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dr3amofagame · 3 years

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vegas team 2.0 lets go !!

vegas team au 2.0 my beloved !!!

if you don’t know what the vegas team au 2.0 is, it’s an au that a couple of my twitter friends and i developed (notably, @stabbysideblog and @dreamsclock) as a post-canon version of sparrow’s vegas team au, which had c!dream, a post-revival c!wilbur, and c!quackity working together at las nevadas.

this au exists much in the same vein, but exists post-canon (and therefore, post torture from c!quackity) and adds c!sam to the crew - it’s essentially four really, really messed up people screwing things up in las nevadas and being completely AWFUL to each other. it’s a very messed up group dynamic, 50% angst 50% crack 0% fluff or healing (...unless ;) ) and it’s absolutely one of my favorite aus at the moment.

anyway, have this ficlet for the au i wrote a little bit ago that basically goes into how these four end up working together !!

tw: implied torture, unhealthy relationships (SO many unhealthy relationships), manipulation, threats, emotional distress, mental instability

When Sam first sees the two figures standing on top of the roof of Las Nevadas, the first thing that comes to his mind is oh no, I have a bad feeling about this.

The feeling is far from foreign; a "bad feeling" has been his life for the past week ever since Dream and Wilbur had disappeared from Pandora's Vault seemingly without a trace. He's tried to keep the knowledge under wraps, only telling Bad and Ant to send them on a manhunt to find the prisoner (a lost cause if he's ever seen one; the two have hunted Dream before, and all of them know that there is no way they're finding the man if he doesn't want to be found) while he and Quackity plan for the coming storm. And there will be a coming storm, he's sure - he's heard enough of Dream's desperate, deranged plans of revenge voiced in near incoherent screams through bubbling lava to think that he will come out of the cell with anything close to mercy in his heart.

Unfortunately, there's been little to nothing from the pair of fugitives running around the server, his communicator chat still buzzing with Tommy's usual shouting and Puffy's usual invitations to tea and Technoblade's usual cryptic "technoblade" messages sporadically throughout the day. It's frustratingly, maddeningly normal, and each day of waiting for the other shoe to drop only leaves him even closer to snapping completely. In a twisted, bitter sort of way, he's almost relieved at the sight of the people standing on the polished quartz roof of the casino; at least now he'll finally get some answers.

Next to him, Quackity narrows his eyes. "Nobody should know about this place," he says, lips twisting into a tight frown.

Sam shrugs, shoulders heavy and tense under netherite. "Do you think-"

"-that it's our dynamic fuckin' duo? Yeah," he breathes out, short and quick through his teeth, and his wings stretch and flutter behind him, "I think it might be."

The figures become clearer as they step closer, silhouettes dark and thrown into harsh relief against the backlighting of the sun behind them. One of them is definitely wearing armor - netherite, from the looks of it - and both are very clearly armed. Wonderful.

The taller turns towards them, gestures with a wide sweep of their arm. "Big Q!"

Sam jumps at the voice; Quackity smiles humorlessly. "Wilbur."

Wilbur turns towards the other figure - Dream, for sure then - and they seem to talk, though they are far too far away for Sam to make out anything they say. Dream seems to hand something to Wilbur, and seconds later twin dots of bluish-green arc smoothly towards the ground in front of Sam's feet. He steps back, watching from the corner of his eye as Quackity does the same, and sure enough Wilbur, and then Dream, land on the grass where their enderpearls hit the ground.

"It's been a long time, Big Q, Sam," Wilbur smiles, tight-lipped, confident, tipping his head at each of them as he says their names. He's not wearing any armor save for a crossbow - enchanted - slung loosely over his hip and a netherite sword hanging off of his belt. "How have things been?"

"Cut the crap, Wilbur." The smile stays on Quackity's face, but his eye is dark and cold and dangerous. He's changed - of course he has, you can't do what he's done in Pandora without changing, but the sight of his expression still sends a disturbed shiver down Sam's spine. "You want something."

Wilbur, to his credit, doesn't seem fazed at all. "We've been doing pretty well - I think we've made quite some progress, considering how little time it's been since we've escaped that prison - nice build, by the way, Sam." His voice is lilting, almost sincere, and he looks over at Sam with a laughing light in his eyes like they're sharing an inside joke. "It's really quite impressive - what do you think, Dream?"

Dream doesn't seem to respond; he's all decked out again, netherite covering him from head to toe, the enchanted metal plates completely dwarfing the man hidden within them. His hands clutch at a golden apple, knuckles white against the golden skin, and a plain shield is strapped over his left arm as well a hulking enchanted axe on his back. They've been busy, it seems, and Sam's teeth grind against each other; he's not sure, if it comes down to it, that this is a fight that he and Quackity can win.

"Wilbur," Quackity repeats, impatience creeping into his tone, "What do you want?"

Wilbur smiles wider; it makes Sam uneasy, like Wilbur had been waiting for this, waiting for their desperation to send them at the devil's table with paper in one hand and a pen in the other.

"You're a businessman, aren't you, Big Q? You know how business deals work - so let's talk business. I think we can come up with something agreeable, what do you think?"

Quackity huffs a short laugh- "And what's stopping me and Sam from putting a sword through your gut?"

Wilbur smiles, sharp-edged. "Well, Big Q. Resurrection magic- it's quite interesting, really. Dream was explaining it to me, you know. And here's the thing; how many lives do you think I have right now?"

What- oh. "You have all of your lives back."

"Oh, no, Sam, I'm not saying that, exactly," Wilbur waves his hand flippantly, "I'm just saying you don't know, you know? And if I were to- say, have more than one life, and you were to kill me, well," he shrugs, a thoughtful look on his face. "We were smart enough to set our beds far away from the prison, of course. It would be an awful shame if people were to find out about what the perfect, responsible Warden was allowing in his inescapable prison, wouldn't it?"

No, no, no-

"So you're blackmailing us," Quackity's eyebrows are furrowed, jaw clenched tightly. Wilbur tips his head back and laughs.

"Oh, this isn't a threat, Big Q! Just a few- let's just call them hypotheticals." He begins to pace back and forth, gait smooth and unburdened, "I'm just saying that you two are powerful right now, you know? And it's great! I love this- what was it, Las Nevadas, you're calling it? It's great. It's absolutely magnificent. I'm just saying that you might want to be careful about what people end up finding out; you know people can be about power, on this server, and it would be such a shame to see this place burned to the ground."

Quackity's wings tense, and Sam can already see the younger's mouth opening and his fingers beginning to glow white with him reaching into his inventory, and oh prime if things escalate here then they're so, so screwed-

"Business!" He shouts louder than he wants, Quackity's head snapping towards him, lips still slightly parted from the words that he never got to say, and Sam ignores him to focus his attention on Wilbur, still staring at them with a smile playing on his lips. "You said you would be willing to talk business, right, Wilbur?"

"Yes, of course! Let's talk business. What do you think, Quackity?" Wilbur pauses, looks Quackity in the eye, and the younger glares but doesn't say anything. "Oh, don't worry too much, Big Q. I honestly think that it'll be good for all of us - a mutually beneficial arrangement, if you will."

"Wilbur, just," Sam sighs, fights against the incoming headache. "Can you please just get to the point?"

"Of course, Sam," Wilbur all but chirps, "So- we have something you want, and you have something we want. I say we pool our resources- our knowledge, Dream's combat prowess, your protection and items - and make something better."

"Pool our resources- wait wait wait, you mean you want to fuckin'-"

"I don't know how much Dream has told you, but I've been dead for a pretty long time; there really isn't all that much to do in the Void, you know. I've gotten pretty bloody good at cards, if I do say so myself." Wilbur grabs Dream, ignoring the way he flinches as he slings an arm around his shoulders, "What do you say? Have room in Las Nevadas for two more, Big Q?"

Sam blinks. Prime, give him strength. "What?"

Quackity hisses quietly, "You want to help with Las Nevadas? Both of you?" Sam watches as he turns his glare from Wilbur to Dream, and oh, so that's what this is about. He points his thumb jerkily in the direction of the masked man, watching, as Dream ducks his head down, unable to back away too far with Wilbur's arm still braced behind his neck. "And why should I work with him?"

"Two in one deal, Quackity, you have both of us or nothing at all," Wilbur drawls, "Besides, I know you've wanted the power of the resurrection book - and done quite a lot to get it! I'm really very impressed. Of course, we couldn't simply give it to you, but with us on your side, there's hardly even a difference." Quackity opens his mouth, looking like he's about to protest- "And, really, it would be nice to have Dream on your side in case the Blade comes for your other eye, no?"

His mouth shuts with an audible click, one-eyed glare meeting Wilbur's all-too easy expression, before finally nodding jerkily. "Fine. As long as he doesn't cause too much trouble."

"Oh, don't worry about that," Wilbur claps Dream on the back, and he curls into himself more, arms raising up to his head. "You've done more than enough to keep him obedient."

"We'll have to write out the terms later," Quackity presses on. "Don't want either of you trying anything. I've put so much fuckin' time into this place, I'm not letting you fuck it up, you hear?"

"Of course, Big Q," Wilbur's smile is jagged, all teeth, as he holds his arm out between them. "Wouldn't have it any other way."

