, his voice light and eager.

Cassian turned towards Nesta, his hand casually drawing her forward.

The Illyrians did not so much as look at the female who emerged through the crowd, her head buried low in her arms. She was pregnant, Nesta noticed, but she moved quickly. Nesta passed the basket to her as she bowed her head and remained quiet beside them.

“Our High Lord offers a token of appreciation for our stay and in regret of not offering greetings, himself, during Solstice.”

“So, he sends his dog in his stead? Tell me general, what’s it like sitting on his lap and licking up his leftover scraps,” The young Illyrian said, sneering as he eyed Nesta.

Nesta could feel a tremor in her spine at the words. A deep roar like sound echoing in her mind, that surprised even her.

Cassian stepped closer and the camp lord, perhaps remembering where they were last year, remembered what they saw, raised a hand to the young male who would not be consoled.

“Kallon,” the camp lord warned.

Switching his attention to Cassian, he forced a grin. “How long do you intend on staying?”

“Until what we’ve set out for is accomplished,” Cassian answered vaguely.

“I’m afraid we have not made up a residence for you both,” Lord Ymran said, sizing up Nesta curiously.

As if on cue, the rest of the males did too, looking her over and under and somehow in between. She wanted a bath from all the looks that stared hungrily, and maybe some cleansing oil for the sneers. But Nesta did not shy away from their gaze, a fact she saw eat at Lord Ymran, whose brow twitched slightly.

“All of our houses are otherwise occupied.”

Cassian grabbed her hand, his fingers intertwining with hers as Nesta stared at him with subdued shock.

“We’ll find our way.” He said sternly, without looking at her.

The males began to disperse. But Cassian didn’t let go of her hand.

Nesta did not ask questions, preferring to save them until all of them had left. Except Lord Ymran, Kallon, and the camp lord would not leave. They stayed, standing as if Cassian himself had no right to dismiss them, as if they did not follow his orders.

A wall of Illyrians, she wanted to call the image. One segment of a fence. Barricaded by wings and blundering egos. It was Cassian who eventually submitted, pulling Nesta with him until he managed a distance beyond fae ears.

“Fuck,” Cassian yelled, swearing a list of Illyrian expletives she made sure to remember so Emerie could explain them to her later.

Nesta merely rolled her eyes as he punched at a pile of snow.

“You raging buffoon,” She spoke, “Stop pulling me.”

“You walk so slow in those dresses,” Cassian goaded, continuing his hike through the village.

Most of the houses they past seemed empty compared to the hustle and bustle of Windhaven. There were no lights making way for shadowy figures. All of the lights were out. Nesta counted more than one window shut by thick curtains.

It was a ghost town. Quiet and eerie. Existence trapped behind memories and door frames and four wooden walls. It had her grasping for any signs of life.

Where was the fire? Where was the smoke?

“It’s not my fault you have legs as long as tree trunks,” She roared.

“Wouldn’t be an issue if you weren’t so stubborn about flying!”

Flying had quickly become a debate between the two. Though Cassian boasted she would become used to it sooner than later, that he flew gentler and with a greater care than his brothers, Nesta wasn’t at all convinced. She had asked to stop many times during the trip, puking behind bushes and trees. She wasn’t so keen on trying it again.

“You said it was only a block away!” Nesta yelled.

“So!” Cassian replied indignantly, his voice getting higher as he got more upset. That was hardly her fault! Nesta thought, pulling her hand away from his grasp.

“So, a block away is walking distance,” She scoffed. “You’re just pissy that you lost.”

At his inquiring look, Nesta continued. “That little standoff you all had…”

He knew what she was talking about, of course. Nesta could see it in the way his nose scrunched up and his jaw clenched tightly.

“There was nothing to win,” Cassian dismissed, whipping forward as his wings almost hit her.

Nesta barely missed smacking them away.

“There is always something to win.”

But Cassian ignored her, stepping up to a building that was larger than the rest.

Like many of the other houses she noticed, a purple plant hung from the door, nailed to the wood in some omen that Nesta could only describe as aggravating. You don’t know what we are, the plant seemed to say. Even after all this time reading, you still know nothing.

