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redisaid · 10 months

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The World Will Only Darken Without Candlelight - Chapter 3

Torches

In which Zelda agrees that Link is a horse girl and I regret writing this much action even after I pared it down.

5566 Words

Read it on Ao3!

I got a venom like a snake running out of my mouth. It's got you burning at the stake. Innocent or not, you're not a bet I care to take. And Father Ignorance will make brothers of us all, As he sets our torch aflame. Chasing down the flimsy specters that we co-create.

“About earlier--”

Zelda cut her father off with a simple, “I don’t want to talk about it now.”

They were both well-aware of exactly how much time they had, and how that did not lend itself to a serious conversation. Zelda didn’t want Rhoam to use that as an excuse to weasel his way out of it. And knowing him, he’d be happy to take that as the easy way out.

She wasn’t about to let him off so easily.

The show would start regardless. The pieces were already moving on the board. Even now, both of them sat in the royal box in the middle of the grandstand, watching the lone rider light the torches around the edge of the arena to signal the start of the tournament.

Rhoam coughed into his hand, ruffling the beard he’d fluffed out for the occasion of being king.

Zelda always hated that beard. She’d never seen him without one, though. He probably looked worse.

“Well,” he offered to cover the relative silence between them. The crowd on either side of them had begun to settle and weren’t doing enough to ease the discomfort that filled the gap between their thrones. “At least you’ll get to see the new show in its entirety.”

Zelda had no comment in return for that. She had only attended rehearsal up until the point she wasn’t needed anymore. She didn’t need to watch an hour’s worth of stage fighting. Not when there was other work to be done, at least. Costumes to organize with Purah. Props to sort with Impa. Gerudo Town to be repaired with Urbosa and her dancers.

Anything and anywhere but here, really.

Mostly for the fact that she would now be stuck watching this very show almost every night for the rest of the summer. She had evening after evening of trying not to look bored to look forward to. She would strategize how to keep the mosquitoes at bay while staying in character, though the thick fabric of her costume didn’t let all that many through to her skin, blessedly. She would sweat in the heat of the summer nights with only a paper fan and a plastic goblet of ice water to help. But the greatest fight of all was having to stay awake, especially after a long day of walking around.

Walking around and dodging Link now, lest she forget.

The rider passed their booth on his way to the final torch. Whoever it was seemed to have a good handle on the process at least. The dark bay he was riding wasn’t the least bit scared of the torch he was holding to kindle the others with. And he was managing to make it fast.

At least this part of the show had received a much needed upgrade. Last year, her father had old Sir Peter the Ponderous, one of his favorite old knights, riding with the torch. The beginning of the show had always dragged, but never so much as when Peter was responsible for starting it.

Zelda instantly regretted her mental compliment, though, when the rider wheeled his horse back around dramatically, and flipped down his black hood with the hand not holding the torch.

To reveal that, in fact, she’d thought he was rather short for a reason. It was fucking Link.

Of course it was Link.

Rhoam turned to her with a grin before he stood to address Link and open the show.

Of course it was Link. Link who could ride like that, throw axes, sneak past her attempts to find him, be the darling of the crowd without saying a word, and apparently protect her from whatever bullshit her father didn’t want to tell her about.

Of course.

Zelda stilled the scowl that threatened to form on her face, but only just.

“Word of your deeds this day proceeds you, oh Silent Knight. I hear that you have come to my kingdom, the great land of Hyrule, to challenge my Champions?” Rhoam called down to him.

Link nodded fiercely up at him. Even through the concentration of trying not to glare at him, Zelda noticed how he nudged the horse with his leg just slightly, and how the beast responded in kind by snorting and stamping a hoof.

Oh great. He was a horse girl. Horse guy? No, it didn’t have the same connotation to it. No, Zelda had decided it. Link was a horse girl, and this somehow explained everything.

“Very well then,” Rhoam continued, nodding back down to him. “My honored guests and I bid you to entertain us tonight with your skill and bravery. My Champions know well that courage is the mark of a true warrior. Let’s see if you have any, hmm?”

Another nudge. A different leg. This time the horse only snorted, no stomp.

Well, at least his damn horse was well-trained.

Though Zelda supposed Link was too. He was just listening to higher orders than she could give.

But he didn’t have to be so damn competent about it.

Rhoam leaned out of the royal box a bit more, gesturing first to the left, then the right side of the crowd. “What say ye, people of Hyrule? Shall we have this young man prove himself a Champion first? Shall we have a joust to test he’s worthy to face my finest?”

The packed opening day crowd was already roaring their assent, but Zelda’s brow was furrowing silently for a different reason.

He was making Link do the joust too? And then the Champion fights after? After a day of following her and acting out all these scenes?

Whatever her father was paying him wasn’t enough. That was so much work. So much physical, exhausting work.

And then to do it all again tomorrow?

But the crowd was cheering, and the usual crew of jousting knights were filing into the arena on their horses.

Usually, the joust was reserved as an opener to the theatrics. It would end in a draw, with the last two knights both unhorsing one another and being unable to continue. To that, Rhoam would call for his Champions to show the crowd a display of true skill and have them do their little tricks.

But this would mean that Link was meant to win this, and then compete with the Champions as well.

Zelda reserved to go easy on him tomorrow, for this at least.

And because he’d gone to Rhoam to ask him to talk to her. So, maybe he did have some sense in that little skull of his.

“Horse girl,” Zelda muttered to herself as a reminder.

Horse girl indeed. Link rode off to don some jousting armor in one of the outer tents while the other knights did their thing, introducing themselves and placing their banners in front of the royal box.

This, at least, wasn’t all that different from before. They all had their cheesy lines they’d shout at the crowd. Their terrible stage names. Sir Isaac the Ironic was actually just a guy named Steve. He did her dad’s taxes and had equestrian experience from playing polo of all things.

Most of them couldn’t aim the lance very well, or at least didn’t know how to make it break in a fun and dramatic way. Not that Zelda could blame them. It was still a giant, heavy piece of wood that they had hold in a difficult and awkward way, and aim at a specific spot on their opponent in order to break it well. Hit the other man’s head and you might send him to the hospital. For that reason, bouncing off the chest ineffectively was the vastly preferred option if you were otherwise not confident in your aim.

Zelda had always wanted to try it. Her father never let her, though. He told her it was too dangerous. And that she wasn’t confident enough around horses.

Well, maybe if one didn’t bite her when she was eight, she’d feel more confident about it.

Maybe if her father hadn’t raised her in a place where she was constantly around stupid horses and having to be afraid of being bitten again, she would feel a lot more confident about a lot of things.

Link appeared again on the back of that same dark bay, the both of them outfitted in a set of armor. This was just another suit of the faire’s, perhaps modified to fit Link’s slight frame, but still looking dented enough to have seen some use. He wore green and gold for his colors, carrying a banner that was emblazoned with a Korok leaf. Compared to those of the other knights, who all represented noble houses from Hyrule’s ancient past, it seemed simple and plain.

But that didn’t seem to bother Link. He rode out onto the field, visor open so he’d be recognized, to the raucous cheers of a crowd that was otherwise starting to get bored with the lack-luster joust. He placed his banner alongside the other knights, and wheeled his horse around dramatically again.

The same horse, Zelda noted. Not one of the faire’s own jousting horses. The white one named Snowball was fine. But the chestnut gelding Link’s opponent was riding was the meanest thing in the entire stable, and while he wasn’t the horse who had bitten her, was Zelda’s most recent excuse for avoiding that place all together.

“I haven’t seen you this interested in the joust in years,” Rhoam whispered to her as he caught her staring.

“You’re making him do it,” Zelda muttered back. “Any reason?”

“He’s good. You’ll see,” Rhoam promised.

Zelda was pretty sure she was tired of Link being good at things. But she watched regardless.

Link was up against a long-timer who’d been declared the winner of the previous joust for the fact that he had actually managed to break one of his three lances. Thus far, the only break of the night.

This, of course, was expected of Sir Jason the Joker, who usually managed to do fairly well at the joust, even if he’d spent most of the day in the beer tent. In reality, his name was Jerry and he was an IT contractor during the rest of the year. He thought that working at the ren faire was a good way to get nerdy girls, and was absolutely creepy about the way he’d repeatedly told Zelda this when she was only a teenager.

She’d never seen him take a girl home.

“New horse?” Zelda asked of her father as Link and old creepy Jerry lined up at the rail.

“His horse,” was Rhoam’s explanation.

She was right. Absolute horse girl. Brought his own fucking horse. No wonder he’d worn cowboy boots throughout rehearsal week.

Neither Link or his horse even so much as flinched at the whole affair, though. Zelda watched as he took the lance from a squire with relative ease, even though the damn thing had to weigh almost as much as him. He held it as though he’d done this thousands of times before.

And that horse of his had no problem carrying him at full speed right towards creepy Jerry.

Link’s lance tip absolutely smashed itself right where it should have, on the special plate designed both for this and to deflect the debris from creepy Jerry’s neck. Creepy Jerry, for his part, only bounced his lance off of Link’s shoulder.

This was how it went, each time, every time. Three times, to be exact. On the last one, Jerry even made a good show of falling out of his saddle after his horse had slowed a bit at the other end of the lists.

But with the way he wobbled as he did it, Zelda couldn’t be sure if this was for showmanship’s sake or because he had indeed spent too much time in the beer tent earlier.

Link did his little victory lap around the arena to yet even more cheers. And while it was nice to have a jouster who was, you know, good at jousting, Zelda had once again lost interest in his continued success. Really, how dare he be so good at pretending to be good at something?

“Your bit is coming up,” Rhoam warned her as he stood again.

Link picked up his banner, and something else that an assistant ran up to him from one of the darker corners of the arena. He completed his lap with the banner flying behind him, and showing a purple-hilted sword to the crowd.

Ah, right. That lovely little fake Master Sword of his. How could she forget?

But the people clapped. They were loving it. People love fairy tales, after all.

“Now I see why you are so courageous, young challenger!” Rhoam roared down at him as he stopped before the royal box, still holding the sword aloft. “Why didn’t you show us that in the first place? It is not every day that someone comes to my castle bearing the sword that seals the darkness!”

What followed was some lengthy speech Rhoam gave to invite Link to be one of his Champions if he should prove himself worthy of the title. Zelda had to admit that her father was a natural at this, even if his writing on the script was overly flowery. Prior to buying the castle and starting the renaissance faire, he’d hammed it up on stage to the collected works of the famous Sheikah Court Poet of old--the nameless author of the ancient era’s great plays. Rhoam had spent his youth with a troupe that performed just these works throughout Castle Town and its surrounding suburbs. Oh, and apparently convincing Zelda’s mother, an aspiring young doctor, to put up with him.

Zelda dutifully did her part as he mentioned his daughter, his princess, courtesying down to Link and offering him a demure wish for good luck.

Though she sat back down hard enough to make her throne squeak.

“That’s an antique, you know,” Rhoam chided her quietly as the show progressed on the arena floor, trumpets announcing Revali’s entrance with Rito-flavored fanfare.

“That you painted gold with spray paint,” Zelda reminded him. “Actually, that I painted gold with spray paint because you told me to. I remember how it got stuck in my hair.”

This time it was her father’s turn to not dignify that with a response.

Revali’s portion of the show was mostly the same, only this time his archery tricks were punctuated with insulting Link. Link, who’d changed into his Champion’s tunic again, this time without the black hooded cape that had served to cover most of it during the opening torch ride. This portion of the show had previously been for the Champions to individually boast about themselves, but was now tuned to be more about them doing that to Link.

Link, who stood around most of the time and watched.

He did this for Daruk too, but clapped and did offer him a little smile as he broke boulders and hurled rocks clear across the arena. Even for Urbosa, he mostly just stood and watched as she performed a sword dance that Zelda normally would have clapped a little too loudly for.

But not tonight, not if she too was hiding something from her.

Mipha, though, didn’t really do much of her usual spear and water show. Instead, this was replaced with yet another vomit-inducing scene between her and Link, where he once again mostly stood there while she simpered on about how she would be so honored to fight alongside of him as another one of the king’s Champions, but how she couldn’t let her heart get in the way of her responsibility to test him honestly.

Zelda just had to look over at her father and make the slightest of gagging noises at him to announce her displeasure.

“It’s romantic,” Rhoam said in his defense.

“Are you reading those raunchy novels Urbosa likes or something? I can put you on a dating app, you know, if you need to be reminded of how real women attempt to be romantic,” Zelda told him.

Rhoam’s beard flapped out from a sigh, but he just turned back to the show.

He hadn’t dated anyone since her mother died. Perhaps that was a low blow.

Zelda spent the remainder of Mipha’s scene trying to justify it regardless.

She stood with her father after that, as he gathered all the Champions to the front of the royal box to bid them to begin their tournament in earnest. Zelda, for her part, stood there as silently as Link did below.

Maybe he was thinking the same thing she was. That this new version of the show felt awfully long. It was getting late. The sun had well and truly set nearly an hour ago.

Poor kid. She’d probably made him miss his breaks by using hers to evade him. He was just doing his job.

She’d talk to him about it. Or talk at him. Explain herself. Attempt to, at least. Probably just end up ranting about her father and how he’d dragged her into this little land of make believe with him when they’d lost her mother. That it was all some sick coping mechanism that he’d gotten away with for fifteen years now. Maybe he’d listen. Maybe he’d just stand there and go blank and take his mind out somewhere else.

She wondered what Link thought about when he stared off into nothing.

Probably horses.

They sat back down and watched as he fought the Champions, one by one.

He missed a target when shooting shot for shot with Revali, and Zelda almost took a moment of joy in that. Almost, because the miss was scripted, and had Revali going in to insult him again only for Link to turn and shoot at his target, filling the bullseye with his remaining arrows. Revali retaliated with a purposeful wide shot at him for Link to dodge, which he made a good show of looking like it was closer than it was. And the next. And the next after that, until Rhoam had to make a show of declaring Revali to be the loser of this contest for poor sportsmanship.

Daruk was next, who immediately judged that it wouldn’t be fair for him to judge Link’s strength against his own. Link did a funny little bit where he tried to lift a boulder anyway, but Daruk instead declared they should have an eating contest. Link, in turn, seemed to be the most excited for this than he had been for anything else, and mimed his disappointment well for the crowd when a plateful of rocks was brought out.

Zelda knew, from asking Impa why there was a container of brownies sitting in the sound booth, that Link’s rocks were, in fact, made of mashed up brownies. But he still ate them. A disgusting amount of them, actually, in order to beat Daruk at this contest.

Urbosa challenged him to a duel on a full stomach of said brownies. Zelda found herself queasy at the notion of having to move around that much after eating two brownies, let alone what probably amounted to a dozen of them. But that didn’t stop Link.

He fought her admirably, showing a level of experience with stage combat that rivaled Urbosa’s. Urbosa, herself a former stage actress, who had been working at the faire and doing this for fifteen years now. Urbosa, in her mid-forties with more abs than most people could achieve at their youngest and strongest. Urbosa, who knew how to make this look very real, having this young kid go step for step with her, never so much as missing a single beat of the choreographed fight. She grinned even as she took her scripted loss to him, clearly pleased with how well it had gone.

Mipha was last, of course, to build up some dramatic thing about her childhood crush on him or some bullshit. Zelda went to her happy place during most of it, admittedly, which was thinking back to the one archaeology class she’d managed to sneak into her schedule last semester.

The clashing of spear against sword stirred Zelda from those thoughts as she was surprised to find Link and Mipha actually fighting. Granted, she was giving a cheesy monologue as they did, but still dueled him. Mipha’s stage combat had never been the best, and while she lacked the fluidity that Link had in his movements, it seemed she must have gotten some pointers since last year. They had a pretty good little fight. One that still ended with Mipha surrendering and saying she didn’t want to fight him, but far more than Zelda had expected either way.

And with that, the crowd cheered again. Despite the late hour, the heat, the bugs, the smoke of the torches. They loved it.

Rhoam stood and bid her stand with him, all the while clapping himself. Maybe at himself.

Well, at least he was pleased with all this work. Zelda would be happy for him in her own little way, and she was, really.

She just wished he wasn’t keeping something from her.

---

“I didn’t really get your whole speech at the end there,” Purah later told her in the dressing room. “Was it supposed to be about him and the sword or what?”

“That confused all of us during rehearsal, honestly,” Zelda replied, then jumped as Purah scratched her back in the process of removing her corset. “Easy with your nails!”

“Oh sorry,” Purah apologized. “I keep forgetting I have these acrylics on. Typing with them is a nightmare. I have so many regrets.”

“I thought it was about him and Zelda at first,” Impa piped up from where she was hogging the airflow of a nearby box fan, despite being the only one in the room who had enjoyed the blessing of air conditioning for a majority of the day.

“Ugh no,” Zelda spat back.

“What’s the matter Zelda? Don’t you like Linky?” Purah taunted from behind her as she continued loosening the corset’s laces, with a bit more caution this time.

“Leave it, Purah,” Urbosa warned from her vanity. She was busy wiping the blue lipstick off with probably the third or fourth makeup wipe. It was on there that thick. “Rhoam didn’t tell her about the whole following her around like some sick puppy dog thing. She has reason not to like him.”

“He’s short,” Zelda retorted.

“I like short guys,” Purah continued to tease. “But don’t tell that to Robbie.”

“Zelda doesn’t even like guys,” Impa sagely noted.

Zelda, did, in fact, generally prefer women. Generally. Mostly. She wished she only liked women, really.

“Zelda thinks that is none of your business,” was what she had as an answer.

“So you do like him then?” Purah questioned as she pulled out the last lace. “Oh, is that why you looked like you were gagging at all of Mipha’s scenes?”

“No, I was gagging because they were like something out of one of Urbosa’s romance novels,” Zelda told her, holding the corset to herself as it fell loose.

She enjoyed a few deep and full breaths without the restrictive garment. The first she’d had in over fourteen hours now.

Why the fuck had she agreed to do this again? The days were long. The pay was pretty bad, worse for her because it just went straight to the bank and never in her hands. The gratitude was…nothing. It never had been. Not even a thank you. A hug. A kind word of appreciation from her father for supporting his dream. For being a part of it.

If she got home before him, she’d be in bed by the time he pulled up to the house. On the rare nights he got home before her, he’d be asleep on the couch, TV blaring by the time she arrived.

She wasn’t supposed to be here. She was supposed to be back in Hateno, hanging out with her friends from college, working at the disease research internship she’d put her heart and soul into getting.

“My novels aren’t nearly that bad.”

Urbosa’s deep laugh at her own comment was enough to stir Zelda back from the brink again.

“It’s late. You girls can go,” she continued, shooing Impa and Purah off. “I’ll help her with the rest from here. Be careful.”

“Careful of what?” Zelda ventured to ask.

Urbosa stared up at her, an odd vantage to have for once. Even in a ratty t-shirt, sweatpants, and without her traditional makeup, she was still quite intimidating, betraying no other emotion except to dare Zelda to question it as she said, “It’s dark in the parking lot. They could trip and fall.”

“I’m gonna trip and fall into bed,” Purah threatened in response. “Opening day is gonna have me going to bed at old person times.”

“It’s nearly midnight,” Urbosa reminded her.

“Yup, old person times. Night!”

Impa followed her out of the dressing room with a nod, only rolling her eyes a little bit at her sister.

Zelda turned from them to find Urbosa handing her the pile of street clothes she’d left folded on her own vanity that morning. It seemed like weeks ago she’d last worn those.

“Thanks,” Zelda said, taking them and turning away again to slip into the sports bra, tank top, and shorts that she so dearly missed throughout the long day.

“Listen I--”

Whatever confession Urbosa was about to offer was cut short by her phone ringing. Loudly. At least the ringtone was a very catchy little Gerudo tune.

She picked up the phone, and listened to whoever was talking on the other end of it for a while. Nearly a minute, actually, before saying, “Stop that. Don’t panic. It’s just a flat tire. I’ll be right there.”

“The parking lot strikes again?” Zelda commented from her own vanity as she sat to take her own makeup off.

Urbosa shook her head and hung up on whoever she was talking to before sticking her phone back into the oversized purse it had come from. “Apparently. My niece Riju, you know, the one I introduced you to last week? She’s selling her sand seal plushies here this year. She’s got a flat out there. She just turned sixteen. She doesn’t know what to do. Don’t they teach that in driver’s ed anymore?”

Zelda laughed at that. “I panicked and called my dad the first time I got a flat. It’s okay. Go help her. I can close up here.”