Quackity breathes in, out, looks over at Sam. There's a question written in the tight edge of his shoulders, in the way his wings are braced and held to his sides - are we sure about this?

Sam tips his head in a shallow nod. Do we really have a choice?

Quackity takes Wilbur's hand, shakes it. "Then welcome to the team."

Wilbur laughs, and it sounds like flames and explosions and the ground shaking beneath your feet, burns with the cold heat of smoke and ash - and Sam knows, with a bitter, searing certainty, that this is going to collapse around them in a blaze of glory, that they've all but signed their death warrants, have nothing left but to wait for the countdown timer to hit zero and blow this place up to kingdom come. Wilbur meets his eyes - dark, dead, grey like cinders and gunpowder - and he knows that the other man is thinking the same thing.

"I think this is the start to something beautiful," Wilbur says, and Sam grits his teeth as he steps into the building.

Something beautiful, indeed.

#-> vegas team au 2.0 #queue <3 #tw torture #tw toxic relationship #tw unhealthy relationship #tw manipulation #tw emotional distress #tw mental instability #tw threats #long post #my writing :D #my asks !!

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hizashis-lil-bunbun · 3 years

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The Silent Auction- (Hizashi Yamada X Fem!Reader)

This is my contribution to the Citrus Dome Auction Collab! Hizashi is honestly one of my favorite characters to write for and it’s a crime I don’t use him more.

Word Count: ~8.5k

Contains: smut, pet names, unprotected sex, creampie, DDLG (if you squint)

Banner by @ladyshinigami

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“I can’t believe this.” You sigh for the umpteenth time, twisting this way and that to look at yourself in the bathroom mirror. You’re wearing a rich, black, floor-length gown with a high slit up one side and just the right amount of ruching to tastefully accentuate your curves. It was truly a miracle that it fit without the need for alterations, considering you’d had to buy the thing in a rush. Hell, you’d barely glanced at the price tag before slapping down your company credit card, viewing it as a bit of karmic justice for your boss’ callous, last-minute assignment. Sure being a sidekick of Endeavor’s (even a minor one) had its perks, but that didn’t make him any less of a nightmare to work for. As you struggled with the miniscule clasp on your necklace, you replayed this morning’s events in your head.

“The Heroes Gala?” You’d questioned, cocking your head in confusion and earning an irritated groan from the Flame Hero.

“Surely you’ve heard of it.” He’d snarked, the flames that ring his face seeming to flare in annoyance. “The Commission holds it once a year as a way to celebrate our achievements in hero society today and raise money for future endeavors. Dignitaries and heroes from all over the country– the world really– are expected to attend.”

“I’m aware of that, sir.” You’d chirped back, straightening up to make up for your lapse in decorum. “I’m just confused by what this has to do with me.”

If looks could kill, the glare he’d shot you would have put you in a coffin.

“Unfortunately, I’ve been called away on an urgent mission and can’t make it to the gala this year. But since I am the Number One Hero, my agency must provide some form of representation. That’s where you come in.”

Your eyes went wide at that, heart jumping into your throat as the gravity of the situation sank in. As far as your job was concerned, Endeavor’s word was law. There was no bargaining or substitution to be made. He didn’t even wait for a response before continuing.

“Your role for this event is simple: smile, wave, and maybe bid on a few of the auction items as a show of good faith. If you win something, fine. Just make sure it’s nothing… distasteful.”

You were tempted to question the noticeable shudder that ran through him as spat out the final word. But the careless wave of his hand was the signal for you to bow and leave, giving you no room for queries. However, just as you were about to walk out the door, he decided to toss some parting remarks your way.

“Make sure to wear something appropriate. It is a black tie event, after all. And one of my other sidekicks will be escorting you this evening. Call it insurance to make sure you don’t do anything to embarrass me.”

“Asshole.” You hiss under your breath, successfully hooking the clasp shut and putting a few loose hairs back in place. “What does he think I’m going to do? Get wasted and swing from the chandelier?”

Still muttering a litany of colorful curses, you march to the edge of your bed and plop down to slip into the matching stilettos you’d picked out during your brief shopping trip. Shoes like these were normally well out of your comfort zone (not to mention your price range), but you weren’t the one paying for them. Call them compensation for sacrificing one of your precious nights off. Once they were on, you stood up from the bed and carefully made your way over to the full length mirror in the corner of the room. You smooth down the fabric of your dress, picking away a few stray pieces of lint and checking for any “embarrassing” blemishes or stains. But everything is almost irritatingly perfect, not a stitch out of place. You’re about to launch into another tirade against Endeavor when your work phone chimes from it’s spot on the nightstand. No doubt it’s your “escort” (you refused to call him a date) texting to let you know he was coming to get you. Or worse, already here.

“No turning back now.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“This is it.” You hear Endeavor’s other sidekick grunt, forcing you to snap out of your daydreaming and look towards him. You hadn’t batted an eye when you stepped out of your apartment to find Endeavor had sent a limo, driven by one of his fleet of personal chauffeurs, to pick you up. He did have a knack for flashing his wealth and status whenever possible. What did surprise you was his choice of escort for the evening: a man by the name of Buru (or Taurus if you were to use his hero name). Buru was a fair bit older than you, sporting a pair of bull horns and hooves, and corded with so much muscle it was a wonder how he managed to squeeze into a tux. You seem positively miniscule compared to his hulking frame, making you look like a rather odd couple. The driver pulls up to the curbside, quickly putting the limo in park before getting out to hold the door open for you. He courteously extends a hand to you, which you graciously accept before snagging your evening clutch from the seat beside you. You gracefully step out of the vehicle and onto an honest-to-god red carpet leading towards one of the glitziest hotels in the heart of Tokyo, blinking in the wake of what feels like a hundred camera bulbs flashing around you. Reporters and cameramen are clamoring to snap pictures of the various celebrities and heroes, asking questions that run the gamut from classy to trashy.

Buru plods around the limo to join you by your side, giving you a subtle nod to signal that it’s time to start walking. You set off down the plush runway, walking with more confidence than you felt as reporters peppered you and Buru with questions about your relationship to the Number One Hero. Evidently they’d been tipped off regarding Endeavor’s absence. Buru remained stone-faced, his long strides quickly outstripping your much more delicate steps.

“So much for being an escort.” You think, deciding to pick up the pace so as to not be left behind. And that decision quickly reveals itself to be a terrible mistake. Your pencil thin heel catches on a hidden snag in the carpet, causing your ankle to twist and buckle beneath you. You’re thrown off balance, teetering wildly before plummeting headlong towards the carpeted pavement. But before you can fall flat on your face, a set of strong, slender hands wrap themselves around your torso and pull you upwards, your back coming in contact with your savior’s chest.

“Woah there, little listener!” A familiar voice trills in your ear, their hands releasing you once you’re back on stable footing. “You almost took one helluva stage dive! You good?”

You turn over your shoulder to find a smiling face, framed by outrageous orange sunglasses and a well-trimmed mustache. Hypnotic, emerald eyes seem to sparkle back at you and his long blond hair is tied up in a messy, half-bun. You know this man. Everyone in Tokyo with a radio knows him: Present Mic, the Voice Hero.

“Thanks, Present Mic.” You mumble, an embarrassed blush rising on your cheeks. It was bad enough you’d stumbled in front of the press; the incessant clicking and flashing of cameras was reminding you of that. But to be saved by another hero on top of it… it was a little too much. However, the blonde doesn’t seem to care, giving a hearty laugh and clapping a hand on your shoulder good-naturedly.

“Don’t mention it, baby!” He chortles, winking in a way that would seem forced or cheesy coming from anyone else. “Always happy to help. Besides, it doesn’t seem like your boyfriend is too keen on stickin’ around.”

“Boyfriend?” You ask, cocking your head before remembering who you came with. You blush an even deeper shade of red, sure your face is about to burst into flames akin to your employer’s own. “Oh! No, no, no! He’s not my boyfriend. We just work together at the agency.”

“No kiddin’?” Mic says, his grin spreading impossibly wider before straightening up and offering an arm to you. “In that case, how ‘bout I lend you a hand until we get inside? No offense but those heels ya got on seem closer to stilts than kicks, ya dig?

While his radio slang is a bit confusing, you can’t help but find it a little endearing. With a sheepish nod, you grab a hold of his jacket-clad forearm and allow him to smoothly lead you down the remainder of the red carpet. He’s in full ‘Present Mic mode” as you walk together, all winning smiles and carefree waves as the press peppers him with questions.

“Mic who are you wearing this evening?”

“Present Mic! What’s the name of your damsel in distress?

“Mic! Is it true you’re involved in a scandalous affair with fellow Pro, Eraserhead?”

