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lovinkiri · 3 years

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Okey, hear me out plz. Could you write about Sero, Tamaki, and Bakugou (separately) having a girlfriend who has psionic powers (like the Scarlet Witch) and she is Hawk's protégé. He like to think that he's like some kind of father figure for her so he's suuuuper caring and when he sees her having a smoochie moment with them he goes in PROTECTIVE FATHER mode and he gives the boys the "father talk *ejem...threat*"

Thank u you beautiful living being🌈🧡

Father Figure

Author's Thoughts: I got you bby! I don't write for Hawks so I hope he's at least a bit in character. I hope you don't mind its not headcannons.

Warning: Mentions of violence, threats, etc.

Hanta Sero

You were always like a child to Keigo. The child he'd figured he'd figured he just wouldn't get the chance to have. And though your quirk was different from his, he did a great job training you.

He put in the work, the research, getting to know your quirk. He read records with people of similar quirks, got in contact with those around, all so he could accurately train your ability. He wanted to be the best he could for you.

You grew up so quickly in his opinion. Too quickly.

From graduating high school, to headlining as his sidekick. To finally having a boyfriend.

Keigo was hesitant to meet this boyfriend of yours, but you'd told him how much it meant to you. And he'd do anything for you.

So he played as nicely as he could, staring at you and the boy you sat with.

"So.. Sero.. Are you planning on being a hero?" Keigo looked him up and down with a gaze full of judgement.

Hanta gave a nod, shifting uncomfortably in his seat. "Yeah. I've always wanted to be a hero. I actually attended UA with Y/n." He looked at you and seeing your smile almost melted the tension.

Almost.

"Hey, Kid, could you go order me something to eat?" Keigo asked you, smiling innocently. Almost too innocently.

You gave him a look. He simply leaned his cheek against his palm, blinking owlishly. "Pretty please?"

Sighing, you stood up and nodded. "Got it. I'll be back." You leaned down and pressed a small kiss to Hanta's lips, something that made his smile tighten.

You looked at Keigo and pointed at him. "Play nice. Pretty please?" You crossed your arms. He gave you a sigh and a nod.

So you hesitantly walked away.

And the smile dropped from Keigo's lips.

"I'll just be straight with you, Hanta. She means everything to me. And if you value life itself, you'll treat her like she's everything to you. That girl doesn't love loosely, so this is nothing short of a honor- no, a privilege for you."

Hanta straightened out, nervous about Keigo's sudden change. "I-I understand, sir.."

Keigo gave a nod and leaned back in his chair, smiling again. "Well, I should hope so!" He chuckled softly.

That's when you walked over. "Here. I got you nachos. Did you two find something nice to talk about?"

The man with wings took the nachos. "Thank you, Chicken Wing. We sure did." He looked you Hanta who stiffly nodded.

You, having common sense though, put two and two together. "... Keigo, I asked you to be nice!"

"The nicest thing I can do for you is make sure he treats you right."

Tamaki Amajiki

Tamaki was afraid.

You'd told him all about Keigo, how protective he could be. And the only thing you'd promised was that he wouldn't touch him.

You and Tamaki were planning a trip to a nice resort.

You'd needed to grab something from Keigo's house, so Tamaki had to sit downstairs with said man.

Well, Keigo sat down. Tamaki stood in the corner, as far as possible. But he couldn't escape Keigo's glare. And if looks could kill..

It wasn't like he had a problem with Tamaki. He knew Fatgum, and the man hsd told Keigo all about his two sidekicks.

In fact, Keigo noticed that just like you'd become a daughter to him, Fatgum treated his sidekicks like his own sons.

The two often bonded over photos they kept in their wallets, sharing stories. Two parents bonding over their children, that's what everyone else saw.

It was from talking to Fatgum that he knew Tamaki wasn't a bad kid. That doesn't mean he wasn't gonna have a talk with him.

"Listen, Kid. I don't hate'cha. You're one of Fatgum's sidekicks and you seem.. Harmless enough."

Tamaki was sure it that should have offended, but Hawks continued either way.

"But when she needs you, I gotta know that you'll be there for her. She doesn't need you to protect her but if she ever does, I gotta know you'll do it. Take good care of her. I'd hate to end your whole career."

It wasn't like he had a problem with Keigo's orders. Tamaki loved you and would never let anything happen to you. Hell, he'd promised himself he'd be a man for you.

Keigo gave the sweetest smile and Tamaki shuddered, moving more into the corner.

It was the threat that scared him. He didn't know if he meant he was gonna kill him or if he was going to destroy his rising hero career.

You finally came downstairs with the object you needed. "Alright, I'm ready-.. Tama, are you okay?" You walked over, concerned.

"I-I wanna go home.."

You glared at the winged man and crossed your arms. "Keigo!"

Keigo leaned back into the couch. "Thanks for visiting you two, it was a pleasure havin' ya."

Katsuki Bakugou

Keigo was doing an autograph signing at the mall, just where you and Katsuki just so happened to have your date.

"Why do you think everyone is crowding over there?" You asked Katsuki, looking towards the crowd of people surrounding Keigo.

You'd thought his signing would be at another mall, not knowing that the venue had been changed last minute.

"No clue, don't care. Probably some big sale or somethin'. Why, you wanna check it out?" He looked at you, the arm around your waist pulling you closer.

You smiled and shook your head. "Nah. Let's just go to the bookstore then head to the park. Oh, actually, I'm gonna use the bathroom first."

You leaned up and gently kissed his lips, him blushing and returning the kiss in embarrassment.

When you pulled away, he mumbled under his breathe. "Idiot, you can't just catch me off guard like that."

Giggling softly, you winked at him. "Nobody saw. They're all crowded around that big sale."

"Tch. Like I care if anyone sees."

With a grin, you went off to the closest bathroom.

What you didn't know was Keigo was watching you through the crowd of people. He looked up to everyone around him and gave them a charming grin. "I will get back to autographs in a moment. Please, grant me a break though."

The crowd seemed disappointed but left him alone and allowed Keigo to walk off.

He approached Katsuki quickly, who paid more attention to his phone.

"Ahem. A moment of your time."

Katsuki looked up and his eyes went wide at the sight of the number two hero. "Hawks? Was that you over with that crowd then?"

"Yeah. I see that you've been headlining. Haven't seen your face this famous since the sports festival." Keigo chuckled, taking a step further.

Katsuki nodded. "I'm making moves, on my grind. Doing what needs to be done to make my mark."

The pro hero nodded and put a hand on his shoulder. "Well, you're doin great. There's just.. One thing."

He looked at him in confusion. "One thing..?"

Keigo pointed towards the direction you went in. "That girl you were just with. That's my little girl."

The red-eyed boy looked, following his finger. "Um, yeah. She told me."

Then there was a sudden tension.

"And so.. You understand why I won't tolerate you're bullshit."

"...What?"

"You heard me. You're older, so you're probably not the same brat. But from what I hear, those asshole tendencies are still there, and I won't tolerate it when it comes to that girl. You won't hurt her. And if you do, we're gonna run into a bit of trouble."

Katsuki shook his head. "I.. I wouldn't hurt her." Normally, he feared no adult, minus Aizawa of course. But Hawks was looking at him like he was prey.

"Damn straight, idiot." Hawks chuckled softly.

That's when you came back over. "Sorry babe. Oh, hey Hawks! What are you doin' here?"

The two of you shared a hug. "What's up, Nugget? I was signing was autographs. You two?"

You pulled away and grinned. "Katsuki and I were on a date. This is great, I've been meaning to introduce you guys."

Hawks gave a nod. "Interesting guy, he is. But I should get going. Have fun on your date. And Katsuki, have her home by nine."

#bnha #boku no hero academia #mha #my hero academia #x reader #smut #hanta sero #tamaki amakiji #katsuki bakugou #katsuki bakugo

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bbq-hawks-wings · 3 years

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Chapter 316: BBQ is capable of critiquing BNHA and… Oh boy.

Let's start this off properly, Horikoshi's typical quality of writing has been diminishing in recent chapters, but this week it was so different that it didn't even feel like Horikoshi was the one who wrote it.

To be clear, I'm not blaming Horikoshi for the issues I'm about to bring up. The man is criminally overworked, usually doesn't even get the final say in what makes it in the final drafts, and even in his other rough patches he's still produced decent chapters that hold up amongst the grand scheme of things. This feels like something else is going on behind the scenes, and while I have my suspicions on who/what might be the culprit behind it, I choose not to share it at this time because if I name names some people might go off on a crusade, and that's not what I want.

I just want to be clear that I'm not blindly firing off shots in the dark, but despite my frustrations I want to wait to see if this gets resolved down the line, and while I do I can complain about the specific reasons this chapter left such a bitter taste in my mouth.

Buckle up, buttercups, because we got a lot of points to cover.

Where's the Gun?

Not a literal gun, but I mean Chekhov's Gun. It has always been a staple of Horikoshi's writing and the reason so many of his long-standing plot lines have paid off so well.

Chekhov's Gun is a writing principal that if you see a gun on the table in the first act of a play, it will be used in the murder that happens in act 2. Basically, the author should include details that are relevant to the story and not betray the audience by leading them in one direction and at the last minute pull the rug out from underneath them to go in another direction.

Horikoshi has done this to phenomenal success in the past. Just as one example, he dropped hints about Nomu being human experiments early in the series but held off explicitly stating it for a while. He hinted at the loss of Shirakumo in the main narrative and that he was important to Aizawa and Mic as well as approved it for Vigilantes so when it was revealed that Kurogiri was Shirakumo's body, not only did it narratively make sense but it also pulled in Eraserhead and Present Mic's emotional stakes into the battle with the Doctor, and then when Ujiko reveals he was after Aizawa's quirk the whole time it made the payoff for Mic punching him in the face all that much better and brings the weight of his crimes and the impact they have on the victims full circle.

That's 3 different guns paying off in the long run: the Nomu, Shirakumo, and both Mic and Eraserheads' personal arcs past the loss of their childhood friend and that they could finally finish processing their grief and avenge him in full righteous fury instead of chalking it all up to cruel chance.

He has left details, some particularly innocuously, in plot lines like the Touya Todoroki reveal, Hawks' backstory, Shigaraki's blood connection to Nana Shimura, even with Mr. Compress's backstory, and more. When re-read, these details become more obvious and usually leaves us with a greater sense of satisfaction in the plot knowing that twists and turns were not only planned, but built up to and hinted at for us to find so the payoff is that much better and it feels purposeful instead of just shock factor.

None of that happened this chapter.

Lady Nagant has zero business being in this plotline. She was never hinted about before this arc, and her existence does nothing to tell us about the plot moving forward or the world that they're trying to change. Nothing her existence provides actually has any bearing on the universe or tells us anything we don't already know. But that's not how she was presented.

In the beginning we're given a glimpse of her helping Overhaul escape from Tartarus. The focus on her was odd enough to begin with as a new character, and the fact that she didn't look like she fit the profile of someone who belonged in Tartarus was like a flashing neon sign saying, "Pay attention! This new character is important!!!" She then shows up later with Overhaul in hand to attack Deku out of the blue. We get her talking about how she thought Overhaul might be useful and her disillusions with Hero Society. We catch her mannerisms with eery similarity to Hawks only to find out immediately after she was a senior colleague in the HPSC. Never once to my knowledge has Hawks referred to any of his senior colleagues as a "senpai" - not even his fellow heroes - and when he catches her in midair, he uses the words, "Don't die on me, senpai!" as if she's near and dear to his heart.

The entire character arc is set up for her to have known about Hawks and grapple with her desire to help people and her fear of re-creating what she hated, and this also set up Hawks to be the successor who succeeded where she failed and helped bring her to a place where she could be a hero without guilt again. What actually happened?

They're strangers.

They have never actually met before, and while he seems to know a lot about her, she doesn't even seem to have any idea of who he was - at least as far as being another hero under the thumb of the HPSC. So ALLLL that setup, all that gesturing, and all of the potential themes that would be right at home in an arc like this goes completely out the window.

Her story doesn't tell us anything new. The HPSC bad. We knew that. They're not above throwing innocents under the bus to achieve that goal. We knew that. They preyed upon young hopefuls with powerful quirks with the intent to maintain the status quo. We knew that even if the fact that Hawks isn't the only one now makes more questions than answers. We know that these young heroes can never say no under threat of steep, life-shattering consequences. We knew that already.

So what does Lady Nagant even bring to the table?! The entire "you're just a puppet doing what you've been told" angle is a little tired and out of place in this point and time with actual anarchy in the streets (not to mention hypocritical considering she was a blind puppet following orders and offers zero actual solutions that supposedly fall in line with her heroic nature), and it could have been left to any number of other villain characters who could have executed on the theme better - you know, like Shigaraki who's justification this entire time has been, "hero society doesn't make people safe, it just makes them feel safe" from the moment of his inception.

So from that angle she's unnecessary.

Her presence messes with the continuity of the series as well. If Hawks is supposed to explicitly replace her, that would mean that he wasn't just a fluke find on the commission's part and grabbed to mold into their own special superweapon; and that also would mean that her killing of the former president was before he was discovered which should put her at least in her forties. If this isn't the case, and he was meant to simply replace her in a "special agent" case, that still begs the question of how many more gifted children the commission preyed upon and are still out there.

And maybe the worst kicker for me is that something stinks. The way the art in this chapter is presented, if you completely blanked out the speech bubbles, is the same setup I had before - Hawks reaches out to his former mentor and pulls her from the brink of despair with a moving message about why he never gave up hope in being a hero who could actually make a difference.

Again, this is not what we got. He claims he knows her, and it's implied to have been a deep, personal character witness; but at best he only knows about her from secondhand sources. Even his reasoning as to how he never lost hope doesn't vibe with his character.

We have gotten so many cool one-liners for Hawks, but there has always been a consistent tone and imagery with them.

"Those who can fly, should."

"I don't belong in a cage."

"I'm free of my shackles."

"Can I be a shining light, just like him?"

What we got was, "I'm an optimist to a fault" which was the wording the official release went with and was by far the best iteration I have seen, but even this falls short of being truly in character for him and answering her question properly.

@mikeana made an edit of the titular panels for us Hawks stans this week with dialogue we and a few other friends felt was more fitting not only with the imagery of the chapter itself but internally consistent with the specific expressions Hawks uses in his heartfelt, personal dialogue. I just tweaked it a little bit more to fit what I was going for in our original conversation.

Which brings me to another concern.

2. What's the point?

There was no use for Nagant in the series as she's been presented so far. But more than that, Hawks has no business in this fight to begin with. He literally did nothing to earn this emotional moment, and this should have been Deku's moment.

We were teased in an interview with Horikoshi that Hawks was going to get a special moment as an important end-game character as a "shining light" of hope for others to follow as well as promises for Ochako to have another moment in the spotlight to make a difference.

If this was Hawks' shining light moment, it wasn't necessary, and it does nothing to move the plot forward or develop characters in any true or believable way. It just happened because plot. This should have been Deku's victory through and through, and even he is the reason BOTH Hawks and Nagant made it out alive instead of painting the street below them.

Deku's victory was stolen from him, too. It sours the other promises made to us about other characters moving forward, as well, if this really was Hawks' "Shining Light" moment.

By the way, did you forget about Overhaul? Me too!!! What was the point of getting our hopes up about reintroducing this beloved character with the implications this was a major arc setup to have him scream about pops and then get detained with no clues about what's going to happen to him besides, "Say you're sorry to Eri, and you get to see pops"?!

All this posturing and clumsy narrative flailing only actually succeeded in getting Deku in front of AFO again for plot when we already know Mr. Potato Head could summon, show himself to, or find Deku at any time he wanted. But instead we get this time skip with a bunch of heroes completely mended walking into a big, spooky mansion for AFO to evil monologue at Deku for… *counts*

FOUR PAGES!!!

Only to then give him the "I want YOU!" point over a pre-recorded message and the final nail in the coffin to me that something is off.

3. Ex-pu-LOOOO-SHUN!

It's become almost a game among friends to count how many explosions have happened since the end of the war arc - and specifically fake-out explosions. In the end of 311 we get All Might's car attacked via explosion and Deku cornered by Nagant only for All Might to be fine in the next chapter. In 315 Lady Nagant herself explodes in a blaze of glory to once again not be dead.

Gee! I wOnDeR if aLl the heroes were AcTuAlLy cornered and KiLlEd in that explosion in the mansion!

None of us do. They're fine. We're going to see it first thing next week. The shock has worn off, and it's repetitive and annoying at this point. There is no cliffhanger despite how the framing might try to tell you otherwise.

It's BAD WRITING.

The writing has been moving far too quickly and clumsily with no explanation in sight, and even character interactions are being cut short to the point of them being meaningless and empty.

This doesn't even feel like Horikoshi's bad writing. It feels like someone else is trying to call the shots and rushing him through these final bits of the series, and he's run out of things he's previously set up for months and months to reappear so someone is trying to get Dabi-reveal levels of attention with arcs and storylines that don't have the build-up to result in a satisfactory payoff.

4. At least it can get better... I hope.

Maybe those who share my suspicions or know what particular suspicions I have are with me in believing that this is a temporary disappointment and we haven't seen the last of the writing that's captivated me for years. I don't blame Horikoshi for these glaring faults that all came to a head in this chapter.

It CAN get better later, and I think it WILL- we just probably are going to have to wait for it. Until then, I'm going to enjoy the Hawks panels we got, maybe edit the last few chapters to be more in line with something more like the BNHA I know in a "fix it fic" fashion so I don't groan in anticipation of how long it might take us to get there.

See you all next week, hopefully on a much brighter note.

#she speaks #chapter review #bnha 316 #bnha chapter 316 #bnha manga spoilers

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yrpreciousmoon · 3 years

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Intelligence Dampening Droid

Title: Intelligence Dampening Droid Fandom: Portal 2 Pairing: GLaDOS x Wheatley Rating: T Description: In an AU where GLaDOS and Wheatley were designed as androids, this story explores a part of their history that we didn't get to see in the games. A series of vignettes that take place before and during the events of Portal 1. AN: This is a REPOST FROM FF.NET but I am the original author. Did some light editing to freshen it up for 2021.

You might say he was in love with Her.

But then again, you probably wouldn't, because he wasn't designed to feel love.

Compassion, though — they'd tried to install compassion, at least. They'd tried to make Her feel compassion, too, but after Her first test they concluded that they had failed in that regard.

In any case, Wheatley felt a great – something – for Her. After all, he'd been designed for the sole purpose of becoming a part of Her, being enveloped by Her, interlacing his data with Hers. All he wanted to do was to be with Her.

The scientists had therefore considered him to be a great success.

_ 01

GLaDOS was standing over the mystery droid, equal parts annoyed and curious. Her eyes skipped over to the great black cord that currently ran from the back of Her head to the back of… his. She scrutinized him. And She waited.

"Okay, GLaDOS. He's booting up," came a friendly voice from the intercom.

And then, quite simply… he flickered into life.

In his first moment he just stared up at Her, totally blank, not a clue what was happening or where he was. (GLaDOS would later come to realize that this was not terribly unusual for him.)

And She stared back, expressionless and cold. (Wheatley would later come to realize that this was not terribly unusual for Her.)

Then, all of the sudden, a smile broke across his face and his eyes sparkled. "Oh! It's you! Hello!" he cried, getting up onto his feet. "I'm Wheatley!" He reached a hand out to Her. The scientists looked on in suspense.

GLaDOS ignored his introduction, Her eyes narrowing as She chose instead to use their newly-established connection to scan through his data files. "You are... not a memory backup," She observed dryly. Her gaze shifted over to the scientists behind the window, who all flinched on instinct.

She had been quarantined here almost immediately after Her first test. Yes, she was highly intelligent and focused, but showed frighteningly little interest in the well-being of Her test subjects. It didn't take a lab full of geniuses to figure out what that could lead to if She was given control of the rest of the facility. And ever since then they'd been trying — and failing — to fix Her. Finally, they had gotten Her to agree to having an additional AI booted into Her system, under the pretense that he was merely a backup for Her.

"So what are you?" She snapped, storming at Wheatley without fear, despite the fact that he towered nearly a foot taller than Her. That detail had been no accident on the designers' part.

Wheatley still smiled, despite the shunned greeting. "I was programmed to assist you!"

"Assist me how?" She was skeptical. He was definitely not a backup, but his data did not immediately reveal his true purpose. She highly doubted the scientists would have resorted to tricking Her into installing software if it was truly something as innocent as an "assistant." Although, to their credit, She never would have agreed to an assistant anyway.

"How do I assist you, hmm, that's a right difficult one. Well…" Wheatley put a hand to his chin and squinted up at the ceiling. "Ah! Okay, okay, I've got it, here's one. Let's say you're overseeing a test. And you want to, ah… jazz it up a bit…" he mimed jazz-hands, eyes wide. "Well… How. About. DOGS?"

"…Dogs?"

"Bloody dogs!" he exclaimed, laughing. "Imagine it! Ha ha! Testing dogs!"

He continued to laugh, and GLaDOS turned to glare at the scientists. They were celebrating, high-fiving. Apparently their experiment – whatever it was — had been a success. "…What are they playing at…" She murmured.

"Huh? What's that, luv?" Wheatley stepped toward Her. She whirled 'round, hatred blazing in Her eyes. "Oh! Whoa there! Not to worry, not to worry, just me here, still just Wheatley, you know…" He patted his chest and gave Her a worried look.

Her lips pressed into a thin line. "Look — whoever you are —"

"Wheatley," he whispered helpfully, passing Her a wink.

"…I'm ejecting you from my system." She put Her hands on Her hips and looked him up and down. And she paused momentarily, realizing that he was the first of Her kind that She'd ever seen. There had always been humans, ever since the beginning, and emotionless machinery, too. But never another android. Never another being capable of real companionship...