She had a vague inclination to ask Cassian, even if it was beyond her better judgement, but he was already racing inside.

Nesta shook her head, muttering the words childish and fool.

She found him at the counter. An Illyrian flipping through a large book as Cassian spoke.

“I’m afraid most of our rooms are filled,” Nesta heard her say, though no regret filled her voice. “There’s a wedding this evening.”

The female gestured to the rich fabrics covering the walls and Nesta’s gaze trailed over the deep pinks and dark purples, the patterned oranges twisting their way up the fireplace, the door frames, and all of the tables filling up the warm space.

“I assume you and your wife will only need one room.”

“We’re not—” Nesta was quick to protest, whipping towards the desk.

“Yes. One room will be fine,” Cassian answered, pulling out a bag of coins that jostled on the countertop. The Innkeeper eyed it hungrily and Nesta wanted to snatch it away, demanding that the female recognize them as sworn enemies and not matrimonially tied.

In a series of what felt to be a cosmic joke, one room was not the worst outcome she’d find as they opened the door to their room.

Inside, covered with an abundance of furs, was a bed.

One bed.

Cassian snorted at her look, his lips raising to one side as he held in a laugh.

Nesta ignored him, walking past and dropping her bag on the floor. She kicked it under the bed lest Cassian trip and go sprawling on top of her in the tiny room.

Cassian plopped on the mattress and Nesta grimaced at his shoes laying on the soft throws. He tucked his hands beneath his head and lounged. Grinning teasingly as he looked her over.

“I am not sleeping with you,” She warned.

Cassian laughed, “As if you’d get that honor.”

“You think too highly of yourself.”

“And you don’t?” He taunted.

Nesta ignored him, changing the subject in an effort to secure a victory.

“Who was that Illyrian? Lord Ymran.”

Cassian sat up suddenly serious and Nesta smirked inwardly at the win. “An old lord.”

“And his son?”

“Lord Ovis and the younger one is his son Kallon. But he’s not a lord,” Cassian grumbled. “Not yet.”

Nesta grabbed a sweater from her bag, folding it and setting it in one of the drawers.

“Lord Ymran seems... respectable enough.”

“He’s not.” Cassian remarked, not elaborating further.

Nesta wondered what he meant, but Cassian kicked off his boots closing his eyes as he leaned back into one of the many pillows.

“You’re sleeping on the floor.” Nesta asserted haughtily.

Cassian had left before her, but not without some convincing. She’d told him she’d wanted to change. He so helpfully remarked that he wasn’t stopping her. After two glares and three smart retorts, Cassian had left for the training fields. Nesta hadn’t asked where those were.

She took the note Ira left her from her notebook, reading each letter in her perfect script. The name of each plant blooming behind her eyes. She knew three of them in Illyrian. Elleborum for the hellebore flower, iglika for primrose, and podsen for the snowdrop’s droopy petals.

Ira had mentioned a shop. Hard to find at first, but easy enough for someone as stubborn as Nesta. She’d asked the innkeeper if she’d known this shop, but the female had raised a nose and rudely said that if there was such a place Nesta certainly had no business going to it.

Her help had left Nesta with little option, but to walk around, scouring the village herself.

Two hours later she’d yet to find the shop, but oh did she find the training fields.

Sweat dripped down Cassian’s back, and Nesta tried not to crumble the paper in her hands as she took in his shirtless form. His tattoos crawled down his back like a finger running down his spine and Nesta swallowed lightly. Some voice in her head chastising him for being shirtless in the middle of winter.

She watched as he tumbled with another male in the ring, the Illyrian raising his fist as Cassian punched from below, kicking him so far the male rammed into a set of wooden planks set out for seating. Another male entered the ring and though he lunged at Cassian, he was quick to deflect. The end of his palm going straight to the male’s nose.

Nesta blinked at the aggression, trying not to wince at the splattered blood. Cassian must have sensed her there because he looked back and grinned defiantly. His canines bright and dangerous.

At his stare, Nesta yawned, tapping her mouth as if she’d seem much more impressive things.

His eyes burned at that, and Nesta smirked playfully, dipping her head in mocking salutations as another male came running from behind, kicking out his legs as Cassian fell and they carried on with their ruckus in the rings.