He lets their shameless inquiries roll off of him like water off a duck’s back, only blowing a dramatic kiss to the crowd before you both disappear behind the front doors. Once inside the lobby, Mic walks you over to one of three elevators, ushering you inside with a crush of other gala-goers once the doors open. It’s a short ride up to the venue space, and you can’t help but gasp when the elevator doors open onto an immaculately decorated ballroom. Every wall and archway is decorated with banners in the Hero Commission's signature black and gold colors, festooned with matching sprays of floral arrangements. There’s a live band somewhere in the room, playing soft jazz in the background to create an elegant atmosphere for the evening. But most impressive of all is the view; the farthest wall is made up entirely of floor-to-ceiling windows, offering a panoramic view of the Tokyo skyline. The sun is just starting to dip below the horizon, washing the room in an amber light that gives everyone a coppery glow. You’re so spellbound by the scene before you that Mic’s low whistle causes you to jump slightly. How long has he had his arm draped over your shoulders? Come to think of it, when had you slipped your own arm around his waist?

“Damn.” He breathes, carefully walking out of the elevators with you in tow. “This place is bitchin’. So much cooler than last year’s venue.”

“Is that so?” You say, your head swiveling around as a waiter breezes past you with a tray of finger foods. You don’t notice the way Mic watches you, nor do you see the crooked smile that crosses over his face as your tongue darts out to wet your lips.

“Oh yeah.” He says, leading you away from the elevators and further into the crowd. “Last year the Commission rented out some–”

“Mic!” A deep voice calls above the steady thrum of conversation, cutting him off. An equally deep, if not more irritated voice calls out your own name simultaneously. The two of you look in opposite directions, the blonde towards a pair of dark-haired individuals waving him over and you towards your forgotten escort. Buru is fuming, smoke practically pouring out of his ears as he marches towards you.

“Where were you?” He growls while grabbing the hand closest to him and pulling you away from Mic harshly. “You’re not supposed to leave my side. Boss’ orders!”

“Stop it Buru!” You snap, yanking your hand out of his grip. “If you didn’t want me to leave your side, maybe you should have waited for me back on the red carpet. I nearly fell and busted my ass thanks to you! If Present Mic hadn’t been there–”

“No excuses.” Buru snaps back, “I shouldn’t have to wait around because you can’t keep up. We’re Mr. Todoroki’s sidekicks, so try to act like it!”

“Todoroki?” You hear the blonde hero echo behind you, “As in Enji Todoroki? Endeavor?”

You wince at Mic’s words, grateful your back is turned to him at the moment. Endeavor may be a hero, but being associated with him didn’t evoke a lot of warm, fuzzy feelings in folks. And many tended to react poorly when they found out who you worked for. With a dejected sigh, you turn back towards Mic, ignoring the way Buru impatiently stamps his hooves behind you.

“Yes, that’s right.” You say glumly, putting up your mask of professionalism. “I’m one of Endeavor’s sidekicks. He was called away on urgent business and sent me and my associate here to represent him and his agency. Forgive me for not telling you earlier.”

You offer a quick, apologetic bow, hoping to slink away as quickly as possible. But to your surprise, Mic doesn’t scoff, jeer, or even try to suck up to you for favors. He laughs. Not in a cruel or condescending way, but a real, mirthful laugh, infectious to the point you feel your own tension ease slightly.

“So that’s why I didn’t recognize ya!” He chortles, smacking his palm to his forehead. “Although it’s not too surprising. That dude cycles through more sidekicks than a jukebox does music.”

The nonchalant way he insults your boss causes your mask to slip and you let loose a giggle of your own. Buru, on the other hand, is clearly not amused.

“How dare you insult the Number One Hero!” He roars, stepping forward to point a scathing finger at Mic. “Endeavor is twice- no, three times the hero you could ever hope to be!”

“Woah, woah, woah! Take it easy, dude!” Mic says, putting his hands up before shooting you another playful wink. “All I meant was I definitely would have remembered meeting a pretty little thing like your partner here.”

You find yourself blushing and batting your eyelashes at him, returning his obvious attempts at flirting in a more surreptitious manner. Buru just places one broad hand on your shoulder, giving Mic a derisive snort before he starts to drag you away.

“You’re not worth the effort.” He huffs, “Just stay away.”

You can’t resist adding one more match to the fire of Buru’s rage, looking over your shoulder and belting out a cheerful, “It was nice meeting you!”

“See ya around!” The blonde calls back, giving you a chipper wave before disappearing into the throng. Buru leads you to a table at the far end of the room, set with fine crystal stemware and gold place settings. He stiffly pulls out a chair for you, allowing you to sit down before taking up residence beside you. You’re amazed the flimsy looking things can support any weight at all, much less the mountain of horned muscle currently glowering at you. He crosses his arms and leans back with a grunt.

“So… now what?” You ask, absentmindedly fiddling with the gold napkin ring in front of you.

“You stay put.” He commands, “No leaving my sight for any reason.”

“You’re joking right? Do you seriously expect me to sit here with you all night?”

Buru doesn’t answer, instead turning his glare onto the crowd. You groan and flop forwards to rest your elbows on the table, opting to occupy your time with people watching. The ballroom is crawling with high-profile attendees: pros and sidekicks, politicians and CEO’s, celebrities and VIP’s. All of them with money, power, and prestige oozing out of their pores. You watch as the tuxedo-clad waitstaff scurry amongst the party-goers, offering up trays of hors d'oeuvres and honey-colored champagne. Every once a while, one of them makes their way over to your table with some delicious little morsel to offer. And in your famished state, the already excellently prepared food tastes like heaven. But when a server carrying a tray of champagne comes by to offer you a glass, Buru grabs your wrist before you can partake and rudely waves the poor girl off.

“What the hell was that for?” You hiss, rubbing at your now sore wrist.

“No alcohol. You’ve embarrassed me and Endeavor enough as it is.”

That does it. You can deal with villains, Endeavor, even your parents if necessary. But this “personal babysitter” schtick has gone far enough. You stand up from the table with a huff, swiftly moving out of Buru’s reach before he can grab you again.

“Sit down!”

“No! I have to go to the bathroom. Can I at least do that?”

“I’ll accompany you.”

“Like hell you will! I’m a grown woman. I can go to the bathroom by myself without getting in trouble.”

Buru narrows his eyes and scowls deeply at you. You stare him down, refusing to back down from this fight. After a few tense moments, he relaxes slightly and gives a curt nod.

“You have ten minutes.”

You grab your clutch, turn on your heel and march off into the fray, doing your best to avoid stepping on other people with your dagger sharp heels. As you make your way across the crowded dance floor, you begin to recognize the more popular Pro Heroes among the sea of faces. Some of them you’d had the privilege of meeting personally, like Hawks and Miruko, both of whom were currently surrounded by fans and admirers. Others you’d only seen on TV or in newspaper clippings, but that didn’t make them any less impressive. In fact, you were too busy watching Fatgum scarf down a whole tray of artisanal onigiri by himself to notice a certain blonde standing in your way until it was too late. You bumped right into him, bouncing off with an embarrassed “I’m so sorry!” before coming eye-to-eye with those striking green whorls again.

“Oh hey, it’s you!” Mic exclaims, grinning down at you like he hasn’t seen you in ages. “No need to be sorry, baby. This thing’s a rental anyways!”

“But you’re all wet now.” You say, watching him while he wipes the remains of his spilled champagne off his tux jacket. “I can pay for the cleaning fees if necessary. I wasn’t looking where I was going.”

“Honey, trust me. There are worse things to be covered in than free champagne. I’ve been to enough of these gigs to know!”

You giggle and open your mouth to respond, but are cut off by a velvety voice coming from your left.

“Is this the little songbird you were telling us about, Zashi?’

You turn to find one of Present Mic’s companions from earlier, a dark-haired woman sipping her own drink and watching your exchange. She’s dressed in a skintight, scarlet gown with a neckline that plunges almost to her navel. A matching pair of horn-rimmed spectacles are perched on her nose, framing her striking cerulean eyes. Even without their signature harness and flogger, you recognize her as Miss Midnight.

“Yup! She’s the one!” Present Mic confirms, casually slinging his arm back around your shoulders. “What’d I tell ya? Pretty cute, right?”

The R-Rated Hero turns her gaze on you at his words, the sultry look in her eyes causing your stomach to flip a little. Seriously, it should be illegal for anyone to look that sexy.

“Very cute.” She assesses with a nod, “Zashi says you work for Endeavor, yes?”

“Y-yeah.” You fumble, slightly flustered and tongue-tied in the face of her scandalous beauty. “I’m one of his sidekicks.”

“I’m sorry.” Midnight quips back, her lack of manners shocking you slightly. But judging by the booze-bitten blush on her cheeks, you suppose the liquid courage in her system is to blame. “I know he’s the Number One Hero, but I’ve been his colleague long enough to realize how intense he can be. He must have you on a pretty short leash, huh?”

“I’ll say!” Mic chimes in, “He sent along some “nanny cow” of a sidekick to watch her all night. Speakin’ of which, how’d you manage to shake him?”

“Well…”

You glance back in the direction you came from, only for your face to drain of all color as you see a tell-tale pair of horns bobbing up and down amongst the crowd. Hizashi follows your line of sight and instantly sees the danger. Quick as anything, his arm snakes around your midriff and he turns to Midnight for assistance.

“Hey Nemuri, I got a gig for ya. See that guy with the horns? Big, mean, and ugly lookin’? Think you can distract him for a few minutes?”