Urbosa looked as though she didn’t want to take that answer, but looked over at her purse again, then toward the door.

“You’ll call me when you get home?” Urbosa requested.

“I’ve been the last to leave many times before, Urbosa. But I’ll call you if you feel like playing mama bear tonight,” Zelda offered. “I still have to steam that dress anyway. You know how long that takes. You’ll probably have that tire changed well before I’m done.”

The phone in Urbosa’s purse rang yet again to prove a point.

She sighed again, but picked up the purse. “If you forget to call me, I’m calling the cops,” she warned Zelda as she left.

“Love you too,” Zelda called after her.

In all honesty, she liked being alone at the faire. And she wasn’t all that alone. There were still grounds crew out there, cleaning up the mess the guests left behind. They were the ones that actually closed up the faire for the night to the tune of locking the gates. And they’d be here until the early hours of the morning.

But until then, there was the eerie emptiness of a place meant to hold a lot of people. That should have scared her, but it didn’t. It felt fitting. The ruins in which the faire was held had this time to just be ruins again. Quiet, enduring, full of mystery.

Was it weird that Zelda wanted to be among that? Maybe. Not as weird as wearing cowboy boots as casual footwear, though.

Zelda used the time she spent steaming out her princess dress and hanging it back up precisely the way that Purah had instructed to think up how she could succinctly apologize to Link. Each time, her thoughts just spiraled and spiraled. How could she even explain herself without giving him her life story?

He wouldn’t want to hear it. She was a mess. He could do no wrong. He couldn’t possibly relate.

Fine. She’d let him just go on silently hating her, trying to get rid of her or whatever he’d promised her father he’d do. Zelda resolved that it was a useless endeavor by the time the dress was devoid of wrinkles. She’d just try to be less shitty to him tomorrow. That would have to be good enough.

It was late enough when she left that she only spotted one groundskeeper on her way to the parking lot. She’d given him a little wave, but he didn’t wave back. Probably didn’t see her.

That was fine. She’d been seen enough that day. Too much.

And while the parking lot was indeed dark, her car was still easy enough to find, even without clicking the remote to unlock it. There were only a handful left that weren’t permanent fixtures like horse trailers and a handful of trucks and cargo vans belonging to vendors. Hers was the only white sedan among them, at least. Even Urbosa, her minivan, and her niece were nowhere to be found.

Zelda, for her part, didn’t feel the need to pay all that much attention to the night. She was on her phone, searching up the hours for her beloved pizza place to see if there was any chance it was still open. She’d hardly eaten all day and was starving, and that sounded much better than stopping by the drive thru on her way home.

So the last thing she expected was for a gloved hand to block her view of the screen as it pulled her head back. Nor did she expect a knife to be held to her throat.

“Scream and I’ll kill you,” a voice threatened directly into her ear.

She dropped her phone. Her keys.

This was real. This was actually real. Someone was holding her mouth shut and had a knife on her, sharp enough she could feel the edge just beginning to bite painfully into her neck.

And she was so shocked that she couldn’t even scream if she wanted to.

Hands grabbed her hands, pulling them back, wrapping something around them. It tightened uncomfortably around her wrist, but not all the way.

Not all the way, because whoever it was was startled by a scream from behind them.

A battle cry that Zelda knew, even if she’d never actually heard the voice behind it speak.

She turned her head to follow it to find Link charging at them in just a pair of cargo shorts and nothing else. Not even shoes. Not a single cowboy boot to be found.

But he had her attacker on the ground faster than she could even process. The knife was slapped away from her throat and kicked across the gravel of the parking lot, clinking away into the darkness.

Zip tie. It was a zip tie on her wrists. What the fuck? What the absolute fuck?

Zelda pulled it off and tried to figure out where her phone went.

“I’m calling the police!” she shouted as she searched over the sounds of Link struggling with her attacker.

Her attacker, who was wearing a red and black hoodie and a black ski mask. She tried to remember this so she could tell someone and be useful, but this was all happening so fast. Link had him on the ground one second, then aimed a punch at his temple that he dodged. Then the next second he was up and running, and Zelda still hadn’t found her fucking phone.

By the time she did, under the rear bumper of her car, with the screen now slightly cracked, he was gone. He was gone and Link was left panting, shirtless, and staring at her. A thin cut on his forehead dripped blood onto his cheek. The gravel hadn’t been kind to his knees either, and had left them bloody too. But other than that, he was alright.

And so was she. Thanks to him.

“Are you hurt?” was the first thing Link ever said to her.

His voice was soft and gentle, like he was talking to a frightened animal.

Well, he was.

For once, Zelda had nothing to say in return. Nothing she could say. Shock still rippled through her system, threatening to make her weak in the knees as the resolve of finding her phone and doing something about it left her.

She just shook her head.

#zelda #breath of the wild #loz #zelink #fanfic #the world will only darken without candlelight #i hate action sequences why did i do this #oh no there's more coming up #please send help

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spiralcass · 7 months

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NEW X-MEN: THE ANIMATED SERIES - SEASON 3, EPISODE 1 (PART 1 OF 2)

Season 3 opens thousands of years ago, on the island nation of Okkara. We find ourselves witnessing an epic battle raging between hundreds of Mutants and an army of invading Daemons. Absolutely none of these Mutants appear human in any way, their abilities are strange but powerful, and every last one of them is a fierce combatant. Of course, the demons are equally vicious.

In the middle of the battlefield, we pan up the man shouting orders to his men: En Sabah Nur - Apocalypse.

APOCALYPSE: “Prove yourselves capable of defending your home, or perish and get out of the way!”

A horde of the demons takes sight of Apocalypse, standing out in the open, and elect to attack him all at once.

Their mistake.

Without any Mutant power, Apocalypse merely draws his blades and uses them to slay demon after demon, not even needing to move an inch from where he stands. Even as an especially large and dangerous-looking one swoops down at him from above, a psychic wave utterly annihilates it.

APOCALYPSE: “To victory!”

Their lord’s show of force inspires the army of Mutants, who proceed to finish off the invading demons.

With the battle won, Apocalypse brings his army all around. They have done well! They have protected Okkara! And, most importantly, they have once again proven their strength! Tonight, they celebrate with a feast!

The entire army bellows out a war cry, cheering on Lord Apocalypse.

As this happens, Apocalypse takes notice of a Mutant dragging himself toward the others. He’s lost both of his legs and is bleeding out heavily. He has no chance of survival. With a nod of their lord’s head, Apocalypse’s army makes way for him.

APOCALYPSE: “Look at you. Beaten and desperately clinging to life. Pathetic and weak. Do you at least possess the honor to accept what must come next with dignity?”

MUTANT: “Y…yes, Lord Apocalypse. I do not fear death.”

Apocalypse hums, before stomping down on the Mutant’s head, crushing it.

Apocalypse tells his child to rest well, and his army to speak of their greatest memories of him as they feast.

More cheers for Apocalypse. He grins.

We cut to a dark, makeshift laboratory in the present. Apocalypse is hooked up to a chair via a plethora of cables and tubes, appearing weak and tired, but just as menacing as ever, as he takes long, deep breaths.

A team of scientists are working on something unclear. A figure stands at Apocalypse’s side, dressed in the same armor as him, with their face hidden behind a helmet and their hands behind their back. The walls are littered with stained glass portraits of Apocalypse.

The scientists are working in terror under the cold, watchful eyes of Apocalypse and his general, as well as a group of cultists dressed in blue robes. Accompanied by a striking sound, a large red “X” appears on one of their monitors. One of the scientists, a middle-aged man who looks like he hasn’t eaten or slept in days, cringes in terror, nearly crying, as he forces himself to turn around and fall to his knees before Apocalypse.

SCIENTIST: “P…permission to speak?”

Speaking in a modulated, feminine voice, Apocalypse’s general tells him to proceed.

The scientist weakly squeaks out that their most recent attempt has failed. Apocalypse grumbles, but the scientist quickly stammers that they can keep trying…but they need more resources.

Apocalypse nods.

SCIENTIST, desperate: “And…maybe some food and water to clear our minds?”

Apocalypse blows the man up with HIS mind, blood and bones flying everywhere.

As the cultists hurry to clean up their master’s mess, Apocalypse coughs and pants. His general tenderly rests a hand on his arm.

GENERAL: “Do not worry. We will be victorious.”

APOCALYPSE: “Mmm. We must be, War. Or all will be lost.” He composes himself and turns to War. “Summon Famine at once.”

War groans in annoyance.

WAR: “Must I?”

Apocalypse growls.

WAR, still irritated, but knowing to follow orders: “Fine. At once, my lord.”

We zoom in on Apocalypse’s face, as he’s unable to hide the desperation in his eyes.

We cut to a ringing school bell, as excited students race down the halls. With an exterior shot of the school and a sign outside, we learn that this is not a rebuilt Xavier Institute, but something new: The Jean Grey School. The front lawn is just as packed as it was in episode 1.

Dani, Karma, Wolfsbane, and Cannonball are working to manage the crowd. From the dialogue, we learn it's been 8 months since the end of the last season.

While Dani and Xuan have done this before, the others are nervous and overwhelmed.

DANI: “The PI and the Avenger can’t handle some kids?”

WOLFSBANE: “Who said anything about not being able to handle it? It’s just…a lot.”

Rahne nervously rubs her heels against one another.

“Sam!”

The previously seen Jay and Melody Guthrie fly up to their older brother. Jay looks a little sad, while Melody has the widest grin on her face. Melody expresses how great it is to be here and see everyone again.

MELODY: “But wait, isn’t Roberto supposed to be here too?”

Rahne groans. She should have known he’d be late.

DANI, annoyed: “With Da Costa International back on top, of course he doesn’t have time for us little people.”

SAM: “Won’t even tell us who his darn silent partner is.”

As Sam says that, we briefly cut to a country club golf course, where it seems like Roberto and Monet are playing golf. In reality, they’ve made a game out of lobbing golf balls at old white baselines’ heads. They have a good laugh as Roberto nails one wearing a red ball cap.

Regardless, Dani welcomes the new students, while Karma, noticing his mood, asks Jay what’s wrong. Isn’t he eager to start school? Jay says it’s nothing. Melody meanwhile tells him to cheer up. This is the greatest day of their lives!

Inside, Quentin Quire declares that this is the worst day of his life. Venting to Brian, he cannot believe his parents made him come back here. He was perfectly fine with tutors, but noooooo. Now he’s once again trapped in this embodiment of everything wrong with humankind and Mutantkind alike.

BRIAN: “Happy to see you again too.”

QUENTIN: “Oh, don’t be so sensitive. You know I think highly of you.”

BRIAN: “Uh huh. And anyway, I’d have thought you’d be happy to be here now that Magneto is in charge. You’re a fan, right?”

“Clearly not a big enough fan to attend orientation.”

Brian and Quentin cringe as they’re caught skipping orientation by Nightcrawler and Warpath.

NIGHTCRAWLER: “I recommend going now before we have to give out detentions on the first day. And perhaps a change in role model?”

Quentin sneers and snorts at the two as he adjusts his glasses.

As the two turn around, they’re spooked by Danger as she comes around the corner.

DANGER: “Hello students. I hope you’re ready for another exciting year of education.”

BRIAN, catching his breath: “Not from you, tin can.”

Brian and Quentin march off as a sad Danger is comforted by Kurt and James. Kurt swears about the kids in German. Tag should know better than to be so rude. Especially considering Danger is the one who helped rebuild the school. With Forge having disappeared off the face of the Earth, she was the only one who COULD have helped Beast get this done so fast.

James tells Kurt not to be so hard on them. Danger may not deserve that, but they have a right to be angry. He knows what happened to Sofia messed Laura up pretty badly.

Danger hangs her head, wishing she could see her and apologize, but Forge isn’t the only one they’ve had no luck in tracking down.

KURT: “Speaking of my second favorite Wolverine…is Laura coming back this year?”

We cut to Japan, where Laura and Logan are battling Hand ninjas. Laura shouts that, no, she isn’t going back to school.

Logan questions if this means she’s quitting the X-Men. Because after 8 months of him telling Slim and Magneto she’d be back, they won’t be too happy to hear that. Laura doesn’t care. Yes, she’s quitting. She has to.

LAURA: “Hellion lost his hands because I took him into battle before he was ready. Wind Dancer lost her powers because I gave her the extra training she needed to be an X-Man. I’m the problem. It’s all me.”

Logan snarks that clearly she’s been learning too much from Cyclops if she’s become so self-absorbed she thinks all the world’s problems are her fault. Laura doesn’t respond.

Logan and Laura finish off the last of the ninjas with a double-kick to the face. Logan then tells Laura that he’s done a lot wrong in his life. He’s old, it happens. But even if she has messed up, she shouldn’t let that stop her from doing what’s right. She’s stronger than that.

Laura says that she is doing what’s right by staying away and helping Logan. The X-Men don’t need her. And hopefully, after everything, none of her friends will be jumping into fights anymore.

Logan snickers knowingly, as he pulls out his phone and shows Laura something. Laura seethes, and as she starts to shout a swear, we cut to her in the Jean Grey School’s foyer, being enthusiastically hugged by Cessily, Roxy, and Sooraya.

LAURA: “Please…stop touching.”

As the girls pull away, Cessily expresses how happy she is to see her. Did she see the music video she was in?!

ROXY, lovingly: “She’s been asking everyone that.”

CESSILY: “Shush!”

Laura shakes her head and apologizes. Sooraya tells her it’s fine. She just wants to know if she’s okay. They weren’t sure she’d be coming back. Laura explains that she wasn’t going to…until Logan showed her what Hellion and Surge have been up to.

In the middle of Manhattan, Random, Vanisher, and Firefist race out of a bank, having just robbed it, as alarms blare. Vanisher can’t believe he’s been reduced to this, citing how he was one of the earliest enemies of the X-Men, while Random is just glad he’ll be able to pay rent this month and won’t have to threaten his honestly not that bad landlord, and Firefist is panicking.

FIREFIST: “Oh god, why did I do this? Why are we doing this?!”

Random tells the kid to shut up. They’re doing this because it’s all they can do. He orders Vanisher to get them out of there.

VANISHER: “Don’t tell me what to do.”

FIREFIST: “But…but what if the X-Men show up?”

RANDOM: “Kid, I promise you, the X-Men do not care about bank robbers.”

“True.”

Vanisher is knocked away from the others by a lightning blast.

“But you make for good training dummies.”

The three Mutant robbers turn their heads to find Kitty, Iceman, Surge, and Hellion staring them down.

RANDOM, knowing he’s fucked: “Oh come on.”

Kitty reminds the kids how this goes. She and Iceman will hang back and only get involved if they need help. Otherwise, they’re all theirs.

VANISHER: “You’re throwing kids at us? Seriously?!”

BOBBY, laughing: “Oh, my guy, you have no idea what you’re in for. Wait, Vanisher? You’re robbing banks now? That’s hilarious.”

VANISHER: “Screw you!”

KITTY: “Very clever.” She turns her head. “Rusty, man, what are you doing with these clowns?”

RUSTY, engulfing himself in flames: “Don’t you pretend to care now!”

JULIAN: “Oh, hey, Surge. He’s got an aura.”

NORI: “I noticed. We should show him ours.”

Surge and Hellion charge themselves up with lightning and tk energy, filling the robbers’ eyes with panic. With Surge moving too fast for even the teleporting Vanisher to react to, he’s knocked out immediately, while Hellion, having studied the X-Men’s rogues’, knows that Random can resist Mutant powers, so he instead flings a mailbox at his head to put him down.

Firefist launches an attack on the kids, attempting to set them aflame.

FIREFIST: “Here’s a little tip, kids: you’re batting for the wrong team! Sooner or later, the X-Men will dump you like they did me!”

KITTY: “What?! We didn’t dump you!”

BOBBY: “Well…not intentionally.”

Both protected by Hellion’s forcefields, he and Surge are completely unphased as they counterattack.

HELLION: “No offense, but a weak dweeb like you deserved to get dumped.”

Hellion and Surge attack together, easily blowing Firefist away. The battle won, the two fist bump with smug looks on their faces.

SURGE: “I’m not saying I want another Cassandra Nova or Danger, but some villains that can actually fight back would be nice.”

As the civilian hostages race out of the bank, they cheer on the heroes. The four X-Men gather around, and Kitty tells the kids good work, and to enjoy the praise; all the people here will be back to hating them in an hour.

Julian bristles at that. Training by whaling on petty crooks is fun and all, but these flatscans don’t deserve their help. Noriko agrees, adding that she’d rather be fighting the cops or SHIELD agents who are about to pick up the villains than her own people.

Kitty reminds them that’s not what the X-Men do. Professor Xaiver may be a jerk, but his dream is still a good one. Peaceful co-existence between humans and Mutants. And it’s their job to keep the modicum of peace that currently exists, not to further escalate things with humanity.

NORIKO: “Ms. Pryde, with all due respect…fuck humanity.”

Kitty and Bobby look to each other with concern about the kids.

Back at the school, Dani knocks on Magik’s door.

DANI: “We haven’t talked in a while. I know you haven’t talked…to anyone in a while.” We see inside Yana’s room that the lights are off, Yana is buried under the covers hugging her stuffed animals, and her eyes are haunted. “But I think you’re the only other X-Man here right now, so maybe you want to come join our old “Teach” for his orientation speech?”

Illyana just pulls her covers over her face.

Dani sighs.

KARMA, approaching: “No luck?”

DANI, shaking her head: “Nothing.”

Dani vents about how, a few months after Magik’s confrontation with Dark Phoenix, she came back to the hotel everyone was staying in. She only said a few words, and only to Kitty, but from what she was able to gather from those words, Phoenix, embodiment of “life” that she is, flipped around her proportions. Now, instead of being a demon with a sliver of humanity, she was a Mutant who had the essence of a demon where her soul should be. She hasn’t said two words since, and she only came out of her room when they made the move to the new school.

Xuan is disheartened by this continued failure on their part, but they can’t give up. After all, if they can get Illyana out of this stupor she’s been in, they may just have their friend back for real.

As Cessily, Sooraya, Roxy, and Laura chat on their way to the auditorium, they’re stopped and greeted by the Cuckoos, who hope their time away has been as fulfilling as theirs.

SOPHIE: “Notice anything different?”

ROXY, mockingly: “What? You got your noses done?”

IRMA, not picking up on the sarcasm and genuinely happy: “Among other things.”

Esme asks if they’d like to sit together, but that just makes Cessily laugh. She knows they made some kind of peace with Julian and Sofia last year, and they even helped stop Dark Phoenix, but they still have no reason to forgive these bitches.

Cessily, Roxy, and Laura brush past the saddened Cuckoos without a second thought.

SOORAYA, noticing how saddened the Cuckoos seem to be: “I’m sorry. Excuse me.”

Even if it’s on a more polite and sympathetic note, Dust leaves them behind as well.

In the auditorium, everyone is gathered for orientation. Backstage, Magneto is taking breaths as he prepares to speak to his 200+ new students.

CANNONBALL: “Sir, you led a nation. How are you nervous about speaking to a bunch of kids?”

ERIK: “Well, Samuel, I could try and posture to you about how Magneto is never nervous and you’re clearly delusional, but you know me too well for that. No..I’m just tired.”

The X-Men haven’t been busy lately. No new anti-Mutant groups like the Purifiers or U-Men, no massive threats to the world at large, and no “evil Mutants” foolish enough to challenge an X-Men team led by him. Cyclops has continued to fill Charles’ diplomatic shoes, Emma oversaw the construction of the new school and related duties, and Kitty, Bobby, and the students have dealt with the humiliating dirty work Charles consigned them to do for SHIELD.

With nothing much for him to do, he’s been able to focus on resting and recovering. Spending what time he can with his children. Spending other time reaching out to families of Genoshans he knew had still been in positive contact with their human relatives.

But it hasn’t been enough. Nothing can shake the pain or guilt he feels.

SAM: “I’m…sorry, Sir.”

MAGNETO: “Don’t be. It’s a waste of time.” He puts a hand on Sam’s shoulder. “We cannot fail these children. No matter what.”

Magneto prepares to head on stage to give his speech, but as he does so, he coughs. He admits that maybe he is a little nervous. As Sam knows well, teenagers aren’t his forte.

MAGNETO: “Dammit Cyclops, this was your job. Where are you?”