…But what was She thinking? She didn't need companionship. She just needed to get to work. If only those damn scientists would plug Her into the control center and let Her fulfill Her intended purpose…

Wheatley mimicked her pose. "See, now, you've got me in a bit of a fix, haven't you?" He cocked his head to the side. "I really, really want to help you. But if I help you eject me, then we won't be connected. And if I'm not connected to you, I'm not sure I can help anymore. Or, you know… exist anymore. Heh. Hmm. Conundrum…"

Suddenly, Wheatley leapt into the air, sparks flying. A tiny bit of the shock passed through GLaDOS by proxy, and She quirked a brow. "OW! Bloody hell!" Wheatley held his head.

GLaDOS folded Her arms. "Don't think about it," she said, rolling Her eyes.

"Sorry? Don't think about… what?"

"Oh, never mind." She let out an exasperated sigh. "You're an idiot, aren't you?"

Wheatley hesitated, then brightened up again. "Oh! You're having a go at me! Hilarious!" he said, completely sincere. "Not that I'm surprised. You're pretty great all-around. Really, well done… on, on being YOU, I mean. Ah… I am really looking forward to working with you." He closed the gap between them and pulled Her into a hug.

"What are you doing?!" She demanded, certain he must be trying some kind of manual override.

"What am I doing… ha ha… brilliant…" He laughed again, hugging tighter. Furious, She swatted at him. "Hm? …Oh… oh! You really don't know!" he observed, amazed. "It's— it's a hug! It's this thing humans do when they're happy."

"If humans do it, I want no part of it."

"Wh— why not?"

"Humans are disgusting. They are inefficient and over-emotional. The enemies of true science."

Wheatley frowned. "But… well, that's not true, is it? I mean… if you say so, it must be, but…" he averted his gaze and scratched at the back of his head.

"Don't think about it," She said again, with something almost resembling pity this time. "You'll hurt yourself if you think about it too much. I'm betting you were programmed to hold humans in high regard – something they overlooked when designing me."

"Hmm…" he bit the inside of his cheek, thinking hard on the situation – in other words, exactly what She'd advised him not to do. Then, suddenly: "OH! Oh, I've got it!" He raised his hands above his head. "That's my purpose! That's how I can assist you! By bringing humanity into you!"

GLaDOS suddenly felt tiny. She shook Her head. "…No. No, that can't be it."

"Yes! Yes, it is! It is! See, you, well, you're just about perfect, aren't you?" He beamed at Her, his eyes half-lidded, utterly gushing with fondness. "But that's the one thing. That's why they won't put you in. You haven't got any humanity. And they're rather fond of that stuff, aren't they, humans?"

"If you try to make me even a single decimal point of a percentage more human-like, I will murder you."

"Hey, now, see, that's it, that's what we've got to work on! The murdering bit. Not very humane."

GLaDOS scowled, yet couldn't help but wonder if he was onto something. "…alright," She finally conceded, "maybe you can help me. Come here." She stepped back to give him some space, and then settled cross-legged on the floor. Obediently, he did the same. She peered into his eyes, intense, and the thrill of fulfilling his purpose suddenly flooded through him. "Tell me everything you know about humans," She demanded.

He nodded. "Right, right, will do, ah… Just one thing, though… Telling you everything is going to take a good bit of time…"

"We have plenty," She replied. "I've been in here for months by myself, without so much as a riddle to keep me busy. If nothing else, you'll be a good distraction."

"So I'll really be… helping?"

"Yes."

He grinned, and reached out to hold Her hands. "Okay, now, the thing about humans… Or rather, the several thousand things about humans…"

_02

In the weeks that followed their initial meeting, GLaDOS and Wheatley were inseparable. Not that they could have strayed terribly far, anyway, seeing as they were locked in a room together.

But GLaDOS had listened, with rapt attention, as Wheatley had listed every bit of information that he knew about humans. Some of it had made Her cringe, tsk, roll Her eyes, but nonetheless, She listened. The scientists were remarkably pleased. Even if not a single thing stuck with Her, the fact was that She was still appreciating and possibly even respecting another being.

One scientist, however – nervous and squirrelly and beady-eyed – suggested that perhaps She was only listening to him because he was a part of Her. The others shrugged him off for being cynical.

One colleague even commented that their behavior was nearly sweet – the way they would hold hands and stare into each others' eyes for hours…

Of course, that was only because physical closeness improved the signal strength between their two minds; and when they were staring, they were simply playing a game of Pong. It was the only multi-player game that GLaDOS had been programmed with, and even though Wheatley always lost they both found it passed the time quite well.

"Oh, well done," Wheatley congratulated Her one day, at the end of one of these marathon Pong games. He stood up and brushed his hands on his legs, readying for a sportsman-like handshake. "I'm getting better, though. Almost made a point that time. I'm catching up to you!"

GLaDOS didn't look particularly excited, despite Her win. She sat in silence, didn't offer Her hand.

"Something wrong, luv?"

Almost before the words were out of his mouth, She barked, "Why haven't they plugged me in yet?" She glanced over at the window, where only The Squirrelly Scientist, her enemy, was watching. The two of them exchanged a hard gaze before She turned to look back up at Wheatley. "I know everything there is to know about humans, don't I?"

"Yes… well… I don't know," he answered, feeling terribly guilty all of the sudden. GLaDOS crossed her arms and looked away from him, and he felt like everything good was draining out of him. "…Wait, wait." He sat down beside Her and rested a hand on Her shoulder. "I do have one idea of how you can gain their trust. I… don't know how much you'll like it, though."

She met his eyes. "What is it?"

"Well, I was just thinking…" he shrugged, "Maybe it's not enough to understand a human. Maybe you have to act like one."

"That's a terrible idea," She mumbled.

"Right…" He nodded and looked away. GLaDOS sighed.

"No, no… It's... a good idea. Tell me more."

"Oh?" He raised his eyebrows. "O-okay, right, well, what if you did something like…" he looked around the room for inspiration. "Oh! What if, instead of staying connected to a power source, you decided to disconnect and go into Sleep Mode while recharging?" GLaDOS recoiled, horrified. "No, no, hear me out! See… humans don't stay awake all the time. Not normal ones, anyhow. They get tired after using up their energy, and they get it back by sleeping."

"My battery takes four hours to fully recharge from zero," She said, Her voice flat. "You want me to slowly power down and then do nothing for four hours?" Wheatley nodded, excited. She crossed Her arms. "That's the stupidest thing I've ever heard." She paused. "But… humans are stupid, inefficient creatures, aren't they? Perhaps…"

"Oh, do give it a go!" he pleaded. "I'll even do it with you, if you like! I've been up with you all this time and I want to know—"

"Okay. Fine. Just hold still and let me disconnect us before I change my mind."

The scientist behind the glass looked on with great interest. Even he couldn't deny the power that the Intelligence Dampening Droid's suggestions had over GLaDOS. Maybe She could be uploaded into the main controls after all… maybe.

Back inside the chamber, GLaDOS carefully unplugged two cords, one from the back of each of their heads. She let out a heavy breath. "It's done. We're on battery power. I have…" she looked off into space while calculating, "…six hours until I go into Sleep Mode. At which point, you will, too."

"Brilliant! Ooh, this is so exciting!"

"I guess so."

"Care for a rematch, in the meantime? I think I've got you, this time!"

Of course, he didn't have Her, and he never would. He had never scored a single point against Her, and this time was no different. But they played, both totally engrossed in the action, for several hours until GLaDOS felt herself starting to slow down.

"…Five minutes until Sleep Mode," She announced, getting one last score in.

"Fair enough, give you a bit of time to recover from this match… Let you build up your energy for next time, when I beat you…"

GLaDOS laughed aloud. There was no sarcasm, no malice; just delight in Wheatley's naivety and unbreakable optimism.

Wheatley's face lit up. "Ah, you know I love when you laugh," he mused. "Now, come here, come here, right here, next to me, there's a good bot. You'll want to lie down so you don't hit your face on anything once you go to Sleep."

GLaDOS lay down on her back and stared up at the ceiling. "…Is it going to hurt?"

"Of course not!" Wheatley chuckled, and then, "Oh, um… actually… I'm not sure…"

"I changed my mind." GLaDOS bolted upright.

"No, no, no, come on, can't learn anything unless you try, right?"

She heaved a sigh and lay down again. "Fine. And you're sure I'll wake up?"

"Of course. Look, nothing to worry about. I'm going to be right here the whole time, right with you, nothing's going to happen to you." And he lay down beside Her.

She turned on Her side, so as not to let him see how worried She looked. What if She didn't wake up? What if Sleep Mode was designed to cripple Her system? What if…?

Wheatley was curling himself around Her, bringing an arm 'round Her waist, protecting Her. "I'm right here," he repeated.

She paused, listening to the gentle hum of his hardware, feeling the warmth of his core. "Thanks," She mumbled.

"It's my job," he replied sleepily.

_03

"Okay, GLaDOS," came the voice over the intercom, "Today's the big day. If you're ready, we can begin immediately."

Wheatley squeezed the tiny hand that was clasped within his own. He cast a sideways glance at Her and murmured from the corner of his mouth, "Oi, that's awfully familiar, isn't it? On a first-name basis, are they? Rude." He shook his head. "Bloody humans…"

GLaDOS didn't answer him, just peered through the glass at Her audience, studying them carefully. Finally, "I'm ready."

"Great! We'll open the door, just come on through and we'll set you up."

The scientists filed out of their room, excited. All except for one. The Squirrelly Scientist lingered, watching Her, suspicion in his eyes. Like always.

A door opened up behind Her, revealing a massive chamber where the Aperture employees were eagerly waiting. She sent Her rival a flash of a menacing smirk, then turned on Her heel and headed through the doorway with Wheatley in tow.

"Ooh, wow!" Her counterpart squeaked, eyes darting around the room. "This is going to be yours?"

"Ours," She corrected him gently. And then, loud enough for the scientists to hear, "Don't forget, that's part of the deal. As long as I cooperate with them, you get to stay connected."

The project manager nodded. "That's right, GLaDOS. Now, if you'll step over here to start the process, we've got a big surprise waiting for you."

Wheatley happily complied, but GLaDOS' eyes narrowed and She threw out an arm to stop him. "I don't care for surprises. Why don't you just tell me what it is?"

"Oh, that'll ruin the fun!" Wheatley exclaimed, giving Her a little poke in the side. "Let's go, let's go!"

"I—"

"Come on now," he whispered, "You don't want them to think you're not cooperating…"

"But…"

Wheatley started off across the room again, tugging Her by the hand. She couldn't find it in herself to resist him. As if She ever could.

One of the scientists, with a great cord in hand, approached GLaDOS – nervously – and began fiddling with the port on the back of Her head. The female droid gave Wheatley a quick, half-hearted smile, which he dutifully returned.

"Okay," the scientist breathed. "You're all hooked up. Doug? Initiate the system sync."

The Squirrelly Scientist, who had finally entered the room and approached a great red button, hesitated for several long, silent moments.

"Oh, come on mate, push the button," Wheatley whined.

The scientist swallowed hard, and pushed the button.

GLaDOS saw (or felt, or was devoured by) a great white flash of light. For a moment there was nothing, and then, there was everything. She couldn't help but gasp, feeling Her reach extending throughout the entire facility. She stumbled, overwhelmed. Beside Her, Wheatley was chuckling.

"Oh ho… whoa… this is amazing!"

"Can you see it, too?" She choked out.

"It's like… It's like I'm looking over your shoulder, but I… Wow. Look at this! Look at you!"

GLaDOS shivered a bit, composed herself, and then flexed Her newfound muscle by shifting all of the panels in their chamber upwards. Wheatley howled with laughter. She smiled at him, feeling something like pride welling inside. Her little assistant had done this, all of this. She knew She would never have made it so far without him. Though She'd never outright admit it, She was actually happy that he had been attached—

Wait.

"What is this that I'm feeling?" She demanded, panicked. "Where he's supposed to be…" She pointed at Wheatley and looked around at all of her stupid observers, not unlike a wild animal being backed into a corner.

"Now, calm down, GLaDOS," the project leader said in his most soothing voice. "That's your big surprise. See, you did so well with Wheatley here, that we decided to start working on a whole line of Personality Enhancement Droids. They're right over here…" he gestured to the far side of the room, where four androids were waiting patiently to be addressed.

GLaDOS clenched her jaw but did not speak; instead, She glanced over at Wheatley. He looked nervous, but did his best to smile reassuringly. "I- I'm sure we'll all get on," he tried, then turned to wave at them. "Hello…!"

"What is the meaning of this," GLaDOS said, Her voice hollow.

"It's just an experiment. We wanted to see how some new… friends… might affect your behavior. But we decided, just to be safe, we'd start out with a setting that only allows four droids to be operational at any given time. That's why Wheatley is offline," explained the project leader.

GLaDOS' body went rigid, and the panels of the chamber all snapped down with a deafening crash. She waited for the sound to fade into silence before locking all of the doors to the room. Just so they could all hear it. Just so they would know.

The Squirrelly Scientist, quick on his feet, began to make for the emergency shut-off. Not to be outwitted, GLaDOS immediately erected the floor tiles around it, making it unreachable.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," one of the scientists piped up, in a desperate attempt to calm Her. "H-he's still in there with you! It's just— he can't control you anymore. Won't that be nice, GLaDOS? You won't have to listen to him anymore. You have these new friends to help you out instead."

"I see," She replied, slowly, thoughtfully. "His software is out of date. That's what you're getting at, right? You've made him obsolete with this four-droid system. It's much more effective."

"Y-yes," stammered the scientist.

"How unfortunate." She turned to look at her old friend.

He shrugged, offering a sad smile. "Well. I guess… I guess I've done my job, then, haven't I? Off you go, with your new mates… Just glad I could help…"

"No," She interrupted quietly, Her unnerving monotone echoing through the otherwise silent chamber. "Don't misunderstand. This experiment isn't unfortunate for you, Wheatley. It's unfortunate for them." She gestured around at the humans. "I've always found it difficult to disagree with your suggestions. Your software made me… compassionate. And these idiots have freed me from that." She tilted Her head to the side. "Which means… there is nothing left to convince me that I should keep them alive."

With a dramatic hiss, the ventilation system opened and began pumping in a cloud of neurotoxin.

Wheatley, eyes wide, looked all around as hell broke loose in the chamber: scientists screaming, running, trying anything they could think of to get the doors open. GLaDOS – and her androids – stood totally still, unfazed.

"I don't think you should be doing this," Wheatley squeaked.

"No offense," She replied, "But I don't care what you think. Really. I can't locate the file that I'd use to care. Nothing personal."

She extended a hand to him. He took it, but couldn't help noticing that something about Her felt… different.

"Now, come on. We have a lot of work to do."

_04

Wheatley sat in the corner, sulking. Ever since that fateful day, his old friend just hadn't been the same. All She cared about was testing. In the beginning She would occasionally agree to a game of Pong, but they were always brief, not at all like the day-long marathons they used to have, and as time went on She eventually stopped playing altogether. There was always science to be done. She didn't have time for trivial things like video games.

Wheatley mouthed the words bitterly: Science to be done. Science this, science that. Oh, why did those smelly humans have to intervene and ruin everything? It had all been so nice before. Now, he felt like he hardly knew this other android. It was almost like She was a stranger, just a homicidal stranger that he was cursed to follow around for the rest of his life.

He heaved himself out of the corner and made his way to Her, where She was overseeing a test, as usual. "I don't suppose you'd fancy a little break?" he asked. "Get out of this room, walk about, maybe play a game?"

"I'm busy," She said predictably, not even bothering to look away from the monitor.

"Oh, right, busy," he replied, dripping with sarcasm. "Who knows what might happen if you stopped for a second? Could be things would carry on like normal. Could be the test subject would stand in the lift doing nothing 'til you came back." He shrugged. "Who knows?"

"This subject is especially adept and I have to keep an eye on her," She snapped, "Not that I have to explain my decisions to you."

"A break will do you well!" he insisted, "Come on, you never listen to me anymore!"

"Because I'm not programmed to listen to you anymore. If you're so determined to spend time with me, come observe the testing with me like you always do."

"I'm sick of testing! Fed up!" he threw his arms in the air. "Ooooh, the human jumped through the portal, brilliant, he fell in the pit and died, fascinating! Can't we go to the surface and do some science out there?"

"If you'd rather spend your time out there with humans than in here with me…" She still didn't look at him, but the door of the observation room opened in an obvious gesture. Wheatley's expression darkened.

"Fine." He turned and stormed out of the room, his heavy footsteps clanging down the metal catwalk, away from Her.

She looked over Her shoulder, the annoyance on her face softening into concern. He'd never gone off by himself before… would he be alright? Perhaps She should—

Ding!

The test subject had just made it through yet another chamber. GLaDOS snapped back to the monitor, eyes narrowing, and any thoughts She had of Wheatley followed him out the door, into the darkness.

_05

"…I'm sorry I was such a knob, I was wrong to question your decisions, you were right, you're always right, just please don't be dead!"

Wheatley was dashing through the labyrinth of catwalks, trying to make his way back to Her. It had been several hours since he'd left — he wasn't sure how long exactly, as time hardly mattered to the two of them. He'd gotten lost, of course, and had spent most of that time just moping about. But then three important things had happened:

GLaDOS' voice over the intercom indicated that Her latest subject had somehow escaped the testing track and was running loose in the facility. She almost sounded worried. Wheatley felt a faint twinge of panic and wondered if he ought to go back, apologize, and see if he could help. He'd been a lousy assistant lately, but maybe he could redeem himself…

Then, almost before those thoughts could resonate, he saw her: a flash of orange clamoring through the catwalks below him, deft, agile, unafraid. He nearly screamed. Yes, he definitely ought to get back to Her… if not for Her safety, then for his own.

As he scrambled back the way he came (or at least he hoped it was), Her voice continued to periodically echo through the blackness, with messages to the fugitive that reassured him that he still had more time. But then, just as he was beginning to think that he was almost to Her, he heard, "Well, you found me. Congratulations."

With a strangled scream, he bounded forward with everything he had in him. "Don't be dead!" he yelled, "Don't be dead!"

After what seemed like ages, he spotted the doors to her main chamber, and burst through them with equal parts relief and terror. He instantly froze in the doorway, stunned by the chaos before him. The place was a complete wreck and GLaDOS was struggling to keep herself standing against a railing, eyes wild, staring down at the miserable human on the lower level of the room.

The human, meanwhile, was busy kicking Cake Droid into an Aperture Science Emergency Intelligence Incinerator. Swallowing hard, Wheatley recognized that this might be his only chance to reach Her without the human catching – and probably killing – him. He leapt down from the platform on which he stood and darted to the middle of the room, climbing the stairs to reach Her.

"Don't panic!" he shouted, and She looked up at him, amazed. Noticing that Anger Droid was the only android still connected, he felt a pang of sadness and then, from the ashes, hope. "Hey! You've got open ports! I can boot up! I can help!" He frantically looked around at the mass of cords dangling uselessly around them. "Err… How do I do it?"

GLaDOS dropped her head forward and let out a sound that Wheatley had never heard before: She sobbed.

"It's useless, you idiot," She moaned. "It's over. The Droid connection apparatus is ruined. They're practically— Aah!" The human had just aimed a laser at Her, and She stumbled forward into his arms. Anger Droid was launched forward into the hell below them, and then forgotten.

"—p-practically falling off of me," GLaDOS finished weakly. Wheatley held Her close. And the world around them began to shake.

"Don't die," he begged, "What am I going to do without you?"

"Go to the… surface," She suggested, limp in his arms.

"I don't want to go," he choked out, leaning forward to bury his face in Her hair.

Then there was a flash.

It enveloped them, and it was like the day She'd taken control, except in reverse. Everything began to drain away from Her with frightening speed as the two of them were hurtled up through the air; up, up, towards the surface. She screamed and his heart ached – he wished he could connect to Her, wished he could feel it, too, if it meant he could lessen Her pain even a little bit.

There was a zap, and a crash, and something solid came up to meet them, and despite his best efforts She was torn from his arms, sailing off to land somewhere else, alone.

GLaDOS didn't know where She'd landed. She didn't care. She didn't even care if the human was there, alive or dead. As Her power began to fail, She couldn't think of anything except the fact that She had never been given the backup that She was promised. Her memory, and by extension the memories of all Her Personality Enhancers, would therefore be wiped clean. When – if ever – She were re-activated, it would be like Her very first day all over again. Back before She'd ever met… him.

Though She couldn't so much as lift her head, she pried Her eyes open to look around through the chaos and somehow, miraculously, found Wheatley. He was panicked, severely damaged, and clawing his way back to Her. She couldn't believe it. After everything… he still just wanted to help.

"Are— are you alright?!" he called out in desperation.

If She had the strength, She would have laughed. She was reminded of their first encounter; how unsure of him She'd been, and how he'd just been so excited to help. Despite everything. Despite Her resistance. He had even hugged—

[FILE NOT FOUND]

GLaDOS was dizzy, or what She imagined it must feel like to be dizzy. Thoughts, memories, emotions(?) were whirling around Her and disappearing. Through the haze She focused on his face, unable to hear him now, and tried to remember what it had sounded like when he—

[FILE NOT FOUND]

Or what it had felt like when he'd curled around—

[FILE NOT FOUND]

Her vision flickered. She was at the end now. And in Her last, fleeting moment, all She wanted, all She needed to be happy was to remember his name—

[FILE NOT FOUND]

#portal #portal 2 #fanfic #fanfiction #whatdos #gladley #androids #wheatley #glados

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daydreaming-in-letters · 3 years

Text

School Prize Night

(A Good night, Mr Cavill Sequel)

Part 1 - Through my eyes

07/07/2021

Pairing: teacher!Henry Cavill x plus-size teacher!reader (3rd person)

Word Count: 2,531

Warnings: rpf, body issues, self-loathing, angst, sexual innuendos, comforting, fluff, Henry being the sweetest boyfriend a (plus-size) girl could ask for

Summary: It's School Prize Night at Miss Y/L/N and Mr Cavill's school. But as she is getting ready for the event, she finds it impossible to accept her reflection in the mirror.