She continued on her way, kicking up her boots as she counted all the buildings.

There were fifteen before the mountain had skewed upwards, twelve on the upper level. Seven as the height grew higher, and none of the businesses had the letters she could draw in her sleep, that Nesta had come to associate with infirmary, plants, herbs or even the word shop.

She gave up after house thirty-five, her shoulders slumping through the inn’s doorway. Her stomach rumbled at the smell of baked bread, and it was only then Nesta realized she’d missed dinner.

Nesta blinked at the changed scene before her, twisting her head to peer behind her as if she’d entered the wrong building.

The place had only been half decorated when Nesta left, but now… Silk woven tapestries covered the walls and bundles of fabric fell in every corner, so much that Nesta felt entrapped by the purple and orange glow. She was in the middle of a pillow fort, she felt, rather than an inn turned wedding hall.

Nesta followed the colors down a narrow hall until she met an open doorway that emptied into light.

Candles glittered through the aisle and though Nesta wanted to snide at the impracticality of blushing brides burning before they said, “I do,” the romantic part of her brain took notes.

Illyrians were already gathered in their seats, talking low, their voices thrumming with joyous song.

Nesta crouched low as the music sounded and made her way to an empty seat in the back. Inconspicuous enough that no one would see her as they celebrated the couple she had yet to see. Or so Nesta thought, because the minute she sat, arching her neck to get a better view, a finger poked at her side.

Nesta yelped as Cassian shushed her.

“It’s about to start,” he whispered gruffly.

He maneuvered to sit, but his wings brushed against her hair, a talon snagging on her braids. Nesta gave him a murderous look as she patted her hair down, Cassian failing to hide his snicker.

“Shh,” Nesta answered in reply.

The groom entered from the side, walking to the podium as he made greetings to the people at front. The fabric of his wings were etched in gold paint, a collection of tiny points and whirls like Cassian’s tattoos. Nesta grasped it all, the male smiling as an older female came to bring him a wreath of magnolias.

Nesta was afraid to take a breath as the subtle strings of a mandolin started, the soft thrum of drums. The sounds of heartbeats, she thought, and something more fervent—like a budding flower being dipped in sweet honey until the dew tasted of desire. Of dreams.

The groom loved his bride, Nesta could tell by his look, had perhaps dreamt of her long before the admission had been uttered from his lips.

They did not have to wait long for Nesta to see that the bride too loved the groom. A hush fell over the room as the doors opened, the procession standing at her image.

The bride’s brown skin glowed with gold; her wings as covered as the grooms. With those markings that whispered dreams in their ears. And the groom looked happy, truly happy to see the female glide forward. Her smile bright enough to light the room.

Cassian didn’t utter a word beside her, and Nesta looked at him, suddenly concerned that he had stayed quiet for so long.

He only stared at her softly, his chin resting in his palm.

“The wedding is that way.” She grumbled, watching as a ribbon was twisted around the couple’s joined hands.

What did it all mean? Nesta wanted to know. But Cassian leaned closer, and Nesta blinked as his body neared hers, their heads so close she refused to swallow in fear that he could hear it like resounding bells.

“Red for honor…” Cassian recited; his words sweet to her ears. “Tied around the wrist for fidelity, knotted for bonds that will never be broken.”

Nesta watched as the bride grasped the chalice the priestess held towards her. Her arms, woven in bright red, reached out and she held the chalice up to the groom's lips.

“A sip of wine for abundance, drunk from the same cup for unity. May love be overflowing.”

“My blood is your blood,” She heard the couple repeat. “My glory is your glory.”

Cassian dipped his head, his lips so close to her ear Nesta wanted to shy away, but she held herself still, holding her breath as she willed her heart to stop beating so fast.

“The tie will not be severed,” He repeated as did the couple, “for they are made of strengthened bonds. Love has won all battles.”

The priestess did not untie the knot, but rather let their wrists slip through the loops, so that when they were free the bride and the groom came together in a kiss.

Nesta’s heart swelled for them both.

“After this, they’ll burn the ribbon,” Cassian explained in hushed tones. Indeed, the priestess handed the couple a lit candle, the flame waving to and fro as it was jostled around.