“No problem!” She chirps without hesitation, tipping back the rest of her brightly colored cocktail before readjusting the neckline of her dress. It makes you wonder how much cleavage someone can possibly show before it crosses the line into pornographic. You’re too busy looking over your shoulder for Buru to notice the subtle wink that passes between the two heroes. And then Hizashi is moving, seamlessly flitting through the crowd and keeping you firmly glued to his side as you duck and weave around the other guests. You have to admit the speed at which he navigates the crowded space is impressive as he heads for one of the darkened archways lining the walls. Soon the crowd thins out and you reluctantly pry yourself out from under Mic’s arm to get your bearings. He’s lead you into a dimly-lit, side hallway, with tables and doorways lining the farthest walls. The din of party conversation and music is more muffled now, making you feel like you’re in a state of limbo.

“Where are we?”

“Silent auction.” Mic answers plainly, “Figured I’d take you somewhere quieter while we let Midnight do her thing.”

“And what exactly is her ‘thing?” You ask skeptically, wandering over to one of the display tables to check out the wares.

“You’ll see.” He says with a smirk, silently following behind you with his hands in his pockets. There are miniature spotlights shining down on the auction items, with slips of paper and pens for people to write in their bids. All the prizes are exceedingly lavish, from baskets overflowing with expensive spirits and goodies to exotic trips around the world. And the bids themselves leave your head spinning, shocked and a little sickened by the amount of money being casually thrown around.

“I’m sorry, the minimum bid for this is how much?” You scoff, pointing at the high price tag on what appears to be a singular bottle of wine. Mic leans over your shoulder to read the number himself, letting out a low whistle.

“Must be some good stuff.” He says with a smirk.

“I’m totally bidding on it.”

“You’re kiddin’ right? Last I checked, sidekicks don’t make that kind of bank, even if they do work for the Number One Pro. What are ya, some kind of secret billionaire princess?”

“Sadly no.” You say, digging into your evening bag to pull out a sleek, black card. “But I’m not the one who’s paying. And Endeavor did say to bid on a few items, ‘as a show of good faith.”

You end your sentence on a terrible impression of the Flame Hero, earning another snicker from the blonde as you place your bid. The pair of you wander the auction area for a while, gawking at the ludicrous prices and talking quietly. Or at least, as quietly as the blonde can manage. You fall into easy conversation, mainly discussing work in the hero world and Mic’s teaching career. Present Mic, or Hizashi as he prefers to be called, is a surprisingly eloquent speaker and his high-energy demeanor ensures there’s never a lull in the conversation. It’s honestly refreshing after dealing with the snooty, intense people you’re used to at the agency. Not to mention, he has no qualms about encouraging you to be a little mischievous when it comes to spending your boss’ money.

“How ‘bout that one?” He says, gesturing to a particularly gaudy piece of abstract art. “I think that would look rad on the big man’s mantlepiece, yeah?”

You giggle and lightly push against his arm, as mild punishment for his goofiness.

“No way. Endeavor specifically said to not bid on something too ‘distasteful.’ And I’m pretty sure that thing is towing the line. What’s it even supposed to be?”

“It kinda looks like All Might.” Hizashi offers, “If you stand really far away and squint. I don’t really know much about fine art. But I do know ‘distasteful’ and I’m tellin’ ya now, this aint it baby.”

“And what would you qualify as distasteful?”

A grin that can only be likened to the Cheshire Cat spreads across Hizashi’s handsome face.

“I’ll show you.” He says, extending a hand to you. You grab a hold and allow him to guide you towards one of the doors along the wall. As you get closer, you realize there are small placards inscribed with a number on each of the handles. Hizashi is currently leading you to a door marked with the number seventeen, opening it for you and allowing you to step inside ahead of him. You find yourself in a much smaller room, washed in the same dim lighting as the rest of the auction area. It’s just big enough for two people to stand inside (three if they’re thin), and the oak paneling and cramped quarters almost remind you of a confessional booth. But there’s no man of the cloth here; instead there’s a screen set into the farthest wall and a small, black button resting on a shallow shelf below it. The screen only displays a three-digit number, every so often flashing red before going back to the number.

“What the hell?” You breathe while stepping farther into the room, allowing Hizashi to squeeze in behind you.

“Welcome to the main event of the Heroes Gala.” He says, closing the door. “The Anonymous Auction.”

“The Anonymous Auction?” You parrot back quizzically, turning around to face the blonde.

“You’re aware that most of the Commission's funding comes from public taxes, yeah?” He asks, waiting for your nod before continuing. “Well taxpayer dollars can only go so far. Especially when hero and villain activity has only gone up over time. Rebuildin’ a city you just smashed like an old record ain't cheap you know.”

He pauses to jerk one thumb behind him.

“That’s why they started holdin’ auctions– this whole gala, really– in the first place. It’s all just a fancy way to supplement the Commission’s budget. And due to the popularity of the auctions, they started offering some more… exclusive items in recent years.”

“What do you mean by exclusive?”

Hizashi gives you another playful smirk, looking at you over the rim of his sunglasses.

“You’re a smart girl. What do you think it means?”

He steps a little closer to you and places his hands on your waist for emphasis, thumbing small circles at the swell of your hips. You unconsciously lean into his touch and your eyes flutter closed for a moment before snapping open once more, realization crashing over you like a tidal wave.

“You mean like sex stuff!?” You squeak bluntly, earning a laugh from the Voice Hero.

“Well not all of it! But there have been some bizarre and kinda risqué items up for sale in the past.”

“Such as?”

“Well, I know for a fact that Nemuri donates a part of her “collection” to the auction every year.” Hizashi states, putting air quotes around the term. “And rumor has it that last year All Might auctioned off a pair of his underwear. I don’t know about that one, but if that’s true, then it explains how UA paid for it’s new training grounds and why the staff got a nice Christmas bonus.”

You can’t help but giggle at the thought of some snobby billionaire drooling over a pair of All Might’s underwear. Maybe they’d had them framed, mounted on the wall like a hunting trophy. You’re too caught up in your ridiculous daydreaming to realize Hizashi has stepped even closer to you, not until you can feel his hands sliding a little further down your sides and a little farther behind you. You’re now chest to chest, breathing in tandem as he leans down to speak directly into your ear.

“So now that we’re in here… what do you say we play a little game?”

His voice is low and smooth, audial honey dripping into your brain. Your breath unconsciously catches in your throat as your body moves of its own accord to press closer to him. The energy between you is shifting palpably, from friendly strangers to something much more intimate and heavy. The room feels like it’s heating up and your dress suddenly feels much too snug.

“What kind of game?” You murmur back, a delicious shiver running down your spine when he hums in response.

“How ‘bout the quiet game?” He says, his bristly mustache tickling your cheek when he speaks. “But we’ll make it a little more interesting.”

You can feel him begin to gently push against you, forcing you to walk backwards until you feel the top of your tailbone bump into the low shelf. Hizashi’s hands never leave your body, roaming lower to finally settle on the plush curve of your ass. If anybody else was doing this, you’d have kneed them in the jewels and run for the nearest exit by now. But for some reason, you trust Hizashi. You want Hizashi. And if the steady throbbing in your core is any indication, you need Hizashi.

“Here’s the deal, babygirl.” He says, lifting his head to rest his forehead against your own. You can’t help the way your thighs tense at the pet name, something that definitely doesn't go unnoticed by the Voice Hero. “You’re going to try and stay as quiet as possible. And every time you get too noisy, you’re going to press that little button.”

His eyes flit over to the device in question before locking back on yours.

“That button raises your bid on whatever item is currently up for grabs. So the less noise you make, the less bids you make. And you wouldn’t want to end up winning something distasteful, yeah?”

You subtly shake your head and crack a small smile at his joke, bringing your hands up to rest on his clothed pecs. You’re surprised to feel powerful muscles rippling underneath his rented dress shirt, along with the heat rolling off of his body and the steady thrum of his heartbeat. Clearly that rented tux is doing nothing for his figure.

“Well what are you going to do?” You tease, running your hands up the plane of his chest and underneath the jacket to grip his broad shoulders. “Seems like I’m the only one playing this game of yours.”

One of his hands leaves your ass to hook a finger under your chin, forcing your head to tilt upwards. He gives you a sinfully wicked grin.

“Oh but that’s the best part, baby. I’m going to try and make you scream.”

Suddenly his lips are crashing into yours, sloppily at first but soon smoothing out into a steady push and pull. He takes your bottom lip between his teeth, biting gently before letting it spring back into place. You sigh into his mouth, a sound eagerly returned by the hero. Your nails dig into his shoulders, bunching the fabric of his shirt as he deepens the kiss. There’s tenderness in the kiss to be sure, but also a fierce dominance that has you fighting against the moans rising in your throat. Hizashi uses the shelf behind you to force and arch into your back before kissing his way down the sensitive column of your throat. He licks and sucks at your pulse point, not hard enough to leave marks but enough to remind you that he’s in control. You tuck your bottom lip between your teeth, even going so far as to clap a hand over your mouth when he gives a particularly sharp nip. He clicks his tongue against your skin, bringing up his free hand to pull yours away.

“Ah ah ah. No cheating, baby.” He says, moving farther down your chest until his chin rests between the supple swell of your breasts. “If you try to put yourself on mute again you’ll have to press that button regardless. Ya dig?”