Magneto heads on stage and is met with thunderous applause and cheers from the students. We cut immediately from their cheers to Emma’s moans, as Scott blasts her in bed while she’s in her diamond form.

Emma’s moan fades as Scott stops blasting. She reverts to her normal form as she falls over in bed, right into Scott’s arms. Both have the happiest smiles one can imagine as they laugh and giggle, respectively.

Only half-serious and half-caring, Emma questions if Scott doesn’t have a speech to be giving right now.

SCOTT: “If Erik wants to lead, Erik can lead. I have more important things to tend to.”

Scott crawls down the bed, making Emma laugh again, but she ends up shoving him off the bed with her foot. Sorry, but she actually does have plans. She and Danielle have set up a little welcome-back party for all their kids. And apparently, Kitty and Bobby also want to speak to her about Hellion and Surge, but she’s sure that’s nothing to worry about.

As the two get up, Scott questions if a party is really the best idea. He’s sure they’re all happy to see each other again, but they aren’t ALL here to see each other again.

Emma sighs in shame. It’s embarrassing and a failure on her part that she hasn’t been able to find Sofia telepathically, even with Cerebro. Poor Hellion has been exhausting himself every other week flying around the world, hunting for her. And yet they’ve both come up short. Considering the anger and venom that went into her last two months of social media use, before she went silent, where she was promoting herself as the poster child for “Cured” Mutants, and spreading anti-mutant propaganda to millions…

EMMA: “I fear the worst may have happened to her.”

Scott puts the kibosh on that. They have to believe she’s still alive. Sofia is tough. They made her an X-man for a reason. They should just assume that her accounts going dark was her realizing what she was doing and stopping. And they taught her well: if she doesn’t want to be found, they won’t find her.

SCOTT: “But we will.”

Scott holds Emma tight.

In Apocalypse’s base, the scientists are psychically tortured. We’re introduced to the one responsible for the torture, Famine AKA Exodus, who does this with a grin on his face. He believes they were on the cusp of figuring out the solution to their problem, and they just needed a little mental push.

As one of the scientists stutters to speak, saying how he thinks he’s figured out the problem, Exodus congratulates himself for his idea, before telekinetically dragging the scientist across the room, and strangling him with his massive hand.

EXODUS: “If you have an answer, then you will tell it to Lord Apocalypse with clarity, and without delay.”

Exodus throws him down to his knees before his master. War snickers at this sight.

Apocalypse doesn’t say a word, merely prompting the scientist to continue with a deep groan. The scientist tells him that they’ve been able to adapt the Celestial tech he gave them to his purposes and that the error isn’t there. Rather, it’s the X-genes they were provided, and have not burned through. They either need a lot more weaker ones than the amount they’ve been using at a time or a couple of extremely powerful ones.

APOCOLYPSE, breathing heavily: “This will not…be an issue…”

Exodus dismisses the scientist to return to work at once. He preens himself and primps his hair as he approaches Apocalypse, praising himself over his plan’s success.

WAR, being snarky: “Oh yes. Torture. How original.”

EXODUS: “I am NOT in the mood for your attitude, War.”

WAR: “I can’t picture you EVER being in the mood.”

As War laughs and Exodus growls, Apocalypse silences them both in an instant as he slams his hands down on his armrests.

APOCALYPSE: “Many of the weak or few of the strong. I will not take chances. We will acquire both. Famine…the densest remaining population of weak Mutants is in Manhattan’s underground. Go there. War, you will bring me the x-gene I desire most.”

EXODUS: “My lord, War can clear out the rabble. Should I not handle the most important task?”

WAR: “Don’t look so upset because he trusts me more, Famine. It’s embarrassing.”

EXODUS: “Big words from the Alpha.” He bows. “I will not fail, my lord. I swear it.”

Exodus flies off.

WAR, laughing: “What a buffoon. I will get to kill him one day, won’t I?”

APOCALYPSE: “Perhaps.” He sighs. “War…this is your first assignment since completing your training. Do not disappoint me.”

War bows.

WAR: “Never, my lord.”

War walks through the remnants of the dead scientist’s head and brain that the cultists hadn’t quite cleaned up as she walks out, her boots crushing bone underneath them.

At The Grindstone, the coffee house is set up for another party. So far, only Dani and Emma are here.

EMMA: “They have all of New York to play in, and this is where our children choose to make their “spot”.”

DANI: “At least they have a spot. A Saturday night for the New Mutants was five boxes of pizza and an ASMR playlist.”

EMMA, at a loss for words: “You depress me, Danielle.”

DANI: “Feeling’s mutual.”

The doors are pushed open by TK energy and cheers are heard, as Noriko and Julian fly in, all excited, only to discover they’re the first ones here.

SURGE: “Ah, dammit.”

Dani giggles as she turns on the music. Nori is at least happy to see Dani again, another mutual feeling from Dani.

DANI: “Look at you making X-Men at 16. Makes a teacher proud.”

NORI, scratching her head: “Eh, well, not really. We keep getting told we’re still in training.”

DANI, smirking at Emma as she drinks from her flask: “Yeah, that’s just so they have an excuse to keep you away from anything too serious, I’m sure.”

JULIAN, glaring at Emma: “You mean like killer robots that depower X-Men and are then welcomed into the family because of what some loser did to them years ago? Cause I’d love to fight one of those.”

Emma rolls her eyes at them both.

Before this can go further, Laura, Cessily, Sooraya, Roxy, Brian, and Quentin all race in, having arrived together in Roxy’s new car.

ROXY: “May not mean much to you flyers, but a driver’s license is still SWEET!”

Happy reunions are had. Cessily races right into Julian’s arms to be swung around by him, as she congratulates him on making X-Men, and he tells her how she killed it in the music video.

NORIKO: “Heard you weren’t coming back.”

LAURA: “Wasn’t going to till I found out you two were being idiots.”

NORIKO, pinching Laura’s cheeks: “Aww, you were worried about u–”

Before Nori can finish, Laura has a claw at her throat. Nori instantly backs off.

LAURA: “Yes. Yes, I was.”

NORI, panting and then smiling: “Well…I’m glad you’re here.”

JULIAN, whispering and fist bumping Brian: “Hey, uh, this a “group” thing. Why’s Quentin here? I know you’re friends, but he’s the worst.”

BRIAN: “Dude doesn’t have any friends besides me and Glob. He’s not so bad once you get to know him. Give him a shot, okay?”

Julian looks at Quentin and sees the sweater-vested dork picking his ear. He sighs.

JULIAN: “Fine. The things I do for you people.”

Cessily and Roxy are dancing together when Emma asks everyone if they have any idea when the Cuckoos will be arriving. Cessily just laughs, hoping they finally got the clue that nobody wants them around.

As Brian thanks Julian and walks off, Laura turns her attention toward Hellion and approaches him. He tries to welcome her back, but she sees right through him. She knows the only thing actually on his mind.

LAURA: “No luck at all?”

Julian bitterly slams his fists together.

JULIAN: “Not one sign of her since August. Guessing you would have called ahead if you and Logan had found anything.”

Laura looks over at Quentin.

LAURA: “What do normal people do when they lose someone? Replace them and move on?”

JULIAN: “We haven’t lost anyone and we aren’t replacing anyone! We WILL find Sofia”

BEAT.

LAURA: “Maybe it’s best if we don’t.”

Julian is just confused by that.

We cut to a location unseen since season 1: the Morlock tunnels. Masque and Sunder are playing pool, Healer, and Piper are eating burgers, and Beautiful Dreamer is playing with Artie and Leech, who came down here while waiting for the school to be rebuilt, but now are having too much fun with their new friends to leave.

Callisto leans against a wall, having a drink, taking in this moment of peace. Her people all having a good time together. Marrow approaches her from behind, questioning if that’s a smile she sees on her face. Callisto shrugs. The burden of leadership is off her shoulders, and thanks to their recent arrangements with the X-Men, they no longer need to scour for resources like rats. Why shouldn’t she smile?

An alarm goes off.

CALLISTO, usual scowl restored: “Oh. That’s why.”

A familiar voice shouts at everyone not to panic. They should calmly make their way to the safe room they’ve constructed further underground.

“Whoever is here, I will protect you all.”

We pan up to reveal Storm, in her new all-leather outfit and mohawk.

From tunnels to the sky, we cut to Warren Worthington III, dressed in a business suit and flying through the air as he speaks on the phone.

WARREN, only hearing his end of the call: “Oh, come on, Betsy, you know I didn’t mean anything by that. I’m happy for you and Rachel. But that doesn’t mean we didn’t have our own fun too. Oh, yes, I do remember that bit of fun.”

Warren drops down onto his penthouse’s balcony, asking Betsy if she and Rachel would want to take a break from protecting the multiverse and grab brunch soon.

WARREN: “Ha ha. No, no I don’t have a new girlfriend.”

As Warren enters his penthouse, he’s consumed by a burst of flames. He’s only saved by instantly transforming into Archangel and shielding himself with his wings.

His attacker is revealed to be War.

WAR: “Then you won’t have anyone missing you.”

WARREN, pissed: “Betsy, I’ll call you back.”

Archangel leaps to his feet as he tosses his phone away, preparing to fight the horseman.

Back at the school, with their party over, Cessily and Roxy are getting moved into their new room, as the new living arrangements for the kids are explained. With these two now sharing a room, and Sofia gone, Sooraya is now rooming with Laura, and, by process of elimination, Noriko is now living with Megan.

ROXY: “She so much as zaps Megan during one of her fits and I’m slicing off her hair.”

Cessily laughs but tells Roxy not to worry about her friend. Nori may be…Nori, but she's an X-Man now. She HAS to be a little more cool-headed now.

Roxy isn't so sure. And anyway, if anyone was going to join the X-Men alongside Hellion, it should have been Mercury.

Cessily asks her to be serious. Wind Dancer, Hellion, and Surge were like "The Big 3" when it came to combat. Dust can keep up with them and she'll probably get a spot before graduation at this rate. But her?

CESSILY: "I didn't even make the list, Roxy. Not for combat or grades.”

As Cessily starts to well up, Roxy takes her hand. She was just trying to be sweet. She knows she doesn't care how strong she is or if she ever makes X-Men, right?

CESSILY, with a pained smile: "Yeah. I know."

Cessily’s face morphs into a sneer as she notices who’s standing in the doorway. It’s the Cuckoos.

ROXY: “Uh uh! No way. Thought we were over this, barbies. Stay away.”

PHOEBE, as the Cuckoos walk in: “We said we were sorry! Would you get over it already?”

ROXY: “You bitches brainwashed me, Esme!”

PHOEBE: “I’m Phoebe!”

ESME: “I’m Esme!”

CESSILY: “I don’t care! Get out!”

As Phoebe and Esme seethe, and Sophie tries to figure out what to say, Irma steps forward.

IRMA, telepathically: “Over break, we met some interesting Mutants. Scientists.” She reaches into her purse and pulls out some pills and vials. “Normal drugs probably can’t do anything to you two anymore. These can.”

Cessily and Roxy bristle at this, uninterested and unamused.

SOPHIE: “This is a peace offering. It will be fun.”

CELESTE: “And remember, everyone on Earth is only alive because of US.”

CESSILY: “You were so not the most important part of stopping Phoenix.”

ROXY: “Hey, you know what? I know what to do. We’ll take the drugs, you’ll leave, and then we’ll report you for dealing unknown substances on campus. Sound good?”

The Cuckoos all sneer as their eyes glow.

CUCKOOS: “No.”

The sisters telekinetically fire the pills in Irma's hand down Cessily and Roxy’s mouths.

CESSILY, gagging and already feeling the high: “You…bitches.”

The Cuckoos bounce up and down as they shut the door and down the pills themselves. This is gonna be AWESOME.

Storm flies through the Morlock tunnels, hunting for whoever triggered their alarm. Before long, she finds him.

STORM, sneering: "Exodus."

Exodus is amused and surprised to see Storm.

EXODUS: "What in the name of the lord is an Omega doing in a rancid place like this?"

STORM, lighting up with lightning: "I do as I have always done. Leading those in need who only need guidance to thrive. Protecting the vulnerable from those who'd do them harm."

Exodus laughs. This is his lucky day! His master only ordered the extermination of the Morlocks. He hasn't expected this kind of battle, but Omega against Omega, welcomes it!

Storm knows Exodus to be an evil man, a foe the X-Men have fought time and again, but the only master he's ever served was Magneto. So who is he serving now, and why do they crave pointless death?

EXODUS: "To the victor goes the spoils."

Exodus launches an energy blast that consumes the whole tunnel. Storm is able to angle her counterattack, bolts of lightning, in such a way that a path is cut for her to slip through his attack, and Exodus is blasted upward, out of the tunnels and away from the Morlocks.

Exodus, on the streets of New York, clutches his chest in pain. Storm floats up after him, and then above him.

STORM: "In the past, you defeated entire teams of X-Men. But in my exile, I have become more than the X-Men."

In Warren's apartment, Archangel stands against War.

WARREN: "That armor…Apocalypse."

War introduces herself and tells Archangel that his former master has ordered his death.

WAR: "He requested it be swift, but that's too good for a traitor like you."

Archangel shakes his head, pissed. He'd thought the old X-Men had finally put Apocalypse down for good in their last battle together.

War laughs at this.

WAR: "Lord Apocalypse cannot be killed, you fool. He is External. And the time has come for the world to recognize him as it's true–"

Warren cuts her off.

WARREN: "No! Quiet! Listen to me, I don't know who you are, if I've ever fought with you or against you, but I promise Apocalypse does not care about you. You are a means to an end for him. And whatever he's promised you, it isn't worth it."

Warren's head aches as his wings faintly murmur to him.

WAR: "Oh, Death." War draws a lightning bolt-shaped sword from her waist. "You don't know how wrong you are."

The people of New York flee as Storm vs Exodus begins in earnest. Exodus proves to be an immensely powerful telekinetic, while also showing his lack of care for innocent life, as he launches an energy attack in all directions, wanting to prevent the queen of the skies from dodging, but Storm has a trick he hasn’t seen before. She uses the energy in the air to create a forcefield. While it’s a struggle, she’s able to contain this attack.

(AUTHOR’S NOTE: Yes, Storm can do this now in canon.)

Storm attempts to freeze Exodus, but he proves to be able to keep himself heated with his energy. Exodus takes to the sky. Both Omegas fly higher and higher up as they attempt to blast each other with lightning and tk energy, respectively, but both are able to dodge everything the other throws at them.

During a lull…

EXODUS, panting: “You…have grown stronger. You may have your answer!”

Exodus’ pink skin turns blue as he manically grins.

Storm is able to put together that this means he’s become a servant of Apocalypse. But that doesn’t make any sense.

EXODUS: “I would be happy to explain how I came to serve my master. And I would also be happy if you would join us. You are worthy. And I’d much prefer working with you to that brat.”

STORM, unamused: “I think not.”

Storm blasts at Exodus and he blasts back, resulting in a tense beam struggle.

As the two push to gain the edge, we hard cut back to Warren’s penthouse, where Archangel and War are dueling. War with her sword and Archangel with his razor-sharp wings battle at close range in the fastest combat seen in the series yet. They are evenly matched, but while War’s focus is purely on killing her opponent, Warren has other priorities.

WARREN: “Do you think you’re special?”

WAR: “I know I am.”

WARREN: “Wrong. That’s just how Apocalypse makes you feel. Like you’re everything. Like you’re his chosen. But you’re just his pawn!”

War sees an opening and kicks Archangel in the chest, sending him flying and crashing through the wall.

WAR: “The opinions of the weak are irrelevant.”

WARREN: “And I’d bet anything that suit of yours is whispering that on repeat.”

Archangel launches hundreds of metal talons from his wings at War. Despite War standing completely still, all of them miss.

War snickers.

Warren questions if this horseman is a telekinetic on top of being a pyrokinetic, but before he can think long, he finds himself being forcibly dragged across the air right over to War. He’s able to block her next sword swing, but only barely.

WAR: “Was this really the best Lord Apocalypse could do a few years ago? How embarrassing.”

Storm and Exodus’ beam struggle continues. They’re evenly matched. Exodus haughtily reminds Storm that he isn’t just a telekinetic but also a telepath. Storm, who’s happy to remind him of all the time she’s spent with Charles Xavier, Jean Grey, and Emma Frost, dares him to try. Like a coward, he backs down.

Storm, meanwhile, having noticed before that Exodus’ energy heats him up, drastically increases the temperature at their air level. Exodus sweats profusely and, through the heat, is unable to keep up with Storm, who’s keeping the sphere around herself perfectly cool. Exodus is blasted away.

Storm flies right after him and with Exodus stunned, she lays into him, landing punch after punch to his face. She calls down a lightning bolt directly from the heavens to send him crashing down into the ground, forming a crater.

Warren returns to shielding himself with his wings as War sets fire to his entire home.

WAR: “Behold the fate of all who oppose Lord Apocalypse! Burned to ash with nothing left behind!”

As War laughs, Warren loses his temper. He’s had enough.

Archangel flies through the flames, regenerating even as they burn him, and choke slams War into the burning wall. He screams at her that he’s just trying to help her, dammit, even though every part of him is screaming at him to go for the kill. All because of what Apocalypse did to him. He was once the X-Men’s second-in-command, but a mission gone wrong cost him everything.

WARREN: “Apocalypse found me and rebuilt me. He made me stronger than I ever dreamed I could be. But I wasn’t me anymore. I was a monster. And that’s what he’s made you too. Is that really what you want to be?”

There’s a dramatic pause.

War shouts as she propels all the flames from around the penthouse back toward her and, by extension, Archangel.

Warren screams and, as he loses his grip, War dances behind him and slices his wings off with her sword, making him scream even more.

WAR: “Apocalypse ripped off your old weak wings, didn’t he? He should find this amusing.”

The dismembered Archangel throws a punch through the agony at War, his wings taking time to regenerate, but she just catches his fist in her palm.

WAR: “You may have been worth my time if you’d been willing to go all out.” She crushes his fist, breaking every bone in it. “But your mind is weak.” War drives her sword through Archangel’s chest. “Apocalypse transformed you into Death.” War delivers a second critical blow, punching through his stomach and blasting through his back with her flames. “I transformed myself.”

War removes his sword and her arm from Archangel. The hero falls over, glassy-eyed, as he reverts back into Warren.

WAR, sheathing her sword and largely disinterested: “Any last words?”

WARREN, barely clinging to life: “The…the X-Men will save you.”

War giggles. She then burns away what’s left of Warren Worthington III. Archangel is dead.

WAR: “No. I will save them.”

Storm descends toward Exodus, once again floating above him. She orders him to surrender. If he gets up, he won’t do so again.

EXODUS: “My, that’s not the Storm I remember.” He coughs up blood. “But I do concede this battle to you, goddess. I don’t know how, but your power has surpassed my own.”

Exodus smirks. And his eyes glow red.

Storm screams as the moisture in her body is ripped away and sucked into Exodus. She tries to mitigate the effects with a forcefield around herself and a raincloud, but with her forcefield doing nothing to protect herself from Exodus, she’s too weak and pre-occupied to do anything else as Exodus blasts her with full force, shattering her forcefield and sending her flying, as he continues to absorb her moisture.

Exodus stomps his boot down on Storm’s chest, a grin spread across his face.

EXODUS: “My own power could not defeat you. But Lord Apocalypse’s conquers all.”

Exodus slams his head down on Storm’s face. She screams as something unclear happens. It seems like he may be killing her…but he doesn’t.

EXODUS, standing up straight: “You are strong, Storm. With or without what I have taken. I hope that in the new world, I will be able to return it.”

Exodus walks off. Storm tries to blast him from the ground, but nothing happens. She tries again before the reality hits her. He’s stolen her powers.

STORM: “No. Not again. Exodus!”

Exodus knocks her out with one more small blast.

EXODUS: “Rest easy, Storm. Compared to your Morlocks, you are lucky.”

Exodus dons a slasher smile as he hops back into the Morlock tunnels, pulsing with energy.

In Scott’s new office, Magneto is shouting at him for shirking his responsibilities onto him, while Emma stands to the side, filing her nails. Scott doesn’t see Erik’s problem. He’s the public face of the X-Men and Mutantkind again, but he, Emma, and KItty have been managing everything. He just thought he’d give him some work and a chance to speak to the kids.

Erik doesn’t buy it. He thinks he’s deliberately been keeping him out of play, and left him to give the speech today as a joke. He thinks Scott is resentful of losing his position.