“What happens next?” Nesta asked as if in a trance.

A wicked gleam settled in his gaze and Nesta immediately regretted her words.

“There’ll be a reception. Song and dance, and then they’ll fly off to some location in the mountains. Undisturbed, of course. The best part of the whole thing, I imagine.”

Nesta snorted, “How romantic.”

“How about you Nesta?” He teased, “Do you wish to be swept off your feet—fly to some unknown cabin where you’ll ravaged for hours.”

Nesta gave him a sidelong glance, as he leaned back in his chair, cool in his plain shirt and his loose pants sitting low.

Where did the advantage lie?

“I think that if there were truly someone who could ravage me for hours, I might skip the wedding entirely.”

Cassian huffed a laugh. “I don’t know. You strike me as the type to want the whole ceremony. Don’t tell me you’ve never planned your wedding when you were young.”

“Why? Did you?” She inquired, pursing her lips. “Now, were you the one in the dress? Or did you just like imagining someone who’d want you for more than a few hours?”

Cassian paused at the words and so did Nesta. The soft strum of the mandolin melting away and leaving only hollow echoes in its stead. She swallowed the regret away as his gaze turned to frigid ice.

He opened his mouth to speak, but Nesta cut him off with a flare of her hand.

“Don’t bother.” She stood abruptly, the creak of the chair loud enough that Illyrians glared her way. She scowled back, looking to Cassian as her body towered over him. “I’m going to bed.”

Nesta brushed away the magnolia petals falling as the crowd began to throw them at the blissful pair. She cut them off at the door.

At least they had each other, Nesta remedied, swatting the guilt away.

Who did she have?

It was uncommonly warm in the small room, with the heat from the kitchens wafting up. There was no need for the chimney, so Cassian had not started a fire. A fact she was both grateful for and perturbed by because the darkness seemed to make her rattle in her skin. People laughed through the walls, through the floors, and Nesta felt their voices vibrate in her bones. She could hear the sharp edge of glasses breaking, the cheers and music drifting through the wood and furs and Nesta tried not to make the bed creak as she turned, clutching the blankets to her chest.

She peered at Cassian, lying on the floor even after all of his complaints, but he turned towards her suddenly and Nesta squeezed her eyes shut, pretending to be covered by sleep’s endless throws…

When she opened them again, Cassian was staring at the ceiling, his eyes bright even in the dark. His wings tucked between the bed and the wall, one of his talons angling oddly. Nesta couldn’t imagine it was comfortable and some brave part of her, the part that had become unhindered in the darkness, wanted to tell him he could share her bed.

She quickly clutched the quilt to her mouth.

Even in all the noise, she could hear him breathing, hear the sweet rhythm of his heart beat on and on. One thump after the next. Nesta wondered if he could hear hers too or if like Feyre had once said, he’d learned to tune hers out.

The thought made her sink into the mattress, her knees coming to her chest.

“They don’t like us here.” Cassian spoke, his voice as soft as sheets.

She caught his gaze in the moment, Cassian shifting until they lied facing each other. Nesta pretended his words were the beginning of a bedtime story, but Cassian didn’t paint worlds with his tongue. He just looked at her, waiting for her to speak.

Perhaps, she should have said something, voiced that he was wrong or agreed that he was right.

But Nesta suddenly exhausted and heavy burdened, only turned away. She closed her eyes as she settled, tucking a hand beneath her pillow.

What could she have said anyways, she asked herself.

Why would she, Nesta probed.

But the answer had already clanged in her chest, the space hollow and unfilled. Her soul left desolate and bare.

Empty.

She would not comfort him, she thought. There was no comfort for the unwanted. The unloved. They only had each other here in this dark room, and Nesta would not make him feel better when he was all she had.

And so Nesta let sleep claim her, tucking wishes into bottles, grasping stars for a tomorrow that would never come.

Cassian deserved to feel the bitterness seep into his skin.

For it had surely seeped in hers.

Tagged: @my-fan-side @ekaterinakostrova @anastasia-orlov @lord-douglas-the-third @autumnsletters @soitsgorgeous @sjm-things @courtofjurdan @rogertaylorsfalsettogivesmehives

Sorry for the late update! I got sick, but I’m mostly better now! Also oof this chapter needs a lot of work. I’m going to have to edit these last few chapters soon.