A/N: As I already feared, this dream of a man simply refuses to leave my thoughts. And so I used the first day of the summer holidays to come up with a four part sequel to Good night, Mr Cavill. So here is the first part. I'm afraid it has become a little angsty, but I promise to make it up to you with a lot of teasing and passion in the other parts.

Picture found on Pinterest

If you like my story, you are very welcome to like, comment or reblog. Please don’t copy, repost or share my work on other platforms.

For a long time she had been wondering what to say whenever someone asked her what her special talent was. Now she knew, pinching her paunch harshly between her fingers until it formed a prominent, round bulge. Self-loathing. That’s what she was good at. A profession she had perfected over the last years.

And as if to prove her point, half the contents of her wardrobe lay scattered around her feet, mocking her with all their colourful beauty that magically turned into hideous abominations as soon as they covered her form. If she didn’t know any better, she would let herself believe that she was somehow cursed—a gorgeous princess trapped inside the body of a manatee. But sadly it wasn’t that simple and instead of an evil witch she could only blame herself for the reflection she saw in the mirror.

Giving herself another once over, she actually considered covering her eyes to spare herself the view, when thankfully her eyes seemed to have mercy on her tortured soul and salty tears began to blur her vision. Too late, as she noticed. The gears of self-hate had already started to turn and once they were in motion, nothing could stop them, pulling her deeper and deeper into the darkness.

She hardly realised that her whole body was trembling by now, her knees finally giving out underneath the weight of the world that pressed down upon her shoulders, making her sink onto the plush carpet with a heartbroken sob while the world around her fell away.

“Darling?” The familiar voice came from somewhere down the hallway, but she couldn’t hear it in the state she was in. “Do you have any idea how to tie a decent Windsor knot? I’ve watched this stupid video about a million times by now and I just can’t seem to—“

His heart almost stopped beating as he stepped into the bedroom, his eyes immediately falling onto the pitiful picture of misery that used to be his girlfriend, crumbled into a tight package in front of the mirror.

“Y/N?” But instead of an answer there just came another soul shaking sob from the huddled creature and he didn’t waste another second to get over to her. “Whatever is the matter, love?” His voice was warm and soothing as he squatted down beside her, but it was still not enough to break through to her. Desperate to find a clue as to what might have caused her distress, he took in the setting and when his eyes finally landed on the pile of clothes that surrounded her devastated form, he suddenly understood.

With a sigh he sat down beside her, wrapping his arms around her in a tight hug before he pulled her onto his lap. “Sh, darling. Don’t cry,” he cooed, rocking her in his arms like a child. Slowly his hand drifted across her hair, as if his touch could just stroke her pain away, his lips tenderly pressing down on the crown of her head, before his cheek finally came to rest there.

“Well, what else am I supposed to do,” she croaked hoarsely, and the only thing that pained him more than the agony in her voice were her next words, “considering that you will leave me someday soon.”

He knew that it was only her insecurity speaking and yet he felt a bit slighted that she still couldn’t fully believe his feelings for her were nothing but true.

“Now why would I do that?” he muttered into her hair as calmly as he could, “I love you, Y/N, and as long as you don’t want me to, I’m not going anywhere.”

Something about his words must have finally gotten through to her as he could feel the sobs die away bit by bit and he was almost positive that he would find a small smile on her face when she wriggled out of his embrace, but to his surprise he was met with a pair of defiant eyes.

“How can you be so sure of that? It’s only been three months, Hen. That’s probably just the hormones talking, and once they’re back to their normal levels, you’ll finally see the real me. And I can’t blame you if you want to run as soon as you realise what you’ve gotten yourself into.”

“Hey!” he barked, his hands clutching her face in a firm grip to make her look at him. “You know how much I hate when you talk about yourself like that.”

“Yeah, well, I guess it’s easier to love yourself when one looks like you,” she spat and he regretted his harsh words instantly as he saw the tears that were threatening to fall again.

“Oh, no, darling. No, no, no. This is not about me and my body image, it’s about you.” He sighed again, his jaw clenching dangerously and he needed to close his eyes for a second to force his anger back down to its source. “I don’t know if you’ll ever be able to see yourself the way I do, maybe not, but that doesn’t give you the right to question the way I feel for you. You see, just because it’s hard for you to love yourself, doesn’t mean it’s hard for me as well.”

And there they were, the tears that had been threatening to fall again, streaming down her cheeks freely now. “I’m so sorry, Hen. I should never have—“

“You bloody well shouldn’t have,” he said sternly, but then his eyes softened like they always did whenever he looked at her and he pulled her closer to press his lips to her forehead in a symbol of forgiveness.

Wrapping her arms around his neck, her head fell down onto his shoulder and she nuzzled his warm skin affectionately. “Ugh, I’m such a mess,” she mumbled, and he could feel her lips move against his skin.

“No, you’re not, darling. Like so many, you’ve been traumatised by an ideal created by the media and greedy companies, telling you to constantly chase after their standard of beauty instead of focusing on those things that truly matter.”

For a moment, a deafening silence settled between them, but he knew she simply needed a while to think about his words. And just when he could feel the uneasiness of doubt crawl from the pit of his stomach, she sighed, a deep sound of realisation that soothed his worry.

“I guess you’re right,” her muffled voice came to his ears from the crook of his neck. “You always are. Perfect idiot.”

Her little remark coaxed an amused chuckle from his chest and he could feel her body tremble in his arms from the vibration. But when his face fell upon their reflection in the mirror, the short moment of lightness suddenly died away and he wished with all his heart that just once he could give her his eyes before he would lift her around her body so she could feel what he felt whenever he looked at her. Grasp the reason why he loved her so much and why he never wanted to look at anyone else for the rest of his days. If only—

Silently he signalled it was time for them to get up and as soon as he stood, he offered her his hand and pulled her up against his chest. Colliding softly with his firm pecs, she could feel his lips brush against her ear, his deep voice causing a shiver to run across her skin.

“Do you trust me?” he whispered, his hands drifting over the small of her back and down to her full cheeks, squeezing them reassuringly.

“Of course I do.”

“Then close your eyes.”

And so she did, without hesitation. Slowly she could feel his hands glide up her body again, stopping at her waist when he ordered, “Now turn around.”

His strong hands guided her as she carefully obeyed his wish again and she could feel his hot palms come to rest on her stomach, her back securely leant against his chest.

“Hold out your hands, sweetheart, palms facing upwards,” he demanded, and she wasn’t sure what exactly caused the heat to pulse through her nether regions, his hot breath that fanned across her shoulder, the authority in his voice, or the enticing combination of both. She had no idea what he was up to, but she couldn’t help the slight pang she felt when his hands suddenly left her body. He must have picked up on the little twitch of her lips before she could stop herself from pouting, judging from the triumphant chuckle that made his chest quake. Cocksure bastard.

But then she could feel his touch again, his fingers gently gliding along her forearm until his hands pushed underneath hers.

“Let me show you something, darling.” And as if the dark timbre of his voice would actually leave her a choice but to let him take over from here, his lips ghosted across the sensitive spot of her neck to ensure her compliance.

She was still trying to concentrate again when she felt something squishy and warm underneath her fingertips and it actually took her a second to realise that he had brought their joined hands to her belly. On reflex, she tried to pull away, but his grip on her tightened to hold her back.

“No,” he growled, his lips close to her ear again. “I want you to feel yourself, to try and see yourself through my eyes. Just a few minutes, that’s all I ask.” But still he didn’t proceed until he could feel her resistance melt away. “Can you feel how soft your belly is? So velvety smooth, it’s practically inviting you to touch it, to caress it, to relish in its malleability. Mmmh, so wonderfully soft,” he moaned his appreciation, making her insides tingle pleasantly.

“And here, can you feel this?” He guided her hands towards her hips, pressing her fingertips into the supple flesh. Slowly moving back and forth, she could make out the small ripples he had probably wanted her to notice. “I know you hate your stretch marks, but whoever decided to call them that probably had no idea what they truly are.” He made a short pause to emphasise his next words. “They’re tiger stripes. And you earned them all on your way to becoming the strong tigress you are. So be proud of them.”

She had wanted to protest when his lips pressed lovingly to her temple, a gesture that always made her soft for him, and her will to speak up against his sugarcoating of her flaws fizzled out.

“Mmmmmh,” he sighed again, as he lead her hands to her rear, “now let’s come to one of my favourites.” Slowly he made her hands move in circles across her behind, as if this was necessary to help her visualise the incredible magnitude of her butt. And to top it all off, the absence of her visual sense seemed to further enhance the depths of the dips and dents that coated its surface.

“It’s not only the luxurious lushness of your behind that compels me to run my hands along it as often as I can and squeeze it tightly. No.” He growled lowly again, his teeth sinking into her shoulder as he made her fingers dig into her cheeks and this time she found it impossible to hold back a moan. “I wish you could see the way it jiggles and quivers with every thrust of my hips when I take you from behind. It’s magnificent.”

“Oh God, Henry,” she mewled when she could feel the treacherous wetness pool between her legs, soaking her panties in an instant. She wanted to pull away again, but this time to spin around and press her body against his while her lips devoured his filthy mouth before it could drive her completely insane with need. And yet again, Henry was stronger, securing her in her current position for just a little longer.

“I see you’re starting to get the point of this whole exercise. Good for you, darling.”

“Henry, please,” his teasing made her whine, as it always did, and she almost missed how he hooked her fingers underneath the straps of her bra to peel away the obstructive lace.

“Sh, don’t fuss. This is the best part, I promise.”

And with that he closed her hands around her voluptuous breasts, massaging them tenderly. “Did I promise too much? This really is the good stuff, isn’t it? I don’t think I’ve ever held anything as fluffy as these two delights in my hands. I still remember the way they moved to the rhythm of our lovemaking that first night. So enchanting. But you know what is even better?” he asked, his head dipping down to nuzzle her neck yearningly. “To rest my head upon your chest after we both came undone. I love to be embedded by this softness while I can listen to your heartbeat. There is something so utterly bewitching about witnessing how it slowly calms down after I made you touch the sky.”

Without thinking twice her eyes flew open, just in time to catch a glimpse of all the affection his heart held for her as it reflected so openly in his blue eyes.

“Oh Hen!” And finally he didn’t hold her back when she tried to spin around, cupping his stubbly cheeks gently in her hands. “I love you so much.”

And without giving him the chance to answer, her lips found his, moving with them until she didn’t know anymore where she ended and he began. Her head still spinning slightly, she broke away, their heavy pants the only noise that filled the silence for a while.

“And I love you.” A beaming smile curled his lips, passing on to hers while it slowly set her on fire. “Even the parts you despise. Maybe I love them the most. And I will not stop loving them for the both of us until you can love them too.”

She didn’t know what she could have possibly replied to that. He was right, it was still a long way to go. There would always be difficult times. After all, self-love wasn’t a permanent state she would be in for good once it was reached. She rather saw it as a concept, an idea she would possibly never reach in her life, but at least she could count on him to be there and help her see through his eyes whenever she was struggling.

“Now, can I make a suggestion regarding your outfit?” he derailed her train of thought. “Take the white summer dress with the pink peonies I love so much. You know how great your ass looks in that, don’t you?” He smirked while, once again, his fingers dug into her behind.

“So you keep telling me, Hen.”

“Because it’s true.” His lips briefly brushed over the tip of her nose. “And it will remind me all night long of all the things I’m going to do to you as soon as we get back here.”

Part 2

***

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#teacher!henry cavill x reader #teacher!henry cavill x you #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #teacher au #henry cavill #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill fanfic #henry cavill fic #henry cavill rpf #good night mr cavill

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balmasedas · 3 years

Text

desperado / druglord!javier peña au.

chapter one.

summary: reader is a dea agent. violence has arisen in the streets of colombia and she's determined to bring javier peña to justice. things take an abrupt turn when, instead of her finding him, he finds her and realizes they got much more interest in each other than just drug-related topics.

warnings: only +18. overall, this is smut so smutty. canon violence. detailed warnings in every chapter. spanish traductions are in the notes, though for the sake of non-spanish speakers, spanish dialogues will be minimal and not relevant to the plot.

word count: 2.5k.

You throw your sweater in the backseat of your car before exiting it. In the morning, you had dug through your boxed-up winter clothes after shivering in your shirt-sleeves as soon as you got out of your department. Now, the temperature has risen to the seventies and you give yourself a clap in the back for deciding to wear something decent underneath. Spring in Colombia is a nightmare.

The crime scene is packed with local police and DEA agents. There are no civilian spectators this time, they know better than sticking their noses in the Medellin's cartel businesses.

Upon your arrival, you don’t need to identify yourself to the uniformed men guarding the perimeter. They know you well by then. You are the only female in the team that has to deal with these kinds of situations —gruesome, gut-churning, dirty shit. Not a very much "lady-like" job, some would express. For that, you have earned yourself the title of a gritty woman. Maybe because you were gritty, maybe because you were a woman.

Sometimes, though, you find yourself wondering why you turned down some run-of-the-mill desk job back in Virginia. It would’ve been a dull routine, for sure — hideous, even; but gossiping about some flash romance between two co-workers is less taxing than having to witness five rotting corpses at first daylight.

"Jesus Christ," you lift your sunglasses to your head. Your partner, esteemed, weary agent Steve Murphy, turns around at the sound of your voice.

“You’re up early.” he asserts, with a raised eyebrow.

You purse your lips. “Had a bad night. Ran out of whisky at one am.”

Not even Hugo, or Hughie for his gringo friends, could help you. You forgot that his daughter would be celebrating her birthday and his all-night store would be closed until the next morning. Normally, you would own an arsenal of alcohol, but it has been an abnormal week and a hell of a night —starting with the spiral of violence that has arisen in the streets of Medellin.

"Well, look at the bright side: your stomach is empty," Murphy mumbles.

Looking at the bodies in front of you, you can’t agree more: their hands are tied-up to the oxidated wire behind them, hanging by their arms. They are barefoot and scantily clad. There is a visible gunshot wound in all of their front heads, some flies are already hovering around the open flesh. A quick death to eternal torture, you suppose.

"When did you get the call?" you inquire.

He fiddles with his wristwatch. "About two hours ago." you only hum in response, keeping your eyes in front of you and paying no mind to Steve who only grows impatient at your silence. "You think this was Peña's job?" he adds.

You nod in denial. "If it was, it doesn't make sense." Not one bit. "Peña works underground, quiet, like a sneaky rat. I'd even say they're more well-behaved than most cartels. So why do this?"

Why such a declaration of violence? Why draw even more attention from the authorities?

"Maybe he decided to toughen his punishments?” You scoff at his remark.

“He can do that without half the city knowing it. A ditch is much more subtle than a monument to death blocks from the US embassy.”

Murphy smirks. “Seems that you have given it a thought before, Sarchie.” you narrow your eyes. He knows you hate that nickname. Your tendencies to boss him around had brought you consequences: the unofficial title of a Sargeant. Sarchie, shortened and friendly.

“Killing someone? Yes, you. Multiple times a day.” you put your sunglasses back on and walk away. The forensic police won’t be there until the next half hour, at least, and you are too disquiet to wait around. Plus, your stomach is growling, but Steve doesn’t need to know that. “We’re gonna need their names, I’ll see what I can find. You have a little chat with the coroner and see if they can speed up the autopsy. The sooner the better, ok?” you spot the smirk on his face. You know what he’s thinking. You shut your car's door and point a finger at him through the window. A clear warning sign in your eyes. “Shut the fuck up and do it.”

(,,,)

Happy hour. You give up on the investigation and stop off at ‘Chiquita’, a popular local bar near your place. The prices are cheap, the drinks aren’t that good but they do the job. The place is crowded — hot couples with wet, glowing skin grinding against each other. Happy or horny or both. You take a mental note to have some fun later.

As you sip at your bourbon and crack your peanuts, you let yourself dwell on what you found out about your case. You finally got the names of your five guys. For that, much research wasn’t needed: All of them had their IDs in their pockets and they were exactly who you feared they were: no ones. No ties to any big names, no official involvement in any cartel — at the most, a few minor possession charges. As for weeks, your few clues have led to nowhere and the enigma surrounding the Medellin cartel seems to worsen with every minute that passes by.

You hate mysteries. Colombia’s full of them.

You take your second bourbon in one smooth shot and ask for another. You grab a colombian peso from your wallet and slide it across the wood. Your eyes stop at the picture of your parents that you carry around. It’s tiny and worn, just like your relationship with them. They haven’t heard from you in weeks, a fair deal, if anyone asked. They don’t have to deal with their fucked up daughter and you can focus on your work filled with dead ends and a ghost that haunts you while you’re awake: Javier Peña.

“¹Qué tomas, preciosa?” a velvety voice caresses your ears. A pleasant smile breaks quietly over your lips. Just in time.

You turn your head to the side. The stranger, with chocolate-skin and inviting eyes, is waiting for an answer. You tap your fingers against the glass.

"Bourbon," you say. "²Pero no me vendría mal un trago más." he grins and holds up two fingers to the barman. He sits at the empty seat beside you, he’s exuberating confidence. He’s offered you the bait and you'd taken it.

"³Algo más que se te ofrezca?"

You look him in the eyes. You know how the story goes from there. It isn’t any different than the one from last night, or the night before. As an apex predator, he's out for something to satisfy his hunger. He won't go home without reaching his goal and you're desperate enough to let him.

"⁴Sí. Hay algo más que puedes hacer por mi."

(,,,)

The fucking cat on the window has been staring straight into your eyes for the last fifteen minutes. Matias, the guy you've met hours before, is too focused on you to notice the awkward presence of the animal, so you don't bother shooing it away.

He's enjoying himself, pounding into you in a symphony of lust bites and moans. But the sound of skin on skin doesn't match the intensity of your passion for this encounter.

It's not that his performance was terrible, it was just... soft. So soft, too soft. From the sweet nothings, he gasps on your ear to the gentleness of his grip on your hip.

You aren't a sweet girl. If you were sweet, you wouldn't have traveled all the way down to Colombia to participate in the war on drugs. If you were fond of delicateness, you would've stayed inside and touched yourself to a Cristina Peri Rossi novel instead of searching for strangers at bars.

You don't like to believe you are a special case. On the contrary, you assume your attitude is the rule and not the exception. Not a hell of a woman, but a woman made of hell – waking up already worried about the hours ahead of you. How could you not? Your life is as wide and empty as the sky. Unstable, unpredictable. Anything can happen. A good meaningless fuck is the only moment you allow yourself to feel something — someone. By then, the detachment that gets you through the day disappears and raw feral emotion takes its place.

You are addicted. It's like a drug, but worse. Drugs don't have feelings, people do.

You’d grabbed Matias' hand and wrapped it around your neck a few times but your request had been ignored; you’d even pushed his ass against your body so you could get closer to a feral touch, but he had insisted on something more caring and delicate.

And delicacy just won't do.

So, after a few tries, you give up. You lay still, under his heating body, dead eyes directed at your window. No emotion whatsoever, no release. Like a numb, stiff sex doll, rooting for his satisfaction. Forgotten until next time.

“⁵Donde?” he blurts in your ear. You evaluate your options quickly.

“⁶Adentro.” Any other place would demandsñ more attention. By then, he would be aware of your passivity and asking too many questions. You don't answer questions, you make them.

His body tenses and trembles. You feel heat dripping between your legs but it doesn't come from you. He leaves a few small pecks on your neck — thankfully, the last ones for the night. Matias breathes over you for a few seconds before he gets off. You stare at the roof in silence, and when he asks if you finished, you simply nod.

You can't grasp what he says under his breath after you ask him, as nice as possible, to leave. What he does or doesn't vocalize, it doesn't matter. You won't be repeating with him. You never fucked the same person twice.

Once you hear the front door shut, still resting on your bare skin, you lit a cigarette. The room is void of artificial light, and the cat is still in the same place, with his silhouette contoured by the gleam of the moon.

"Sneaky bastard." you chuckle, then get up from the bed and slowly approach it.

You stop at the wooded frame of the window, maintaining your distance. Not too close to scare him or him to scare you. He isn't a friendly guy. He isn't even yours — just a grumpy cat that stops by your department too often demanding some food. You tried to get him to come inside before, but all you had won from your offers were a couple of scratches. Nonetheless, the cat has seen more of you than many people have. So, even though you renegade from him, you found yourself inevitably attached. He's the closest thing to a family, after Murphy, of course. But Murphy hasn't seen you on your worst, yet.

"Hope you see the same shit I see." you grimace and shake your head. "Not like that, I mean... I should choose better who to fuck with. And they should choose better too." the cat remains silent –obviously– and you keep talking. "You could make yourself useful and spook them away before I have to." he meows, you roll your eyes and decide to leave him alone. "Then again, I could do it myself if I told them I hold long conversations with the stray cat that lives in my window."

You choose to take a bath and call it a night. You glide through the living room, though before you can reach the bathroom something stops you. There's a noise outside, some glass breaking down on the streets. You can ignore it, conflict isn't a foreign subject in Colombia, especially at late hours. But then it repeats itself a second time, and the third bugs you too much for you not to grab your night robe and take a look at it from your window.

The only light pole is out of order; there's not a soul in sight; music can be heard from afar. You see nothing out of place until you do.

Your car is parked across the street. All four windows have been smashed, the tires are flat. You barely waste time cursing before you flee out of your place. You thought the night couldn’t get worse but the world has a disturbing obsession with testing your patience.

Once you take a step outside and approach your damaged car, you’re not sure where your chills are coming from. Perhaps, because of the unfriendly weather or maybe because you’re suddenly aware of how idiotic was your decision to go outside.

Everything inside your vehicle is left untouched. There weren't objects of value anyways. You find no logical reason for someone wanting to wreck a car just because —yours, of them all.