CYCLOPS: “What if I am? You wouldn’t have been resentful if Sunspot had ever stolen Genosha from you?”

MAGNETO: “Sunspot and I see eye to eye on most matters. We do not.”

CYCLOPS: “Not wrong there.”

Emma breathes in annoyance as the two men stare each other down, and engage in their dick-measuring contest. Her eyes then widen in a panic. They need to go downstairs NOW.

Cyclops and Magneto don’t hesitate to listen to her, rushing toward the foyer. On the way, Emma also alerts Kitty and Iceman that they need them, and Laura to bring Danger. Emma also issues an alert to the student body to stay away from the foyer.

The five X-Men arrive at their destination to find Storm weakly leaning against the wall. She’s heavily bleeding, she’s shaking, and her eyes display horror.

KITTY: “Ororo!”

Kitty rushes over to her and helps her stand as Laura arrives with the temporary school doctor, Danger.

SCOTT, as Danger scans Storm: “Storm, what happened?”

STORM, shivering: “The…the Morlocks, Scott. I failed them.”

ICEMAN: “What do you mean you “failed” them?”

Storm struggles to answer, so Emma just reads her mind. Her expression becomes just as horrified.

EMMA: “Oh, Ororo. I’m so sorry.”

Everyone realizes just how bad this must be if Emma is saying that to Storm. Kitty hugs her mom.

We cut to an area of Apocalypse’s base so far unseen - his throneroom. Apocalypse weakly eats a handful of grapes from a bowl held up by one of his worshippers.

Archangel’s wings are tossed in front of him.

WAR: “I thought you’d like these more than JUST his X-gene.” War flies over to Apocalypse’s side. “Even if they aren’t your best work.”

APOCALYPSE: “My “best work” is why we are in this rush.” He stands and picks up the wings. “Thank you. And well done.”

WAR, proud of herself: “It wasn’t the hardest fight, but it was fun. Has Famine returned?”

APOCALYPSE: “Yes. The Earth has been cleansed of the scum of our gene pool. We should be ready to proceed. He also encountered and defeated Storm.”

WAR: “What?! Lucky gilipollas.”

BEAT.

APOCALYPSE: “A HA HA HA HA HA!”

WAR, crossing her arms: “What?”

APOCALYPSE, trying to stop laughing: “War…you are strong. But you are not ready to fight an Omega.”

WAR: “Of course I am!”

Her denial just makes Apocalypse laugh louder.

War huffs in frustration as she leans against Apocalypse’s chest.

WAR, being a brat: “Well you aren’t ready to fight the Witch.”

Apocalypse’s laughter softens as he tucks his hand around War’s chin.

In the X-Men’s new “Mission Room”, Cyclops, Emma, Magneto, Iceman, Kitty, and Wolverine have gathered, alongside Hellion and Surge, while Danger is taking care of Storm.

HELLION: “I don’t care how beat I ever get, don’t you ever send me to her”

SURGE: “With how often you get beat up, that could go badly. But same.”

The two question what’s going on anyway. It can’t be that bad if they’re letting them get involved.

MAGNETO: “On the contrary, students, you’re here because things couldn’t be worse.”

Cyclops tells them that Storm was attacked by a man named Exodus AKA Bennet du Paris. A Crusader from the 12th century and Omega-level Mutant, his powers were further enhanced by the immortal Mutant, Apocalypse - the X-Men’s greatest enemy. He betrayed Apocalypse after he was forced by him to kill his lover, and was sealed away until Magneto freed him years later, and brought him into his service.

Surge questions what his powers are, with Kitty telling her that he’s the most powerful telepath in the world besides the Professor, Emma, and Jean, and THE most powerful telekinetic.

Hellion, insecure, says he can’t be all that tough if he keeps being a minion. Emma puts into perspective for him that Exodus makes Hellion’s telekinesis look like her own.

SURGE, in disbelief: ‘Okay…so Storm lost?”

Magneto tells her how much worse it is than that. How she was depowered by him and, because she failed to stop him, the Morlocks were massacred.

The kids are horrified. This can’t keep happening. Why does this keep happening?!

Scott’s sorry to tell them it gets worse. Exodus isn’t acting alone. He’s working for Apocalypse again.

Magneto tells the kids they don’t really know anything about Apocalypse, other than he’s one of the oldest and most powerful Mutants in the world. Far beyond himself. He lives by a “Survival of the Fittest” philosophy and seeks not only to wipe out every last human being but all Mutants who don’t meet his standards.

CYCLOPS: “We don’t know why Exodus would ever serve him again, but whenever Apocalypse shows up, it’s with four “Horsemen”. Four generals. If we take Exodus as the standard…”

ICEMAN: “That means we’ve got five genocidal Omega-levels on our hands, and we don’t have Jean or Storm.”

There’s a pause of dread.

Emma shoots a glance at Magneto before explaining to everyone else that there’s more. Exodus put in Storm’s head what Apocalypse’s current plan is. Using X-genes he’s been collecting, including Storm’s and the Morlocks, he’s built a device that will force an X-gene to develop in every living being on Earth. Those who can adapt will become Mutants, while everyone else will instantly be killed.

EMMA: “They estimate less than 1% of humanity will survive.”

Finally, Exodus provided them with their base of operations’ location. Apocalypse wants to “speak” with herself, Cyclops, and Magneto.

EMMA: “Obviously, we aren’t going to do that, but–”

Emma is cut off as Kitty slams her phone down on the floor.

Bobby asks her what’s wrong.

KITTY: “Iceman…Cyclops…I’m so sorry.”

She was looking at the news to see if there were any clues about what other horseman may be active, and she discovered that there was a fire in a luxury apartment complex…and that Warren is dead.

Scott seethes, while spikes form around Bobby as he punches a wall.

ICEMAN, intense: “He told us where they are. Let’s get these bastards!”

Cyclops, Kitty, and Wolverine are just as ready to mobilize. The odds may be against them, but the X-Men have beaten Apocalypse before and, Storm and Jean or no Storm and Jean, they can beat him again.

There’s just one problem.

MAGNETO: “We aren’t going anywhere.”

KITTY: “The Hell are you talking about, Erik?! Are you not listening?!”

MAGNETO: “I have been, as I always am. And as leader of the X-Men, it is my decision that we do not intervene with Apocalypse’s plans.”

CYCLOPS, outraged: “I don’t know what you’re on about, but this better not be a power play over earlier.”

MAGNETO: “Of course, it isn’t. I would never act so immaturely. The immature decision would be rushing into a battle we have no hope of winning when simply doing nothing awards us a golden opportunity.”

CYCLOPS: “You cannot be serious. Now, of all times, after what they’ve done, you cannot be going back to–”

EMMA, cutting him off: “To what, Scott? Being a villain? Is that what thinking Apocalypse’s plan isn’t a poor one makes someone? Then call me evil.”

KITTY, not even surprised at this point: “Already covered.”

Iceman stretches his arm across the room and puts Magneto’s neck at icicle point. One way or another, he’s fighting an Omega today.

Magneto is unphased.

Scott asks Emma what SHE’s talking about. Emma, pressing her hand against his face, expresses her logic to him, and to everyone else. Yes, like Magneto said, if this is the caliber of horseman Apocalypse possesses, this team CANNOT win. They don’t have the power OR cohesion. And it isn’t like Sunspot or the non-demon Magik would make the difference there.

EMMA: “More importantly, this is a chance to end our fight for survival once and for all.”

As things stand, there is no guarantee that Mutants will still exist in 150 years. Where once they numbered 20 million, they’ve only now gotten back up to five million. And the threats to their survival never stop. On the other hand, there IS a guarantee that all humans currently alive will be dead in 150 years. What difference does it make if they die now vs then? The only one is that, if they perish now, it WOULD guarantee Mutantkind’s survival and allow them to inherit the Earth at long last.

MAGNETO: “This isn’t like his previous plans. No camps, no hunting, no torture, no slaves. This would be quick and done within moments. We may still need to fight Apocalypse himself after the fact should his opinions of weaker Mutants stand…”

EMMA: “...but compared to our everyday struggle, with every X-Man together, this would be child’s play.”

Scott backs away from Emma and Magneto in horror, disgusted by their words and horrified that his girlfriend would support this.

EMMA, annoyed: “Oh, please, Scott, don’t be the boyscout about this. You already rejected Xavier. You understand that assimilation is not an option.”

Wolverine finally speaks up, telling Cyclops she’ll take Magneto and Emma down on his word.

NORI: “You’re not doing anything, Laura.”

Laura turns in confusion to her friends, who are seated with sneers and crossed arms.

JULIAN: “Miss Frost is right. We’ve had our problems lately…but this makes sense.”

The music swells as everyone stares each other down and the team is split in half. Magneto, Emma, Hellion, and Surge have decided that letting billions die is the best strategy, and Cyclops, Kitty, Wolverine, and Iceman can’t believe what they’re hearing, the latter fully ready to throw the first destructive, frozen punch.

To Be Continued…

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faeryarchives · 2 years

Text

until flowers bloom (gender neutral reader!)

as winter pass by, it time for new beginnings and transformation - to start over and for others to bloom for animals, plants, youth and of course, love.

alternative title: leona having feelings but he is in denial

people said that spring symbolizes many things, some may say that it's a new beginning for someone who suffered at the hands of the cruel autumn and winter or simply put it as a symbol of rebirth.

but for leona? its just another season to suffer another boring lifestyle where everything is repetitive as it is - sleep, being chased by ruggie to attend class, eat, club then back to sleep. in his mind, spring symbolizes nothing because there is no change and it's just a waste of time.

until that certain day.

"these are all plants i never seen befor- did i just step on something?"

"yeah, you have the guts on stepping someone's tail without apologizing."

"well it's your fault that your tail is laying ona walking path."

the prefect of ramshackle dorm who goes by as (name). words cannot describe how he loathes just being dragged into their mess.

"if you don't help us, we will scream out of your door everyday and you will not get your naps!"

"oh really, sure and i am going to graduate this year." oh how he regret to make fun of (name) and grim because he didn't really get any sleep that day, but deep inside leona admired how determined the prefect is - just to help a friend in need.

"how troublesome..." the more the savannaclaw dorm leader bump into the prefect and proceeds on either hearing all about their day or helping them with something, the more he realize that there is something changing this spring.

"hey leona aren't you lonely?"

"no, how do you expect me to be lonely when i just sleep all day?"

"you have a point-"

the moment of realization dawned on him the moment leona watched as they let out a laugh after successfully shooting the disk on the opposite goal, his eyes focused on their bright smile and he could feel something warm growing in his chest.

"i did it! did you see that leona?! leona? are you there?"

"... not so bad for an herbivore."

this spring, the great leona kingscholar realized that not only did something change in his life but there are also feelings blooming for the prefect. and yet he continued denying it until ruggie had enough and pointed it out.

"aw come on just face the truth!"

"that is just ridiculous, ruggie. why would i have feelings for them?"

"i don't know you tell me?" and leona did, much to the hyena's shock.

"why would i have feelings for that herbivore? just because i can feel at ease around them because they never judge me or maybe they do judge me but in a joking manner or the way i just really want to help them even though they alway get into too much troublesome situation it doesn't mean that i like them?" silence filled the room with ruggie looking at the dorm leader, burying his head to his hands as he let out a very deep sigh.

"... can you just think of what you said again and maybe knock some sense in your head?"

"... oh shit." after ruggie left, he stayed in his bed while looking up at the ceiling with different emotions - denial, embarrassment, confusion, and happy? pictures of the prefect smile every time they were together flashed in his mind making a small smile find it's way to his lips.

"i do like them." a lot, leona likes the prefect a lot. but he would not confess or confront them about it, not wanting to rush his feelings when he just realized the fact that he sees them more than just a friend, more than just a companion.

"it's finally summer~ leo do you have something on your mind?"

"that's a secret to you."

"eh? what is it, i want to know!"

leona looked at their face, being enchanted by their (eye color) eyes, he just rolled his eyes before giving them a headpat.

"until flowers bloom, maybe i will tell you." when he finally get the courage to tell you the truth about his feelings.

"but that is like months later."

"exactly."

"leona!" a laugh escaped his lips. before the next spring come, he wish to go through other seasons with you by his side.

you know i was thinking about making this an angst fic with another clickbait title hitting with a hanahaki disease au but then suddenly an idea came to me because the words "until flowers bloom"stuck in my mind 😭

#twisted wonderland headcanons #twisted wonderland scenarios #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twst x reader #twst reader insert #twst headcanons #twst imagines #twst scenarios #leona kingscholar x reader #leona kingscholar

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bigbadripley · 10 months

Text

Chapter 9 - Belong to You

Marc Spector&Co. x Ex!F!OC, F!OC x Modern!Miguel O'Hara

Summery: Everything changed after Marc and Simone moved to New York. Being in a relationship with the Fist of Khonshu proved to be difficult enough without the added obstacles of normal relationships being forced into the mix. With seemingly irreconcilable differences overhead, fate’s plans continue to drive the pair back into each other’s lives, testing their patience, self-control, and new relationships. Is it truly written in the stars, or is it old habits taking over?

18+!! | Third-person omniscient | Dark elements | AU/AT | Warnings: Language, OC with religious trauma, childhood trauma, sexual trauma. Effects of trauma in adulthood. Cutesie couple shit, a dash of angst.

Words: 2K (A bit shorter this time, you'll find out why)

A/N: I update warnings with each chapter. Only proceed if you can handle the themes included in the warnings.

Minors DNI, DL;DR, if I miss a warning, please let me know.

Chapter List

"So I think you should fuck with me, yeah Be the one to take me out the street, yeah I can give you everything you need, yeah Need you in my reach, yeah You know I fall really, really deep, yeah You can put your lovin' where I speak, yeah" -"Belong to You" by Sabrina Claudio

In the nearly three years that Simone had lived in New York, she never once went to festivals in the area. Just about every native she would run into was absolutely shocked by this when they'd learn, siting festivals as a pivotal part of the experience.

That was until she met Miguel, who seemed as native to the area as they came and admitted to not being a festival-goer himself. This realization prompted them to attend one together.

"I still can't handle the fact that your favorite movie's so old." Miggy teased before taking a plastic fork full of loaded fries. Simone had heard A New Hope be referred to by many adjectives, but never in her life had she heard someone call it old.

"It's the movie that started it all! Star Wars is classic!" She defended as she stopped their walking to sit on the metal bench they had encountered. She had gotten a new pair of ankle boots the day before, and though they were an attractive choice, it was a terrible time to break them in. As Miguel joined her, his arm instinctively rested over her shoulders.

"Classic's just another word for old, cariño." He joked. Simone couldn't help but feel her face turn red at the nickname. Though she had heard it dozens of times now, she held it in high regard. Still, being in a relationship with someone who didn't appreciate her movies the same way she did opened the door for her to geek out.

"You say that now, but wait until I drag you along for one of my marathons." She teased. Miggy cocked his head curiously at this,

"One of? You're bluffing."

"I've been known to have a Star Wars marathon several times a year since I was a little kid. My dad and I used to..." Simone started but trailed off before the thought could fully register in her mind. She knew she and her father used to binge-watch the first Star Wars movies, but she was drawing a blank when the memory tried to surface.

She was maybe five, sitting in the family room on the couch, and the traditional rolling intro began. She turned her face to the man beside her in childish awe, but his face was gone. He had told her that she was in for a wild ride. She remembered that, but not in his voice.

Why can't I remember his voice? She thought, knowing the psychological answer but not thinking it applied to her before.

Miguel was quick to notice the dead-eyed but curious expression she wore as she grew suddenly silent. It was the face of someone desperately trying to remember something, but the pieces wouldn't come together.

"Earth to Simone, you there?" He asked, waving a hand before her face and snapping her back to reality. She blinked a couple of times and gave him a nervous grin.

"Sorry. Short-circuited there. I don't really think about my dad much."

"No worries. My old man was, uh, interesting, to say the least." He said in an attempt to save her from feeling awkward.

"How do you mean?"

"Well, my dad was a good man, but my father was his boss." He explained. Simone's eyes widened,

"No shit? Tell me more."

With that, they started walking again. Miguel began to give her the run-down of what he knew regarding the affair between his mom and his dad's boss, withholding specific details he wasn't ready to share that would complicate the conversation. He brought her out to have a good time, not ruin the evening by outing himself.

As he told a sparing story of how he found out about his paternity, Simone's phone began to ring from her bag.

Under blue moon, I saw you So soon you'll take me

His girlfriend groaned audibly as she dug through her bag, saying before that she didn't care for the song chosen as her ringtone and repeating the same line she did then.

"I gotta change this damn ringtone."

The phone came into view, and she studied the screen briefly before declining the call. Potential spam wouldn't take her attention tonight.

"So change it. Do it now and get it over with." Miggy suggested before she dropped the device back into her bag. It was a suggestion nobody had made before, though Simone had never failed to complain about the song every time her phone rang.

They stopped on the sidewalk, and Miggy observed Simone tapping her thumbs along the screen. First settings, then sounds, then she picked a seemingly random pre-loaded toon and locked the phone again before looking up at him with a smile.

"It's like a weight was lifted from my shoulders." She told him, adding an extra exaggerated bounce to her step. Few knew that the ringtone was the one Marc had used for a while, but to be funny, she changed her ringtone to match. It caused them both to scramble and look at their phones when one of them got a call. After things ended, it lost its charm.

Miguel admired Simone's added perk once the task was done, following closely but eyeing the graceful, almost dancey, movements she made down the sidewalk and how the setting sun projected her shadow before her.

His trance was broken as her right foot slid off the curb in an unfortunate misstep, the sound registering in his ears as the tread of her boot crunched loose pebbles. Before she lost her balance completely, Miguel's reflexes went into overdrive and caught her about halfway to the pavement.

"Shit!" Simone exclaimed as a sharp pain shot through her rolled ankle. Miggy repeated the same expletive as his glasses flew from his face and clattered just feet away and into the street, unable to be salvaged as a red Volkswagen crushed them.

Simone watched in awe as the frames practically disappeared, nearly forgetting about her mild sprain as her gaze shot back to Miggy, still holding her. His eyes were clamped shut. "Fuck, I'm sorry." She apologized.

"It's fine. I have another pair. Just need to call it an early night." Miguel said, still clamping his eyes as tightly as possible.

From there, Simone walked him around just as she pretended to lead Murdock, but the difference was that Murdock was much more conversational during these times. Miggy, who typically had no issues holding banter with Simone, grew abnormally quiet the second his glasses were gone. He was panicked and didn't want to show it.

Simone remembered the conversation about why he never took them off and never questioned the validity of the condition until he started acting strange about the issue. On top of that, mild irritation crept in the more she walked on her tender ankle.

"I'm sorry if I seem a little bit taken aback. I'm used to boyfriends keeping things from me, so you not opening your eyes, even briefly, is weirding me out." She admitted, still holding the crook of his elbow.

"I told you, I get these-"

"Headaches. I know." She finished his sentence. Simone wished she could let it go and accept it for what it was, but something in her bones told her there was more to it. There had to be. Another decently long silence manifested between them, and Miggy was almost relieved until she spoke again. "What exactly causes them? Sun? Eye strain?"

"A little of both," Miguel answered, trying his best not to let his aggravation with her questioning seem obvious. She caught it quickly, though, and felt dishearted.

"Gotcha." She replied, disbelieving.

The rest of the walk was quiet, the only sounds being the city and their footsteps against the pavement, until they reached Miguel's apartment. The pair had always taken their private moments to Simone's place, and though the original mission was just to get his glasses, there would be nothing beyond taking him home for Simone tonight.

Once Miggy unlocked his door, he turned to her with his closed eyes and reached out for her but was surprised when she stepped back. He was afraid this would happen but expected it to be her response to his secret, not the withholding of it.

Something just isn't right. Simone kept thinking as she instinctively backed off from his affection. Nothing changed through the dark night, all the way to the dimly-light hallway of his building. It just didn't make sense to her.

"Have a good night, Miggy." She said, leaving the man with shut eyes and open arms as she began down the hall. It's one thing to keep things from her- hell, she was keeping secrets of her own- but to keep up a lie to her face with every opportunity to just say something?

It took her back to Marc's blackouts, how he knew about them before they even got together but neglected to say something to her. He lied every chance he got about those. Made excuses. Made her think she was losing her mind. Not again.