I was feeling this chapter when I first wrote it and today my brain was like nope not today. So I’m a little bit disappointed with it. But I’ll fix it eventually. At least it’s own in the world.

Also, You’ll notice a lot of times, I have many Illyrian women being in the center of these stories. Mostly, that’s because starting off it’s Nesta’s POV and of course she’d see mostly women. But it’s also because I want to imagine Illyrian culture. And culture and society are built on the backs of women. Food, celebrations, stories, teaching, language by that extent, cultural practices. Especially in a society where men would have a specific role to be the warriors, merchants, weapon masters, business owners, the people who are sustaining every day life would be women as mundane and trapping as that might seem to maybe Cassian or Rhys or Azriel.

Not to say that women are not disadvantaged as SJM has described, just that the way these men may see disenfranchisement, may in itself be another sort of cage. So I hope to eventually distinguish that between their two POVs. This very biased “feminist” view from Cassian who says that females need to learn to fight to gain this elusive equality and subsequent protection for themselves. And Nesta’s POV who has seen the world with a very traditional mindset of marriage, virginity, ballgowns, and poise, who has learned and experienced that those things create barriers for women. Who herself feels trapped in her body as a fae, but even before is trapped in a society she doesn’t fit in, who then learns her world is a lie and everyone in it a liar. So, personally, I would think that Nesta could see what Cassian can’t, that women are not just “doing chores.” There is some importance in child rearing, in feeding the village, in domesticity, even if they still do need to expand the rights of women. This is not a weakness, but rather one facet of power.

This is also why I tend not to have Nesta completely dismissed by all these females either. because I feel it would be easier to infiltrate the ranks of women as a women rather than say Cassian offering his money or power or sympathy. Especially when Nesta’s character is someone who can relate so well.

Anyways, I don’t know if that makes sense or if it’s is coming across well, and I don’t know if I should continue analyzing my own fic, but I guess let me know if that’s something y’all are interested in me continuing throughout the chapters.

Like, reblog, comment... and Happy Reading! :D

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #cassian x nesta #acosf #acofas #acotar #nessian fanfiction

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kayokos-villain-imagines · 4 years

Note

Maybe Spinner headcanons with a childhood friend turned romantic?

// Ooh I really loved this request. //

//So, this turned into a scenario, but I didn’t want to reformat it, so here you go. //

As a child, you’d always automatically accepted those who were different than you. So much so, that you never understood why no one ever talked to a certain Shuichi Iguchi in your fifth grade class.

He seemed like a normal 11 year old boy to you, he liked cars, video games, and wanted to be a hero when he grew up. Yeah, his quirk was a little unusual, but you thought it only made him cooler.

When you came up to him at lunch and introduced yourself, he seemed a mix of surprised and suspicious.

As you continued to sit with Shuichi during the year, he slowly opened up to you. You even began hanging out at each other’s houses.

By summer, people had begun avoiding you too. This broke Shuichi’s heart, but you reassured him that you were fine.

As the years went by avoidance morphed into full-on aggression, directed at both of you.

Shuichi could handle being roughed up, he was used to people treating him poorly because of his quirk, but he couldn’t stand the thought of you getting hurt for his sake.

So, when he was old enough, Shuichi scrapped up enough money (mostly loans from his parents), and left town without so much as a goodbye.

He told himself that it was for your own good, even if you’d be sad at first, you would eventually come to realize that you were better off without him.

In actuality, you were devastated that he left and tried everything you could think of to find him. But there was only so much you could do. He hadn’t told anyone, not even his family, where he was going, so you had no leads to go on. The only way you’d ever find him now was if he wound up on a nationally-aired news segment detailing Japan’s most wanted villains and their last known locations.

So.

By a stroke of luck, you happened to turn the TV on just as the camera cut to footage of the league butting heads with a small group of pro heroes, and you happened to look up just as it focused in on one particular member.

Despite the Stain cosplay, it was no secret to you who the villain “Spinner” actually was.

You stayed by the TV long enough to catch the name of the city they were last seen in, before dashing off to pack a small bag of essentials, and scribble a note for anyone who came looking for you.