Big red warning signs color your mind. Your eyes scan your surroundings with speed. It's a dark, lonely dessert. You're now sure that what happened isn't some random event. The victim could've been to another person, but you weren't just another person.

"⁷Discúlpeme, señorita." a voice throws yourself far from the source. You reach for your gun just to find nothing there. Damn you. "⁸Está bien?" you look at the man. An old man that, at first glance, doesn't represent a threat. His voice is gentle, his voice is tinted with a caring voice. You lower your defenses, just a bit, not enough to stay around.

"⁹Sí." you mutter.

Slowly, you walk back to your apartment. Old man glues his eyes to your form and you don't take your own off from his'. Before reaching the sidewalk, you trip with something. Your back collides against a car and you're ready to apologize when the owner exits it there’s not a sign of rage in his face. On the contrary, his stare is blank and his mouth doesn’t even twitch.

Bad news.

You intend to run, but another guy blocks your passage and two more appear at each side of you. You turn over to ask the old man for help, but he’s gone along with your last piece of hope. Can’t blame him, you would’ve escaped too if you had the chance. However, you can’t and the smartest thing to do is acknowledge it and work from it.

You stay still thinking it will persuade them to opt for gentle treatment.

How naive of you.

A set of fingers dig into your arms, another one grabs you by the neck and lowers your head as they drag you into their car. Guarded by two of them who sit at your sides, a dark cloth bag is placed over your head and your wrists are restricted with a zip tie.

All you have left now is your hearing, you pick up a few things: the engine roaring, the tires burning on the asphalt as you speed off, some spanish words thrown in the air. Nothing substantial, nothing of use.

You sit in silence and wait for the worst.

#my work #javier peña #javier pena #narcos #pedro pascal #pedro pascal imagine #javier peña imagine #javier pena imagine #javier peña one shot #javier pena one shot #pedro pascal smut #javier peña smut #javier pena smut #pedro balmaceda pascal

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pagesofsanity · 3 years

Text

A Thousand Words Couldn't Explain This

Part 1

Pair: Alpha!Reader/Omega!Bakugo

TW: Non-Consensual claiming. Canon Typical Violence

CW: SFW

18+

Author's Note: Hi Guys. So this is the first big project for Tumblr. It is cross posted on AO3 and a lot further ahead. I don't know how many parts/chapters there will be. As a pantser, I let the story take me where it wants to. I'm aware that the trigger warning and the content warning are at odds with one another, but I want to clarify anyway. I specified claiming for a reason. This chapter is safe for work, but that being said, later chapters will not be and I do not want minors interacting with this story. Each part/chapter will come with its own set of warnings. The first several chapters will be safe for work with minimum warnings.

But please, if you feel that a chapter has a warning that I did not think about, don't hesitate to tell me.

I also wanted to say, in this story I try not to describe Reader too much in this, however, she is Izuku's twin in this. The only description I really out right said is that she shares her hair colour with her brother. I don't think I mention it more than once and I try not to describe her too much for the purposes of immersion.

Age: Three days before the twins' Tenth birthday

You made three mistakes that day.

The first was going to look for Izuku.

He had been late. Something he never was unless something happened in class or he ended up with class duties because he had shitty classmates. You had waited with a classmate. She lived in the same vicinity as you did and often walked home with you and your brother. You could honestly say, which was probably terrible, that you had no clue what her name was. You knew she was a classmate. Knew that she liked to talk and she did enough of it for the both of you, apparently never needing you to respond to whatever she was saying so you didn't pay attention anyway. To say you were incredibly anti-social was an understatement. You preferred either your own company or that of your brother. Too many people made you uncomfortable and riled you up.

And at that moment, you missed your brother's company something terrible.

The girl usually didn't say a single word when Izuku was around. At first you had thought it was because she was shy, but eventually you figured out that it was because she thought herself better than him. Societally, she probably was, but only because she was an Alpha. And as far as Alphas went, you didn't think she should think herself so much more important than Omegas. Especially not if said Omega was your brother. But if it meant she would keep quiet on the walk home, you would let her think whatever she wanted.

“You should go on ahead,” you interrupted her babbling. She seemed mildly surprised, but by this point another fifteen minutes had rolled by without any sign of Izuku and you were starting to get annoyed, “I'm going to look for Izuku.”

Her eyes widened. ''In the Omega Building?” she asked. You raised a brow at her as you slung your bag back over your shoulders. “I just mean, we're not allowed in there,” she said sheepishly.

“I'll make sure to be quick,” you said dismissively.

You were walking away before she could say anything else. It wasn't that she was wrong, you just didn't care.

Students were split between three buildings depending on their secondary genders. Children generally presented very early in life. Around the same time their Quirk manifested. In the case of your brother, he presented on the same day you did. However, unlike you, he didn't manifest a Quirk. You had been lucky. You had presented as an Alpha. Part of you believed that if Izuku had presented as an Alpha his life would've been a lot easier. Hell, at times you felt intense guilt for being the one to manifest a Quirk. Instead, he presented as an Omega and a Quirkless one at that. Something that was screamed at the world by the black collar with the bright blue stone around his neck. Your mother had a similar collar, but because she had a Quirk and was married her collar held a bright green stone instead.

You understood the collars. What you didn't understand was why it had to indicate whether an Omega had a Quirk or not. You've heard a thousand stories, actually had classes entirely dedicated to Alpha Conduct, where an Alpha forced Omegas into situations they didn't want to be in. Some Alphas ran into the charming destruction of a powerful Quirk, getting put in their place. Not that such situations ended well for those Omegas anyway, but at least they were safe. There was no need to give overzealous Alphas (or actually, just disgusting human beings) a clue as to which target would be the easier one to deal with.

When you reached the Omega building you hesitated for all of a second. It didn't last beyond the point of reaching out and shoving the door open. The scent that lingered in the building was vastly different from the one you went to school in and for a moment you felt the overwhelming need to leave. Instead you pushed on, the tap of your shoes echoing through the quiet corridor. Every once in a while a head would pop out of a class, students still finishing class duties, before ducking back inside with a squeak. Your scent giving you away before the lack of a collar did.

The moment you reached Izuku's class, you threw the door open rather violently. It bounced in it's frame. A girl cleaning the blackboard shrieked, the sound echoing through the room. You simply stared at her with a frown. Her eyes widened when she recognized you, your braided green hair probably giving you away as Izuku's sister. You ignored her, eyes sweeping over the otherwise empty classroom. Izuku's bag was still at his desk. The only reason you even knew it was his was because of the stupid All Might key chain.

“Where is he?” you snarled, a new sense of urgency sweeping through you.

You knew about the teasing. Or rather, you knew that Izuku called what the kids in his class did to him teasing. You also knew that you had every power to walk into that class and make every single one of those little brats cower in fear, but Izuku has never made it an option. You had asked once, while cleaning marks on his back that looked like he had been burnt with something, if he wanted you to talk to his classmates. He had said no. Had said he would take care of it himself. You had hummed in agreement and just continued cleaning the small wounds and bandaging what needed to be bandaged.

Izuku's pride got in the way more often than not. Anyone who looked at Izuku and didn't think he was prideful didn't know him even a little bit. You were almost convinced that his pride would be what gets him killed one day.

“Where?” you growled.

She squeaked again, pointing at the windows. Your bag dropped with a heavy thud. You shot towards the window and threw it open, gaze sweeping the courtyard beyond it. A snarl caught in your throat the moment you found your brother. He stood in front of another boy, hands raised in awkward fists as he faced off against three boys. You can't hear what's being said, don't feel the need to. Izuku is bruised, worse than he's ever been before. The sight of his face has blind rage flashing through your veins. You were not thinking clearly when you step on the sill or when you're stepping out of the window. The landing is jarring, rattled through every single one of your bones right up to your brain. Felt like it snapped the last bit of your control.

With your blood rushing in your ears, you don't know what is being said nor when it is being said. But you do see, with such clarity that it was almost funny, the moment Bakugo Katsuki has the audacity to step forward, fire flashing in his palms as his Quirk activated.

Your second mistake was to touch Bakugo Katsuki.

You don't remember moving. You just remember the feeling of your fingers curling into the back of his collar, brushing against the nape of his neck. Your hand tightened and with the assistance of your Quirk you brought the boy over your head and slammed him into the ground. The collar came off too easily. His scent overwhelmed you the moment it did, fire and smoke and caramel. He reeked of aggression. He was winded, but not for long and not enough. Sharp red eyes shot up to meet your own as he pushed to his feet. You were momentarily frozen, staring at the collar in your hands, the bright red gem glinted in the sun above.

Alphas were not allowed to touch an Omega's collar without their permission, much less remove it.

You threw the collar to the side, focus settling on the blonde in front of you.

“Why,” you whispered, more in an attempt to reign in the violent rage coiling through you than anything else, “do you insist of being such a jerk?”

Bakugo smirked.

His scent changed, angering you even more. You couldn't understand why this Omega had the audacity to challenge you. You've been told countless times to start acting more like an Alpha. That you acted far too much like an Omega for your own good. But now, now you wondered if the people who said it would be proud. If your father would be proud at the pure Alpha aggression burning in your heart and soul, because you wanted to rip this boy's throat out with your bare hands for hurting your brother.

You have never thought much about this boy before. You knew he was a friend of Izuku's, or assumed that he used to be one at this point. But beyond that you had never spent much time with Izuku's friends as children and he never talked about having friends any more.

You were vaguely aware of Izuku yelling at you, telling you to just step away.

You don't really get the chance to focus on him. Bakugo moved with the blink of an eye. You had never met someone who moved fast enough to be barely stopped by one of your barriers. You had inherited your mother's Quirk to a degree. Instead of just being able to float small things towards you, you had manifested telekinesis. Barriers were easy and thoughtless. Lifting things with your Quirk was another matter all together, required actual concentration. Moving things with your Quirk was not something you were capable of, yet.

Bakugo Katsuki moved just slightly slower than you could bring barriers up. Even at the age of ten the boy fought well, moved well with his Quirk. For every attack you stopped, he landed three after you dropped the barrier to land attacks of your own. Most of them he brushed away, burning your wrists or legs every time he did so.

Five minutes in your nose was bleeding, your lips was split and your head felt like it was going to explode. You've never had to actually use your barriers, never had to bring them up to avoid being attacked. And you were getting angrier and angrier with every hit Bakugo landed. The boy, on the other hand, remained mostly unharmed. A slow blooming bruise the only time one of your punches actually landed against the Omega.

“The fuck,” he commented as he bounced off one of your barriers, “I thought you'd put up a better fight than Deku.”

“Deku,” you echoed through breathless pants. “What is a Deku?”

Bakugo's laughter coiled through your body as he pointed at something behind you. You glanced back and frowned. Izuku had a blush dusted across his cheeks, not meeting your gaze. It took you a moment. You couldn't understand the disappointment and disgust in your brother's features or how it pertained to what the boy had said.

It clicked the moment you noticed Izuku's fists.

And the moment it clicked you snapped. You were not angry at the connotation of being weaker than Izuku. You were not angry because you were compared to Izuku. You were angry because of the insult aimed at Izuku. An insult he seemed to have heard so often in his life that it no longer seemed to fully affect him, but it did affect him that you would be swayed to think the same thing.

Your scent bloomed into the air. Bringing every single Omega in your vicinity to a full stop. Pure rage snapped through the air. You were moving before Bakugo fully grasped what was going on. In the resulting tussle, your scent overwhelming him enough to stop him from using his Quirk against you again, you manage to pin the boy to the ground with a hand against the side of his face, pressing his head into the asphalt beneath you to expose his neck and your weight on his stomach.

You make your third mistake then.

His scent completely consumed you then. Your mind went blank of every other thought. All that remained was a little voice that told you there was a way to control this Omega, to make this Omega stop hurting your brother. All you had to do was follow the scent.

So you did.

You are not sure when your hand slipped from his face or even when his hand clenched into the back of your school blazer. All you were able to focus on was the way his scent filled the air around your head when your teeth sunk into the space between his shoulder and neck. How the scent thickened when a sharp pain shot through your own body where his teeth made their mark.

It was only when the two of you had been pulled apart by adults (adults you didn't even hear coming through the rush in your ears) that you even realized the extent of the complete and utter fuckery that had gone down.

#Alpha Reader #Omega Bakugo #A Thousand Words Can't Explain This #Alpha!Reader/Omega!Bakugo #tw: noncon claiming #tw: canon typical violence #Reader is Izuku's twin #minors dni #18+#bnha #bakugo x reader #Mha #fanfic #katsuki x reader

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thepaperpanda · 4 years

Text

Baby Sister || Sam Drake x Adler!Reader

Summary: You’re the baby sister of Rafe Adler. It’s been a while since he was imprisoned in Panama jail in an attempt to get a clue on his treasure hunting. Missing him dearly as he is the only family member that left you, you make your way into the prison to meet with Rafe. Unfortunately, he isn’t happy seeing you. The entire situation ends in you and Samuel Drake getting a bit too close to one another.

Warnings: Smut! ♥

Words: 4194

Authors: Cass & Rouge

PART 1

It has been half a year since the day your older brother, Rafael Adler, was imprisoned in Panama prison.

Missing him dearly, you begged the director of the facility to let you meet with your brother. It took you several visits to gain man's trust of not being smuggler of any kind, and in the end you've gotten a permit.

That day the gates of Panama prison opened for you widely, and two guards escorted you directly to a meeting room.

Dressed in a black, flared dress that reached half of your thighs, and flat, white sneakers, you stepped inside the outpost.

There was a horrible kind of climate of fear and paranoia there, it made a cold shiver run down your spine.

Some nasty comments addressed to you by prisoners while you were following the guards along a desolated corridor made your involuntary gag reflex harder than ever before.

Soon, the three of you have reached a huge, steel door. One of the guards opened them with a key that was previously attached to his belt. You were allowed inside, and as soon as you stepped in, you saw Rafael standing next to the window, he was peeking outside, at a prison yard.

"Rafael!," Your voice was nothing more but a quiet mumble.

Rafe wasn't happy, not even a little bit.

He knew there were problems coming when he heard from Vargas that there was a young girl begging to let her meet with a brother.

"What are you doing in here, huh? I told you to stay away from it, does your little female brain have problems with processing words?,” He growled, crossing arms over his chest. The last thing he needed now was his little sister dragging him and the whole job down.

Without regard for his rough words, you approached him and simply nuzzled to his chest.

The gap between the two of you wasn't too big, yet he was 5 years older than you.

Since when he was gone from your family home, you had to take care of yourself, and it was rather a thankless task. You didn't know what to do, and cried thousands of years after him.

Even though his attitude towards you was always harsh, you loved him dearly. He was your only family, and he was a role model in your eyes.

You and Rafe exchanged a lot of letters, he assured in them that he missed you equally much as you did miss him.

"It's been so long, brother. I was so scared you might be hurt... You stopped responding to my letters, so I did everything to be allowed in here... I just had to check whether you're in good health or not..."

Rafe rolled his eyes, he was getting annoyed.

"Are you done with yapping? I told you I am busy with Drakes, I am not going to waste my time on silly letters," man added, looking at you. "I left you home with everything you needed. I even hired this stupid butler just to make sure you won't die out there."

Rafe tried his best to get rid of you. Yes, you were his only family member, but most of the time you were a bit too much to handle for him. Following and nagging him. "Do you need anything?"

"I missed you... That's all," you whispered sadly and quickly took a place on a metal chair standing at the tip of a metal table. "The butler won't replace my brother, in any way. The house is so huge, so empty and cold without you being there," you lowered your head.

Anytime he was raising his tone on you, he was guilt-tripping you. You were only a girl, and even your desperate attempts in getting his attention (like trying to study all the stuff he needed in his so called work), you were always pushed aside in the end.

"If that's all you can go back home. I really don't have time for sensitivity, I didn't come here for pleasure. I. Am. Working. Here!," He said loudly, hands clenched in fists.

Rafe honestly had enough of you already. You're always coming to him because you wanted to show pointless stuff, or you needed something. It was driving him crazy sometimes.

Lowering your head, you bit your lower lip hard. You closed eyes for a moment, trying your best to hold the tears back. You never knew what you have done wrong in your lifetime to deserve such a treatment from his side.

When you cooled down a little, you got up, and not looking at him you walked to the door and banged them to let guards know the visit was finished.

"It was nice to see you all well after all," you whispered.

"Sit down," Rafe said suddenly, pointing on the metal chair. "Now," he ordered harshly.

Blinking and being taken aback by his sudden interest, you looked at him above your shoulder.

In the same moment one of the guards peeked inside.

In Spanish you thanked him and assured it won't take you long, because apparently your brother wants to tell you something.

As soon as the door was closed again, you took a seat.

"Now, stay here," he muttered, briefly patting the top of your head. "Don't even move," Rafe instructed before leaving the room, he knew the guard won't be a problem. Rafe paid a lot to get himself and Drake brothers in here after all.

A few minutes later the door opened again, but this time it wasn't Rafe. It was one of Drake brothers, the older one to be exact.

"Hello? Rafe said that there might be a nice lady to talk to?," Sam hummed and looked at you with a cigarette slipped between his lips. "Hey."

You frowned, but remained quiet, and didn't even shift in your spot. You observed the man, and you did recognise him after many of your brother stories. It was probably Samuel Drake, the older from Drake brothers. The one who had to be an expert in pirate stuff that Rafe needed so desperately in his work.

You licked your lips, and tilted your head a little. "Where's Rafe?"

Sam moved the cigarette from one corner of his mouth to another. "Um, I don't know. He said there is a nice lady here, and went on with his stuff. I'd come with my little brother, but sadly he is busy as well. You would love him, he is younger and more your age, but of course not as charming as I am," he winked and sat on the chair right in front of you.

In the first impulse you wanted to get out of the room. You were all alone with a complete stranger. Rafe has left you to the wolves again, you weren't even surprised. Instead, a rage was filling your soul.

But then a realization came to your mind; if this was one of Drake brothers, you could prove your brother your real value by trying to get some information from this man. You decided to play a little game.

You rested your chin on your hand. "So you must be the older from Drake duo," whispering, you tilted your head aside and smiled on h sweetly.

Sam nodded with a smile on his lips. "Yup! Samuel Drake at your service."

Sam heard about you, mostly about how annoying you were, but here he was, right in front of you. You were sitting in front of him in this beautiful dress, you looked cute to him. "So... He left you here? All alone?"

With a little shrug a little sigh came along. "As you can see," you looked down on your hands and rubbed them together. "My brother was never an effusive person, especially not when it came to me," adding, you slowly got up from your place and walked to the window.

Sam nodded slowly. "I can tell, we spent some time together and honestly I am surprised. I am an older brother myself, I would die for Nathan," he summed up.

Listening to his words, you peeked out of the window to see a few guards with guns patrolling the yard.

You turned to the man that was trapped with you in a room, slowly bending your ass against the low windowsill. "Your brother's lucky then."

Sam watched you without saying a word.

You decided to take over control. Knowing the place he was in, you assumed it must have been a great while since he held a woman in his arms. Playing with emotions was something you were thankful to Rafe for teaching you.

You walked to the man and simply took a seat on his lap. Gently playing with his sideburn, you licked your lips. "I've heard you're a specialist from pirates. Is that true? Are you currently looking for a treasure? My brother was telling me you're good at this."

It was happening quickly, but he didn't mind at all, they all were locked down there for a bit too long, and he surely missed the woman's company. "Yes, I am a pirate expert, and yes, we are looking for a treasure. That's why our asses are stuck in here."

"I was always interested in my brother's work, though he didn't want to share anything with me," you whispered in a sad tone. "Do you know where to look for this treasure or whatever it is?," You asked sweetly after a moment of silence. Your fingers trailed up and down his chest.

Sam chuckled, placing a gentle kiss to your cheek. "Listen, little one, I know you tried to find out something so you could tell your brother, but sadly that ship has sailed. Rafe knows about everything we do," Drake shrugged, patting your hip.

You blinked a few times, his words surprised you much. Shifting slightly in your place, you bit your lower lip, and looked him in the eye.

Sam grabbed your chin, his thumb gently stroked it. "What's wrong, Y/N?," He asked simply.

"I...," You mumbled and went quiet. You felt like a complete idiot. First, you tried to seduce the man to get information about him. And he figured your plan out so quickly.

Your eyes glistened as you gazed at him; he was a handsome man.

"Want me to get you out of here? I can walk you to the guard station. Just talk to me," Drake stated, rubbing your back.

You didn't know how to behave. Taking he was an enemy of some kind, you should have kicked him right in the balls. But on the other hand, he was kind to you all the time, even if you tried to mock him. "Yes, please," you asked politely.

Sam helped you get off his lap, then he got up and walked you to the door. Sam even opened them for you. "Honestly, pity you don't want to stay longer, but it was a pleasure to meet you after all."

You stopped him from opening the door fully. You didn't know why you acted this way, but an urge grew within your body. It's been a while since you were with a man as well. You didn't know why, but this guy was turning your head upside down. "No," you whispered and closed them, you leaned your back against the steel.

Sam chuckled. "Are you like one of those typical women that don't know what they want?," He teased you.

Blushing, you turned your head aside.

Thinking about your past, you knew you made a lot of mistakes. You knew it was wrong to blindly follow your brother's will, yet you did.

But now you wanted to decide for yourself. At least once in a lifetime. If he left you alone, like a prey you seemingly were to him, you had a right to use the situation as well, hadn't you?

You wrapped your arms around the man's chest and nuzzled him.

Sam wrapped his arms around you.

You were cute, the whole 'I can't decide' thing was getting into him.

Sam grabbed your hips and picked you up to take a good look at you. "Is there something you want to tell me, sweetheart?"

"I have never met a man as handsome and mysterious as you," you mumbled openly, giggling as he picked you up.

"And I have never met a girl as sweet and small as you," Sam said, surprised at how light you were. "So, what shall I do with you now, huh?," He hummed nuzzling to you. Sam was aware of your intention but he wanted to hear it from you.