Shit, shit, shit. Miguel thought as he tried to come up with something, anything to say to recover this. After hearing five total footsteps, he decided on the truth. Simone was stopped by a hand wrapping around her wrist gently.

"Wait, cariño." He said, trying to keep her from getting any further. She took a deep breath to prepare for whatever justification he was about to give her as she turned back around but was stunned at the sight before her. His eyelids were finally open, but the big brown eyes she knew were replaced with deep red irises.

Miguel was prepared for her to freak out, but she stayed locked on him, studying the brand-new color of the same gaze she'd grown to care deeply for. It took a moment for him to remember the woman he was dealing with. She'd likely seen far stranger.

"Is this what you wanted to keep from me?" She asked tenderly, almost seeming amused by how small it seemed. They reminded her of jasper stones; though it was abnormal and even a little freaky to see, she found them quite beautiful. "Is it a condition?"

"Not exactly." He started, releasing her arm and using the same hand to open the door to his apartment and walk in. Curiously and without instruction, she followed. The place was almost entirely empty except for a red lawn chair and a dinghy couch. It suddenly made sense why they never met up here, even if it didn't make sense for the place to look like this.

With his back turned to her, he whispered something into his smartwatch and dropped his ruse right before her within seconds. His coat, shirt, and jeans flashed into the suit she had seen a handful of times but imagined on another man, minus the mask that accompanied it.

"Holy shit," Simone muttered as Miguel turned around to reveal the suit of the masked man she met at the Hellfire Gala months ago. The same man who fought Mr. Knight on her fire escape just after running off during their steamy kiss. She didn't know they were the same at the time.

It all made sense now.

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grymmnox · 1 year

Text

weekly fic recs #15

ok yeah i kinda forgot to do this on saturday. this time i didn't read like any oneshots surprisingly enough

fandoms: bungo stray dogs

ships: soukoku, fyozai, fyolai

Completed Fics

Because I'm not me without you; millelav - bungo stray dogs

mature | 8 chapters | 29.3k words | chuuya/dazai | READ TAGS

summary:

“So, you went to a pumpkin patch together, which you do every single year, with Chuuya.” Dazai nodded happily. Oda nodded back, speaking slowly to get the point across.

“Chuuya, the same Chuuya who told Ango to ‘go die’ when he complimented his ponytail, agreed to let you compare his hair to every pumpkin you saw, and then proceeded to pay for the one you found that matched, no questions asked. Then, he allowed an employee to say you two were a couple, and even accepted it in front of you. And now you are confused as to why he didn’t correct them.”

Dazai beamed at him and clapped his hands together.

“Exactly! Odasaku you’re always so smart! I knew you would get it!”

Oda just chuckled wryly as Ango pressed his fingers to his temple.

“So what’s the problem then?”, Oda shrugged.

Dazai and Chuuya have been best friends for ten years, attached to the hip even after all of this time. But, what will happen when Chuuya disrupts the precious balance of their friendship by not correcting an assumption that they are a couple? How will Dazai react?

hey look, the sky's falling apart; saffroncassis - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 4 chapters | 24.8k words | chuuya/dazai, chuuya & oda, akutagawa & chuuya, chuuya & everyone

summary:

The facts are this: Chuuya is a compassionate person. He cares too much and too fiercely. He gets attached easily and is undyingly loyal to the people around him. He also happens to be the strongest ability user this side of Japan since the turn of the century.

At age 16, Chuuya defects from the Port Mafia and drags his partner with him not so much kicking and screaming as silently begrudging, and the rest follow suit in time.

kintsugi; saffroncassis - bungo stray dogs

teen and up | 7 chapters | 29.1k words | chuuya/dazai, dazai & Q, dazai & kouyou, atsushi & dazai

summary:

6 years after defecting from the Port Mafia with his partner, Dazai has many things on his mind: what to do about the freaky mind control kid who is now his orphan to take care of; how to defeat the Guild before they destroy Yokohama entirely, without any intel or plans yet; and… the prospect of marriage. With his boyfriend. Yeah, there’s a lot to figure out.

sequel to hey look, the sky’s falling apart

not yet corpses (still, we rot); itotypes - bungo stray dogs

mature | 10 chapters | 27.4k words | dazai/fyodor, dazai & fyodor | READ TAGS

summary:

"Let's take it from the top. Hi." He gives out his hand. "I'm Dazai Osamu."

Fyodor glances down at the hand, as though it's a trap. To be fair, it could be. But he likes traps. He likes unwinding them. So he grasps Dazai's hand and shakes it, once.

Or, Somewhere in the remote landscape of Meursault, Fyodor discovers that whatever is fundamentally “wrong” with him, is also “wrong” with Dazai Osamu. They proceed to destroy each other, to their heart’s content.

Three-fold Fate; devilrin - bungo stray dogs

not rated | 16 chapters | 60.3k words | chuuya/dazai, ango & dazai & oda, dazai & oda

summary:

Chuuya stands on the shore, his red hair a scar against the cool sea breeze. Behind him, there is a braid of smoke through a page-blank sky. Vaguely, Dazai can smell the stench of gasoline and engine oil of the motor boats about to head out to sea. It is a serene, grey sight: the sun is still a couple of minutes away from the horizon, and Dazai feels winter on the tip of his nose.

A boy. The sea. The lingering taste of violence in his tongue.

Dazai watches as November finds its home in the dawn reflected in Chuuya’s bright, blue eyes. He squeezes the fabric over his chest, not knowing when his hand had moved.

His heart is still beating.

At some point in the distant future, the final curtain falls over the biggest conflict the world has ever known. Fyodor dies, the Book is destroyed, and Yokohama knows peace for the first time in decades.

And then, the most curious lead lands on the desks of the ADA–– Nakahara Chuuya, the most feared of the Port Mafia executives, has officially turned in his resignation.

Naturally, Dazai thinks, as the other half of Soukoku, the only acceptable course of action would be to resign in solidarity.

#[.grims weekly recs]#[.grims recs]#reclist #fic recs #bsd #bungo stray dogs #bungou stray dogs #bsd fic recs #bungo stray dogs fic recs #bungou stray dogs fic recs #sorry for the late post lmao

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sukunasweetheart · 3 years

Text

A better way to enjoy chocolate.

Pretty much just reader trying to give Sukuna some chocolates on Valentines. Highschool AU, gender-neutral reader, SFW content

Sukuna looks at the pile of boxed chocolates, seemingly unphased. Everyone peers to look. “Uwah! You got so much this year!” Yuuji exclaims. “Ridiculous.” He sighs, shoving all of them into a disposable plastic bag. “It’s actually pretty amazing how you went out of your way to bring your own plastic bag for this. You were expecting this, weren’t you? Pretentious bastard,” Nobara adds. “Well, it does happen every year,” Megumi says as he casually scrolls through his phone.

Megumi's the first one to leave for class and Nobara and Yuuji follow after him. You look at the daunting bag of chocolates Sukuna holds in his hand and gulps. “Do you like chocolate, Sukuna?” You ask him carefully. “...Not particularly. I don’t like sweet things. But if I throw these out, that idiot’ll never stop yapping about it. Something about going to hell if you waste food. So annoying,” he clicks his tongue. You offer a laugh at his brutal honesty, quietly regretting your own chocolates that you had made to give him today.

The two of you were dating anyway, so it wasn’t exactly necessary, right? Sukuna discreetly gives you a side glance, but you don’t notice it.

Morning classes passed by without much happening, and it soon became lunch. You watch as a classmate approaches Sukuna at his desk and holds her own homemade chocolate out towards him. “Hey. I just wanted to give you this. No feelings involved though, so don’t worry about it,” she tells him. This was obviously said for you to hear, since there was almost nobody in this school who didn’t know of his relationship with you (Sukuna is notorious for just as many reasons as Yuuji is...maybe a little more towards the sinister side of things). This apparently didn’t stop people from trying though, unfortunately. It would be a lie if you said you didn’t feel the least bothered by this. Sukuna looks at her lazily, and just gestures towards the bulging plastic bag that lay beside his desk. The class atmosphere freezes up a little as everyone looks over. S-So cold…! They all thought in unison.

However, the girl just gives a small chuckle as if she had been expecting such a reaction and just added hers onto the pile before going back to her own group of friends. “What a cruel guy,” Nobara gives Sukuna a look of distaste. He shrugs in response and proceeds to yawn. “Now, now…” You naturally take the role of the peacemaker, simultaneously thinking about what you should do with your chocolates. You had actually made four small bags, one for each of your friends. They were wrapped in clear plastic sleeves, tied up with a ribbon on top. Except, Sukuna’s one is...

Yuuji and Megumi both stroll in through the classroom door. “Yo~! We came to visit. Let’s eat lunch here today!” He says cheerfully. The two of them take the empty seats of the students who went to the cafeteria to eat. You couldn’t give the chocolates to Sukuna in front of them. Then you’d have to give him his as well - or else it'd feel like you were excluding him. Guess I'll just give it to them later on, privately.

“And? Where’s our choco, Y/N?” Nobara cheekily grins at you. You freeze up, mind giving you a throwback to the memories of last night when you had told her of your plans in advance. Silent panic echoes in your mind. “I-It’s,” You feel Sukuna’s gaze shift onto you, “...In my bag!” You hurriedly rummage your bag and pull out the three bags, making sure to avoid eye contact. “I made one for all three of you…” You say, avoiding eye contact with him. “Eh? You made one for us too?” Yuuji asks, wide-eyed. “Yeah. I thought I’d give it a try this year.” You hand them all over. “Thanks, Y/N!” Yuuji immediately opens it and plops one into his mouth. “It’s good!” Megumi also gives you a thanks but puts it to the side for now, wanting to finish his lunch first. Nobara gives you a questioning look. “What about Sukuna?” “Eh? Ah, I... kind of figured he didn’t like sweets so,” you turn to face him. “Sorry, Sukuna. Should I have made you some as well? I wasn’t sure if couples who were already dating gave chocolates on Valentines.” It’s a painful lie, but you manage to say it. “...No. I don't really care.” He looks entirely unaffected. It kind of hurt in its own way, but you ignore it and sigh out of relief for now. It was way too embarrassing to give it to him in front of the group. But now that you've said such a lie, you don't think you’ll be able to give it to him at all anymore. There was a bit of an awkward silence momentarily, but Yuuji being Yuuji - naturally carried the group's conversation elsewhere.

A few minutes later, Sukuna stands up to go to the toilet. Whilst Yuuji and Megumi are talking about something that you admittedly zoned out on, Nobara snatches up your bag and takes a peek inside. “H-Hey!” You shout-whispered. “...I knew it. You did make them! Why are you-” She stops and notices their shape. “That’s so...cute?” She gives out an amused laugh and quietly puts it back down. You fan at your face, cheeks aching with embarrassment. “Make sure you give them to him. Trust me. I’ll beat him up if he doesn’t appreciate it,” she tells you. “I’ll try…” you say meekly. Unbeknownst to you, Yuuji grins at Megumi upon hearing this and Megumi responds with his own subtle smile.

- The bell rings for the end of school. Sukuna stands and leaves first, telling you that he had something he needed to do after school and that you should go home first. Before you can stop him, he's already left the classroom. “Go after him,” Nobara pushes you, so you hurriedly pack your things up before running out.

More than ten minutes have passed, and you can’t find him. You want to call or text him, but you’re worried that he was in the midst of doing something important. It’s rare of him to stay back at school, after all. You sigh, and tell yourself that you’ll just give up with this year’s one.

Walking out of the school’s entrance, you see Sukuna standing nearby with his usual bored expression, hands in his pockets. He catches sight of you and immediately approaches. “I thought you had something to do at school?” You start to say. “Obviously a lie. What took you so damn long?” He scratches the back of his head in annoyance. “I was looking for you inside! Also why did you lie?” You question him. “Nevermind that. You could have just called...No, that’s not the issue right now. Give.” He suddenly stretches his palm out in front of you. “Eh? Give what?” The thought of the chocolates go right over your head.

“You...the thing that you gave to everyone else except me. I know you have mine. Don’t keep me waiting,” He says, frowning. The realisation hits you like a truck and you give him a helpless smile. “How’d you know…?” You ask, quick to reach into your bag. “How long do you think I’ve known you for? The others probably knew too,” he says nonchalantly. “But I thought you wouldn’t want them...you've gotten so much. And you don’t even like sweets.” You place the bag gently on his palm. “Idiot. We’re dating. There’s no reason to not accept them if you've made some for me.” He gives them a look and grins. “Oh…? Now I understand why you couldn’t give it to me in front of the others.”

Only Sukuna’s chocolates were heart-shaped, when the others' had been circular ones. He’d rather die than admit it, but he thrives on getting this kind of special attention from you. You get flustered and look at your feet. “It’s true that I don’t really like sweets.” He tells you suddenly. “You don’t have to force yourself to eat them-” “But there’s a way of eating them that would make it taste a bit better,” he cuts you off. You were confused as to what he was talking about, and you watched as he opened the bag and popped one of them into his mouth before pulling you in for a kiss.

Your eyes were widened in shock as you barely had the time to register all of this - he was already slipping his tongue into your mouth. One hand on your hip, and the other on the back of your neck, you're so close to his body, getting pulled into his warmth that threatens to melt you, the taste of the chocolate starting to spreading across your taste buds as he's making out with you passionately. Before you know it, you're reciprocating the gesture and kissing him back, your hands rising up, gripping tightly onto his uniform. Chocolate has never tasted any sweeter. You can feel your own body beginning to heat up and you're gradually running out of breath. As your tongue is intertwining with his, the chocolate is getting pushed back and forth, and your desire to get even closer to him is growing, growing, growing.

The last of the chocolate had melted away from the exhilarating temperature the two of you had built up and he finally breaks the kiss, leaving you breathless and gasping for air. You can't tell if this remaining aftertaste that lingered on your tongue was the taste of the chocolate, or the taste of him. Nonetheless, you adore it.

“Much better.” He licks his lips and smirks at you. Still in shock, you lack a response except for your flustered face and your eyes that are now reflecting a glint of lust within. Sukuna hums in satisfaction at this expression of yours and he gently drags his thumb across your lower lip.

“We should do this more often.”

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #sukuna x reader #highschool au #one shot #spicy #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu sukuna #sfw #fluff

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kaitsawamura · 3 years

Text

would you like to stay forever?

SUMMARY⎮ Sparring with Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro in his private gym at his home doesn't seem like a bad idea if you don't count the fact that you really, really like him.

STATS⎮ minors do not interact, 18+ ⎮ Rating: M (for mature) ⎮ WC: 5525 ⎮ Pairing: Pro Hero Kirishima Eijiro x Fem!Reader ⎮ Tags: Aged Up Character(s), Friends to Lovers, Sparring, Smut, Fluff, Age/Experience Gap (if you really squint) ⎮ AO3

NOTES⎮ Thanks to @spacelabrathor for listening to me scream about this and to @some-kindofgnome for fueling my Kiri fever dreams. Yes, that title is based on a Mulan quote. This whole fic was based on THIS POST and Kirishima seemed like the perfect character for this pwp. Hope y'all enjoy! (Also please for the love of God, click on the banner to see in HD if you’re on mobile, it looks so much better lol)

It was Saturday and even though you’re on your way to becoming a Pro Hero, you can think of several things you’d rather be doing with your one day off than going to Kirishima Eijiro’s house to spar. But here you are pulling into his driveway, going over combat moves in your head as if your life depended on it. They weren’t really serving their purpose which was to distract yourself. Kiri had offered up his personal gym, encouraged you to stop by with one hand in his pocket and the other rubbing the back of his neck as if he was nervous.

A couple of his friends had already taken him up on the offer. You were the only one he’d offered who hadn’t come over yet. He had texted you a couple of weeks later saying he was starting to take it personally… and then immediately texted with a laughing emoji just to clarify he was only giving you a hard time. It brings a smile to your face now as you remember it. Yesterday he had also clarified it would just be the two of you if you were self-conscious sparring in front of other people. You’d have the whole place to yourselves. Like that should mean something. Which it did. It does , you realize with butterflies growing in your stomach. Kiri doesn’t need to know that though.

The two of you had been toeing around something since you had been hired at Fatgum’s Agency a year ago. Neither of you had made a move. Kirishima, the Red Riot, was a big Pro Hero and while you took pride in your quirk, it didn’t hold a coin to some of the others you’d come in contact with. It had surprised you when Toyomitsu had brought you on. But he had mumbled something about “liking your spunk” and that he thought a teleportation quirk would be a useful one to add to his agency. The first day you had shown up, Kiri had immediately caught your eye. Not for the obvious reasons. Obvious reasons being the fact that he was climbing the Pro Hero charts or the fact that he had a dynamically interesting quirk or that at twenty-five he was already built like a brickhouse.

Those were all valid reasons, yes, but what had pulled you in was his smile and his genuine interest in you outside of your quirk. But he was just like that you had quickly discovered. He knew everyone’s coffee order and what they liked for lunch. He knew when to push and when to back off. He knew when to talk and when to listen , knew when he still had a lesson to learn. The kids flocked to him. Even now you’re still entirely convinced that’s actually his quirk, getting people to like him. It’s not a difficult thing to do though.

Your brain stutters back to the present when a text notification pings from your cell phone as you sit in Kiri’s driveway, picking at non-existent lint on your gym shorts. The cute ones you’re still convincing yourself were your only clean pair and that’s the only reason you wore them.

KIRI : i saw u pull up, u gonna come in or what 😂

Had he been waiting for you to get there? You tapped out a quick response, one that hid the little flip in your stomach at the thought: creeper, you were watching for me lmao

Response bubbles immediately flash on your phone screen but you’re angling out of your car and shutting the door before he can reply.

Somehow, this house fits Kiri perfectly. It isn’t big. You had seen pictures of other top-ranking Pros’ houses. Enji Todoroki’s house, for example, was fucking ridiculous. But even without a massive floor plan, Kiri’s house is nicer than any you’d been in for some time. Clean, straight lines and lots of windows. In fact, you can see straight through the floor-to-ceiling windows out to his backyard when you reach the front door. Is that a pool ? Kiri had tons of fun showing pictures at the agency; it was a well-deserved investment for his already multiple years of service as a Pro. The pictures hadn’t done the place justice though.

Kiri comes to the door, throwing it wide open with a huge grin that shows off his sharp teeth. You ignore the way your mouth goes dry as he drags you in, babbling on like an excited little kid at you actually coming.

“I really thought you were gonna back out! I mean, that would have been fine, of course. I just can’t see the point of having the whole place to myself all the time.” He’s irresistibly cute, walking around showing you the living room and the kitchen and pointing out to the backyard where, yes, there is indeed a pool. “You can come over any time and use that too if you want!” You thank him, warmth pooling in your stomach at how incredibly nice he is.

“Uh, we should probably get in the gym. I have… stuff to do later,” you finish lamely. You don’t have anything to do later but very quickly you’re realizing how far out of your depth you are here. The familiar beginnings of the head over heels fall is washing over you in steady waves. But you’re coworkers and the thought of coming to work every day and having to see his adorable face and not doing anything about it is almost making you nauseous.

“Oh, yeah, it’s just down the hallway,” he rumbles, leading the way and you follow trying and failing miserably to calm the nerves flashing through your veins. You’re here alone with Kiri , the man you’ve been crushing on since you’d started working with him a year ago. And now your stupid brain isn’t just thinking about what it would feel like to run your tongue along his teeth or how his hands would feel between your legs. No, your stupid brain is thinking about what Kiri looks like when he first opens his eyes in the morning.

Your one-track mind is not getting any help, especially when Kiri walks through the doorway of the gym addition and immediately proceeds to pull his shirt up and over his shoulders and tosses it to the side. Shit. His back muscles ripple with the movement and when he turns to face you, it’s heart-wrenchingly obvious that he has no idea the effect he’s having on you. He has to know . Doesn’t he? From your end, it seems wildly obvious that someone as good-looking as him should know .

You glance around, eternally grateful for the fact that the gym is also attractive. Floor to ceiling windows span two of the walls here as well and there’s a large set of French doors leading out to the yard. You find yourself actually in awe when you get a better look at the landscaping. It’s so green . There’s a small patch of lawn but the rest is just artfully arranged native flora and fauna. Violets, tulips. Huge hosta plants. And cherry trees heavy with their signature sakura blossoms.

“Kiri, it’s beautiful!” He comes to stand beside you, looking out the French doors as well.

“You like it? I guess it is pretty nice, huh?” You glance up at him, your chest expanding on a lurch looking at his smile. You’d never noticed before but he has a light dusting of freckles across his nose.