Was it crazy to chase after someone who ran away to become a villain? Probably. But that’s exactly what you planned to do.

When you left your house, you were worried that you’d never find Shuichi. But as you drew closer to where he was last sighted, you thought about what could go wrong if you did find him. What if he didn’t want to see you? He was a villain now, so why would he want to risk rebuilding bridges with a civilian who could easily sell him out to the police? Maybe you were the reason he ran away in the first place. Had you been too smothering with your kindness when you were young?

You were just about to get off the bus and go home when your more rational side took over. It didn’t matter where he was now or who he was with, Spinner was still your Shuichi. The same Shuichi who you sat with everyday at lunch in elementary school, and who introduced you to the wonderful world of video games. You’d come all this way to see him, and you’d be damned if you let him get away without a decent explanation this time.

Your initial fears about not being able to find your childhood friend were quickly crushed as, after only ten minutes of wandering the outskirts of the city, you caught sight of one of Spinner’s teammates huddled in an alleyway. You hadn’t paid attention to his name, but the black and grey spandex suit was hard to miss.

Momentarily forgetting that this was a dangerous villain, you raced over to where he was crouched down and only froze when you heard him muttering incoherently to himself.

You heard yourself call out to him, meekly, and ask if he was alright.

He spun around, with wide eyes, almost as if you were the villain, and he was the innocent civilian wandering around an unfamiliar city at night.

Only then did you notice that his mask was torn nearly in half, and he was bleeding from a deep gash on his forehead.

Before he could even respond to you or ask who you were, your instincts- the same instincts that prompted you to sit by Shuichi that day in fifth grade- took over, and you found yourself tearing pieces off a spare shirt in your bag and using them to dress his wound.

The man stayed quiet throughout the process, seemingly confused as to what was happening, so you only ceased your ministrations when you heard somebody give a dry chuckle behind you.

“Who might you be, dollface?”

You turned to face another of Spinner’s teammates. Dabi. You remembered his name since he’d gotten most of the screentime in the news segment, most likely due to his captivating blue flames. Something about him made you feel uneasy, in comparison to the other man.

“Didn’t you see the news? It’s not safe out here at night. You never know who you might run into.” The way he was slowly stalking towards you made your breath hitch and your heartbeat quicken. “Maybe someone should show you what happens to dolls who stay out past their bedtime.”

Luck was on your side, however, as the villain you had helped jumped in front of you, effectively acting as a human shield.

“Dabi, you can’t! Go ahead. She helped me! See if I care.” You blinked, wondering if you heard him right.

Dabi seemed to notice the other villain’s bandage for the first time. His eyes glinted with amusement, mouth turning upwards in a smirk. “You really don’t know who we are, then? You must be more naive than I thought, dollface.”

This sparked something in you. You weren’t some lost child who wandered here by accident. You had a reason for seeking them out, and with the comfort of knowing that the first villain (probably) didn’t want you dead, you spoke up.

“I came here to look for my friend, Shuichi Iguchi. I think he’s with you guys.”

“Iguchi, hm?” Spinner had never shared his real name with the league, but Iguchi would definitely be the family name of someone with a lizard quirk.

Before Dabi could make any further remarks, another voice joined the conversation.

“There you are! You were taking a while, so Tomu-chan sent me to find both of you!”

Dabi said nothing, but stepped to the side, allowing you and the blonde girl to lock eyes.

“Ooh! A new friend? I can't wait to taste her blood!” You tensed at this. Was Shuichi even here?

“Actually she’s Spinner’s old friend. She came looking for him and found us instead.” You swallowed down your fear as Dabi said this.

‘Dabi acts like no one else matters to him, but he stopped threatening me when he realized I knew Shuichi.’ Maybe you had a chance after all.

As if to confirm your thoughts, the man in the grey and black costume spoke next. “We should bring her with us! Let’s leave her here. I’m sure Spinner would love to see her again! I wouldn’t.”

The blonde girl seems all too excited about bringing you with them, and Dabi’s as indifferent as ever about the situation, so you decide to go. If you had to endure everything that just happened, you’d at least get to see Shuichi.