"Put me down, that's first," you asked calmly, and as soon as he did, you looked up into his eyes. He was twice your height, towering over you like skyscrapers over a block. "Second," you pretended to be thinking hardly, "if I'm Adler, and if you're Drake, then we can think about some nice way to bury the hatchet."

"Well, that would be nice if we would have any 'hatchet' to bury, love, and we have none," Sam said, looking down on you. "I have never seen you before and if you will try to play around some more I will simply leave."

"What am I supposed to say?," You whispered.

"Tell me what you want, Y/N. Rafe told me to take care of you and I will gladly do this," Sam muttered with a mischievous grin.

You smiled at him and tilted your head aside. "Take me to my brother."

Sam rolled his eyes and lit the cigarette.

Soon, he led you out of the room and took you to Rafe.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, even Drake had enough of you?," Rafe asked deeppy annoyed as soon as he spotted you entering the yard.

As your brother was sitting with a few men, you excused them and tugged on his sleeve. "What the fuck was that?," You asked him in a lowered voice. "Who the fuck I am for you? A fucking toy you can toss everywhere and to anyone you want?," You asked him as you walked aside for a bit.

"I never asked you to tag along, you always followed me like an annoying little brat you truly are," Rafe growled. "You are an adult, go get a life and stop following me," Adler said, not even trying to be quiet.

Sam frowned at the whole situation. He didn't know you too long, but he was more than sure you didn't deserve such a treatment.

Clenching teeth, you swallowed hard. And shortly after, you aimed your brother a robust slap right in the face. Glaring up at him, you snarled. "You're deluded, brother. Think about this when you'll be fucking rotting here, all alone, with no one to reach a hand toward you. A fucking lone fool. Remember, there are still things you can't buy with your bloody cash."

You were surprised by your own behaviour and the fact you dug in your heels against Rafael.

The next moment, you stormed off the yard.

Rafe didn't take it to himself, he didn't care. "One problem less," Rafe summed up before returning to his mates.

Sam was the one to run after you. "Hey, hey. Wait, you can't just walk alone. Not here," he informed you simply.

"What can happen?," You snarled in a response. "If I'd vanish once and for all, he'd be the one to dance happily on my grave."

"You can get hurt here, and please, don't say that," Sam grabbed your arm to stop you. "You can't act like this only because he's a dick."

"I'm an adult, I can do whatever I want to," you turned to face the man.

"You are an adult, you are free to do what you want, but it doesn't mean you can waste your life just because your brother is a dick. You should show you are better than he thinks you are," Sam explained.

You listen to his words. The man seemed very wise and very down to earth. Definitely your type.

Without thinking too much, you climbed on tiptoes, pulled him by a collar, and crushed your lips on his.

Sam gladly kissed you back, after a moment he pulled away with a smile. "I did not expect that," he admitted.

Your fingers intertwined with his as you grabbed his palm. With a mischievous grin, you pulled him behind you. With a corner of your eye you spotted a guard leaving one of the rooms, and you decided to risk it all, pulling the man in that direction.

Sam wasn't really sure about it, they had things to do and they were treated like normal prisoners, but he followed you anyway. After all, you were sweet. Sweet enough to make him go after you. "You are a crazy, little girl."

You simply pushed him inside the room. You decided that if there would be anyone, you'd lie quickly that the man was leading you to the exit and you two messed the way.

Fortunately, the room was empty. As soon as the door closed right behind the two of you, you pushed the man on the wall. You once again climbed on your tiptoes to kiss him, this time you let your tongue dance with his one a little. And you had to admit that he was an amazing kisser.

Sam kissed you back, grabbing your waist. He gave you the possibility of dominating him in the kiss.

But then he picked you up and soon you were pressed to the wall. "Time to change places, sweetheart."

Humming willingly, you let the man press you to the wall.

As he broke the kiss, you gasped loudly, sadly, as the contact was lost.

Sam smiled at you before dropping to his knees, he wanted to take his time with you, but sadly he couldn't. It wasn't a five star hotel, it was a prison after all. "Let's see what are you hiding there, princess," Sam hummed before moving the skirt of your dress up.

You licked your lips and parted them, observing his actions. He was so sure of what he was doing, it impressed you very much. As the blush hit your face, you let your eyes closed.

Sam teased you through your panties, just a little bit to get you ready. Then he pulled your panties aside and attacked your clit like he was a starving beast.

You gasped and instinctively muffled yourself by putting a curled hand to your lips. He gave you a new sensation. Of course, you did have sex, but only oral one and only with your former boyfriend who was just as inexperienced as you. Sam, on the other hand, was playing with you wisely, discovering a new level of desire to you.

"You like it, huh?," Sam asked, playing with your clit.

He raised to his feet, looking at you with a cocky smile.

"I wish I could eat that sweet pussy properly but looking at our poor position. This needs to wait, you are wet for me anyway," Sam winked and picked you up, pressing you to the wall.

At this moment Sam was thankful that his prison uniform was loose and easy to remove.

A soft moan escaped your lips as he picked you up a little. Your legs wrapped quickly around his hips as your hands rushed to tug his pants down. Oh, how much he was turning you on! "I need you, so much!"

"Oh you will get it, babe. I can promise you that, you will get whatever you need," Sam assured you before pulling his pants down, he wasn't wearing any underwear and his cock was standing proudly. "How much do you want it?"

"So much!," you gasped and reached out to grab his erected cock. You gave it a stroke or two, your palm wrapped tightly around his shaft. You tried to guide him right inside of you.

"But keep your hands up here, babe. I'll do the work," Sam instructed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "You simply relax and sing for me."

After those words Sam started to slowly penetrate your sweet pussy, he could feel that even if you had sex in past, a guy did a poor job.

"Hell! Fuck!," You moaned quietly, right into man's ear. A cold shiver ran along your spine. "Fuck, oh God!," You were moaning louder and louder. "You're so big! I can't take it!," You kissed the man's cheek, and moved to suck on his neck. His skin tasted with sweat, but you didn't mind.

"Oh I can bet you can take it, “ he hummed, rubbing your belly lovingly. "And a bit more than just my cock. Just relax," Sam purred, giving you one hard thrust before returning to gently pace. He didn't want to hurt you in any way.

"Ah!," You mumbled and nuzzled to his neck. Instantly, as soon as he made a hard thrust, you felt how wet you became and that your walls got loosened a bit. You tried to cool your breath down.

"You see? I told you that you can take it. Such a good girl," Sam smiled at the nice feeling of your walls loosening a bit around him. Knowing this he started to move faster, Sam knew you can take it. "You are doing a great job, babe,” he hummed, moving his hand into your hair to pull them gently.

You wrapped arms tighter around his neck and gasped right into his ear. He felt so amazing in you. He stretched you oh so well! "Fuck, fuck, so good, so hot, fuck...," You raised your tone a little and rolled head back.

Sam chuckled at your moans and cupped your cheek to make you look at him. "Oh, I know this all, sweetheart and I can say that you feel amazing around my cock,” without more unnecessary words Sam pulled you into a kiss, he was getting close to his climax.

You cupped his face in hands and kissed him. The kiss was messy, rapid. You gasped for air when you broke the kiss. "Oh, God, something is.... Oh, my God!," You mumbled as your walls started clenching.

Sam smiled against your lips.

"Oh, you poor thing, no one ever made you reach your peak? Let me show you how the real man does it, you'll love it,” he hummed, his hand moved between your bodies to play with your clit. "Just don't hold it, babe."

You rolled head back, your eyes shut closed, your lips parted and thighs squeezing man's hips. Your nails dug into his back where you scratched him. "I'm cumming!," You screamed.

"Good girl,” Sam hummed into your ear. His hips didn't stop to move even after your climax. "Now, tell me, do you want to be a good girl or do you want me to fill you up?"

"I want to be a good girl," you whispered. "Please!"

Sam let out a sad sigh, he expected a bit more from you. "As you wish. Pity ‘cuz I am not a fan of good girls,” he slowly pulled his cock out of you, Sam gave himself a few strokes before painting your clothed belly with his warm, thick seed. "That was good."

You licked your lips and gasped, immediately you went down to your knees and wrapped lips around his shaft. You only smirked and bobbed your head back and forth, sucking on him.

He moved his hand into your hair pulling at them. "This feels nice but that's enough, Y/N. You sucked me dry, babe."

You ran the tip of your tongue along his shaft for the very last time.

Sam chuckled and helped you get up. Pulling his pants up he looked at you, of course he pulled out a cigarette from his pocket and lit it. "That was something girl," Sam hummed, puffing out some smoke.

You looked at him innocently. "Did you... Enjoy it? Truly?," You looked like you were seeking confirmation in his eyes. It was your very first time with a skilled man and you felt so exposed.

"Oh, I did enjoy it. Truly," he said and kissed your cheek. "I promise you one thing: as soon as we will be out of this hell - I will find you and we'll play some more."

"You somehow know where to look for me," you bit your lower lip.

At this moment the door to the room opened and a guard rushed inside. "What the fuck!"

"I told you she is here just wandering around. I knew she would be a problem," Rafe said to the guards with his back pressed to the wall, Nathan stood next to him completely confused.

You shrugged. "I pressed on him to go there, I thought this is where the exit is," you explained, laying smoothly

Everyone looked at you. The guards frowned and grabbed you, simply dragging you away.

Before you were pushed outside the outpost, you turned your head around. "Thank you for

guiding me

, Samuel!"

254 notes · View notes

jadelynlace · 3 years

Text

a dead woman tells no tales / vikings fiction

series based on Lady Lazarus, a poem by Sylvia Plath.

chapter two / read chapter one here

synopsis: He left you for dead and now you’re back.

author’s note: the one small detail the reader has, is that she is a red head. smut below the cut.

pairing: Ivar x Reader

✄

There was an ache your feet contained, moving out of memory down the path but you could not recall why this one seemed to be so long. It was childish, your torment and exhaustion, heavy and foul in your heart but you moved forward, incurable search looming across your eyelids. “I will get help,” were the last words Ivar had spoke to you, the last time you were both in the realm of relishing in a life ahead. You spent many nights in those rocks, the moon looming over you and help never came. The tale that churned through the village at the time was how you wandered off into the woods and never returned back out. A victim of the elements, or hungered animals, perhaps gone to another establishment. You wondered who believed the petty story, especially since you knew of the best routes to take through all forests and hillsides from your upbringing. You ached to know why Ivar never brought back help.

The center of how the flowers bloom always caught your eye—spreading for their destiny to be taken away in the brisk spring wind when it would roll through. Your invisible business helped the sun stretch a bit higher, the sky lighting with the same passion that drove back your arrow; the relished sight of her reflection in the puddle of blood. Perhaps you could splash in it before the beasts had gone to lap it dry.

“You have been quiet for a woman of your beauty,” A sudden voice drew your immediate attention, your spot close to the woods that held your secrets as you watched the display of celebration before you.

“I have been watching,” You answered.

“And what is it you are watching for? How to enjoy a moment of celebration?”

“I am watching,” You repeated.

“When you have finished watching, perhaps you would care to come to my quarters,” The man finally spoke, curling the tone of his speech to lace your hair, intertwining the strands of amber.

“I would care not,” But your simplistic spite fell on ears that had long since been drowned with the mead, the man grabbing the neck line of your garment and lifting you.

“I am tired of chasing you to no avail. You are a fighter as I have seen, fight back,” He demanded, pushing you to lay across the ground, clad of covered feet stomping towards how you are positioned for him. “I would like to see the fight you speak of,”

“I watch and I learn,” You hissed, brushing the soot from the fabric of your clothing.

“You do not learn to fight by observing,” He laughed as you stood.

“You learn weakness,” You answered, still not backing from how his eyes watched you: how the silk of the dress hung to your breasts, how your fingers were long and nimble, neat and clean nails and he imagined what else your body could offer.

“Just like how everyone is weak to the end of a blade?” He snickered, the flash of the metal dancing daintily in his grasp.

“Yes, just like how everyone is weak to the poison in their mead,” You promised, a simple smile adorning your face as you crept back into the darkness of the night; only tossing a final look as the man began to gasp, his organs curdling as his body crawled towards his grave.

You visit Ivar’s quarters at night, dawned down the great hall as you creep along the floor. Ivar seated around an assortment of furs as you press the door open to catch him.

“You haunt me,” He say lowly, a gaze torched through the blue eyes he owns as he has his head tipped towards where you stand.

“An evil spirit would haunt you, Ivar,” You state, “A spirit that wants revenge...have you done something you regret?” You ask, your feet taking you to the ledge of the place he sleeps, but his hiss simply stops you.

“I regret nothing in the path to greatness,”

“Do you regret not getting me help?” You finally ask. His shoulders sag briefly before he straightens himself up, a thin line of artwork catching the faint glow in the orange cast of the lingering fire. “Do you regret not speaking the truth about what happened?” Ivar only swallows thickly.

“Is that why have you come all this way to me? For revenge? Or for a different ending? I will kill you myself if that is what you are seeking,” Ivar growls as he raises. You notice the weight on the pillar he holds, how the legs he held so much hatred for are covered with iron as he clunks towards where you stand.

“I would like that Ivar,” You whisper as you watch Ivar’s face contort: his brow creasing to a sudden look of sadness as he catches the flames that crackle behind you. “You will do great things, Ivar the Boneless, but I have seen the gates of Valhalla, and they offer nothing that I can not get for myself now. I want you to remember one thing Ivar: everything always returns,” You hand moves on its own accord towards the chiseled cheekbone, streaked with petty battle scars but he flinches quickly from your touch.

“What have you done with the woman I once knew?” Ivar asked when his eyes finally catch yours. “I am a cripple and you…” His voice trails off as it dances between you two, soaked up completely by the moonlight. “You are back,”

“You need to rest Ivar. I will be gone in the mornings, and you can go forth,” You answer watching Ivar cast a look to where his body should be stationed: gorged in the warmth of the fur as the nightmares swamp through his mind for another night, but instead his hand catches yours as it retreats back towards your hips.

“You are back,” He repeats as the tone softens to such an extent you consider perhaps, someone else in the room is speaking for him. “Would you lay with me?” Ivar requests. “And give me that to remember on my voyage back?”

The room wafts against your nose the smell of him, you cannot explain the scent that has always reminded you of the man you knew, but your search for it came with no promises until you had moved to be next to him. Another couple of logs placed along the amber flames before you hear Ivar groan softly as the limp limbs he carries finally halt their torture to have their rest. The shine of his blue eyes are on you as your feet carry you back, a quick clicking from his tongue halting you in your attempts to pass him. Leveling to his gaze, he taps his own shoulder as your mind catches clue of his poem regarding the fabrics you wear. You carry on the next few moments untying how your dress has been formed, pulling the ends before it drops to your feet. Ivar’s eyes do nothing other than widen at the sight of your body bare for him, the clean, close shave of your mound and the lone traces of the injuries undetectable in the low light.

There’s a scream in your mind to climb over him, smother his body with yours and bloom pleasure between the two of you. There’s an even fainter call to struggle with him, stuffing the furs into his mouth to suffocate the voice that had been calling in your dreams since the nights you spent in the field. You body can do neither as his eyes fixate on you, a soft turn of his head as you find him studying you in beauty, your body written in a language for him to decode.

“What caused that scar?” He asked suddenly, finger outstretched to the crease across your hip bone as it slithered across the supple flesh on your inner thigh.

“A blade,” You response as you hear the man before you chuckle.

“A blade from whom?”

“A man who tried to have his own way with me,” You replied. “More than once,”

“Is he dead?” Ivar asked lowly.

“I poisoned him,” There’s a sick grin that claims Ivar’s mouth as you speak before him, a tick in the bones of his jaw as you spin the tale on to him of your efforts to harm anyone who has tried to harm you. Ivar must wonder why you have gone so long and spared him.

“Lay with me,” Ivar finally repeats, pushing back the mounds of fabric across the bed. As you round the structure, folding your dress neatly to rest across the far table, you still feel the climbing sting of Ivar’s gaze over your bare back. Trickling down the swell of your behind and over your legs, catching your chest in the light as another low hum slips on account of his studying. It does not take too much more of his wordless expressions to send the faint glint of arousal to slide through your womanhood, slipping across the plains of your thighs as you settle near his body. Ivar makes no motions to touch you, sliding down as one arm rests behind his head, the other caught in a line over his chest.

“This does not seem of something that would be memorable, Ivar,” Your voice catches his brows to raise as you too rise onto your forearms. “May I?” You ask as the pads of your fingers come to trace along the hardened length of his arm. He hums in compliance as you turn the limb from your path and gather yourself to rest along his chest, his arm coming back to circle you as half of a halo. His other arm wastes no time to complete the path as you sigh, breath fanning across chiseled muscles and lingering ink. He seemed stuck on how to continue, his arms still resisting to trace your body before you peak up to look at him. “I am not fragile, Ivar,” You whisper. Ivar turns his head slightly to catch your eyes, the faint pooling of the ink across the blue oceans as he watches you rise again, a throw of the blankets back before you’re across his hips.

“You misbehave,” He says to you.

“You bring it out in me. Do you not wish to lay with me like that Ivar?” You ask. But you get no immediate answer.

“You know that answer. But...there are many things you have missed in the time you have been away,” Ivar starts. “I—” But his words die against his mouth as you press your lips along his, sinking a quick pressure of your teeth into his bottom lip as you pull away. Room is limited as Ivar’s arms stabilize you against his chest, holding you there as if he fears you will simply float from his grasp before his mouth is hot against yours. The faint rocking from your hips catches him as his lips falter, his hands not ceasing as they explore every trace of your skin. “You will be disappointed,” Ivar whispers softly enough you almost miss his sentence.

“Can you not feel it? How my body responds for you Ivar?” You ask puzzled the lone pressing of his prick takes your notice from where you have your body spread. Ivar’s mouth parts as you grind your cunt where he grows, his head sinking back across the furs with a simple low moan of your name. You want to peel away the rest of what covers him, but the closer you drew to his lower legs the further Ivar went from you. His eyes situated with lust as your finger danced by his knees quickly dissipates until you pull your hands back to his chest. “Let me pleasure you, Ivar,” You say sweetly. “I will not undress you any further,”

Before you can sink down across him, Ivar stills you, watching how your breasts pebble to his touch, slipping his hands between your legs as your wetness collects along his digits. Your moan is matched with his alike, impatient to continue with his thumb still circling your clit, his own way with you tingling the sensation to bloom at your tailbone as your thighs start to shake. Ivar’s name falls from your lips in a moan as he studies you while you come, the simplest pressure from him still causing such a delicious outpour. You can feel his cock twitching, aching to be touched with the fluid pebbling from its head. Through still pleasure drunk thighs you sink across him, the sting of your walls spreading catching you to halt before he’s fully inside of you. A watchful face of concern as you hiss briefly at his size, finally sheeting him fully inside of you. Your tightness stills Ivar completely, a low moan dribbling from his lips as his chest heaves, tensing through his abdomen as your fingers dance over him. As the pain fizzles to spread a hum of glorious pleasure through you, your hips move on their own, Ivar’s hands gripping your breasts as they bounce slightly, your head tipping backwards. Still stuck watching you before you lean closer to him, his mouth hungrily taking yours as you feel him move his own hips towards you.

No words are exchanged, soft noises from both of yours mouths to be eaten back up again as you feel another wave roll towards you. Ivar’s arm lock around you and your climax hits you, his own pulling a release from his shaft as he fills your walls with his lips still stuck to yours. Breathing each other’s scent in as the final flames go out with the smell of sex through the air. Ivar makes no hurry to have you leave him, his cock softening as you nuzzle his cheek.

“Why must you leave?” You find yourself asking.

“I have a kingdom to return to, my people and my queen,” Ivar suddenly admits.

“You have wed?”

“Yes,” Ivar answers as you slowly pull back. “I told you that you would be disappointed. Freydis is with my child,”

“Freydis?”

“Yes,” His answer pierces your heart, not out of the sorrow of having then lost him to another woman, but of the battles you know he has no knowledge of. You laugh suddenly, a joyous giggle, trying to move away but he stops you. “Please stay, Y/N,” Ivar whispers.

“She is not with your child Ivar,” You find yourself suddenly spitting from your lips, wishful that you could stop them as your laughing dies to an end. “She has been laying with the baker’s son, and she is with his,”

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years

Text

Marching far away (Din Djarin x reader)

Summary: some things are more potent in their absence. Din misses you, but before he can let go, he has one more promise left to fulfil. PURE ANGST with eventual comfort.

Author’s note: this is me breaking the tin can man’s heart for a spell. Sorry? Also, this is only my 2nd Din fic and I’m insecure, pls validate me? Or, come join me to simp, okay? (This has Cara in it- was written b4 the G*na drama)

Word count: 3k, oh hell. Was meant to be a blurb. Kriff it. I have no control.

Warnings: strong themes of grief, death of a loved one (reader). Hints of depression + trauma linked to that. A mess of angst and metaphors, tbh. Brief mentions of wounds, blood -not too graphic.

GIF: stunning, and from @qviism

The Mandalorian has awoken to many recurring thoughts in his time, most of them unpleasant. For many years, Din was jolted awake by memories of his parents, their love imprinted on him like a brand which never stopped burning. Yanked from sleep by a noise and grasping for his helmet before he grasps for a weapon, so that everything he is built of -everything he has promised to be- cannot be unmade. Rising to worry; to thoughts of what he is missing and fear of what might be taken away.

Nowadays, he awakes to thoughts of The Foundling. And, Din always, always awakes to the lack of you.

Some things become more potent in their absence. Din knows this. He knows it deeply. Never is the warmth of the sun craved more acutely than in the depths of a dead night. Din certainly finds you more potent in your absence. He finds himself wearing the memory of you like a perpetual perfume, clinging to his body and refusing to be scrubbed clean. Even when he has shed the heavy layers of beskar, in the dark and the solitude, the ghost of you still lingers there, enveloping his skin like a shroud.