“Yeah, really nice.” You look out again, letting the silence grow until it feels like the most comfortable thing in the world. After what seems like an eternity Kiri clears his throat, rocking back on the balls of his feet. “What are you thinking for today?” The question leaves your lips and you’re immediately regretting it; your stomach flips again when Kiri looks at you like you’re prey.

“Close combat, hand-to-hand combat. You did mention a while ago you wanted to strengthen that, right?” You throw your head back, rolling your eyes, and groan. The two of you make your way to the center of the mat.

“Yeah, I mean, I’d be scared to take me on too,” Kiri says, large hands on even larger hips. He isn’t as tall as some of the other heroes at six foot three inches but he’s wide , thick. You know for a fact you couldn’t wrap your arms around his waist and have your hands meet. He’s wearing the biggest shit-eating grin you’ve ever seen. The sharpened points of his canines are out and on prominent display. Famous last words you think as a snarl erupts on your face.

“I’m not scared , Kiri. I just don’t want to wear you out . You’re a Pro Hero. You’re on the job a lot more than I am. Plus, you’re getting kind of old. Is that a little gray I see coming in?” Kiri bares his teeth even more but it’s not lost on you that he quickly reaches up to rake his fingers through his hair. There isn’t any gray, obviously , but the thought has Red Riot distracted. Distracted enough that when you plant your feet and your fist connects with his face, your knuckles hit skin and not the reinforced rock of his quirk.

“ Shit.” Kiri takes a step back, reaching up to cradle his jaw. His tongue swipes out to lick at the blood on his bottom lip. His vermillion eyes find yours and if you didn’t work with him on a regular basis, you would have felt fear at this moment. You know he wouldn’t hurt you but even now, a thrill races through your veins like electricity. He looks as if he’s going to devour you. You take your own step back, readying your quirk, reaching out to it as your fists hold their position in front of your body. A dark chuckle spills from his chest as Kiri calls on his own quirk.

Now it was your turn to be distracted; you had always been fascinated by Kiri’s quirk, the way his body looked when it hardened up. The ripples of muscle still visible under the toughened skin. The divots and ridges and how they mapped their way across his shoulders and chest and abdomen. You knew how it felt to the touch in fake combat. The Fatgum heroes all took pride in maintaining a healthy routine; sparring was a common workout that was previously done at a local public gym. You wonder absently what it would feel like to touch him slow and at the moment. When you could give extra attention with extra time.

Kiri closes the space between the two of you at the moment your mind strays and you barely are able to teleport out of the way to avoid him crashing into you. You try to take a swipe at him as you materialize from in front of him to behind but this time he’s ready for you and he’s using his quirk. Instead of moving out of the way, he plants his feet and allows your punch to hit. Pain radiates up through your fingers and wrist. It always irritated you that you had to prepare yourself to strike Kiri when he was using his quirk. Otherwise, you’d be in for a whole lot of hurt every time you landed a punch.

Teleportation is a pretty handy quirk. It gives you a pretty good advantage the more you work on your close combat skills. The trick with Kiri was to keep going at him until he ran out of energy. You hadn’t gotten to that point yet; your quirk had its limits as well. You were only two years out of UA, Kiri was out by seven. His strength was already fairly unmatched; sparring with him was always good practice. You relish the thought of the day you can win a sparring session without tapping out. It surges through you like pure energy.

You teleport to stand in front of him again, shifting your weight into your hips and up through your right hook. This time your fist connects with Kiri’s side and he lets out a small grunt. Your fingers don’t hurt so bad this time and by the time Kiri is retaliating, you jump back a few feet. He hmms, a sound that reverberates from his chest.

“That’s all well and good but how do you expect to do anything if you jump that far away?” He lunges forward at a running start, leaping at the last second, sending his gloved fist into your stomach. You were fast, but still not always fast enough. You double over, the air rushing from your lungs and your pre-workout protein smoothie threatening to exit back the way it went in. Sweat is already beading on your brow and sliding under your tank top. You take a few breaths through your nose when an idea pops into your head; you stay bent over. “Hey, I didn’t hit you that hard. You good?”

Kiri comes to stand in front of you, leaving him vulnerable. He can’t see your smirk until it’s too late. You wail on him, using some of the basic combos he’s taught you before today. Satisfaction rolls through you when he actually takes a step back. But then he puts his arms up in front of him, clenching his abdomen and bending inward to protect his core. He drops just a fraction and before you realize what’s happening, he’s swiping his leg out to push through yours. You watch in slow motion as you see his laughing face then the ceiling of the gym as you flip and land on your back.

If you thought you were out of breath before… “Fuuu-.” It’s a wheeze that feels like it’s ripping your chest open. You’re seeing stars. Kiri stands over you, hands on his hips again. You stare at his face; the hero has his hair pulled back into a bun. You snort, rolling your eyes. Why does he still look so fucking good? The sweat has caused some of the pieces falling out of his hair tie to curl. His hair has curl to it? You’ve never noticed before, considering he always gels it into spikes. You like the curl. “Are you--are you gonna help me up, or what?” It was still painful to talk.

Kiri tilts his head to the side, just slightly, and crosses his arms. “I’m thinking not. Last time I let down my guard you got those good combos in.” You stare in stunned silence, sitting up so you’re supported by your elbows. Kiri shifts slightly and if you didn’t know better, you’d say he’s backing up to… get a better view.

“Is that any way to treat your student, Red Riot?” You know you get under his skin when he clicks his tongue against his teeth and holds out a hand with a begrudging eye roll. He pulls you up with ease, quickly enough that you almost lose your balance, swaying into his space. You look up, eyes moving back and forth between his.

He draws in a breath and drags his bottom lip between his teeth. “First of all,” he says as he places his hands on your upper arms, “I’m not your teacher. I’m not that much older than you. Secondly,” he mutters as he tucks a stray lock of hair behind your ear, “our relationship isn’t that formal is it?” He’s so fucking close. This is getting dangerous. Dangerous because Kiri is within kissing distance. Dangerous because this gentle side of him is making you lose more breath than falling on your ass. Dangerous because the thought of Kiri taking you on the floor right now is almost too much to bear.

So you fall back on what you’re here to do. Fight. You flash him a wicked smile before rallying your quirk and teleporting a few feet away. His hand is still raised in mid-air and when his head whips to look in your direction, his crimson eyes are narrowed and his nostrils are flared. He laughs and rolls his neck, dancing on his toes.

“Okay. I see. I’m not gonna go easy on you, you know?” You snort and put your fists up in front of you again.

“As if you were going easy on me before, Kiri. Bring it on.” He smiles, the sharp points of his teeth enough to make your thoughts swerve again before you bring them under control. “Bring it on,” you whisper more to yourself as you brace for the fight.

Two hours later, you feel the strain in your muscles. Your quirk is running low on reserves and you know you won’t be able to use it much more. Kiri looks like he hasn’t wasted a breath but you can see he’s getting tired in the way his feet don’t move as sharply. And if the length of time he’s using his quirk is any indication to his state of mind, you know the two of you will be calling it a day soon. But you’re also both stubborn. And you’re dying to get one more good move in on him.

The cockiness the two of you had at the beginning of the sparring session hasn’t gone away but has burned hot into determination. No more smiles, only clear-headed concentration. The two of you are an arm's length from each other, throwing various punches and switching quickly between using your quirks and not. You’re breathing hard, sweat gathering at your brow as you throw another right hook that Kiri easily blocks.

“Get out of your head. You can be too predictable sometimes.” He doesn’t mean for it to come across as rude but the words strike a match to a guttering fire. You bare your own teeth at Kiri even though they aren’t sharp and probably don’t look nearly as threatening but it helps you feel powerful nonetheless. You drop without a second thought, lowering to your palms and sweeping your leg out in front of you in a wide arc. A grin spreads across your face when your calf meets Kiri’s ankle. He’s too physically dense for this move to work if he had seen it coming. But he doesn’t. And his solid 220 pounds of muscle falls hard.

You allow yourself the satisfaction of the moment for only a split second; Kiri’s recovery time is much shorter than yours so it isn’t long before he’s scrambling forward. He goes straight for your wrists to subdue you but with a smirk, you realize in his haste he’s put himself in the perfect position for you to possibly gain the upper hand. You scoot up away from him just enough to drag his arm forward and swing your legs around his neck. Then you elevate your hips and lock your core.

It’s over from there as you squeeze with every last ounce of strength left in your body. It doesn’t take long for him to tap out. You release as soon as you feel his loose hand tap your arm; he collapses over you and you’re too tired to move away or push him off. Now his breathing is rough and you feel a surge of pride. You reach up and place your hand on his head where his bun has come undone; he’s so heavy but it doesn’t feel bad. In fact, the feel of Kirishima resting his head and upper chest on your stomach is feeling nothing short of good . He’s still between your legs and suddenly the air is crackling with a new kind of energy when you gently comb your fingers through his hair.

He rises up, his hands on either side of you. His hips rest between your legs; the mingled heat radiating from both of you is almost more than you can take but there is no way you’re going to move anywhere. He leans forward, so close you can see the flecks of burnt orange in his eyes. If you moved forward just a little, you could close that space between you. He leans down more, his mouth right next to the shell of your ear.

“Maybe not always predictable. You did good today. Probably some of the best fighting I’ve seen from you so far. Keep it up.” He grunts, a shift of his hips allowing the curve of his cock to brush against your clothed sex through his gym shorts. He stiffens in what you think might be embarrassment. “Shit, sorry, let me just, uh--” The stuttering mess he becomes right before your eyes makes something lurch in your chest; you reach for his face without thinking.

“Kiri,” you whisper, rolling your own hips against his. His cheeks are burning a shade of red almost as vibrant as his hair. You bring up your other hand, holding his face between them and bringing him down to settle over you once more. Your lips meet his; he seems to war with himself for just a moment. A suspended second in time. But then he gives in, slipping his tongue against yours in a delicious sliding vision of what’s coming.

He reaches between you to slip his hand under your tank top; his hand is big and nearly encompasses your side. But it’s warm and gentle. Gentle. Who would have guessed that Red Riot could be so fucking gentle? But he is and when his hand moves lower to slide below the hem of your shorts, you give yourself to him with no reservations. His middle finger passes through the mess of your sex; a hissed breath rattles through his chest as your back arches on a ragged groan.

“ Shit. You’re so wet .” He slides his finger back and forth, gathering your slick on the thick digit. He takes his hand away and you mewl. “Can I?” He asks breathlessly as he hooks his hands on the hem of your shorts. You nod, eyes half-lidded. He pulls them down along with your underwear and the way he looks at you, at what’s between your legs, you don’t even have the wherewithal to feel self-conscious. Adoration. It’s the only word you can think of and it makes you wonder if you’d made a mistake waiting so long.

He’s on his knees when he takes your legs and drapes them on either side of his hips; this time he doesn’t hesitate in slipping his finger into your cunt. You nearly see stars just from that and if one finger is any indication, you’re in for it. Slowly, he adds another, his hand pumping into you in a steady rhythm. You’re grabbing for the ground, grabbing for him as a strangled noise pushes from your throat. He reaches out with his other hand to splay it across your sternum and it’s the only thing anchoring you as he adds the third finger before scooting down to put his mouth on your clit.

“ Kiri,” you keen, shoving your hips into his touch, frantically scrabbling for his wrist that’s on your chest just to have something to hold on to. He’s done this before, he’s had to. He’s too good. Too fucking good. Already there’s coiling in your gut as incomprehensible words tumble from your mouth. “Shit. Shit. Kiri I’m--I’m gonna--” He rumbles approvingly against your clit; the vibrations send you closer and closer to the edge and when it crests, your back arches near pain as you cry out, your voice echoing in the gym. It’s deep, roaring through all of your limbs but Kiri keeps going, fingers still pumping, tongue still swirling around your sensitive nub.

Another orgasm breaks over you sharp and quick and the overstimulation has your legs quaking as your arousal gushes over Kiri’s hand and tongue. But then he’s moving again, and you’re blearily aware that he’s shoving his own shorts and boxers past his hips to free his cock. You stare as it bounces back to sit near the planes of his stomach; it’s already leaking steadily with precum. Kiri looks back at you and when your eyes meet, you dart your tongue out between your lips to wet them. Another time, maybe.

Kiri leans forward to lift you up and the closer you get you can barely see any red in his eyes; his pupils are blown, his nostrils flared as he lifts you like you weigh nothing . He could snap you like a twig. But he won’t. You know without a doubt this is the safest you’ve ever felt, even as he lowers you slowly over his cock and it does feel like you’re being split .

“ Fuuuck…” You wrap your legs around him, your mouth dropped open, your hands gripping his shoulders. You try not to dig your nails in but it’s almost impossible with how you’re being filled. You knew Kiri was big but this was almost too much. His forehead drops to yours as he pants. But he’s not moving, won’t move until you tell him to. It makes your heart ache and your cunt floods, drunk on the affection thrumming through your veins. You roll your hips experimentally and the friction is bliss. “Oh fuck, ohfuck.” You move again, pushing yourself up and back down, listening to the hitch in his breathing. “ Kiri, please, ” you whisper. Those words… they’re enough.

Kirishima grips you by the hips, his fingers splayed and digging into the flesh; it’ll leave bruises and the knowledge cracks through you like electricity. Let him leave marks. Let him leave them everywhere. He’s moving you up and down his cock, grunting, mumbling. “Tell me, Kiri, tell me.” His eyes meet yours again and his own mouth drops open.

“Fuck, you’re so good. S’ tight. Jesus, I-- ” Kiri moves his hands from your hips to support you as he lays you down on the floor of the gym. The idea should be questionable but it’s not, it’s fucking not and you can’t concentrate on any other thoughts when Kiri grabs your wrists and pins them gently above your head with one hand while the other comes back to your hip. He thrusts into you at a brutal pace but… it feels like home and you think in that moment as your cunt begins to seize around his cock that you would give up forever to continue touching him.

“Yes, Kiri, yes. Right there, right--shit yesyes yes. ” He pistons up, the veins of his cock rubbing just right and when he releases the grip on your hands, they’re moving to wrap around him on instinct. He’s planting kisses along your jaw, mouthing up to your lips and back down to graze his teeth over your pulse point. “Do it, fuckin’ do it, let them know ‘m yours, ” you slur and when he bites down you crash over the edge on a groan that’s really more of a scream. Everything goes black but you're cradling him to you as his movements become more erratic. The snapping of his hips is getting sloppier by the second and a steady growl punches from his lungs with each breath. “Cum, Kirishima, cum inside me.”

He’s never heard those words before and it lights a fire in his veins. His head is buzzing and then he can’t hear anything as his cock releases and he’s spurting searing hot ropes of cum into your cunt. He goes until you’ve milked every last drop from him and he’d be lying if he said his world didn't suddenly feel whole. Finally, his body settles and his chest drops to yours. Everything slowly bleeds back into focus and somehow, everything seems more colorful than it did moments before. You’re still clinging to him.

“Kiri. Kiri, babe, I can’t breathe,” you say and he slowly rises, taking in your blissed-out expression. Your eyes can barely stay open, your cheeks are flushed. He backs up to see his handiwork on display, hyper-focused on the trail of the mingling cum dripping from the mess of your sex. But you’re smiling. Lazy and tired, completely at ease. “Wanna take a shower?” When you nod he doesn’t hesitate in standing to kick his underwear and shorts the rest of the way off his legs and then he’s grabbing you, scooping you into his arms and against his chest. He pads out of the gym and across the hall to his bathroom where he deposits you on your feet, only after he’s sure you can stand and only long enough to turn the shower head-on.

He puts his hand under the water, waiting for it to get warm. Steam billows from behind the glass door when he’s turning back to you to remove your tank top and your sports bra. Thank god you chose the front-closure one today; you didn’t think either one of you wanted to struggle to get one up over your head right now. When your breasts spill out of the high-impact fabric, you notice with tender amusement that his cock is half-hard again. His eyes go dark again and he leans in for a kiss. But it's slow and sweet.

"You're so fuckin' beautiful," he whispers. He ignores his arousal, ushering you into the stream of water. Your care is the only thing that matters to him right now. The heat slides across your body, and when Kirishima steps up behind you and begins soaping up your shoulders, it feels like heaven .

You take turns washing each other until you’re both blissed out in a different kind of way and the only thing either one of you can think about is sleep. But the afterglow is fading and doubt is creeping in. When you step out of the water, you stand awkwardly as Kiri hands you a towel. “You okay?” He’s actually concerned and you can’t put your finger on why you’re so fucking grateful for it.

“Yea, just tired. I should, uh, probably get going.” Kiri freezes and you think you’ve said something wrong, already crossed a line. Your brain is like a broken record as the stomach-curdling image of having to see him at the agency flashes across your eyes in vivid detail. But then he’s stepping into your space and pulling you in for a hug. A hug.

“Don’t go,” he whispers into the crown of your head and it has you smiling like an idiot against his chest. His skin smells clean and warm with a hint of spice. You bury your face further in as you nod against him. Then he’s leading you to his room, to the king-sized bed. He peels back the comforter and the white sheets and pulls you in beside him. Your back is against him and he hooks his foot around your ankles, bringing you even closer.

He doesn’t say anything more, just lets out a huge sigh as he wraps his arm around you. The last thing you notice before your eyes flutter shut is how your heartbeats are thumping at the same steady rhythm.

Late afternoon sunlight slants in Kirishima’s bedroom window, creating interesting patterns across his blanket. It’s pushed towards the end of the bed, your legs intertwined and tangled in the sheets. He’s still dozing, his breathing not quite that of someone sleeping but not of a person fully awake. You reach out to cup his cheek, stroke above his eyebrows, caress his lips with your thumb. A contented sigh leaves his chest as he grabs your hand and kisses your wrist. His eyes are open now and he watches you. You smile at him, snuggling closer, not wanting the moment to end.

“Hey,” he says quietly, suddenly serious. “I just want you to know, I don’t do this all the time. I mean, I’ve been with other people before but I don’t… I don’t really hook up .” Things start clicking into place as you realize what he’s trying to get across. He just fucked you stupid in his personal gym and somehow he looks bashful. And because you love it, you’re not going to help him along. You just watch, biting your lip to keep from giggling. “I just. I guess what I’m trying to say is I like you. I’ve liked you for a long time. And normally I would have wined and dined you first but... Well. Here we are. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

That’s the last straw; your laughter comes bubbling out of you and Kiri is leaning back to look at you with a quizzical expression on his face. “Is something funny?” That just makes you laugh a little harder but the confused look he’s wearing has you leaning in to press your lips against his.

“I’ve liked you from the first day I met you, Kiri. I’ll one-up your offer and tell you that I might like to stay forever.” A grin rips across his face and your heart blooms with warmth and affection. The world seems full of possibilities but none of them matter except for the possibility laying right in front of you.

#kirishima x reader #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijirou x reader #kirishima eijiro #kirishima eijirou #pro hero kirishima #red riot #kirishima smut #bnha #mha #boku no hero academia #my hero academia #kaitsuki writes #oh my god i had such brain block #writing this one #because i get too in my head writing smut #BUT i hope everyone still enjoys #we stan kiri in this house

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besanii · 3 years

Text

paper-thin

[ WangXian ; XiXian ]

The war is won!

Gusu is victorious!

Hanguang-wang is alive!

A sizeable crowd has gathered on the streets outside of the palace gates by the time Lan Wangji arrives, freshly bathed and changed out of his travel-weary and battle-worn armour into his formal robes. He dismounts as the guards approach, keeping the reins in his hand as he shows his pass; they grant him passage with a low bow, moving to the side as he leads his horse through the gates as quickly as decorum will allow.

The maids and eunuchs he passes on his way to the Hall of Mental Cultivation pay their respects with low bows and bent knees, lowering their gazes as they murmur his title with something akin to awe. He nods curtly in response but otherwise does not halt in his progress—it would not do to keep the Emperor waiting, war hero or not.

It's been over a year since he went to war, defending Gusu's coast against the invading forces of Dongying. The war had been harrowing and brutal and there were many times Lan Wangji where hadn't been sure he would survive. But he'd fought on with grit and tenacity, acutely aware of his role as a member of the Imperial family to lead and inspire his troops by example. That is, until a well-aimed arrow caught him in the shoulder between the plates of his armour, and sent him overboard in the midst of battle.

He’d survived. Barely.