You nod and he releases your hand, allowing you to curl your arm around and place it at the base of his neck. Pleased with your compliance, Hizashi hooks his thumbs under the straps of your dress and gently shrugs them off. The top half of your gown falls away, pooling around your waist as your breasts are fully exposed to the open air. They pebble and peak instantly, despite the perceived heat in the room, and you feel Hizashi’s hum of appreciation rumble through your sternum. His hands come up to cup them, indulging in their full weight and supple give as he squeezes them lightly. His head dips down to kiss your right breast, ghosting over the pert bud of your nipple as he places featherlight kisses around the areola. It’s maddening, far too light and teasing for your liking. The hand on the back of his neck suddenly fists in his hair and you pull him closer to you, squishing his nose against the pliant flesh.

“Damn baby. Feelin’ needy already, huh?” He chuckles against you, pulling away slightly to look up at you through half-lidded, golden lashes. You whine softly, still pulling his head closer to your body. Hizashi resumes fondling your breasts, taking one nipple into his mouth while using his thumb and forefinger to toy with the other. His tongue swirls around the sensitive nub, every deft twirl and brush mirrored by his fingers. It’s a blissful sensation, heating licking across your nerves and shooting straight to your core. Suddenly, he gives a particularly hard suck and pinch, pulling an involuntary gasp from you. You can feel his smug grin before you even look at him, and he pulls off your nipple with a soft pop.

“Strike one, princess. You know what you have to do.”

“I thought you said no cheating.” You whine, feeling the fresh slick coating your panties and relishing the lingering sting emanating from your nipples.

“It’s not cheating, it’s part of the game. Your job is to stay quiet, my job is to break the silence. Now are you going to play by the rules or not?”

You look over at the seemingly innocent button and furrow your brow. It’s only just dawned on you now that you have no idea what you’d be bidding on and a bolt of panic shoots through you. What if it was a piece from Nemuri’s collection? Or something worse! Hizashi, seeming to sense your trepidation, briefly raises his head up to plant a soothing kiss to your temple.

“Hey, we can stop if you wanna.” He says, removing his hands from your breasts to cup your cheeks. “You don’t have to do anything you’re not comfortable with. I’m not gonna push ya.”

Your eyes bounce between the little black button and Hizashi’s face, biting your lip in your moment of indecision. It was a gamble for sure, a gamble that could easily cost you your job should you end up winning. But then again… how much humiliation and strain had your nightmare of a boss put you through in the past year? The past month? The past 24 hours? Taking a deep breath, you tentatively press the button, the screen behind you flashing green to signal the successful placement of your bid. Hizashi smiles down at you, impressed with your boldness.

“Fuck it.” You breathe, stretching up to press a chaste kiss against his lips. “I’m all in.”

Hizashi returns the kiss with interest before fully sinking to his knees, running one hand up the slit of your dress to rest on your exposed thigh.

“Okay then, baby.” He purrs, “I need you to spread your legs a little more for me. Lemme see what we’re workin’ with down here, yeah?”

You willingly comply, widening your stance as Hizashi sweeps the bottom half of the dress out of the way and tucks it behind you. The black, lacy thong you’d picked out for the occasion is soaked through, your essence already starting to coat your inner thighs. Hizashi runs one finger up your barely clothed slit, whistling when he feels how damp they are.

“Damn baby.” He breathes, almost like he’s in awe. “These are fucking ruined.”

You resume biting your lip when you feel two of his fingers hook underneath the material and pull it to the side, fighting against the urge to close your legs.

“Such a pretty girl…” Hizashi coos against you, planting a soft kiss to your right thigh before resting his head against it. “Everything about you is pretty.”

You can’t stop the blush that rises to your cheeks at the whispered praise, nor help the way your cunt clenches around nothing. It certainly doesn’t go unnoticed by the blonde as he leans in closer, using his thumbs to gingerly pry your labia apart. He looks up at you hungrily, pupils blown wide with desire as he tongue darts out to wet his lips.

“Hold on tight, baby.”

Hizashi uses the flat of his tongue to lick a hot stripe up your slit, letting out a low, filthy moan at the taste. You realize now why he gave you a warning. He’s using his quirk to amplify his moans tenfold, turning his mouth and tongue into the most attentive sex toy on Earth. The vibrations send shockwaves of pleasure coursing through your body, clouding your senses with desire. Whatever restraint the hero possessed dissolves the moment he tastes you, as he latches on to your rapidly swelling clit and sucks roughly. You gasp at the new sensation, hips unconsciously bucking to force his face further into you. He hums and willingly obeys your body’s command, replacing his mouth with a heavy thumb and delving his tongue between your folds to lap at your quivering entrance. The increase in intensity causes your thighs squeeze together, caging in the hero’s head as he dutifully tongue-fucks you. You can already feel an orgasm mounting deep in your core, his earlier teasing and stimulation paying off in spades. But his tongue isn’t enough, even with his quirk.

“M-More!” You cry out, unable to quell your pleading voice. “I need more. Need to cum. Please let me cum!”

Hizashi pinches the back of your thigh, a silent reminder for you to follow through with the rules of the game. With a groan you bring your hand down on the button, ignoring the flashing screen as you grind your hips down onto his face. But just when you’re about to tip over the edge, he pulls away from you, breathing heavily and his face coated in your sticky juices. You whimper at the loss of contact, but his hands keep your thighs spread apart to deny you the friction you seek.

“Good girl.” He pants, still swirling his thumb over your aching pearl. “So good for me, baby.”

“Then why’d you stop?” You softly moan, tears of frustration pricking at the corners of your eyes. You’d been so close.

“Because,” he says, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “The only way I want you to cum is on my cock.”

Before you can fully register his words, he grabs you by the hips and flips you around, pulling your dress up and bunching it in one fist. Your panties are roughly yanked down around your ankles and you have to brace yourself against the shelf as you feel the hard bulge of Hizashi’s pants rub against your bared ass. A sharp smack to one cheek causes you to yelp, and a quick smack to the other forces you to bring your hand down on the button.

“Cheater.” You pant, earning a dark chuckle for the man behind you.

“Name-calling are we now, baby? Just for that, you don’t get to cum until I say so. Understood?”

You nod quickly, glancing behind you when you feel him start to fiddle with his belt and zipper. Your eyes widen when you see his painfully erect cock spring free: long, thick, and with a silver ring adorning the reddened tip. He gives the length a few short pumps, coaxing out a pearly bead of precum that quickly winds its way around the Prince Albert piercing.

“I think someone likes what she sees.” He says coyly, flicking one finger against the metal for emphasis. “Ever been with a pierced guy before?”

You shake your head and Mic smirks.

“Then trust me. You’re gonna love this, babygirl.”

He lines the head up with your entrance and starts to slowly push into you, the initial stretch causing you to hiss in pain. But the burn soon melts into pleasure as Hizashi buries himself to the hilt, bottoming out with a grunt of his own. You can feel the metal ring bumping against your cervix already, a low moan escaping when he gives a few shallow thrusts.

“Good girl. Takin’ me so well. So tight and perfect.” He mutters breathlessly, voice barely above a whisper. The praise makes you whimper and clamp down on his cock, earning a moan of pleasure from Hizashi. He starts to move in earnest, pumping in and out of you at a steady pace. Each forward thrust pushes your face closer to the wall, your breasts brushing back and forth across the cool wooden shelf and stimulating your pebbled nipples.Your mind is floating in a haze of hedonistic bliss as the air around you fills with the sounds of slapping skin and the scent of sex. You can already feel your orgasm racing towards you at a breakneck speed, the coil in your belly tightening with each thrust. Hizashi suddenly sinks his teeth into your right shoulder with a an almost feral growl, blunted teeth nearly piercing the skin. You squeal at the brilliant pain, only to feel his tongue lave over the forming welts, soothing them. You automatically bring your hand down on the button and his pace quickens in response, rewarding you by maneuvering his hips until he finds the spot that makes your vision go white and your mind go blank.

“Th-th-there!” You sputter out, smacking the button before instinctually backing into him. You don’t give a damn about your boss or the money anymore. All you can focus on right now is chasing your own mind-numbing pleasure. He gives a hum of acknowledgement and straightens up, angling his thrusts to hit that spot every time. He can feel the way your walls flutter and shiver, right on the edge of release.

“That’s it, babygirl.” He grunts, licking the pad of his fingers before reaching below your bodies to find your clit. Slender digits rubs tight circles on the swollen bead, the rough touch making you almost sob in relief. “Cum for me. Cum all over my cock!”

It’s a demand, one that your body is more than ready to obey. With one final circle of his thumb, the pressure snaps and you cry out in toe-curling ecstasy. It feels like your entire body locks up from the intensity of your orgasm and Hizashi gives a cry of his own when he feels the way your pussy clamps down on him like a vise. He forgoes gentleness in favor of animalistic rutting, gripping your hips to set a brutal and unforgiving pace. His cockhead and piercing continually slam into your g-spot and cervix, lengthening your own orgasm to an almost unbearable extent.

“Shit.” He curses, pistoning into you like a rabbit while his balls slap against your clit. “I’m fuckin’ close. Where do you want it?”

“Cum in me!” You wail, the game forgotten as fireworks explode behind your eyes. “Please! Hizashi! I need it.”