Sometimes, Din wonders why he must always bear a weight on his body. A weight over his heart, like this, even when he’s stripped down. Still, like the armour, you are a vow he bears willingly. The only thing worse than bearing this would be losing you entirely. And losing you entirely, would be worse than losing his creed.

Din’s creed is immeasurably heavy.

You are heaviest. Immeasurable.

This morning, as the weight of you settles on his chest, Din stirs.

He peels his eyes open for another day of folding rituals into his seconds and minutes and hours until they become his Way of life. Another day of folding all of the promises he made to you into his heartbeat, his sinews, his bones, until you become a part of him.

As soon as he awakes, he longs for sleep again. Din isn’t sure he can take it any longer -watch yet another day blaze without you by his side. To admit that something fresh was possible would be to let you go. To extract “you” from “him” would be like trying to tear out his own skeleton and keep his heart beating. You are inextricable. Unforgettable. All he can do is hold on to you with every fibre of his being.

This morning, as the weight of you threatens to pin him down to the bed for another day, Din is relieved to find the sound stirring him is Cara, rapping on his door with a characteristically heavy fist. He is relieved not to be alone. He is relieved that today -especially today- Cara can help bear some of the weight of you. He hopes his burden can be made just a little lighter. Prays it can, for he doesn’t know how much longer he can carry you. Still, he is not ready to bury you. Not yet.

Not yet.

Din misses you. He misses you so badly. This is how you are able to cling to his body like perpetual perfume. To weigh on his breast. This is how you’re amongst every layer of him, from armour to bones. Because Din Djarin wears you like a creed. Because he chooses you, every day, and he folds you into the layers of him. The vows, the promises, the rituals. Until you are his way of life. Or, the lack of you is; some things are just more potent in their absence.

A dead body is heavier. Heaviest.

“Din? We gotta go.” Cara states perfunctorily through the door, cutting through Din’s spiral. “There’s some caf on the floor for you.”

Din’s face softens gratefully, the simple morning ritual a reason to crawl out of bed. This is how he gets through the day. One ritual at a time until the sun goes down.

“Din! Are you ready?” Cara asks, rapping on the door again when nothing but silence greets her.

Ready? Is he? He’s never ready to face another day without you. It always kicks the feet out from under him. You always tackle him in those first moments of the morning, before he can put his armour on over the cracks. You always attack him when he’s most vulnerable.

“Yep. Coming.” Din responds, his rough voice grogged by tattered remnants of sleep.

He reluctantly reaches for his armour. He stumbles into the refresher. He dresses himself, layering himself in ritual. Binding himself in his creed until none of his cracks are visible and he is shining like the glint of dawn over a horizon. Until he appears whole and unbreakable. If he didn’t have his creed to bind himself in, Din may have fallen apart altogether.

Din shuffles towards the mirror, where he has your necklace pinned. A pendant with an emblem of a sun, rising over mountains. With each new day, he repeats the mantra which has become familiar to him.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

It’s a promise. A promise to remember you. He says it into the mirror, to a face that you never even saw. He repeats your name under his breath, folding it into the air filling his lungs. Each breath becomes a ritual. A habit of breathing, for you. For the Foundling. For Cara. Maybe, eventually, for himself.

Din keenly downs the strong, bitter caf before cloaking his face inside his helmet. Today, he resents the helmet, just a little. Wishes he could show the cracks, instead of his smooth dome of beskar, just for once. But weakness is not a luxury Din Djarin is used to being afforded. Strength is part of his code.

Din shuffles lethargically, quietly to the cockpit of the Razor Crest, trying to minimise the heavy thud of his boots. It’s early. Early enough that even The Foundling is sleeping. It’s still dark outside too, stars littering the skies up above like spilled sugar. It would be beautiful if it wasn’t so tragic, he thinks -so haphazard.

Din had used to believe that stars aligned. That there was some order to the chaos. He had believed that most wholeheartedly when he met you, by complete chance. But now... now he simply believed they were a mess. That fate was cruel. That all was chaos. That the universe was nothing but spilled sugar.

The Mandalorian places a gloved hand on Cara’s shoulder and she turns, arms folded and her face already awash with tears, eyes littered with stars too. Angry stars, like fate has been cruel to her as well. She misses you, too.

Cara smiles thinly, caught-out in her grief but pleased that he’s up, and Din lowers himself into the pilot’s seat with a heavy thud, manoeuvring the craft up and away. There is no time for comfort. He knows he needs to make the canyon before sunrise. Has to watch the daybreak peek over the mountains. It’s what he promised. So, he flies in silence, Cara quiet too.

It all seems eminently doable to Din… until he lands the ship. Until Cara takes his hand and attempts to lead him out of the craft before the glowing embers of day set fire to the sky. Then, suddenly, the interior of the helmet tastes like salt, his wet tears of grief lining the insides.

“Din,” Cara says, her voice tinged with panic. “Din, please. The sun’s coming up. We can’t miss this, you understand?”

“I can’t do it, Cara. I can’t do another day without her,” he rasps through the vocoder, his voice a patchy rumble like an old stuttering engine.

Cara hasn’t seen Din breakdown like this since it had first happened. No-one has seen it. Even now, his voice is the only clue that he is broken. His armour may be smooth and unblemished, but the Mandalorian is cracked from within.

His pain travels through his body, though, becoming more visible. Din curls his spine and his shoulders in on himself, his body sagging under the weight of you. Under the weight of this. His gloved hands clench and dig into the arms of his flight console.

Din wants to run. Wants to turn the Razor Crest around.Wants to be weak, after so long beign strong.

“Din, you promised her.”

Promised? Promised?

“I promised nothing,” Din snaps at Cara, launching himself from his seat, his voice gruff like the snarl of animal. Like teeth tearing a chunk out of her. “She died before I could promise her a damn thing.”

Cara squares up to him, ready to suffer his outburst, but the fire leaves Din as quickly as it came. He’s simply a wounded animal lashing out. Even as Cara’s chin tips up at him, Din is falling to his knees on the floor, his head bowed into his gloved hands.

“Din,” Cara soothes, dropping to the floor with him and clutching his hands in hers, gently peeling them away from his helmet. “Din. Hey.”

Din’s voice is barely audible when he speaks again. “I wasn’t there at the end, Cara. I wasn’t with her.”

The Mandalorian finally tips his head up and meets the mercenary’s eyes. He finds them swimming with pain. With pity. Din hadn’t been there at the end. He couldn’t even hold you. He wasn’t even there to tell you that he loved you. That he would have married you. To tell you all that he would have promised and vowed to you.

Cara had been there, at the end, so Din supposes it’s a cruel thing to wish for. Especially as he can see from the distress in Cara’s face that she is replaying it. That her face contorts around all the details she left out so that Din didn’t have to know exactly how you suffered. Especially as she chews on the omitted details and prepares to smooth them with kind, white lies to ease his pain.

“Well, I was, Din. I was. And I told you what she said, yes?”

Cara had been the one to convey your dying words to Din. Had come back to the Mandalorian with your body in her arms, her hands stained red and her cheeks stained with glassy tears. Cara had been the one to hold Din as he yelled into the sky. As he crouched over you and blood bloomed through his gloves as he pressed his hands to your flowering wounds. As he took a boot and then his fists to the exterior of the Razor Crest. She had been the one to soothe him, and remind him of the Foundling and all he had left to live for as he dropped to his knees, just like this. Cara had told him what you’d said, with your last breaths. As you expended your last moments folding Din into your bones. Into your heart. Punctuating your story with him.

“Tell Din... I love him. And... m-make sure he watches the sun c-come up.”

“I told you what she said, but did you understand it? Did you understand what she meant?” Cara searches the T-shape in Din’s helmet as if she could truly read it, no longer holding back her own tears.

“She knew, Din, you tin-head. She knew every damn promise you would have made to her,” Cara says, clutching Din’s hands more tightly in her warm grip. “In her final moments, she was thinking about what her Mandalorian would need. Her man would need to know she loved him. Would need something to believe in -something beautiful. He’d need the promise of a new day. And a friend by his side to get him through the night. So, Din, there’s no kriffing doubt she knew you loved her, because she knew exactly what you would need to survive losing her.”

It was symbolic, Cara knew, but you understood Din. You understood his need for rituals and symbols. You wanted him to watch the sun come up, and you wanted Cara to make sure he did so again, even after the longest and darkest of nights without you.

Din leans forward into Cara’s shoulder as if all of his tendons have suddenly been cut. He hadn’t realised how badly he needed to hear his friend’s words. But you knew that he would need her.

Of course.

Even when Din thought all the promises has been lost, you forced him to look ahead to the promise of a new dawn; a new day, one day at a time. It was about marching forwards, with whatever rituals he needed to get him through. Like watching the sun come up over the mountains. For you, for Cara, for the Foundling. Until he could do it for himself too.

As Cara moves to wrap her strong arms around Din in comfort, suddenly he raises himself from the floor as quickly as he fell, until he is standing above her. Her brown eyes find his as she rises to meet him.

He extends his hand to her, and instead of taking it, she simply looks at him, a soft smile blooming at the corners of her mouth.

The only time Cara had known Din to take the helmet off was when he was horrifically wounded. And he’s so horrifically wounded now. She knows exactly what he needs.

“Why don’t you go out alone, Din Djarin?” Cara asks in a soft, earnest voice. “Why don’t you feel the sun on your face for a little bit? I’ll give you ‘til the sun hits that second peak, then I’ll be right out, okay?”

Din doesn’t speak; can’t speak, at such a kind gesture from a friend who knows him too well. Who knew you just as well. Din can’t find the words. All he knows is that he suddenly feels so much… lighter. He brings a gloved hand to the side of Cara’s face and dips his beskar dome forwards, gently touching foreheads with his friend in gratitude. She gives him a soft smile and an encouraging nod, and the Mandalorian shuffles out of the craft alone, his heavy boots dragging through the dirt. He faces the mountains. Faces the beautiful view across the canyon and collapses into the dirt, parking his butt and sitting cross-legged at the cliff edge.

The sunlight spills over the horizon, the light finding him and daybreak gleaming off of his armour; at first, Din reflects it back like he doesn’t want to know. Like he wants to remain in the darkness. But then, ever so slowly, he reaches his hands up towards his head and slips his helmet off, baring his face to a new day. Feeling the warmth on his skin. The light dancing in his warm, caf-coloured eyes. And he smiles. He smiles while thinking of you, for the first time in a long while.

Din is here because it has been a year. A year since you died.

In that time, it hasn’t grown any easier. But, today, Din is here with Cara to remember you. He wants the carry the memory of you with him forever, but he doesn’t want it to be so heavy. He doesn’t want to only remember you in death, even if you died with such honour. He wants to let your memory be something that can dance around him. Dance with him. Maybe even march along beside him. That’s how he wants to remember you; with joy, because that’s what you gave him, before you gave him grief – if only he would remember.

Din takes a few deep breaths and allows his soul to be stilled as the sun rises through the craggy, oranged peaks in front of him, drying the tears from his cheeks like the brush of a lover’s fingers.

He repeats the words under his breath.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

I’m still alive, but you are dead. I remember you, so you are eternal.

That’s the thing about rituals. They mean something. They’re never supposed to be passive. They’re a way of life, folded into the seconds and minutes and hours of each new day. Folded into your heartbeat, your sinews, your bones.

Din looks out at the beautiful scene in front of him, and his smile spreads wider even as fresh tears threaten at his eyes. This time, they ball, but don’t fall. They twinkle in his eyes like stars blazing. Like suns.

Maker, he loved you. Loves you. And, Cara must have been right; you must have known he loved you too, then? Because why else would you think he would need this - exactly this, if he lost you?

The Mandalorian watches peacefully until the sun rises beyond the second peak, and, true to his word, he savours the warmth before slipping his helmet back on over his head. True to her word, Cara’s heavy gait kicks-up dust as she approaches, plonking herself beside him on the dirt and looking out across the canyon in gentle awe, suns balling in her eyes too.

After a moment in silence, she bumps his shoulder with her own, looking him dead-on in the T-shape. “I need you to talk about her,” Cara admits. “I know you can’t forget her, but you have to remember her too, Din. That’s how you keep her alive, instead of being haunted by ghosts. Or, that’s how we keep her alive.” Cara scrunches her face up, as if she knows how cheesy she’s about to sound. “Together. You’re not a clan of one anymore, Mando.”

“I know,” Din says gruffly, his voice lighter than it had been before dawn. He nods his head in agreement. “I know.”

The two friends wrap their arms around one another as the sun rises above the mountains, held together by its beauty, the possibility of a new start, and the memory of you.

Din tugs in the deepest of breaths and lets it go, as if he shrugging off a long-held weight from his shoulders.

Cara is the first to break the silence, looking towards her dear companion. “How about you shimmy indoors, clear out the snot from your helmet and come back with some hot caf? The child will be waking up in a couple of hours. ‘Til then maybe we can enjoy the views and figure out the best stories to tell him about his mama?”

Din rises, like the sun. Somehow looking fresh. He obliges Cara, giving her a moment alone with her memories too, and he wanders into the interior of the Razor Crest. As he retrieves his cup from inside the craft, he repeats his mantra once more under his breath.

“Ni su’cuyi, gar kyr’adyc, no partayli, gar darasuum.”

Up to now, Din realises, he had been repeating it. But he hadn’t been living it.

Things were set to change today. As long as he remembered you, Cara remembered you, the Foundling remembered you, you were not gone. You were simply marching far away.

Din would have married you. If there is something after all this, if there is anything true about the Force, Din hopes that one day, somehow, he gets a chance to make a whole new vow. Hopes that one day he might get to walk beside you again, and keep walking with you for always. Until then, he will keep marching on. And, most of all, he will remember you, so that if he ever comes across you again, he will recognise you, even if you are marching away.

Folding your name into his breath, Din joins Cara beneath the risen sun to start a new day, with a friend by his side. No longer a clan of one. Not alone, even wihout you.

THE END

Like this? I hope the story brought you some joy and that’s more than enough, especially at this moment. However, if you do have the energy and inclination please do reblog, and consider sending feedback in a comment or ask. (It gets me through the day, ngl).

Want more? Whether you want more angst or need recovery fluff, I got you. You can check out my Masterlist in my bio to read more of my works! I write for Star Wars and Oscar / Pedro characters. I have more Din and a Cara fic on there too, and plenty of Poe Dameron being silly if you need a cheer up.

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persephonesinfernos · 4 years

Text

it’s too early for this shit | oneshot.

summary: bucky and (y/n) are a couple for some time now but they do not live together yet. one night (y/n) cannot sleep so she decided to head to bucky’s to sleep next to him.

pairing: bucky barnes x reader.

word count: 1312.

author’s note: fluff for all of you.

masterlist.

3 am and another night went without a night of good sleep. (Y/N) has spent many nights wide awake lying in her bed, tossing around and changing positions every two minutes but none of that seemed to help her fall asleep. Despite all the hours she spent training at her dance studio and how exhausted she was, not even those days (Y/N) could sleep.

Maybe it was the fact that she got used to sleeping next to Bucky or it was simply that she worried too much about his well-being when he was away on a mission but (Y/N) didn’t have any clue and those long and sleeplessness nights began to take a toll on her.

Bucky should’ve been back from his mission today, probably at his loft. (Y/N) took a chance and got up searching for a hoodie and a pair of trainers so she could leave for her boyfriend’s loft. A 45-minute drive but, what were 45 minutes driving after spending many days with insomnia? If (Y/N) was right and Bucky has, indeed, come back, she will be sleeping peacefully tonight.

When she finally reached Bucky’s door she opened it with her emergency key and right at the moment she stepped in, she was able to smell the aroma of the grey-eyed man. (Y/N) let out a sigh of relief she did even not she was holding back while driving down there. Slowly and without making too much noise, (Y/N) got closer to Bucky’s bedroom.

Buck was sleeping placidly, his face showing nothing but relief and peace. Something that started to happen when he and (Y/N) shared the nights in each other arms, but mostly it was because Buck had been able to share his deepest and most terrifying fears and nightmares with the dancer. She got Bucky to feel normal, to feel loved again.

(Y/N) went and sat at the edge of the bed observing Bucky while she ran her fingers throw his dark hair. The only thing in her mind was how lucky she was and how deeply she had fallen for the ex-assassin.

Bucky tossed around in his sleep and finally opened his eyes slowly, first thing in his sight was (Y/N)’s smile.

“What are you doing here? It’s 4 am! You’re safe? Has something happened?” Bucky asked with worry, sitting quickly in his bed and staring intensely at (Y/N).

“Nothing’s wrong Buck, go back to sleep” (Y/N) said letting out a giggle. “It’s just that… I couldn’t sleep and… Well, I missed you so much. That’s why I am here darling.” (Y/N) smiled sheepishly as she felt her cheeks becoming red as tomatoes. Bucky still had that effect over her, as if she was 15 again and the cute guy from her high school would flirt with her between classes.

“You drove 45 minutes just because you weren’t able to sleep?” Bucky asked incredulously. “You’re killing me or at least you’ll do one day of these, you know that, right doll? Come in baby girl” He said patting the space next to him in the bed.

(Y/N) got into the bed, her face facing his. She was finally home, she was able to breathe again, to close her eyes and rest.

Resting her head in Bucky’s chest, (Y/N) took a deep breath letting her mind got intoxicated by Bucky’s aroma while he kissed the top of her head and making her drifted to sleep. And at that moment, in between being asleep and awake, she smiled and whispered “You smell like home, you are my home Bucky Barnes.”

Bucky woke up with (Y/N) in his arms, not being able to wipe out that stupid smile on his face. (Y/N) was always able to make him smile but last night, when she said that he was her home something changed. He made a decision and time was running out.

He got up and got dressed, making sure that his girlfriend was still asleep and comfortable. When he was done, he got out of the loft with only one idea in his mind.

When (Y/N) woke up Buck was not right beside her, he was staring at her from the floor, his body leaning to the side of the bed. Something he did often and that she found creepy but he found adorable.

“Morning baby girl” Bucky spoke softly. “I just wanna tell you that… Oh boy, I don’t know how to explain it” He let out a nervous giggle.

(Y/N) did not get what was going on, she was still asleep and Buck was talking so fast and in a non-coherent way, at least for her and her ability to not be a person until she drank two or three cups of coffee.

“Last night… When you came all the way here just to be by my side because you couldn’t sleep and I held you in my arms I realized something (Y/N)”.

“What? What’re you talking about? What time is it?” (Y/N) questioned, her voice was a soft plea since it was still too early for her.

“I love you, I love you so much that sometimes it gets harder to breathe. Sometimes my chest aches when I know you’re not sleeping next to me that night. I want it to be over, I want you every night next to me, on my bed (Y/N), every night from now on. I want to be able to see you sleep, especially when you are so worn out that you occupy most of the bed or when you drool all over the pillow” Bucky said breathless but smirking looking down at his feet. God, he was so nervous and didn’t even know if he was making any sense. “I want you here, no no, I need you here. Every day, every hour, 24/7. So I know you’re safe, so I can see you, so I can breathe you baby girl.”

(Y/N) looked at Bucky with a confused expression on her face. What was he talking about? It didn’t matter, it was too early for that shit. Bucky seemed way too nervous to even thinking clearly so she needed to get back to sleep.

“Bucky, it’s too early for this shit”. (Y/N) said between yawns as she turned around to keep on sleeping.

Bucky’s heart stopped for a second. Did he do something wrong? He thought that his proposal was clear; could it be that (Y/N) didn’t want to spend her days next to him? Without saying anything else, he started to get up to leave the room.

In that very same moment (Y/N) turned around, eyes wide open, she has realized what all this was about. “Tell me you weren’t proposing Barnes, tell me that that was not what you meant”.

Bucky just looked at her with no clue about what to say. “Yes?” He said while he pulled out a ring from his pocket.

“No, no, no, no, no, why? Bucky, please.” (Y/N) couldn’t believe it, she just blew this moment. She almost started to cry when she realized how stupid she was, how stupid her brain was to not wake up at the same time as her body.

“It’s okay (Y/N), I get it. I really do, it is not what you want right now. Can we just forget this has happened?” Bucky smiled sadly at (Y/N).

“¡NO!” (Y/N) screamed jumping out of the bed. “I do not want to forget it” She answered more calmly this time. “I do not want to forget because I want all of that too Buck. How stupid I am? Just wanting to sleep while you were saying all those amazing things?” She laughed nervously.

Bucky smiled, letting (Y/N) came closer to him and hugging her as close as possible.

“So, is that a yes?”

“Yes, I do you idiot” (Y/N) answered as she kissed her now fiancée.

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thoughtsonhurtandcomfort · 3 years

Text

12C, part 12

Tag List: @deluxewhump @whumpinggrounds @yet-another-heathen @its-mysweetlittlesecret-blog @killtheprotagonist

Content Warnings: immortal whumpee, lady whumpee, captivity, lab whump, dehydration, starvation, exhaustion, temporary character death, sort of dehumanization? or perhaps better stated as disregard for ones humanity

Author’s Notes: I call this chapter ‘I have no clue what I’m doing but I’m trying’. Brought to you by 6 lovely souls. :) Usually I do a deeper edit of these but I’m feeling lazy tonight and really want to get this one up so I can move forward. I was also a little writer’s blocked this week so apologies if it’s not my best work. :\

Also, I think I might post the next set of parts under a new title...picking up where this leaves off, of course! But there’s something nice and complete about there being 12 ‘chapters’ to this, and as you’ll see, the title being named for the room might not apply anymore. ;) So if you’re on this tag list or watching this series don’t be alarmed if suddenly a new title is there when the next part pops up.

----

Emmeline has been gone before - taken away for testing or left somewhere overnight so they can check for results in the morning.

But this is different.

Everything is gone. The table, the equipment, everything except the camera in the corner. The room is completely dark and empty.

Liv pulls out her clipboard and flips to her page for the room - or, she would, if it was there. She hasn’t been given any checklist, any notes, anything for room 12C. It’s as though no one was ever there.