The doors to the Imperial study are open when he arrives, and the eunuchs kneeling on either side of the door touch their foreheads to the ground in greeting. He walks up to the eunuch standing closest to the door.

“I am here to see the Emperor,” he says.

“Yes, Wangye,” the eunuch replies. He gets to his feet and turns to the door, raising his voice to announce: “Huangshang, Hanguang-wang begs an audience.”

They do not have to wait long for a response.

“Enter.”

The Emperor is still dressed in his court robes despite the lateness of the hour—the afternoon court session had been over for at least two shichen already—the black silk sleeves stark against the embroidered gold draped over the desk where he works. He puts his brush down as Lan Wangji parts the beaded curtain hanging from the archway leading into the main chamber, a smile already forming on his lips as he watches Lan Wangji kneel in the centre of the room.

“Your humble servant greets Huangshang,” Lan Wangji says, touching his forehead to the floor. “May our Emperor live for ten thousand years.”

“You may rise, Hanguang-wang,” the Emperor says. "We are very pleased to see you returned to the capital alive and well. Your service to the Empire will be duly rewarded."

Lan Wangji rises to his feet, sweeping over the invisible creases of his robe and shaking out his wide sleeves.

"Huangshang gives your subject too much credit," he replies. "I live to serve the Empire and will gladly give my life a thousand times over in its protection."

"Your devotion is recognised, Hanguang-wang, and appreciated," the Emperor says. "Nevertheless, a great victory such as this should be rewarded. Come, brother, is there anything you would wish for? Name it and it shall be granted."

Lan Wangji's hands curl into fists by his side.

"Huangshang would grant anything your subject wishes?" he asks quietly.

The smile on the Emperor's face freezes. A muscle twitches in his jaw as he swallows; he closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, and exhales slowly. The smile smooths into something cooler, but no less genial.

"Anything within reason," he clarifies.

Lan Wangji exhales and bows his head.

"Your lowly subject dares to presume Huangshang knows what it is I wish for," he says, keeping his voice carefully level. "There is only one wish—one request—your lowly subject would make."

He hears the Emperor sigh, a low, disappointed sound, and his stomach sinks with realisation. But he had not dragged himself out of the depths of hell and back here to give up so easily. In the three months he had allowed himself to be presumed dead, laying feverish and close to death with an infected wound, it had been this one hope, this one wish that had kept him clinging to life. If he survived the war, won the war, then nothing would stop him from coming back and finally—finally—asking for the one thing he's wanted more than life itself.

When he chances an upward glance, the corner of the Emperor's lips are drawn in tight and the crease between his brows have deepened. Lan Wangji has had years to learn the shape of the Emperor's moods, even the ones he hides behind pleasantries and polite smiles, and he knows the Emperor is displeased.

"We would advise Hanguang-wang to make another request," he says finally. Do not continue to pursue this.

Lan Wangji drops to his knees. "Huangshang, you know there is nothing else I would ask for.”

“Wangji, enough!” The room stills. A sigh. “Leave us.”

The eunuchs and maids turn in unison and bow, backing out of the chamber without a word; the door to the study shuts behind them. Lan Wangji curls and uncurls his fists against his thighs, breathing heavily through his nose as he struggles to get his heart rate back under control. He hears the rustle of fabric, followed by footsteps from behind the desk coming towards him, but he dares not raise his eyes.

“Wangji,” Lan Xichen says in an odd, stilted tone Lan Wangji has never heard before. “There is something you should know.”

Eunuchs and palace maids alike cower in the wake of his fury, scattering to the winds as soon as he passes. No one stops to question why a male member of the Imperial family aside from the Emperor and his sons is here, unaccompanied, within the gilded walls of the inner palace. Perhaps word had been sent ahead of his arrival, perhaps they had been expecting him--whatever the reason, Lan Wangji knows he would cut down anyone who dares stand in his way right now.

His mind is still reeling as he turns the corner along the once-familiar path that winds through the Imperial gardens, his feet following the route ingrained into him as a child still living within the palace walls.

He hasn't walked this path in close to fifteen years. Not much has changed: the trees and the flowers are the same--still the delicate gentians favoured by the previous mistress of this particular courtyard—only now there are also lotuses surrounding the small pavilion in the heart of the man-made pond, filling the air with their sweet fragrance. And inside that pavilion, an entirely different person is silhouetted against the afternoon sun.

A skirmish arose between Yunmeng and Qishan involving Qishan-hou's second son.

Wen-er-gongzi was injured in the confrontation.

He takes a step forward, his feet suddenly heavy as though weighed down by boulders, dragging along the gravel. The person in the pavilion is still too far to have noticed him, but Lan Wangji has a clear view of the long black hair twisted up into a half-knot to expose the line of a long, slender neck, held in place by a fanzhan made of silver and set with blue sapphires. The sight of it makes his throat run dry.

Qishan demanded retribution for the injuries inflicted on Wen-er-gongzi. The life of his attacker.

Both Lan Wangji and Lan Xichen were each presented with a set the rare jewels at their coming of age, a mark of their status as members of the Imperial family. To see the same jewels adorning the familiar head of hair—

We believed you dead, Wangji.

He drags his feet another step forward, the breath catching in his throat as the person in the pavilion half-turns at the sound.

We needed to protect him.

“Who goes there?” a eunuch calls, hurrying around the corner along the path around the pond. “This is Wei-xuanyi’s private garden, outsiders are not perm—”

“It’s alright, let him through.”

A lump forms in his throat so large he can barely breathe around it without pain; whatever hope of this being a cruel joke is crushed at the familiar voice. How many times in the past year has he heard it in his dreams? How many times has the memory of that voice called him back from the gates of Hell itself, when the rest of the world thought him dead?

The eunuch drops to his knees on the side of the garden path and bows his head; Lan Wangji takes this as a sign to proceed.

As a child, the garden path had always seemed wide and inviting; it had always led to his mother, the late Empress, the only source of light and happiness and home in his childhood. And yet now all he feels is dread, cold and dark, seeping out through the cracks in the surface of his façade with every step.

Lan Xichen’s words ring in his ears.

Wangji, it was the only way we could save him.

He stops at the bottom of the steps leading into the pavilion. Four steps. Just four steps, and yet his legs refuse to move, to take even just one more step forward; it is as though his body is fighting with everything it has against it. He can't move.

He is unsure how long he stands there at the bottom of the steps boring holes into the paved stones—it is difficult to keep track when one's mind is filled with the deafening roar of one's own heartbeat. It is not until the sound of footsteps, followed by a rush of activity in his periphery as the palace maids and eunuchs fall to their knees in unison, does he finally raise his eyes.

There, standing at the top of the steps, clad in soft, flowing robes of Gusu blue and Yunmeng purple, with Lan Xichen's jewels in his hair—

Wangji. Wei Wuxian—

Wei Wuxian lowers his head and bends at the knees, his fingertips clasped lightly by his hip. A demure greeting, wildly unsuitable for a member of the gentry.

“Hanguang-wang,” he murmurs. He raises his eyes slightly, enough to peer at Lan Wangji from beneath his lashes. Demure. Restrained.

The ground crumbles beneath Lan Wangji’s feet.

—I have taken Wei Wuxian as a consort.

Translations

Wangye (王爺) - equivalent of a Duke, usually Emperor’s brother or uncle

Huangshang (皇上) - the Emperor; as per usual, I only use the pinyin when the term is used when directly addressing LXC

hou (侯) - equivalent of Marquis, second highest rank after 王

xuanyi (宣儀) - lit. ‘Propagator of Deportment’, a variant of the Tang dynasty concubine ranking pin (嬪) that doesn’t use feminine qualities; the second highest rank after furen/zande (夫人/贊德), used between 662-670 (possibly under Wu Zetian’s influence)

fazhan (髮簪) - hair ornament/pin

Notes

Title is taken from the Chinese phrase boming (薄命), which means to have an unlucky fate (usually in reference to women). It literally translates to “thin life/fate”. Inspired by a line in the song 雪落下的聲音 (the sound of snowfall; Story of Yanxi Palace OST): 此生如纸般薄命 - this life, my fate is as thin as paper.

For those of you wondering where the hell I’m going with this—I have no fucking clue lmao. I just wanted to write WangXian angst with a dose of XiXian that doesn’t involve Dark!LXC for once. I also cannot be bothered to look back on this anymore, so any mistakes are purely cos I’ve given up working on this any further hahahahahaha *dies*

Inspired by a mish-mash of Story of Yanxi Palace (Fuheng x Yinglou reunion anyone???) and Empress of China (mostly the OST, but also the gorgeous costuming and setting of the Tang Dynasty).

Will I continue it? Maybe??? It took me weeks to even get my ass into gear to write this one snippet, I honestly don’t know if I will get around to writing more. But if it interests you, send me an ask about the ‘verse and I’ll try and expand more on it, even if it’s just headcanon form and not fic.

buy me a ko-fi!

#my writing #wangxian #mdzs #lan wangji #wei wuxian #薄命 #王爺機 x 妃子羡 #lan xichen #xixian #consort!wwx #emperor!lxc #duke!lwj #lan wangji x wei wuxian #lan xichen x wei wuxian #🔪🔪#harem au #imperial au #set in the Tang Dynasty if we REALLY have to specify lol #paper thin fic

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bukojuiice · 3 years

Text

are you feline what i’m feline? — todoroki shoto

ೃ pairing: cat boy! ┃pro hero! todoroki shoto x fem pro hero! reader

ೃ tags: smut 18+ (the rest of the tags are below the cut!)

ೃ warnings: nsfw

ೃ wc: 3k words

ೃ my nav → my mha writing masterlist → my katsuki bakugo x reader smau

ೃ blessed with a quirk that can temporarily transform any human being into any living thing they want through the means of potions and concoctions, you brew up a cat girl potion to surprise shoto for your second year anniversary. however, some accidents and mishaps happen, and you’re welcomed home by a handsome cat boy instead.

ೃ dedicating this fic to the lovely and amazing @todosweetheart bc her cat boy! shoto art is the reason why this fic exists. thank u for the content u feed us val! 🥰💓

additional tags: use of natural aphrodisiac, cat boy! kink, overstimulation, fingering, kitten/cat play, rough but loving sex)

You had just recently moved in to a new neighborhood with your boyfriend, Todoroki Shoto.

Your blissful domestic life with him was just about to begin and life couldn’t get any better than this. and yet...

sometimes you wish you could do more for him.

The two of you met when you were hired to work at his father’s agency, stealing glances at him by the reception area whenever you came in for work, and coincidentally getting into the same elevator as him. Not knowing that he was woefully smitten with you too. It was only through the probing of your co-workers that you had drunkenly confessed to him at a company party and he had (soberly) confessed to you too.

That was where everything started.

That was how you and the No. #3 Pro-hero got together.

Sometimes, it made you think if you were even worthy of his love.

You were just a hero with a support quirk; with it being used for more science and field-related work as your powers made you manifest and create drinkable liquids that could change the physical appearance of a person (make them invisible, turn them into an animal, or even turn them back into a child or into an elderly person) for a limited time and depending on how strong or weak the solution. This means that through your quirk, you are able to tamper with a person’s DNA through these concoctions without any consequences. It was a powerful quirk, just like magic, yes, but can it be used for offense? Sadly not.

Shoto’s quirk was the exact opposite. Bearing the quirk of fire and ice, he was the definition of perfection. The perfect quirk, the perfect combination of two exact opposite elements, and how adept he is at using both of them. Often praised and hailed by the public for not only being extremely powerful, but also for how painstakingly handsome he is. You were just waiting for some controversial tabloid to talk about the No. 3 Pro Hero and his girlfriend who was way out of his league.

Shoto constantly reassures you not to worry about them, never failing to calm you down with his gentle I love you’s and forehead kisses whenever he sees you tensed up and nervous, and never failing to tell you that you are the light of his life and his strength to continue fighting. and yet, it still worries you sometimes.

Today marks your 2 year anniversary.

The two of you decide to go out on a simple date tonight at one of the best-reviewed restaurants in the neighborhood as the two of you were busy with throwing out the moving boxes and unwrapping your furniture, combined with the hero work that the two of you do during the day. Completely ruling out the possibility of being able to plan an elaborate anniversary date.

But, it was alright. As cheesy as Shoto makes it sound, no day can ever become the worst, as long as he’s spending it with you.

“Ah~ Those crepes were super yummy! Plus, the cafe was really cute!” You beam with a satisfying yawn, the two of you walking side by side, hand holding the other, and his arm wrapped around your shoulder for that extra warmth against the cold summer night.

“Yea. There was a classy vibe to it. That was my first time trying a galette, and I must say that was tasty.” He remarks, turning to you. Your radiant and lively energy was infectious and he can’t help but smile. “Leave it to Mina and Sato to know all the best restaurants, I suppose.”

You nod contentedly and the two of you continue to walk back home in silence. Shoto looks around, taking in the sight and wondering if he could point out any small details about your surroundings that could make you laugh or smile. He notices a small shadow perk up from beneath a bush and he casually points at it. “Hmm? (Y/N), look over there.”

You follow Shoto’s gaze and also notice the small shadowy figure. “Oh?”

The quiet sound of a purr could be heard from the bush. The two of you wait a little bit for the creature to reveal itself. A black cat pounces out of the plant, it’s beautiful green eyes staring back at you. “Meoooow.”

The cat walks up to you and you crouch down, putting your hand out, and wait patiently. Sure enough, the cat nuzzles against it.

“Ahhh she’s so cute.” You observe the cat a bit more and notice it’s femme feline features. Shoto crouches down next to you and pats it’s head. Clearly the kitty seems to enjoy all this attention as she’s purring up a storm. “She is.”

You glance at Shoto and notice how his eyes glimmered a different blue-grey light as he continued to play with the kitten. Pure bliss present in his face. His handsome and soft features make you blush, with the heat rising up to your cheeks, you quickly turn away before Shoto could notice you.

Bingo.

What if you turned into a Cat Girl and made Shoto… ya know…

It was a simple formula after all. You could whip up a concoction, sprinkle in a little bit of natural aphrodisiac and that’s it! The recipe to the sexiest and kinkiest night of your life! Maybe you could show your love to Shoto in a different way than most girlfriends do to their boyfriends no?

“AHAH!” You suddenly jump up from the ground, your boyfriend perks up a little bit in surprise too. You then bring out your phone and begin scrolling through your notes. “Sho-kun! Come on! Let’s get home!” You grab his hand and drag him away. He adjusts his running to your pace, smiling at your sudden burst of eagerness and excitement. “Alright alright, love. Be careful so we don’t trip.”

That night, you told Shoto to not wait for you as you had to brew up some potions for tomorrow as specially requested by a hero from your agency. Although reluctant at first to leave you, he intently watched you work your magic at the little science lab in your house. The smell of the strong chemicals waft around the living room, prompting him to retreat back to your bedroom, but not without a quick kiss (that was about to turn into a make out session) before bed.

“Happy anniversary, Love.” Shoto holds you by the waist, resting his head on your shoulder. The two of you swaying slightly to the non-existent rhythm and this makes you almost want to go to bed with him. “Shall we continue this tomorrow?” He peppers kisses down your neck, you giggle in response.

“We shall.” You turn to him and deliver a kiss to his lips. You pull away before you could even begin to think of yearning for more. “I’m sorry if we had to cut our anniversary short. It’s your day off tomorrow right? I promise I’ll make it up to you.”

He nods first before giving you one last kiss, this time on the forehead. “Goodnight (Y/N). I love you.”

“I love you too.” He pulls away. you watch him leave your lab first and make sure he’s out of sight before you get back to work.

After a few more hours of solving the formula and crafting the recipe for a potion that doesn’t necessarily turn you into a cat, but rather, give you only cat ears and a cat tail, yu bring out a thermos bottle from the cupboard and pour in the liquid solvent along with the natural aphrodisiac. You stir it a little bit before using your quirk to add the finishing touch and to make it a viable and an actually working potion.

“Can’t wait to drink this tomorrow.” You snicker to yourself, as you pour all of the liquid onto the thermos, storing it in the fridge and then proceed to go to your bedroom and finally hit the sack.

“AHH I’M LATE!” You rush out of the bedroom, messy bedhead hair, your hero suit not even fully zipped up, mismatched socks, and your bag tossing and turning, most of the contents falling out, your thermos being one of them. “I’M LATE FOR WORK! BYE! I LOVE YOU!” You greet Shoto who was eating his breakfast in the kitchen, planting him a farewell kiss on the cheek as you dash your way out of the house.

“I l-love you too.” He bids goodbye with a wave, but you weren’t even there to hear it anymore. Shoto’s eyes cast downward, a bit disappointed that he wasn’t even able to greet you properly this morning and how your anniversary date felt so short even though you promised each other you would spend more time together later today.

He then notices your water bottle on the ground. A sticky note that was labeled “Drink me!” was attached to it and of course as every other person would react once they see a note like that,

Shoto thought that was for him.

“SHO! I’M BACK!” You call out to him, closing the door behind you. “Sho~?” You sing-song, peering through the kitchen and the living room but your boyfriend was nowhere to be seen. “Where are youuu?” You continue to traverse through your house, looking for him. You grind to a halt when you notice your thermos bottle on top of the dining table… All empty.

Oh no.

Oh no no no no.

“Shoto!” You call out, your voice cracking with nervousness. You rush to your bedroom, hoping and praying that he was there. Only… for the lights to be out.

“Sho?” Your hand reaches out for the light switch. But, you hesitate. What if a demon had kidnapped your boyfriend and you had to save him!? What can your quirk even do to save him!?

“(Y/N)...” He finally responds. Although his tone was soft and still a bit suspicious, you breathe a sigh of a relief and finally turn on the lights.

The lights illuminate the room to reveal your boyfriend in his usual turtleneck fit that you always ogle at. You look up and down, noticing that this is still the same man you know and love and nothing bad actually happened until…

You look up and behind him.

He’s still the same man you know and love.

Just this time however. he’s a cat boy.

“I drank the potion that you made.” He says ever so casually, nothing ever fazes him as usual. “It had a “drink me!” sticky note attached to it and I thought it was for me.” He continues to speak plainly. You thought you could get out of this situation scotch-free and you didn’t have to explain to your loving boyfriend what had happened to him. That was until he crossed his arms, his feet tapping the ground, and his cat tail waving behind him. “Please explain to me why I am now a cat boy.”

“Well…” You began twiddling with your fingers, trying your very best not to make eye contact with him or else you would end up squealing in delight because of how adorable he looked. “You see, I made this potion to turn me into a cat girl so that I can… ya know… please you and stuff. I saw how affectionate you were with the cat we saw last night so.. I guess you can consider this as my late anniversary gift to you?” You laugh sheepishly, still trying your best not to look at him as his gaze intensifies.

Shoto’s black and white cat ears twitch as he tries to stifle a laugh. “Fine. I forgive you. This will wear off eventually right?” You nod in response and Shoto’s shoulders slump down in relief. He was about to approach you and envelop you in a hug, until his legs wobbled midway and he practically fell down onto the floor.

You rush to him and help him stand up, propping himself on the bed. “Sho… are you alright love?”

He starts breathing heavily, cat ears twitching once again, fingers trembling, lips quivering, and his face as red as a tomato. “(Y/N)... what was even in that potion you made?”

You suddenly remember the aphrodisiac you added to the recipe.

Oh no no no no (2)

Shoto suddenly turns away from you before you could notice the bulge rising in his pants. He covers his face in embarrassment, refusing to look at you.

“I also added some aphrodisiac and some catnip into the potion ahahaha…” You scratch the back of your neck. Shoto turns to you again, his eyes glowing like that of a cat and giving off a smoldering feeling. He shifts your position, gently yet somehow arduously pinning you down on the bed. He steps closer, hands moving up your sides, going around your back, pulling you flush against him. Shoto nips at your earlobe, sending sparks through you.

You bite back a moan as he kisses your neck, his tongue hot, the gentle scrape of his teeth (slightly sharped like that of fangs) leaving you shivering.

The two of you stop for a bit. He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead against yours. Tension coils around him, barely contained energy. As if Shoto is preventing himself from showing you his animalistic and feline hunger wanting to ravage you.

“C-can I-”

Before Shoto could even utter another word, you grab his face and pull him back into a desperate kiss, capturing his gasp and the throaty moan that follows. You capture his mouth with yours, and he responds eagerly, his kiss fervent, all his restraint crumbling at your touch.