Hearing you beg so sweetly for him snaps what little composure he had left. Hizashi lets loose a guttural howl and after a few harsh thrusts, his hips stutter to a halt. You can feel his cock pulsing deep within you, filling you up with rope after rope of thick, white seed. He stays inside you for a moment, breathing heavily and feeling the way your velvety walls throb around his length. Your body feels hot and heavy, head swimming as you gradually come down from the high. Eventually, Present Mic pulls his spent dick from your abused hole, pausing to admire the way his cum oozes out and drips onto the wood floor before pulling your panties back up. Your legs might as well be made of jelly for how useful they are right now, wobbling on your stilettos as you hold onto the shelf for dear life.

“That…” You pant, “That was good. So good.”

“Yeah?” Hizashi says behind you, tucking himself back into his trousers before smoothing one hand up and down your exposed back. His gentle touch causes goosebumps to rise on your skin, your nerves still overly sensitive.

“Yeah.” You breathe, “I needed that.”

Hizashi smirks and leans down to pepper kisses along your shoulder blades, basking in the afterglow alongside you. You practically melt under his affections, never wanting this tender, warm feeling to end.

“Can you stand?” He asks after a few minutes and you weakly nod. Carefully, he helps you stand upright, brushing a few stray pieces of hair behind your ear while you fix your dress and cover your chest once more. Hizashi then moves to fix his own half-bun, smirking at the way you’re dreamily looking up at him.

“Hey space cadet.” He teases, tapping the tip of your nose with one finger. “Come back to Earth for me, will ya? We better get outta here before your nanny cow calls the cops. Or worse, Endeavor.”

You blink slowly and hum in agreement, lazily looking over at the button one last time. And then you freeze. A new message is scrolling across the screen:

Congratulations! You have won lot #114. Please collect your prize.

“Oh my god…” You whisper, feeling your blissful headspace drown under an icy wave of fear. “Oh my god, NO! What the fuck did I just do?”

“Hm?” Hizashi turns to the screen and it’s too-cheerful message. “Oh! Well wouldja look at that?”

“Why are you being so calm about this!?” You shriek, grabbing him by the lapels of the tuxedo and frantically shaking him. “My boss is going to kill me! I have no idea what I– what he just bought! It could be a dildo in the shape of All Might’s dick for all I know!”

“Hey, hey! Chill out, baby!” Hizashi says, placing both hands on your shoulders to steady you. “Just breathe for me, okay? Nice and slow. You didn’t buy anything like that, I promise.”

“How do you know?” You squeak, trying not to hyperventilate.

“Because I know exactly what they were auctioning off with that lot number.”

“Then spare me the dramatics and spit it out, Hizashi! What did I just win!?”

“... Me.”

The world seems to stop for a moment as you stare up at Hizashi’s sheepish face. You open and close your mouth like a goldfish, your overloaded brain trying to find the right words to say. It settles on a neanderthalic, “Huh?”

“You won me.” He repeats, “Well not forever anyways. Just for 24 hours.”

“I don’t understand. Are you trying to be funny?”

“I’m dead serious, baby! The Anonymous Auction doesn’t just offer material stuff. People can bid on and win “dates” with Pro Heroes. The more popular the Pro, the more money comes in. I volunteered to do it this year since a couple of my buddies did it last year.”

You blink slowly, allowing your panicky brain to process this new information.

“So… is that why you brought me here? Because you knew it was time for the bidding to start on your date?”

“I swear, I had no idea.” Hizashi says, crossing an X over his heart for emphasis. “I just wanted a chance to talk to you more and get ya away from that creep of a partner you came with. It was honestly just a lucky coincidence.”

“And the quiet game?”

“I came up with that on the fly when I saw my lot number on the screen. But I didn’t expect you to actually win the auction. And if you don’t wanna go through with this because of your boss or me, then I totally get it. You can always defer to the second highest bidder. That kinda thing happens all the time.”

You step back from Hizashi and turn away, muttering a quick, “Give me a minute.”

Looking past the insanity of the situation, you had to admit you were a little impressed, even grateful, for Hizashi’s scheme. He’d saved you from dealing with Buru, at least for a little while, and made sure you had a fun time doing it. And besides, it’s not like you weren’t attracted to the man. Sure he was loud and goofy, but he was also sweet and charismatic. Not to mention a damn good lay.

“... Okay.” You say after a few moments of thought, snapping your attention back to Hizashi. “Here’s what I want to do.”

You hold up one finger.

“First of all, I want to find a bathroom and get myself cleaned up. This is a nice dress and I don’t want it to get stained, if you catch my drift.”

Hizashi nods in understanding. You put up a second finger.

“Secondly, I’m absolutely starving. So I want to get some water and food. And maybe a glass of champagne.”

Hizashi cracks a smile at that, giving a chuckle of “You got it, baby.”

“And finally,” You say, stepping forward to grab Hizashi by the front of his jacket and pull him in for a kiss. “I want to collect my prize.”

#hizashi yamada #hizashi x reader #bnha #mha #bnha x reader #hizashi yamada x reader smut #mha x reader #citrus dome collab

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starbuckie · 3 years

Text

𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤 𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐬

challenge: winter warmers writing challenge by @spaceodditybarnes

prompt: “it’s beginning to look a lot like christmas” by michael buble

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

words: 2k without lyrics, 2.1k with lyrics

warnings: i genuinely don’t think i can say anything besides FLUFF, oh wait theres some mentions of the shmexy sex (i promise im a functioning person)

summary: in which they take a little holiday stroll and talk about what they are.

a/n: THIS MADE ME VERY HAPPY THANK YOU FOR HOSTING THIS CHALLENGE JADE!!! i kinda veered off the idea of christmas with this one, but my mind created another idea and i kinda just went with the flow. anyways, i really enjoyed writing this one, and i hope you all had a lovely holiday season <3 LOTS OF LOVE Y’ALL

main masterlist || sebastian stan characters masterlist

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Everywhere you go

Take a look at the five and ten, it’s glistening once again

With candy cane and silver lanes that glow

Snow sprinkled to the buildings and sidewalks of Midtown Manhattan, making the traffic clog up to the oh so lovely sounds of taxis and cars honking. It was far from what people pictured it, really, New York was absolute hell during the holiday season. Sloshing boots and teens smoking pot outside the scantily decorated discount store that held very little, sad-looking Christmas lights.

It didn’t bother Bucky. No, he had never been a big fan of the holiday season. Even back in the forties, with his ma and little sisters, they had never been huge on celebrating Christmas, instead choosing to work those shifts during the holiday so they could make a buck or two more to hold them over. Now in the twenty-first century, the holiday just reminded him how truly lonely he was, everyone and everything he used to know long gone.

But then he found Y/N. Granted, it had not been a formal introduction. The poor girl had nearly damn run him over with her motorcycle for Christ’s sake, but nonetheless she crawled into his heart that cold December morning two years ago, and had not left ever since.

Now she walked by his side at Rockefeller Center, her cold fingers intertwined with his warm ones, admiring the tree while he admired her. He already had every part of her memorized, from late night escapades in the sheets to studying the slope of her nose at team breakfasts. Even when he wasn’t with her, he was always looking at her, unable to pull his eyes away from Y/N’s radiance.

This little… dalliance of theirs had only started a year back, and they had still yet to put a label on it. Sam had called it friends with benefits, Sharon called it being a couple without the name. Bucky had shut both of those ideas down, claiming that they were taking it slow and weren’t looking to call it anything yet they still had not really talked about it. Was it really worth ruining the bond he had with the girl he fell madly in love with? Whatever it was, they had never taken time out of their day to actually discuss what they meant to each other, but, God, he’d be a liar if he said he didn’t want to know.

“Bucky?” Her sweet voice brought him out of his thoughts, the glittering red and white lights of the Christmas tree reflecting in her eyes. “You seem kind of distracted right now, sweetheart, are you bored? We can head back to the compound if you like.”

He smiled at her worried tone, delicately kissing the tip of her nose. “‘M just thinking, doll, wanna stay as long as I can out here with you.”

The grin he received in return was breathtaking, her red-painted lips turned upwards and a little twinkle (literally and metaphorically) in her eyes. “Good.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Oh, look at that helicopter, Buck! That’s so cool!” Y/N pointed at a little boy in the store controlling the airborne toy with a small remote. “They didn't have those when I was a kid, I just had my Tamagotchi.”

He scrunched his nose, staring at her with an emotion that could be described as nothing other than distaste. “What the hell is a Tamagotchi?”

“A Tamagotchi was like this little digital pet thing that you could take care of, mainly used for kids who were trying to prove to their parents that they could take care of a real pet. That’s why I had one at least, but I never did get a tabby cat like I wanted.” Y/N continued to ramble about her weird pet thing as they walked through the toy store, though Bucky didn’t really care. But he’d never stop her either. The way her eyes lit up in childlike wonder and her fascination with the toys on the shelves was too precious to destroy. This was the girl who he had seen slit throats and blow aliens’ brains out, and in the moment she was ogling an American Girl Doll like it was the last pancake at the breakfast table.