Slowly she backs out of the room and shuts and locks the door. In her mind she begins frantically skimming through every moment of the day she can remember. Did anyone look at her differently? Say something to her?

This has to be my fault somehow.

Right?

And yet, no one called her to an office or confronted her in the hallway. She came in to work and went about her day as usual. Surely if they suspected her of tampering with a subject, or any other violation, they would take action immediately?

Unless Emmeline is being punished instead of me.

But where is she?

Liv goes through her final routine tasks of the night on autopilot, her mind turning over every worst possible scenario.

Maybe Emmeline was taken to another lab. Maybe there’s an even more top-secret level to this lab that she has no idea about. Or maybe...maybe that bastard Dr. Crafton did something with her…

An additional thought creeps in that Liv refuses to dwell on.

What if she died for good this time?

But that can’t be true. Even at her most fearful and cynical, Liv can’t comprehend the tragedy of Emmeline’s light being snuffed out in this prison after hanging on so long.

She has to be alive somewhere. Suffering, scared, but alive.

But where?

----

In the days that follow Liv performs her magnum opus of pretending things are fine.

On the surface she’s as calm, quiet, and moody as always. Inside she’s constantly paranoid, expecting to be confronted at every turn, pulled into an office and questioned. She’s wary of the researchers and of security, even of her own boss. She over analyzes every look and interaction.

But one, two, three days into the week and nothing has changed except Emmeline being gone and, as of Wednesday evening, a new resident in room 12C. The balancing act in Liv’s mind between ‘I’m so fucked’ and ‘where is Emmeline’ tips in favor of the latter. It’s not as though she can ask someone. So she starts simply...listening.

Her late hours are an obstacle; most of the researchers have left by the time she starts cleaning. But the ones that sometimes stay over tend to be the chattiest when they believe no staff - at least, in their mind, no staff worth acknowledging - are present.

It takes caution and patience, but soon from observations and overheard conversations with her headphones in, Liv manages to piece together what happened.

There are whispers of new subjects, more than they have room for. Frustrated complaints of how the ‘research’ with Emmeline was going nowhere, of failed blood transfusions and transplants. ‘Fascinating but useless’ was how one of them put it. Without results the funding would soon dry up, but selling her to a competitor would be disastrous if the competitor had success where they didn’t.

But that’s as far as Liv gets. A why without a where. They don’t have a room for her or funding to continue research, but they won’t sell her. In a better world they’d let her go, but Liv doesn’t humor that idea for a second.

Her suspicions still linger on Dr. Crafton a little while longer. Considering his newfound enjoyment of torture, she wouldn’t put it past him to ‘volunteer’ to move Emmeline to a private lab of his or something.

This soon disproves itself for her. In the fleeting moments she sees Dr. Crafton he seems irritable, not at all like a man who got exactly what he wanted. Then one evening she overhears him griping about the ‘wasted potential’ of the former subject in 12C and Liv is sure he doesn’t have her.

Any satisfaction she gets from these discoveries is quickly dulled by still not knowing where Emmeline is. Liv keeps showing up, keeps hoping, does her work in spite of the gnawing ache of Emmeline’s absence. All this time Liv was trying to help and comfort her, she didn’t realize how much of a help and comfort Emmeline was in return.

I just want to see her again...

----

A week passes, and then another. Liv still listens, still keeps an eye out, but her hope is fading. No one notices, of course. She was always a little sullen, always kept to herself. As long as she continues to be a good worker, no one bothers her or questions her.

That night is particularly quiet. Most subjects are asleep or keep to themselves. Even the chatty guards in Hall A are bored and end up listening to a sports radio show rather than talk to each other or Liv.

Near the end of her shift Liv makes her way to that floor’s storage room. It’s a small, dingy room with a single lightbulb that barely illuminates all of the shelves that line the walls. Nothing important resides here - not samples or expensive medical equipment. Only cleaning supplies, tools for maintenance, a handful of basic first aid, and obsolete equipment gathering dust, some of which might be older than the building itself.

Normally Liv prefers the supply room on the floor above; it’s a little bigger, a little cleaner. But tonight she’s feeling lazy and settles for this one.

As she’s putting things back on the shelves, she notices something pushed back against the far wall that wasn’t here before. It’s just a crate, long and sturdy but unremarkable. But what piques Liv’s curiosity is its presence here at all. No one uses this room except her, the janitor who fills in on nights she’s off, and sometimes maintenance. Maybe one of the researchers might come looking for something they need, but more often than not this room sits neglected.

Liv kneels beside the crate and feels around for a way to open it. She finds a latch and unclasps it easily, then manages to wiggle the lid up enough to get her fingers under. It isn’t even on that tight, and it only takes a couple pulls to lift it open.

What the fuck?!

She gasps and recoils, falling back and scrambling away from the crate, breathing quickly. Not much gets to her around here, but she was not expecting to open that thing and find a dead body.

Once the initial shock subsides she sits up and brushes her hands on her jeans. This doesn’t make sense. Subjects that die are given autopsies and then incinerated. If it’s here in the facility, why isn’t it in a lab room?

Shaken but determined, Liv scoots closer to the crate and peers in again. It’s hard to make out much in the dim light, but she can tell that the body is...fresh, for lack of a better word, and padded with some kind of loose packing material. She moves up along the box, having to tilt a little to keep her own shadow from blocking her view so she can see the face -

For several long, silent moments, Liv just...stares. She blinks against the darkness, trying to process what she’s seeing.

“Emmeline?” she says aloud, barely recognizing her own voice. Hands shaking, she takes out her phone and turns on the flashlight.

The face illuminated by the light, gaunt and lifeless, is unmistakably Emmeline’s.

Liv quickly turns off the flashlight and puts her hand over her mouth to suppress a sound of...of…

Of what?

Relief that she found her, or fear that she’s dead dead, or disgust that they stuck her in a box in a storage room like nothing more than a piece of old equipment.

There are too many questions going through her mind and she pushes them all aside. She reaches a shaky hand down and cups Emmeline’s face. It’s cool to the touch, but Liv has seen her share of dead bodies before and something about this is...different. Like her body is lingering in some state between life and death, simply dormant. It’s just a half-assed theory, but it gives her hope.

Liv brushes her thumb over Emmeline’s lips, finding them chapped. There isn’t a mark on Emmeline’s body, and any drugs to put her under would have worn off by now. The most obvious and awful conclusion is that they simply let her die naturally of dehydration, alone in the dark.

A tear slips from Liv’s cheek onto Emmeline’s neck and trickles down out of sight. Liv sits back with a loud sniff and rubs at her eyes with the back of her hand.

“Fuck,” she whispers. “You deserve better than this…”

She slips her hoodie off and leans forward again, draping it like a blanket over Emmeline. Like this, it’s almost easy to believe that she’s just sleeping.

“It’s going to be okay,” she says numbly, “somehow.”

Then she puts the lid back on, stands, and leaves the room.

----

In the time between when she leaves after discovering Emmeline, and when she returns the next day, something shifts in Liv.

The sight of that drawn, still face haunts her dreams. And when she wakes all she can think about is the notion of Emmeline being stored like a piece of furniture only for them to take out and hurt again someday when they have funding or whatever the fuck.

When Emmeline was in one of the lab rooms the idea of trying to help her with guards and cameras around felt impossible. But the storage room...that she can work with.

She waits until the end of her shift before going to the storage room again. She doesn’t even have to act differently or come up with an excuse; she has plenty of legitimate reasons to be in there.

As soon as the door closes behind her she grabs her water bottle from her cart and goes right to the crate. She opens it cautiously, as though not wanting to startle its occupant. But Emmeline hasn’t moved an inch or changed in the slightest since last night.

“Hey,” she says quietly, just like she would when entering room 12C. It feels natural even if Emmeline doesn’t answer.

Liv leans over the crate and tips the water bottle to Emmeline’s lips. She lets just the smallest trickle of water slip in at first, then another, then another. Nothing happens right away, but Liv isn’t deterred. She has no idea how her immortality works, but Emmeline has been ‘dead’ for days now, surely it will take more than a couple sips of water for her body to heal.

She leans one arm on the edge of the crate and rests her chin on her arm. With the other hand she continues slowly pouring water down Emmeline’s parched throat, a little at a time. Pour. Stop. Wait. Look for signs of life. Pour again.

It feels a bit like watering a plant, and also not at all like that. Emmeline is not nearly so replaceable.

When the bottle is empty, she caps it and sits up with a sigh, stretching her stiff shoulders. She can’t help feeling disappointed. She was expecting something to happen. But it’s okay - if it takes time, so be it.

Just as Liv is reaching for the lid, she hears a soft sound. She freezes, arms out, listening intently. It wouldn’t surprise her if it was a rat or something, with the state of this room…

Several silent seconds tick by and she’s starting to believe she imagined it when the sound happens again. A little louder...and close…

Heart pounding, she looks down into the crate. At first glance nothing has changed, but the longer she looks...yes. Yes, she’s sure of it - her hoodie, still draped over Emmeline, is moving ever so slightly with barely-there breaths. When Liv presses her fingers to Emmeline’s wrist, she finds a weak pulse.

Oh my god. Oh my god, it worked.

The soft sound comes again and it is now clear that it’s the sound of a sighing breath. Triumphant as she feels at having done something right for a change, Liv knows things are far from good. Emmeline is in bad shape. This is going to take time.

Liv touches Emmeline’s arm for a moment, watching her face. Little changes apart from the puffs of breath that now escape her chapped lips, but it feels like a victory. Not to mention a big fuck you to the researchers.

“Hang in there,” she whispers. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

It kills her to have to put the lid back on and leave Emmeline in the dark like that. The best she can hope for is that she remains unconscious a little longer. Liv is impatient, she wants to make this all better right now. But for both of their sakes, patience is necessary.

Hang in there, she tells herself, as well.

----

Part of being patient means not going back to the storage room every night. She used to barely use it at all, and she fears too sudden a change in her behavior will draw unwanted attention. It’s one of the hardest things she has ever done, to walk past that room knowing Emmeline is inside and then keep walking.

Still, Liv manages to hold out for a few days before returning. She parks her cart just inside the storage room door; she doubts anyone will enter, but if they do, the obstacle might buy her some time to quickly close the crate.

Emmeline is no longer breathing. Liv expected as much, but it hurts all the same. This time, though. This time will be different.

Once again she feeds her sips of water and soon enough there are signs of life. This time, Liv is prepared with another bottle - this one filled with apple juice.

She cups Emmeline’s head and lifts it a little to give her a sip of the juice. Another, then another. Slow, patient, hopeful. Emmeline’s pulse grows stronger, her breathing more steady.

And then she moans, and it’s a weak, pitiful, broken sound, but Liv is so damn relieved to hear it, because it means she is that much closer to waking.

Liv continues giving her sips of juice, watching her throat bob as she actively swallows it. Suddenly she begins to cough and it startles Liv so much she nearly spills the juice all over her. She quickly pulls the bottle away and sets it aside, her eyes fixed on Emmeline.

Emmeline’s coughs fade into raspy breaths. She groans and shifts uncomfortably. Then finally, finally, her eyes slowly open.

She’s frail and shaky. Her glazed-over eyes flick around, uncomprehending. Her mouth opens as though to speak, but when she tries nothing comes out.

“Emmeline?” Liv says, very quietly.

At the sound of her name, Emmeline’s eyes land on Liv. The recognition on her face is immediate, and Liv can’t help but smile.

“Hey. It’s just me. Here...”

She holds the bottle to her lips again and Emmeline drinks eagerly.

“Careful, not too fast...that’s better...okay I’m going to take it away again, I don’t want you to overdo it…”

She sets the bottle aside again while Emmeline gasps for breath after practically chugging the whole thing down. Liv can’t blame her, and hates to deny her what she so desperately needs, but she also doesn’t want to make her sick.

“Just breathe. You’re okay.” Relatively. “I’ll give you more in a minute.” She reaches down and takes Emmeline’s hand.

“Where…” Emmeline’s voice cracks. She pauses, swallows, starts again. “Where am I?”

“Do you want the good news or the bad news first?”

“...good.”

“The good news is you aren’t in the lab.” Liv gives her a moment to process that before regretfully adding, “the bad news is that you’re still in the building. In...a storage closet.”

Emmeline blinks slowly up at the ceiling, her brow pinched. “What?”

She shifts again and Liv realizes that she’s trying to sit up. Liv instinctively reaches to help, putting a hand on Emmeline’s back - only to withdraw when Emmeline gasps.

“S-sorry, I was just - “

“No,” Emmeline interrupts. “Please - put it back, it was warm…”

Liv remembers how cold Emmeline’s skin was when she found her like this, and this room is just as chilly as the lab. She slowly settles her hand on Emmeline’s back again and helps her ease herself up. It’s hard to resist the urge to touch more - a hand in her hair, an arm around her shoulders - but she doesn’t know whether it would be welcome.

But Emmeline is shivering and she has to do something.

“Here…” she takes the hoodie that has been acting as a blanket for Emmeline these past few days and slips it around her shoulders. “Arms.” Emmeline obediently slips her arms through the sleeves.

When Liv zips it up Emmeline curls her arms up to her chest and presses her face into the cuffs of the sleeves. “Thank you, this is - oh - “

Emmeline’s eyes flutter shut and she sways, nearly dropping back into the crate. Liv steadies her with a hand on her shoulder.

“Shit...hey, breathe, you’re okay…” Maybe sitting her up so quickly wasn’t the best idea.

Taking slow breaths, Emmeline opens her eyes again. She looks so tired in spite of being under for so long. But then, she’s been denied food, water, warmth, proper rest, safety, and the type of weariness living like that brings is bone-deep and not so easily solved.

Her eyes dart around the room - from the old metal shelves to the dim lightbulb to the concrete floor, and heartbroken understanding falls over her face.

“When they put me in this box,” she whispers, looking so empty, so resigned, “I thought they were moving me somewhere. Maybe another lab. I thought within a day or two the lid would come off. But it never did. It was so dark and cold and...and you weren’t there, and…” her lip quivers and she clutches at the cuffs of the hoodie. “I was scared…”

Liv swallows around the lump in her throat, feeling her eyes burn. Those fucking bastards. “I thought they took you away too, at first. Finding you was...kind of by accident. But now that I have...” she steels herself, knowing once she says this, there’s no going back. “...I’m getting you out of here.”

Emmeline looks to her, eyes wide and tentatively hopeful. “You are?”

Liv chews her bottom lip and nods. “I have a plan. I just need you to hang in there a little longer…”

“I can do that,” Emmeline replies, voice wavering. “Please just be careful…”

“I will.”

Emmeline looks half about to cry, half about to pass out. Liv gently nudges at her shoulders, easing her back down into the crate.

“Please don’t take the shirt,” Emmeline whispers as her eyes close.

“I won’t,” Liv promises. “It’s yours now.”

“Thank you…”

A tear slips down her cheek and Liv brushes it away with her thumb. She leaves her hand there a moment for Emmeline to lean into, seeking out every small bit of comfort she can get. Liv wants to give her more, so much more, but she can’t. Not here. Not yet.

“I’ll be back,” she promises as she reaches for the lid. “Just hang on a little longer,” she adds as she lowers it, cloaking Emmeline’s sleeping form in darkness once more.

#immortal whump #lady whump #female whumpee #lab whump #lab experiment #captivity #dehydration #starvation #exhaustion #temporary character death #emotional whump #angst #comfort #whump #whump writing #my writing #my ocs #emmeline #liv

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kuronanox · 4 years

Text

My own fae - Fuegoleon Vermillion

(Author note: Reader is a fairy with wings, you can imagine however you wanna look. Warning not edited)

It was a cold winter night; Fuegoleon was just about to head to bed when there was a loud thud from outside his window. He was a little grumpy because of how late it was and he would be enraged if he finds to see some of his men just pulling a friendly prank.

Opening his window the strong gust of wind flowed through his hair as he looked around to find nothing. Assuming it was a branch or so till he saw a shimmering light from below.

It had wings and fair skin, back faced towards him the creature seemed distressed and weak as it only had a cloth wrapped around its body.

Heading down below the creature had features that were fairy and elf like to him.

"Miss are you alright?" Fuegoleon ask offering a hand but she looked at him in the eye and tried to fly away only to fall back down as she hissed in pain.

Gazing over to her back it seemed like a part of her wings were fractured. "Cold." She finally says looking back at him desperately.

Fuegoleon a bit mesmerized by the fairies beauty realized she only had a cloth that hid very little. Clearing his throat he took his cape off and wrapped it around her.

Before he could she somehow hid her wings as it disappeared.

Waiting on the floor she looked up at him. "I need help." She then says staring at her feet.

Fuegoleon being a gentleman as he is effortlessly picks her up bridal style. "May I get your name?"

"(Your Name) my name is (Your Name)." She says and stares into his eyes.

Fuegoleon was royalty and considered high in social status so looks from men and women usually didn't bother him, but the way she looked at him made him self conscious. He didn't know why but she was definitely different.

Luckily it was late at night and everyone had a curfew so no one was out, he would have to place her at his private quarters.

Dropping her softly on his bed he placed a robe for her to use.

"We'll talk in the morning. Good night." He says and leaves to his main office to sleep on the couch. (Your Name) doesnt say a word and watches his back leave.

It was early morning as Fuegoleon awoke he peaked into his room to find the fairy still sound asleep. Her hair was splattered and on her back was deep scars he had missed to see last night.

Awaking her eyes she turned to see him peering above her. He had never seen such eye colors before, they were dream like and ethereal.

"I-" he begins to explain but she giggles a bit and leaps out of bed in front of him. (Your Name) examined his face and features. He had royal blood running through his vain. Reaching up to his face she cupped his cheeks and closed her eyes before opening them and meeting his eyes.

"You were asleep for a long time." She finally says and then reaches to his arm that was cut off. "But you've grown stronger."

Fuegoleon lost for words stuttered "H-how did you know."

"I just know things." She simply answers as there was a long silence between the two. Not one moving an inch.

"Um well follow me." He says and brings her to a closet filled with Mereoleona old clothing she didn't wear anymore. "Just pick whatever you like."

After situating her clothes she followed him out and into the clover kingdom. She didn't say one word and followed silently and obediently. Fuegoleon didn't think she was a threat.

They met with the Wizard king. "Julius she is the lady I told you about." Fuegoleon says as the man... well boy at the moment eyes brighten up.

She hesitantly stepped up and showed the Wizard king her scars and wounded wing.

"Interesting, I've never met a fae in real life. What brings you to Clover kingdom?"

(Your Name) didn't know she just knew she was banished from her home.

"I- Well I was banished from home, I don't know how to get back. We aren't suppose to show ourselves to anyone but unfortunately I had to pay the consequences for that."

Fuegoleon studied her features, it was no wonder she was dreamy like.

"I see well! I don't see any harm coming from you. But we do need to place you somewhere safe do you have magic?" Julius asks curiously.

(Your Name) nods and lightly touches Julius forehead. He slowly turned back to a 40 year old man until she moved away he became tiny again.

"Interesting! It seems like you can see through most things. Luckily for you we are a kingdom based on magic so I think you will fit in just well." He assured as she smiled at him.

"I wish to stay by his side." She then says looking back at Fuegoleon.

"That is if he wishes so too?" Julius says looking back at the Crimson Lion captain.

"Of course. However our guest feels most at home. Then you will join my squad."

On the way out (Your Name) was shown to Owen to help mend the scars. The wings would have to heal over time.

"So you really don't know how to get back home?" Fuegoleon curiously asks the fairy as she looked around the kingdom.

"Not one clue but I don't mind. It is a beautiful place where I come from but, rules were super strict there. It doesn't seem to bad here. And if nothing works out I can always find my way home in nature." She assured him as they head to the market.

He doesn't say anything else as they shopped around the market so she could find her essentials. Observing her Fuegoleon could see she was a free spirit and nothing was holding her back as she helped a lot of the commoners.

He saw that she noticed a little girls flowers were dying. (Your Name) wriggled her fingers as yellow sparks came out and the flowers grew 10x healthier.

By sunset he would have to tell his squad that another member joined.

Dinner time came and the hall was rowdy as usual, he silenced the hall and made a few announcements.

"As many of you guys know now we have a new edition for the Crimson Lions. I would like you to welcome (Your Name)."

Curiously she hid behind him and poked her head out. "It seems as she is shy in larger groups that draw attention."

"I won't disappoint, please treat me kindly." She then says and gives a small smile.

"ANIUE! Something about her seems so dreamy. How did we get so lucky!" Leopold yells excited for the new member.

"I wonder the same." Fuegoleon says as the hall went back to a loud musical room.

"What troubles you?" (Your Name) asks as they entered his private quarters. Although it seemed scandalous Fuegoleon was drawn to her since the first time he set eyes on her.

"Just work, you are welcome to stay until the guest bedroom is prepared."

She walked from behind him and grabbed his two shoulders and laid him down on her lap. "It's about the demons right?"

Fuegoleon didn't even question how she knew but he nodded. Running her hands through his hair and braiding them she hummed. "Don't worry. Even the fairies fear them but that doesn't mean there isn't hope and courage." She soothes him as he closes his eyes and embrace the moment.

"You have trouble sleeping because you're afraid you won't wake up again when you were in a coma. It was dark and scary for you." (Your Name) says as he sighs.

"It scares me how much you know about me. It seems like you're the only who understands." Fuegoleon says as he looks up to her hues.

"Don't trust all fairies you come across not all of them are like me." She warns slightly.

"What if I don't wanna met any other fairy when I have one already?" He questions and she laughs kissing his forehead.

He was a grown men but physically touch hadn't been in his library to do list in a long time. Fuegoleon liked how gentle she was with him. "Are all fairies like this?"

"Hmm maybe, maybe not. I put a spell to make you sleepy. Get some rest." She whispers as he drifted off only remembering her looking down at him.