He kisses your chin, and you tip your head back as he trails his lips down your neck, murmuring praise.

He lays you down, hiking your shirt up, tossing it to the floor, then deftly unhooking your bra, and exposing your breasts. You giggle and reach for his pants, unzipping the fly and getting a little thrill when you see the huge bulge in his boxers.

You push up his turtleneck sweater to admire his abs and Shoto smiles back at you seductively.

“Like what you see?” He says teasingly, a little quip that he barely does when the two of you make love, his husky voice makes your stomach swoop.

“I can only tell you if you purr first.” You tease back, running your fingers over his cat ears. Shoto feels the tickling sensation build up inside of him, slowly about to give in to his raw animal instincts. While you continue to run your fingers through his cat features, he begins to suck and nibble on your breasts. You feel yourself get lost in his gentle caress, barely even notice him pulling off your panties and sliding them off between your legs. Shoto’s fingers slowly slide into your womanhood, as if testing out the waters. He works them in and out for a bit, then pulls them out, brings them to his mouth, and licks them.

Like a kitten licking its milk.

“Sho…”

You feel the last of Shoto’s restraint break as his cat ears twitch again, you can practically feel the energy crackling around him, and the hunger in his eyes more evident than a while ago. Shoto then braces his arms beside your head, as he slots his hips between your thighs. You rise up to meet him, a low moan spilling from your lips.

“(Y/N)... I’m going to put it in now…”

You bite your lip and nod in confirmation.

Shoto gently sets a slow pace, your head spins at the sensation and the arousal coursing through you, your hips rolling to meet the movements of his cock. As he enters, the thrilling sensation courses through you again and your mind feels like it just melted.

You gently rub his cat ears again, and his cock twitches inside of you, the enthralling reaction resulting in a shudder of pleasure shooting through your body, unlike anything you’ve ever felt before. And that pleasure transmits to Shoto loud and clear from your pussy.

Meanwhile, his breathing was ragged, more wild and animalistic than normal. Which is to be expected due to the potion but… this hot and intense feeling radiating off of him was different.

And you love it.

“I-I feel like I’m losing control…”

As Shoto speaks, he slams his cock into you, making your legs shake and you moaning louder than you should. Everything seems more intense, from his thrusting to the look on his eye.

At this point, it’s getting harder and harder to form a coherent sentence.

“Is it alright if I go faster?” Shoto says softly, you hold his hand in reassurance, unable to respond properly as every intense emotion running inside of you makes you let out hitched and breathy moans instead.

Shoto pulls out halfway, then slams back inside of you, making a loud sticky sound.

The two of you were acting like animals in heat.

“A-ah! Shoto!” You mewl out, each of Shoto’s thrust hitting an undiscovered part of your insides. Spurred on by your voice, his pace further increases, until you’re both moving frantically. You gasp at his intensity, at the weight and heat of his body pinning you down.

“(Y/N)! I’m going to-”

You wrap your legs around his waist, urging him on, and his fluffy tail briefly brushes against you. Shoto’s body tenses up as he prepares to unload inside of you.

Shoto’s body spasms- including his tail. Waves of pleasure flood over you as his semen shoots full-force into your depths.

The two of you gaze into each other’s eyes for a minute before he slowly lays himself next to you, his feline features slowly disappearing as you try to catch your breath.

“L-look they disappeared with one whoosh.” You say in between pants and giggles, Shoto covering the two of you with your bed duvet, chuckling along with you/

“Next time, please label things properly and tell me if you added any sort of ingredient that could increasingly highten my sex drive.” He says with an exasperated sigh, yet satisfaction plastered all over his face as he looks at you lovingly. “I love you (Y/N). Happy anniversary… nya~” He whispers the last few words, shooting you a wink.

Your eyes widen, your mouth forming into an O like that one Chris Pratt meme. “Y-you just said…”

“Let’s h-have a nap and just have some late dinner instead.” He shushes you by planting a kiss on your forehead.

You were about to protest, but as soon as Shoto shut his eyes, you didn’t bother doing so anymore.

You plant a kiss on his knuckles, snuggling closer to him. “I love you too Sho. Happy anniversary.”

#shoto x reader #todoroki x reader #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #shoto todoroki smut #todoroki smut #shoto smut #bnha smut #my hero academia x reader #boku no hero academia x reader #shouto x reader #todoroki shouto x reader #shoto todoroki x reader #shoto todoroki x y/n #shoto x y/n #shoto todoroki x reader smut #shoto x reader smut #todoroki x reader smut

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gotnofucks · 3 years

Text

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

#sugary4kchallenge #soft!dark andy barber x reader #andy barber x reader #andy x reader #soft!dark andy barber #andy barber

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total-drama-disaster-gays · 2 years

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Do you have any headcanons about Noah and Alejandro's time working with Chris?

In between season 2 and 3, both Noah and Alejandro worked for Chris. They didn’t get along too well.

Like originally they worked together as Chris’s PA’s, but they fought so much over the weirdest shit that he had to change their schedules so they would be mostly separated

Chris still liked watching them fight sometimes so he still made them work together occasionally.

Noah’s main job was secretary-ish: he kept Chris on schedule for meetings, interviews, photo shoots, and whatever else rich sociopaths did off season. He also took care of most of Chris’s calls; if you needed to talk to Chris, you talked to Noah first.

Alejandro on the other hand was more the security detail when Chris wanted to stay lowkey in public without buff dudes in black suits following him around. Alejandro also came in handy for business deals and marketing scams proposals on Chris’s behalf.

Noah started working for Chris 3 months before Alejandro came in and he absolutely holds that over his head.

“You can’t do that” “why not” “you don’t have seniority *proceeds to do exactly what Alejandro was gonna do*”

Alejandro constantly mocked Noah for his piss poor performance on season one. It was a weekly incident that Noah gave up trying to avoid. Even if they weren’t working together that week, Alejandro had his ways to bring it up.

None of their fights were ever physical, much to Chris’s disappointment, but they often engaged in a battle of wits that could last between three minutes or three hours. Previous fight topics include: useful languages to learn, the correlation between toxic masculinity and gym bros having disordered eating tendencies, the worst YA novel series written, and Alejandro’s personal favorite, the legitimacy of hypnosis.

The winner of their arguments is decided by whoever can get the last word in before Chris threatens to fire them. They were in a tie before Noah got fired.

Alejandro got dragged into working for Chris because he did some modeling around the world and he ran into Justin post season 1, who convinced him that being in contact with Chris helped his career. With a little “help” from his family, he was contacted by Chris asking him how soon he could be in Canada for a gig; he found out AFTER he signed the contract what he was really there for. Noah has yet to let him live that one down.

Once they were getting closer to the Celebrity Manhunt/World Tour reveal, Noah had no clue about the new show stunt Chris was pulling. Alejandro was in on the whole thing but was given strict orders to not mention it to Noah or mention to any of the cast that he worked for Chris. Noah was also forced to keep that detail to himself while the show was on air.

Alejandro has absolutely no clue how or why Noah worked for Chris, he’s received a different answer every time he’s asked, even if he asked someone aside from Noah. Answers include: Chris being desperate, Noah threatened to sue, Noah getting a letter of recommendation from Chris, Noah’s family is being held captive by Chris and Chef, and blackmail on both ends.

Contrary to popular belief, Alejandro wasn’t held captive in a robot suit for a year. It was really only a gimmick for All Stars. After the World Tour finale, his parents took him home for burn treatment and he went back to work for Chris for 6 months prior to the fifth season.

I hope you enjoy! I love their mini rivalry, I live for the drama. I do have more headcanons coming soon more based around Noah’s time with Chris.

#total drama #td noah #td alejandro #tdas #tdwt

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heliads · 3 years

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Deserve You

Based on this request: “Bucky imagine where you're dating but you're not an avenger, so you sometimes feel not good at all for him even though he loves you more than anything. one time he comes from a mission to you waiting in his room, doubting again but he immediately tries getting this thought out of you and gives you his dog tags to prove he's yours forever and it's all cute then? :)”

masterlist

You open your eyes gradually, the last remnants of sleep being dragged away by the brightness of dawn. You allow yourself one final moment of lingering silence before sitting up with a yawn. A brief spurt of panic flashes across you when you realize that you’re alone in your bed, but then you hear a quiet noise from the kitchen and your pulse begins to settle once more. Bucky must have already gotten up, there’s no need to worry.

You keep having moments like this, where you turn to find yourself alone and keep thinking that this is it, that he’s finally left you. Then you mentally chide yourself for thinking that way- every single one of the Avengers that you’ve met on your trips to the old Stark Tower keeps talking about how Bucky’s head over heels for you, so why would he ghost you out of nowhere? You always smile for a second, thinking about your boyfriend, and then the doubt creeps back in and you glance around to find him. Every single time, without fail, those lurking remnants of doubt always worm back into your mind, and sometimes it feels like there’s nothing you can do to get rid of them.

The only available option is to find Bucky and put your mind at ease by knowing that he’s still here. So, you slide your legs out of the still-warm blankets, grimacing at the shock of the cold air, and pad over to the kitchen. Sure enough, Bucky is holding a mug of some hot beverage, maybe coffee or tea, and staring out the window at the city below him. He does this, sometimes, just watches the city like he could do it for hours. You have a feeling that he’s studying the city for any last lingering resemblance to the New York he’d grown up in, when the most pressing news was World War II and he didn’t see himself in Siberia for anything more than a ski trip, if he could put together enough pennies to afford it. However, life has a way of throwing you for a loop, and all of Bucky’s plans for the future evaporated as soon as he plummeted from the train all those years ago.

Bucky turns when he hears you approach. “Good morning.” You smile, joining him by the window. “Good morning yourself. Are you up early for an assignment or because of a nightmare?” Bucky frowns. “The latter. Did I wake you? I thought I was quiet.” You shake your head. “No, I was asleep the whole time. I just knew because you have that same look on your face after you have your nightmares.” Bucky laughs quietly. “And here I thought I was supposed to be the spy who knew everything. Sure you don’t want a job at S.H.I.E.L.D.?”

You raise your eyebrows. “I’m not sure that paying attention to my boyfriend really qualifies me for FBI: Avengers Edition, but I’ll keep it in mind.” You head over to the fridge, starting to pull out some items for breakfast. Bucky leaves within a few minutes, mumbling something about an early morning meeting, and you head to work yourself soon after. Your own workplace is no Avengers Tower, just a typical office building, and you slide into your seat just in time to start the day.

The morning itself is fairly uneventful, and you’re just starting to think that it’s going to be another boring day as usual when you head off to your lunch break. As you’re waiting in line to use the microwave, you hear a pair of women talking at a table near you. You had no intention of eavesdropping, but although their voices are fairly loud your attention was hooked from the beginning when you realize they’re talking about Bucky. More specifically, they’re talking about Bucky’s girlfriend, or lack thereof.

Ever since you started dating Bucky, he had been careful to keep you out of the public eye. When you work as an Avenger for long enough, you learn to keep everyone important to you out of focus, out of danger. If a HYDRA agent got word of the former Winter Soldier’s girlfriend, you’d be on a train to Siberia with handcuffs and a blindfold within the hour, a ransom request already placed on your head. That’s if they were patient- if not, they would just shoot you to send a message. By making sure nobody heard about you, Bucky could keep you safe.

The downside of this is times like now, when you have to listen to two of your coworkers discussing how strange it is that a man as attractive as James Barnes would still be single. Obviously, you can’t say anything, and you’re not sure that they’d believe you if you tried, but it’s still slightly uncomfortable to hear the conversation swirling around you even as you have to stay silent.

One of the women clicks her tongue in confusion. “I mean, isn’t it weird, though? He’s a friend of Tony Stark, there’s no doubt he’d have a shortage of girls who’d be willing to go out to a bar or something on a weekend.” The other woman laughs. “I bet that surplus of girls includes you, right?” The first woman grins cheekily. “I wouldn’t say no if he asked, but even I don’t have a chance. I mean, he’s an Avenger, and one of the hottest ones there. No one here could hold a candle to him. He saves lives on a daily basis and what do we do, sit around all the time? The only woman I could see him with is an agent or maybe Black Widow. At least then he’d be dating someone who’s his equal.”

The words feel like shards of ice threading through your heart, and you turn to go back to your desk, hunger suddenly forgotten. As you stare at your work, though, you find you can’t concentrate. You keep hearing what the women had said, that no one in this miserable office could be worthy of dating the famous Avenger Bucky Barnes. They’re right, aren’t they? Bucky was saving lives all the time while you complained and acted so needy. You sigh to yourself, feeling your spirits dampen by the second. Why did Bucky see in you anyway?

Bucky’s shoulders feel like they’ve been carved from stone. He’s been tense for so long that he’s certain he’ll never be able to move again. Today is the day that he has to begin reviewing case files from his time as a Winter Soldier. He’ll have to come face to face with photo and video evidence of all the wrongs he’s done, of all the killings and blood shed by his own damaged hands. He’s been trying to avoid it for a while, but S.H.I.E.L.D. needs his input on all of the past Winter Soldier missions in order to proceed with the ongoing investigations into the last HYDRA strongholds. Bucky has no choice but to confront his past, he knows that, but it doesn’t make his job any easier.

It’s not like he’s alone, though. Natasha is here, because her experience with the Red Room could prove useful with putting together some pieces of the HYDRA-Siberia-Soviet puzzle that’s been plaguing them for some time now. Steve is also here, one door down, looking at his old medical files that detail exactly how some brilliant scientists turned a scrawny kid with a death wish when it came to standing up to bullies into the strongest man of the century.

Bucky clenches his jaw, and turns back to the manila file folder in his hand. He flips it open, taking out the diagrams and security camera stills and laying them out onto the table before him as he reads. He’s flipping through the rest of the contents of the folder when he pauses, staring at the images awaiting his acknowledgement. Natasha sees him freeze slightly and glances over to see what’s troubling him. Her brow dips in understanding.

Lying before him are photo after photo of death and destruction. Bucky remembers this day now, after it was buried so long under HYDRA mind wipes and his own crippling want to forget. The bodies of the dead line a small street, buildings reduced to rubble. He can see the dead, so many of them. There aren’t just the few military commanders he was sent to exterminate- no, HYDRA wants no witnesses and so Bucky had killed everyone in sight. There are children in pools of blood, their mothers reaching over them as if to shield them from the inevitable bullets coming their way. He tells himself that their deaths were quick, efficient, maybe even painless, but it is not enough. There is no way to justify this amount of bloodshed.

Natasha puts her hand on his shoulder. The gesture, meant to bring comfort, startles him and it takes all of Bucky’s self-control to not flinch. Bucky swallows hard. “I did all of this. I killed every one of them.” Natasha’s voice is low and quiet. “It wasn’t you. You had no choice in any of this.” Bucky laughs, thought it is heavy with horror and breaks in upon itself. “It’s easier to say that, but it was still my hand pulling the trigger.” He leans back against the wall, trying to steady himself.

“How were you and Steve able to convince anyone to trust me? Why did you even want to save me in the first place?” Natasha stares at the photos, taking in the broken bodies of the dead. “Steve knew the real you, the one who’s standing here right now and would never attempt this sort of carnage. I knew what it was like to lose all control and feel like your hands would always be stained with blood. Second chances are more powerful than you might think.”

Bucky shakes his head slowly. “I don’t deserve that chance. I don’t deserve any of this.” He closes his eyes for just a second as if by blocking out the world he can block out the memory of the methodical shudder of the rifle in his hands, the recoil as he fired again and again. “I don’t deserve Y/N. She-” Natasha cuts him off smoothly. “Y/N knows what you’ve been through, and she knows that you are not that same man. I’ve spoken with her before, and she knows the full extent of what you did.”

Bucky’s eyes cut back to the photographs. “Then why does she stay?” Natasha’s gaze feels like a leaden weight, unflinching and unyielding. “She stays because she loves you. She stays because she knows that the real Bucky Barnes is a hero, someone who is willing and able to move on from their past. Y/N is one of the most important parts of your life, not because she’s a good kisser but because she’s one of the only people who can see straight through you and know that you’re a good man.”

Bucky nods. “I don’t need you to tell me twice.” Natasha’s right, though, and even the barest mention of Y/N brings back a wave of good memories to fight against the bad. She’s like an anchor, someone holding him in place even when all of the darkness he’s had to endure threatens to pull him under. It astonishes him sometimes that he still wakes up beside her every morning. She’s so perfect, so wonderful. What does Y/N see in him anyway that would make him so lucky to have her with him?

You’re in a despondent mood for the rest of the day. You slump home, not even bothering to turn on the lights but discarding your coat and bag in the dark of the room. The faint light still shining through the windows is all you’ll need. You stare unthinkingly at the apartment for a while, then head to your bedroom. As you catch sight of yourself in the mirror, you stop with a sigh, leaning your hands against the dresser underneath.

You stare at yourself, at the dark circles under your eyes. Who are you, anyway? Who are you to think that you would ever be good enough for an Avenger? At this point, it’s only a matter of days before he breaks up with you. No wonder he keeps waking up before you- he’s trying to leave without seeing you that often, as a way to lessen the blow of the eventual goodbye.

The problem about gloomy thoughts is that they tend to wrap around you, pulling you away from everything else. You’re so distracted that you don’t hear the front door open, and you don’t notice Bucky enter the apartment until he knocks softly on the wall of your bedroom as he stands in the open door. You turn around with a flash, plastering on a smile, but your reaction is too late and his brow furrows. “Are you alright?”

You try for a smile, reaching out to kiss him in greeting. “Of course I am. How was your day?” Bucky is not to be deterred. “I saw your face, Y/N. You looked really upset. Is everything okay?” Maybe it’s that velvet tone of his, or the concern laced in his eyes, but your few fragile defenses break down. You turn to him, fighting back tears. “Why are you still with me?” Bucky frowns. “What?” You hold your hands up uselessly. “You’re an Avenger and you’re out there saving lives all the time. Why would you ever be interested in some girl from the city? I’m not half the person you are.”

Bucky stares at you for a second, then wraps his arms around you, drawing you close. “Y/N, love, why would you ever think that?” You look away. “Because it’s true. You should be dating some other superhero of a woman who could be your equal.” Bucky’s frown tinges slightly with anger. “Did you hear about this on some news show? I told that one news outlet that if they said a single thing about me I’d shut them down, and I’ll do it-” You cut him off. “It’s not like that. It’s just- You’re an Avenger, Bucky, and you deserve someone equally as brave as you are.”

Bucky guides you gently over to the bed, and the two of you sit down on the edge. He pulls you into his arms. “I don’t want some superhero. I want you. Y/N, I love you because you’re the only one here who sees me for who I really am, not just some soulless Avenger but a faulty person. Honestly, if anything I’m surprised that you’d still stay with me.” Your tears dry up as you stare at him. “What?” A quiet smile spreads across Bucky’s lips. “Every single day, I come home and you make a difficult day a thousand times better. You know me better than I know myself, and even despite everything I’ve done and the monster I’ve been, you still make me feel like a good man again. You’re one of the kindest souls I’ve ever met, Y/N, and you deserve someone equally as good as you are.”

You shake your head slowly. “That’s not the same. Anyone can be nice.” Bucky cups your cheek in his hand. “Nobody else knows that I always get up in the mornings and pace around because of the nightmares. Nobody else knows that I always stare down the alleyways on the walk home because I keep thinking I’ll see Steve in there getting beat up, or help me pick out jackets based on how easy it will be to remove the left sleeve. You’re the only one for me, doll, and I wouldn’t trade you for a heartbeat.”

He reaches into a pocket. “Here, I’ll prove it.” He takes out something silvery, like stamped metal. With a jolt, you realize they’re his dog tags, the ones he had from fighting in World War II all those years ago. He gestures for you to turn around and you do, feeling the weight of the metal around your throat as he fastens them. When you look back at him, he’s smiling. “See? You can’t get rid of me, love. Not in a million years.”

You smile, running your fingers over the faded lettering. “Won’t you want them? You know, as a memory of your old life?” Bucky shakes his head, a content expression lingering in his eyes. “I don’t need them to remember. I’ve got you, and you’re the only home I’ll ever need.” When he kisses you again, you can feel the dog tags right over your heart, like a promise that he’ll always be with you, no matter what.

#bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes x reader #winter soldier #winter soldier imagines #winter soldier x reader #avengers #avengers imagines #avengers x reader #tfatws #tfatws imagines #tfatws x reader #catws #catws imagines

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