Y/N finally convinced herself that she was done looking at the toys, claiming that she was too mature for such things (she really wasn’t), but he let her lead him out the door, before she halted right in the doorway. “What is it, honey?”

“Mistletoe.” He glanced up at the little sprig of green and red berries above their heads, hanging by a small strand of twine. A small group of kids with families stood around, watching them with both happy and annoyed faces. How could they not notice Y/N L/N and Bucky Barnes? Bucky’s vibranium arm may have been recognizable, but Y/N’s cheery, a little-louder-than-normal humming had caused a little group to watch them throughout the store. “I think they’re waiting for us to kiss, Buck.”

She leaned into him, placing her lips on his and placing her freezing hands on his cheekbones. Though Bucky had never been big on PDA, the rest of the world seemed to slip away when he was with her. He grinned into her lips, hugging her tightly around the waist so she squealed. When he forced herself away from her intoxicating mouth, she was sporting a bright smile and smudged lipstick that had rubbed off onto his.

Giggling, she took her thumb and swiped off some of the red residue she had left. “You had a little something there, sweetheart.”

A pair of hopalong boots and a pistol that shoots

Is the wish of Barney and Ben

Dolls that’ll talk and will go for a walk

Is the hope of Janice and Jen

Bucky watched Y/N point out all the different street cart vendors as they walked to Radio City Music Hall. She’d insisted that they go look at the window displays there as well, and who was he to argue? Strangely enough, they hadn’t talked much, other than the occasional “are you cold” from Bucky, to which Y/N assured him she was not. Her quiet voice sang the lyrics to Last Christmas when a little girl stopped in front of them, two auburn braids and green eyes boring straight into hers.

The small child pulled on Y/N’s skirt, a silent plea to go down to her height. “Hi there, are you lost, sweetie?”

“I wanted to talk to you,” she looked back to an older woman, who gave her a thumbs up and a smile, “because you are my favorite superhero and I hope you have a very good Christmas.”

Y/N nearly melted at the toothless smile the girl, who she assumed was named Sadie by the necklace she wore. “Thank you so much, sweetheart. I hope you have a good Christmas too, and do you know this guy?” She dragged Bucky down next to her, the large, buff man hulking over the small girl. “This is my friend Bucky, do you know him?”

He eyed her warily, as if he were absolutely terrified of the tiny human. “You’re the Winter Soldier!”

Uh oh. The name was one that struck a chord of fear through everyone, still in shock of the events that had taken place in D.C. in 2014. While he and Sam had tried to label a new brand for the Avengers, people didn’t forget all the horrors of HYDRA and their prized assassin. Of course it hadn’t been him, even he knew that, but trying to convince people otherwise still made him feel guilty.

“You’re my second favorite Avenger, after Y/N, of course.” Sadie brought her hand to hover over Bucky’s vibranium one, her eyes wide with excitement. “Mr. Bucky, can I touch your metal arm?”

The man in question could barely utter out a word, muttering some sort of agreement before nodding with a timid smile. Giddily, she touched his arm, feeling all the cool ridges of gold-plated vibranium against the gun-grey metal. Sadie continued to pelt questions at him, about Sam and Redwing to his “adventures” with Y/N on the team.

Bucky, though shy at first, got more and more relaxed as they continued their conversation, his grin growing wider. Y/N loved her fans, she loved them so, so dearly, but seeing them interact with the man she loved was something different. Not a bad different, but a word that could only be described as pure joy.

“Darling, I think we better leave Ms. L/N and Mr. Barnes alone. Say thank you and happy holidays.” The little girl looked sad, turning to look at her mom with a little pout, but she reluctantly obliged and soon the duo were off, into the crowded streets once again.

“Y’know once upon a time I had dreamed about having kids,” Bucky commented. They walked along the sidewalks in a comfortable quiet after the encounter with Sadie, but Bucky’s mind had not stopped reeling from the happiness his conversation brought him. “Was gonna come home from the war, settle down with a gal, and live to be at least seventy years old.”

“Well, I can tell you you’re good on the last bit of that, Buck.” He snorted at her jab at his age, something that has become a norm for their little makeshift family of four. “What do you want now?”

He stopped in his tracks and looked over at her with a fond tilt of his lips. “Oh, just something real special.”

It’s beginning to look a lot like Christmas

Toys in every store

But the prettiest sight to see, is the holly that will be

On your own front door

“Y/N, what are we?” She glanced over at him from where they sat on the Met stairs, giving their feet a break from walking for hours.

“What do you mean, Buck?”

He grabbed her hands and held them to his chest, trying to make her understand the amount of confusion and impatience he had with this one burdening question. “We’ve been sleeping together for a year, Y/N. We make each other breakfast, we go out together, I literally have half of my closet dedicated to your stuff, but even after all that we haven’t given us a name yet.”

Y/N sat in stunned silence, staring at the outburst from the man in front of her. To be completely honest she had never really thought about the question, choosing to enjoy each second she got to spend with the wonderful man with her. What she had noticed however, was how whenever they parted ways or were in the most intimate of moments, three little words nearly slipped off of her tongue. Every. Single. Time.

“Well, what do you want to be, Bucky?”

“I want to be the man you love. I want to be the man who loves you with his entire heart, though I like to think I already am. I want you to be my best gal more than anything in the world, and that I want to be the man who gets to hold and love you every night.” Slowly they drifted to each other, a magnetic pull bringing them to each other. “What do you think, doll?”

“I think,” her lips split into a grin, hovering over his own with the exact same expression, “that I want to be your best girl and the one who gets to make you pancakes in the morning and I want to be the one you get a cat with, who we’ll name Alpine because if I know you, names are the most important part of having a pet. I want to be held and loved by you every night, Bucky Barnes, and I am the girl who loves you more than anything in this entire damn world.”

Not another second to spare, Bucky pulled Y/N in close, letting himself get lost in one of her sweet, loving kisses, finally knowing that he was hers and she was his. At long last.

Sure, it’s Christmas once more

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hrmdream · 3 years

Text

7 Days of Pitch Perfect - Day 1 (Colors)

Hi @beca-mitchell . Thanks for this fun idea. Please accept my bulls**t.

Summary: Beca and her appreciation for colors in Pitch Perfect 3. Rating: M (for language) Word count: 989 This is not beta’d. I 100% word vomitted. I’m sorry if it is very very bad. Story beneath the cut.

Years ago, Beca would tell you she never much cared for colors. Her palette was shades of mainly black and blue, though never outright either. Give her those colors, mute them, dim them, mix a dash of grey -remix this color business, if you will- and then you were speaking Beca’s language.

These days, her taste has changed. Her appetite for colors has grown. Beca will taste the fucking rainbow, because no longer are vibrant, warm, heavily saturated colors threatening to blind her by merely crossing her field of vision. In fact, they captivate her. They draw Beca in. Depending on their form, they can pull an easy smile or cause her heart to pound. Stutter. Stop.

And on the beautiful southern coast of France, under the heat of a sun sitting high in the sky without a single cloud for company, the colors of the rainbow had never looked as stunning as they do here.

Red.

Beca believes red has never looked so good. She has never seen Chloe’s hair shine so brightly.

New York City’s color scheme is a drab backdrop, allowing Chloe and her eye-catching hair to undeniably be a focus, but here, even among the lively colors painting the Cote D’azur, Chloe’s hair color is a rarity amongst a landscape filled with natural beauty.

If Beca were an artist, she would draw a head of ginger hair easily discernible in a crowded antique street market. She would color red curls gently blowing beside the endless expanse of a clear blue shoreline. She would highlight fiery long waves accented by rays of a warm sun.

(She would also make sure to paint cherry lips popping against sun-kissed and freckled skin.)

Orange.

Beca swears everything in Nice, France naturally glows. The streets, the people, the buildings. Everything is a happy byproduct of large volumes of soaked sun, because no matter the time of day, she is sure to find something tinted with a hue of orange. A hue of liveliness.

Right now it happens to be a post-explosion ship, smokey and orange, glowing before a dark sky. But there is also Chloe. Huddled in a wool blanket, her face delicately subdued, Beca also sees Chloe glow. Beca has seen Chloe before, but right now there is an aura of orange radiating around her.

Beca marks the image in her mind. Chloe -alive, breathing, calm- glows orange.

Yellow.

Beca feels like DJ Khaled’s team took debuting her as a new star a little too literally.

The jacket they gave her is more than yellow. It is gold. It shines, and it sparkles. And the decorative threading of the skirt hugging her waist is just as golden, shining and sparkling.

Beca is certain if someone vaulted her out of a cannon, she could easily be mistaken for a shooting star, because really… there is so much yellow. So much gold.

With the spotlight shining down on her as she stands in the middle of the stage, Beca briefly wonders if yellow is even her color, but then Chloe is smiling up at her, and Beca smiles back, and damn the swelling in her chest is reminding her of another time.

Another time when Beca sits on a stage.

Another time when Chloe smiles enthrallingly.

Another time when yellow is a part of her performance.

And huh. Beca guesses yellow makes sense. Especially when the way Chloe is looking at her now makes her feel like gold.

Green.

Green is not really a color that pops on Beca’s radar.

Even if most of the natural world is green, Beca is something of a hermit, mostly staying inside and working in front of a mixing board or laptop, so green is not a color she sees on the regular.