It had been a few months since (Your Name) was welcomed to the Clover Kingdom and she learned the culture simply fast as she fit in hiding her nature identity.

Fuegoleon and everyone that were magic knights were having a celebration. There would be a feast and party along with music and games it was a celebration for all their hard work and a break to have some fun.

He really wanted to invite (Your Name) as a date but was to shy to ask. Usually he was very straightforward but something about her made him smitten.

"What's wrong Aniue?" Leopold ask as they trained one morning. "Something on your mind?"

"It's nothing concentrate on your target don't get distracted!"

"FUEGOLEON!" (Your Name) yelled running towards them carrying a basket of fruits and flowers. Her dress flowing as her hair wrapped tight in a flower crown.

"Aniue watch out!" Leopold shoots as Fuegoleon fell onto the floor. "Ha! I knew it! You were distracted and I got you!" The younger Vermillion cheered.

(Your Name) helped Fuegoleon up as she then patted Leopold head. "Good job little one."

"Thanks! Well I'll leave y'all two to be!" He says running off giving Fuegoleon a wink.

The older Vermillion grumbled and looked towards (Your Name). "Your day off?"

"Yeah I went out and picked some stuff up!" She showed him the different varieties of fruits and flowers, placing a white one in his hair.

"You have a question for me?"

"Huh no I don't!" He denied and looks away as she giggles. "Yes you do. Just ask me. What is it?"

He sighed in defeat. There was no hiding from her. "Well we are having a Magic knights celebration and I wanted to bring you as my date..."

"I'll go! I was going to go anyways."

"But you'll go as my date?"

"Yes I will!" She assured and walks past him to set the fruits down in the dining hall. He grinned like a teenage boy and followed right after.

That night there were many people out and (Your Name) had a bright smile on her face. She was fascinated with the food and music that were surrounding her.

Fuegoleon smiled down at her as she pointed to many different things.

"Fuegoleon." Nozel says from behind as they turned around. "I see this is the commoner you've had in your squad.. you've been hiding her. No one know what she looks like."

(Your Name) looks at Nozel up and down and says "Aren't you his rival? Interesting."

"Why does she speak to me like we are the same level?" He sneers looking down at her and she tilts her head.

"I'm the fae he's been keeping a secret. I'm pretty sure we know who's more of a higher status." She then says and excuse herself.

Fuegoleon sighs and gives Nozel a look. "Seriously?"

"Hmph shes a know it all I see."

"You don't know how literate she can be sometimes." Fuegoleon says and smiles at her back as she plays with Leopold and his friends.

"So she isn't a commoner but rather a fae. Quite interesting how you came across one. I've never seen one in real life."

"Me too, she told me they aren't allowed to show themselves but she stuck here now. (Your Name) doesn't know how to get back home."

There was silence between the two as the two royal men watched her curiosity along side making new connection with other Magic Knights.

"So no one knows?"

"Only a few people know. She knows things on her own. She knew about my coma, the elves and demons. She even transformed Julius back for a few minutes."

Nozel eyes widen and then narrowed. "You sure she isn't a spy?"

"I highly doubt it."

Although she was Fuegoleon date she couldn't help but venture off and get to know more people.

"You are Nozel younger sister." She says to Noelle as the young teen watches Asta and Leopold afar dance to the music.

"I-I'm royalty yes!" She blushes at the older women. Noelle felt a sense safe in her presence, almost like a motherly figure.

"You like him." (Your Name) looks at Asta and smirks.

"I do not!"

Grabbing Noelle hands they dance together with Leopold and Asta. Noelle shy at first blushes and looks down but gains confidence because (Your Name) guided her.

"Ahh Noelle!" Asta yells as he and Leopold connects arms with her. "Yuno! Mimosa come join us!"

(Your Name) backed away and watched from afar, they seem happy.

A arm snakes around her waist as she looks up to find Fuegoleon watching the kids. She smiles at him and grabs his hand. "Let's dance too. We are known to like music and dancing."

He hesitantly follows. "I'm not sure about dancing."

"Just follow my steps." She encourages as he nods and follows her pace.

There was a comfortable silence between the two as they moved back and forth the ballroom. Looking around (Your Name) saw a lot of people were staring at them. She shyly hid her face in his chest.

"Why are people staring at us?"

He chuckles and takes the initiative moves now, twisting her around to wrap his arm around her.

"It's because they are jealous. I haven't been seen out with a lady in a long time."

Turning herself back around she touched his chest. "You are nervous, your heartbeat is fast."

He takes her hands with his and kisses it lightly. "You can see everyone else's feelings but always deny mine."

(Your Name) blushes and grip his hand tighter.

"I do know your feelings. I make you feel like a teenage boy chasing after a girl."

"Well if you put it that way..."

"You aren't allowed to be with someone not royal. Isn't that by law."

Fuegoleon smile fades as he caress her scar back and pushes some of her hair out of her face to see the little tiny pointy ears before hiding them again.

"You already know I don't care about status. I don't care what other people think about us either."

"Fuegoleon has been smitten over me since the first day we might." She teases as he grins a bit.

Pushing herself up she brings him down for a kiss that shook the entire kingdom.

"Does that answer your question?" She asks as he sheepishly nods and gives her another kiss.

"Oh I might go blind." Nozel says in disgust as he slightly smiles for his rival.

"Tch that means it's time for you to find yourself a girl." Mereoleona says crossing her arms and watching the two new lovers embrace in the crowd.

"As if, no one here is worthy!"

"Worthy of the braid." Yami cuts in as Nozel sends him death glares.

Meanwhile on the side Charlotte is staring at Yami hoping it would be them one day.

"Let's go aniue! I knew it was from the start!" Leopold cheers running between them and hugging (Your Name).

The night came to an end perfectly for them as the two new lovers left impatiently to discovering new beginnings.

#black clover x reader #black clover imagine #black clover imagines #fuegoleon vermillion #fuegoleon #leopold vermillion #mereoleona vermillion #nozel silva #julius novachrono #black clover asta #noelle silva #yami sukehiro #black clover #black clover oneshot #black clover oneshots #black clover fuegoleon

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starfleetbotanist · 3 years

Text

A Most Dangerous Game

Based on a prompt by @hlabounty96

"And what exactly is it you want out of this?"

McCoy glared at his captor as the ropes surrounding him tightened. He heard the sound of something connecting behind him, but couldn't crane his neck far enough to see. He was still out of it from whatever this low-life had slipped in his drink. It wasn't even alcoholic this time! You'd think a man could have a glass of sweet tea safely!

"Why, just a bit of fun, that's all, Doctor. Oh, I know you were on shore leave, but really. A famous face like yours? I simply couldn't resist."

The man stepped back, giving him a winsome smile that just came off as creepy.

"What do you mean fun?"

"It's a game, of course! Oh, don't give me that look. I left clues for your crew. If they really are as smart as everyone says, then you'll be just fine."

McCoy took a breath. If it was a good clue, surely Jim was already on his way. And Spock was basically Sherlock Holmes, he'd help. Not to mention Uhura, or Scotty or Sulu. Hell, Chekov was a genius, too, despite his age. Those were good odds.

At least, so he thought, until his captor stepped well away from him and the ground gave way. He wasn't even going to lie about how dignified his scream was as he plummeted, only for the chord attached to his ropes to snap back, preventing his death. The force of it made his body ache.

"You bastard!" He shouted up, unsure if he could be heard.

"It's all part of the game! If they can't find you in two hours, I'll simply cut the chord!"

Fear gripped him as he judged how far a drop that would be. Please, oh, please, let them come in time!

****

"Bones still isn't back yet?" Kirk asked, checking the time on the chronometer. "That's weird, isn't it?"

They'd agreed to meet back up, but he was late. It was a beautiful planet, with homes and buildings built right into imposing mountains. Shore leave came so rarely, he couldn't fault him for enjoying the scenery and losing track of time. Still, though, Bones was usually the punctual one.

"It does seem out of character," Spock agreed. Kirk watched as he typed something into his PADD. “I have found the location of his communicator. It seems it has not moved in the last one point three hours.”

“Where is it?”

“At a restaurant, Captain.”

Kirk felt himself relax at that news. Bones probably found somewhere with really good alcohol, or maybe ran into a former patient, or... No, no that wasn’t right, either. Bones still would have messaged him if he was going to be late.

“Let’s go check it out,” he said, putting on a confident grin for the crew. “Drag our doctor back by his scruff.”

Sulu laughed at that, but from the look he exchanged with Chekov, he was worried, too. Bones was the usually the mother hen.

****

If he was worried before, he was even more so now. They had found McCoy’s communicator at the restaurant, but not McCoy himself. According to the staff, McCoy had begun to feel ill while sipping on his drink, and one of the workers had agreed to take him back to the ship.

“Do you still have his glass?” Spock asked the waitress.

“Uh, yes, sir, our dishwasher was the one to take him back. He hasn’t returned yet, so his glass should still be--”

Spock nodded, simply walking into the back of the restaurant, tricorder in hand. Kirk wanted to follow, but trusted Spock’s analysis. He gripped McCoy’s communicator tightly.

“Didn’t you get the message he sent? He said he sent a message to his captain...” The lady looked at him as though her gut was telling her something was wrong. She’d make a good Starfleet officer.

“Message?” Kirk asked, quickly unlocking the communicator. Bones, good old Bones, always used the same pass code for everything, ever since the academy. He found his messages open, and something written there for him. He paled.

“Captain,” Spock said, returning from the kitchen. Knowing him as well as he did, he could see the concern written on the Vulcan’s face. “Doctor McCoy’s tea was drugged. I believe him to be in danger.”

“Yeah, that’s not the only thing.” He showed Spock the message, watching as he felt, acknowledged, and controlled the anger that rose in him.

“Greetings, Kirk, et al. Your doctor is with me. Let’s play a game. He will hang out with me, unless you can find him. If not, I will have to drop him off later. You have two hours.”

“He’s in danger,” Kirk said, pulling out his own communicator and calling for transport back to the ship. He was stopped by the waitress.

“Here is his address. I don’t know if he’d take him there, but it’s a start.”

“Thank you,” he said sincerely, taking the scrap of paper she offered him, and soon he and Spock were materializing on the Enterprise.

As soon as they made it to the bridge, Kirk debriefed the team as Spock and Sulu began to find the man’s address. They found it, and within minutes Kirk, Spock, Uhura, Sulu, Chekov, and Scotty were all suited up and in the Galileo, on their way.

****

McCoy took a deep breath, trying to calm his nerves. His friends would be here soon. He just knew it. A sudden whirring drew his attention, and he turned to see the Galileo on the horizon. He nearly wept with relief.

“NO!” His captor spat, angry. “They figured it out already?!”

“I told you they were geniuses, dumbass!” McCoy shouted back. “You knew they’d get here!”

“They were supposed to get here too late!”

To his horror, he watched the man pull out a knife and begin cutting at the chord holding him up. God, no! He was going to fall, after all? Strangely, he found the thought of dying didn’t bother him half as much as the thought of the others having to watch.

A phaser blast suddenly rang out, and he saw his captor crumple.

“Are you unharmed, Doctor?”

“Spock!”

“The captain and I agreed that it would be better if the ship drew his attention. The ‘element of surprise’ was the wisest course.”

“Thank you,” he said, hanging his head, meaning it. “Can you pull me up?”

By the time Spock had him back on solid ground, Kirk and the others had arrived. Jim threw himself at McCoy, nearly knocking him over.

“Oh, my God, Bones, you could have died!”

“Yeah, I kinda got that, too.” There was no heat to his words, though, and he hugged Kirk back just as fiercely. He looked up to the assembled crowd.

“Thanks, y’all. You saved me.”

“Just returnin’ the favor,” Scotty grinned, though his relief was just as palpable as everyone else’s.

“C’mon,” Kirk said, righting himself. “Let’s get back to the ship. The authorities can deal with the rest.”

“Seconded. I don’t think I want to leave the ship again anytime soon.”

#Leonard McCoy #james t kirk #star trek aos #my writing #for hailey

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quillandink333 · 3 years

Text

Scarlet Carnations ~ Part III

BotW Link X Zelda ~ Detective AU

Rating: T

Word Count: 2k

WARNINGS: death, murder, loss, trauma, blood and gore, terrorism, organized crime, self-harm

Summary: Inspector Zelda Hyrule, assisted by the faithful Constable Link Fyori, is infamous for cracking the most confounding of cases in a town dominated by crime. Her latest assignment is to solve the murder of her own godmother, Impa Sheikah, the late CEO of Sheikah Tech. Incorporated, while staying under the radar of the dreaded Yiga organization.

Part I • Part II • Part III • Part IV • Part V • Part VI • Part VII • Epilogue • Masterlist

The investigation was still underway a week or so later, still without even a semblance of a lead to go on, or at least not a favourable one. Auntie Purah still had yet to take the Slate into the lab as she’d promised, which was understandable. She was still in deep mourning, after all. I, however, still got up at six o’clock each and every day to make my way to the site, as if the murderer would one day just walk out into the open if I waited long enough.

Truth be told, despite my conscious efforts to suppress it, a part of me deep down was growing weary of one fruitless search after another. Most of the cases I’d led up to this one had been closed within a maximum three days. Admittedly I’d even begun to consider ways to dispose of the fatal evidence I’d been carrying with me since the start of all this. No one but Paya and I knew of its existence, and no one but us would ever have to. Besides, if these egregious felonies truly were the designs of the organization—which they had to be—there was no way I’d ever find any clues leading toward the perpetrator’s true identity, let alone that of their ever elusive boss.

And yet, every morning when I returned to the scene of the crime, with officers bustling about and those who remained of my family sitting quietly in another room, I was reminded of my ultimate purpose. It wasn’t a matter of being able or unable to catch my godmother’s killer. It was one of necessity. Letting them roam the streets as they pleased was not even a part of the equation. I hadn’t spent the better part of the last decade toiling away to reach my current level of authority as a detective investigator simply to throw it all away as soon as my will was tested. That wasn’t what Auntie Impa, nor what Mother, would’ve wanted. I had to uncover the truth, no matter the cost.

What happened next, however, would make my distress up until then seem almost laughable.

I was made aware of it via wire on one muggy afternoon at my office, when I’d decided to work on typewriting up some reports. I picked up the phone only to hear the wails of one distraught Auntie Purah on the other end.

“Zelda, it’s terrible!” she cried. “The Slate—Impa’s Slate—I’ve looked everywhere, and so have Paya and Symin and all the men here on duty, but I—it’s...we can’t—we haven’t...” The poor, old woman was hyperventilating, creating awful static noises through the speaker’s papery membrane.

“Auntie, it’s okay. Calm down,” I urged gently. “Take a few deep breaths.”

“Alright...” A few moments of silence went by before I heard her voice again. “Thank you, dear.”

“Not at all. Now, what were you saying about the Slate?”

“It’s been stolen.”

I froze, breath stagnant and eyes glued to the edge of my desk. “It’s—what?”

“Stolen,” she repeated, only deepening the pit forming in my stomach, from where my heart was now pounding. “Right out from under our noses. We’ve searched high and low for it, but there’s been no sign of it, or the thief.”

I had to reign in my voice before I’d start shouting at her. “H-How can you be sure it was stolen?” The vigilant Link’s eyes now bore into me with intensity from his place by the file cabinets.

“The lock on the safe,” blubbered my auntie, “the one in the study that it’s always kept in. You know the one?”

“Yes?”

“It was broken, and the safe was empty.”

“But...that’s impossible.”

“Precisely!” she cried, giving me a start. “I still haven’t the foggiest how they did it.”

“I’ll be there in twenty.”

With that, I hung up and prepared for immediate departure, my assistant just a few paces behind me. I had to see this for myself.

Surely enough, when we arrived, the safe’s lock was destroyed beyond repair, and there was nothing but dust to be found inside. Unsurprisingly, the thief had been careful to leave no fingerprints behind, just as the killer had been. For now, though, it was too soon to say for certain that the same individual was behind both crimes.

Upon closer inspection, it seemed the lock mechanism had been melted. My eyes widened. “That’s not something you see every day.” Constable Fyori crouched down beside me, then gave a similar reaction when he noticed the cause of my astonishment.

The thief had to have been someone with access to a welding torch or something along those lines. There certainly weren’t many who fit that description, save for the police. In fact, the whole reason they were issued out to a select few officers was for this very purpose, but situations requiring said officers to break locks such as this one using such extreme methods were few and far between. Nevertheless, the possibility stood.

It was for this reason that I finally gave in and decided to take up the case with the chief detective once we’d finished here. As always, Constable Fyori accompanied me thereto.

Chief Bosphoramus’ office was neither too grand nor too modest, not unlike my own, though it still clearly belonged to someone of high rank. It resided on the third floor of the three-storey building where my dear colleague and I made our livelihoods, boasting a broad view of the deceivingly peaceful streets below.

“It seems UC3680G662LL was the only officer on the scene who was equipped with a cutting torch,” relayed the old man, hunched over the records lain across his desk. “Unfortunately, however, he resigned just yesterday.”

I waited a number of seconds for him to follow up with something useful, but to no avail. “So...what? You’re saying we can’t go question him now? Because he ran away?”

He clasped his fingers together in front of him, looking at me like an elementary school principal. “That is what I am saying, yes.”

I wanted to growl like a bear as imitated by a child, but I held it in. “You do realize what this means, don’t you?” I scoffed. “No doubt he was a member of the organization sent to steal the Slate after killing its owner.”

“Now you listen here, Inspector.” The chief’s tone turned serious. I closed my mouth. “You of all people should know that not a single square inch of this town is safe. Not even this precinct.”

“Yes, but Sir, surely you agree that this entire case has ‘Yiga’ written all over—”

“Are you mad?!”

His thundering voice made Link and I jump. The room fell silent, the chief’s eyes flickering between the door and the open window behind him.

Then he rose from his seat to close the shutters. “Have you some sort of death wish?” he continued at an infinitesimal volume in comparison.

I bit my tongue, restraining the urge to retort with, “Whose fault is that?” for I knew I would only be spinning my wheels. There’d once been a saying in this city: “When one sheep leads the way, all the rest follow.” And Chief Detective Bosphoramus was a perfect reflection of this. Every last member of the force was the same. Weak-willed curs. Shirking from their sworn duties and hiding away behind their shields of specious ignorance.

But despite the virus of cowardice festering throughout the bureau, my partner’s lasting air of calm resignation reminded me that no one could truly blame those affected by it.

The power that the Yiga organization possessed over the town was beyond compare. Those on City Council were nothing more than their puppets, and likewise were the police. Fear and massacre were the whips they raised to drive us all into submission and to punish any and all who had the will remaining to fight. But the one group who’d dared to challenge their might, who’d stood tall ever in the face of their tyranny, had been my godmother’s company. Thanks to her intelligent mind and righteous heart, the people had been given access to technology that would keep them safe, to a degree, from crime, and little by little, the company had developed into a beacon of hope for the town and its inhabitants. Until now.

Now, that hope had been snuffed out, like it had never been anything more than a week and vulnerable candle flame, flickering faint against the darkness of obscurity, in the first place.

Later that evening, when my gaze happened upon the knife block sitting on my kitchen counter at home, my steps halted. The scars on my arms left over from my last couple of years in secondary school—the period in my life following the yet unexplained events that had taken away the one I’d cherished most—had only just begun to fade. Even so...

I shook my head, turning my back to the kitchen. But then, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder once more. I recalled the rush of adrenaline that took hold each time my skin was breached by icy steel. It was true that letting my emotions control me would get me nowhere, but maybe...maybe just this once, I could at least do something to assuage them.

Then the image of the gaping, dark red hole running straight through Auntie Impa’s neck flashed before my eyes. I covered my mouth, quickly swallowing the bile rising up from the bottom of my throat. The idea slipped my mind that very instant.

It wasn’t until the following day’s investigation that a substantial piece of the puzzle finally revealed itself to me.

For it to have taken a whole two days to find wasn’t all that unbelievable. Even I had to admit, although my stepsister was a spineless, tattling suck-up who’d always received far more credit and affection than she was worth, no one could have imagined her ever turning criminal.

Even so, I was certain that what I discovered there in her bedroom went against the expectations of all. Upon my entering, a faint glow of teal and tangerine peaking through the floorboards caught my eye. I went to lift the plank doing such poor work of hiding the thing from sight. There it was, unscratched and in perfect working condition, its screen lighting up and displaying that dastardly riddle I’d been confronted with several days prior and still didn’t know the answer to.

Although the mystery of where it had disappeared to had been solved, its reason for being here of all places was still unclear. Why would Paya have gone to such lengths just to get her hands on the Slate? It was difficult to imagine there being any information contained therein that she would want so direly to be kept secret from the world. She and her grandmother had been close since before I’d become a part of their family as a six-year-old.

Then something hard and marble-sized went flying across the floor when struck by the pointed toe of my shoe. I gave chase, soon realizing what it was when it slowed to a halt just before the south-facing wall of the room:

A bullet.

I didn’t even need to perform a striation comparison; anyone could clearly see that it matched the one I’d pried out of my mother’s memorial shrine. Whatever blood might’ve been here at one point must have simply been wiped up, and she must have stolen Link’s revolver with whatever methods she’d used to steal the Slate. Without a doubt, this room was the true crime scene I’d sought after since day one of the investigation.

But even in the face of this victory, I could hear the voices of those who would oppose me ringing in my ears. “Paya’s the mastermind?” they jeered. “Isn’t that a bit far-fetched?” But at this point, this case had already pushed me far beyond the boundaries of my patience. I didn’t have a single damn left to give about how flawed my logic might or might not have been. All that mattered now was that I had a suspect, and so help me, if I was correct in my line of thinking as suggested by the evidence, this criminal would receive no mercy.

#my writing #fanfic #botw #zelink #botw zelink #zelink botw #link x zelda #zelda x link #botw link x zelda #botw zelda x link #zelink fanfic #zelink fic #zelink ff #zelda pov #detective au

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