You shyly agree to come with them, following close behind the man you had helped and being careful to keep a distance between you and the other two.

The girl takes you down another alleyway, skipping ahead as she hummed an odd tune. She stops suddenly and peers into the darkness as if waiting for someone.

With a start, you realize that there’s someone there, blending into the shadows, though you probably wouldn’t have seen them if it weren’t for the two glowing yellow eyes.

The eyes fall upon you, and you hold your breath. “Who’s this?” a deep voice questions.

“Spinner’s friend!” the man in the grey and black suit remarks, and you are surprised to hear nothing else said.

The shadow man pauses, and you imagine him quirking an eyebrow, but he says nothing and you get the feeling it’s not his place to challenge their decisions. He looks to the side as a purple and black portal opens up, and everyone but you and the shadow guy step through.

He turns back to you and holds out what you assume is a hand. “My name is Kurogiri. I apologize if any of the others have scared you.”

“I’m, uh, (f/n) (l/n).” You can barely concentrate on your words as you process the feeling of his ‘hand’. It seems like pure mist at first, but it gets firmer the more pressure you apply, like pushing together the repelling ends of two magnets.

Kurogiri clears his throat and gestures to the portal.

“Oh, uh, right.” You let go of his hand and take a few tentative steps towards the gaping hole in the brick wall. You inhale sharply as you put one foot through and step onto a solid surface, slowly pulling the rest of your body through.

You open your eyes to find yourself in what appears to be a run-down bar, with five pairs of inquisitive eyes on you, but none of them Shuichi’s. You do, however, see two new people. The first you recognize as Tomura Shigaraki, the league’s current leader. He stares at you for a moment, before stalking off. He was probably advised to leave you alone for now. The second dashes up to you the moment you’re through the portal. He’s wearing an ochre trench coat, a top hat, and a black and white mask. He introduces himself as Mr. Compress as he offers you a bouquet, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Don’t overwhelm her, Mister.” You hadn’t even noticed Dabi until he spoke up.

Mr. Compress huffed and took a seat at the counter.

“Spinner’s room is down there” Dabi motioned his head towards the hallway behind him. “Third room to the left.”

You give a nod of thanks and manage to move your body down the hallway, stopping in front of the third door to the left. You held your breath as you knocked several times.

You heard footsteps leading up to the door, and watched anxiously as it creaked open.

Shuichi was in the same Stain costume he had been wearing on the news, but his hair was down, as it had been the last time you were together. Upon seeing you, he froze with the door still half open.

“(Y-y/n)?”

“H-hi, Shuichi.” It occurred to you that you hadn’t planned on what to say.

“What are you doing here!?”

“I saw you on the news. I came looking for you and found them.” You briefly glanced at the entrance to the hallway.

“You shouldn’t have come. It’s dangerous.”

“It was my only hope of finding you again.” You could swear you saw a faint blush appear on Shuichi’s scales.

“You’re better off without me around. Especially now that…” He trailed off and you realized that he didn’t want to admit to being a villain.

“If everyone else wanted to tease me for being friends with you, then that’s on them. I was happy as long as we were together.”

Shuichi tried and failed to stutter out a response, eventually settling on “You should go.”

“Shuichi, can’t you hear me? All I want is to be with you. I don’t care if you’re a villain or what” You stepped towards the door and he turned away.

“I won’t let you get hurt because of me.”

The corners of your mouth quirked up in a smile. “That’s sweet, but I think it’s beyond your control.” He looked up at you concernedly. “Two of your teammates have threatened to kill me, and I’m not sure they’ll let me leave at this point. Don’t you think I would be safer if I stayed with you?”

Shuichi glanced at you before looking away again. “...I guess,” he said, and you internally squealed.

“Well then, we should go tell the others that I’m here to stay!” He nodded and moved to walk in front of you, but you stopped him.

“Shuichi?”

“Hm?”

Without warning, you pulled him close and pressed a kiss to his snout, before pulling away and leaving him standing in the hallway, speechless.

// I don’t usually put notes at the end, but wow the formatting is a mess. Sorry I mutilated your request, anon. //

(￣ω￣)/

#spinner x reader #bnha spinner #shuichi iguchi

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