Outside of Barden and graduation, green really means nothing to her.

Before right now.

Because right now, green is all Beca sees. Green is all she feels.

Chloe is kissing Chicago, and damn Beca wishes she did not need to experience this moment to understand why the jealousy monster is green.

She is swirling with envy and a little bit of anger, because really? Chicago is kissing a girl like Chloe and that’s all he can manage?

Beca wants to throw down. She feels almost hulk-ish. If this were a comic book, the next few frames would show you Beca’s skin turning green and her clothes beginning to shred. She is fueled by envy. She is channeling green-monster friends.

Maybe that’s why her feet are suddenly striding forward.

Blue.

Blue is the last thing Beca sees. Right before she closes her eyes, right before lips come crashing into hers, Beca is once more captured by bright, brilliant blue.

It is Beca’s favorite color. Beca’s favorite shade.’

Almost all of Beca’s favorite memories feature this specific blue. And this moment is no exception - surely going to top the list - because this blue is Chloe blue.

It is a blue that encourages Beca to smile, sends her off to dream, steals her breath away, and makes her feel seen.

No other blue makes Beca feel enamored quite like this blue.

This blue is one of a kind.

This blue is unique.

This blue, Beca hopes, will be hers to keep.

(Based on the way Chloe is trying to lift Beca’s leg up to wrap around her waist, Beca thinks Chloe might just let her.)

Indigo...

To be honest, Beca has no idea how to differentiate indigo and violet. Also, she’s a little too preoccupied to care.

If you must know though, the glimpses she caught of the carpet in the hotel hallway leading up to her hotel room might have some indigo. Beca’s not entirely sure.

And the painting of the flower right above her bed could be violet, but she’ll get back to you tomorrow.

Not like she owes you an explanation, but Beca has a lot of Chloe to explore, and she is going to be making use of more than just her sense of sight to do it.

#pp3meme #bechloe #bechloe fic #this is honestly trash #are you happy #beca-mitchell #??#pitch perfect 3 #my writing

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nothisis-ridiculous · 3 years

Text

Take Me Home Now: Chapter Four

Chapter Four: But You See, it's Not Me

Set after the events of ME3.

A rewrite. Ao3.

FemShepxKaidan

"Get down! Get down! Get down!" Jane screamed as she charged across the field.

The blast rippled through the air, a torrent of flame following imperceptibly behind it, and with that sudden friction came the force of the explosion. Rubble, stones, dust, and ash flung across the square seconds after the detonation. Terse silence, then relief.

"Recruit!" the Lieutenant called, emerging from behind the barrier, "holy hell, Recruit?"

He scanned the intersection, frowning as the haze of ash obscured his vision. But it wasn't long before coughing guided him forward to his curled-up Recruit. One now covered in ash and with a few extra gashes but seemingly no worse for the wear. Those bright blue eyes looking more out of place against the black and grey backdrop of soot and crimson.

"I think we played that one a little close," he wavered on the humorous tone. Fighting their own wasn't comfortable for most soldiers, even if they had made it abundantly clear they were the enemy.

Jane grinned up at him, "I usually am not the charge setter. I just like the boom."

Fair enough. Perhaps he should have never questioned her mettle, the woman chomped on the bit to destroy this outpost the second she saw the gem-like logo tagged on the side of the building. Roy knew she had killed other humans since the Reapers were defeated, but seeing her ease at doing so in person was another matter. Most of his men, and himself, balked at the idea after weeks of working together against the Reaper threat. Now it was over -it felt sacrilegious to kill another member of his race... it was the first time he had killed another man. But here Jane was, taking it in stride, almost seeming to take it with gayety he couldn't fathom.

"That must be the human with the quad," for a hulking creature, the Krogan leader could be quite mellow at times, for what was expected out of him.

Strangely enough, Jane didn't share that same sentiment. She cowed in her own way, backing from the open hand that Wrex offered to her. Wrex instead lifted her by the arm, pulling the female in for closer inspection. The red eyes roved over her face and features, looking for something that he ultimately decided was not there. The Krogan set her down with a gentle jostle.

"Heh, I must still have my charm."

His recruit fought a wistful smile.

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

The cold night air prickled her skin, raising the fine hairs across her forearm. Her gaze followed it down and to the ground in the space between her crossed legs. It felt less immense looking at this space rather than up at the terrible presence that loomed over her—waiting to devour her.

"How does it feel to be invisible?" the mechanical voice now a caress gently easing into her thoughts, "those you called friends can't recognize you anymore."

She wasn't invisible, just tired. Scared. Lonely. Lost. Everything the Commander didn't feel.

"What is the legendary Commander without biotics? Fodder."

Each attempt she had made had wound up in her losing time. Each subsequent try meant more time and a migraine that intensified. If the migraine ever truly left the lingering stage, but it was something she knew better than to complain about. Nobody needed a reason to worry about her or find another reason to treat her like an outsider. That she couldn't complain about, she hadn't tried hard to be friendly. Instead preferring to remain on the periphery.

"Or is the legend of Shepard over? The husk that you are can't compare."

Or was it easier to relax? To let the burden fade from her shoulders? The crushing weight of everyone's hopes had been too much. Sleepless nights, nightmares, and anxiety permeated every aspect of the Commander's life. Questioning if she had done enough for the war effort, the sewage of her worries toxifying each moment of peace. Guilt over her time in Cereberus still proving to be a hurdle in any reconciliation of her being a basically good person.

It was a little easier being Jane. Not much was expected of her.

"Or are you the vessel of her guilt? The long-overdue penance for her crimes."

Most saw Shepard as the hero. But only because they didn't see the evils she had caused. Colonies. Planets. Friends. Synthetics. Her unit on Akuze. All gone because of her choices. Nobody had time during the war to examine the consequences of her actions. Would they not see them if Shepard simply died on the Citadel? The blame left to some figure that had at least the good sense to atone by dying for the galaxy?

It didn't make her choices better.

But it was less blame to assign to her.

"Whatever you are now isn't worthy of being deemed 'Savior.' You rejected your friend because you feared the face he would see, the nothing you are now."

"I see we're revisiting Harold," the warm voice a sudden break from the cold metallic," I don't understand it, this thing gives me the heebie-jeebies."

Roy's hand on her shoulder a strange grounding back into reality, back into the frigid night air. Her head turned to glance at him, as usual, he softly smiled, amber eyes viewing her with a hint of concern. A familiarity that thawed some of her walls.

"It's also freezing out here, but leave it up to you to be sitting out here. Alone," the chuckle arriving before his teasing, "brooding."

Jane huffed.

Roy's finger stroked the underside of her newest scar that ran along her chin; it was a curious thing with a slight glow, "you need to get this thing checked."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Finally, some respect."

"Don't let it fool you."

The LT sighed heavily in return, turning his head to the Reaper with a reflexive frown," Now, tell the Recruit to stay put for a moment."

Jane hadn't intended to move, but welcomed the checkered blanket that was placed tenderly around her shoulders all the same. Roy placed himself facing her, blocking out the view of the Old Machine. A green bottle finding its way into her hands.

"I can't take this."

"You're not taking it. You're helping me drink beer," he returned smoothly. Extending out his own drink in a toast.

"Well, what do you suggest?" her favorite person murmured. His eyes darting over her lips, but they only ever rested on her eyes. Inviting; her call to calm.

"I can't think of anything better than this moment right now," Mary lost her fight to keep his gaze, her cheeks dusting in red. The possibility of this vulnerable moment turning reared in her head.

"Shepard," Kaidan purred against her lips, pulling her form flush into him, "Shepard."

He didn't move to push the feathery kisses into serious territory, instead enjoying the closeness the two of them rarely got to enjoy. This openness was the prime offering, the exposed throat to be protected. Even rewarded in a way Mary wouldn't see as patronizing.

"Kaidan," Mary muttered, his name dropping as her vocal cords seized.

Kaidan would wait as many beats as she needed.

"This feels almost normal."

His rumbling laugh came fluidly, "what do I need to do to make this normal, normal? Besides ridding the universe of the Reapers, and singlehandedly wiping out Cerebrus."

The Commander considered it for a long moment, "you know that really uncomfortable position where I lay on your arm? I think that would feel more normal."

"Alright, Shepard," Kaidan returned with a grin, scooching both of them awkwardly until he laid on his side and Mary's head rested on his forearm, "anything else?"

The woman grinned bashfully, "no."

"Because you forgot the crappy vid, but it doesn't matter; we wouldn't have watched it anyway," his finger traced across the ridge of her nose.

"Why? Would we too busy, getting busy?"

He laughed again, "maybe. But you don't like to be still that long. You know, you'd have to learn to sit down and watch a vid with me one day."

"If you could refrain from making comments the entire time," Mary retorted smugly.

"Heh." There was a hesitation.

"If you've got something to say to me, Alenko."

His finger gently drew lines between the paths of her freckles, formulating the right words and deciding on a path between his hopes, "sounds like you are planning on keeping me around."

"I-," the sole thing keeping her head from turning away was the hand that cupped her cheek, "I'd like to learn to be normal with you. To have a regular life... with you. Christmases, birthdays... fucking Easter."

Kaidan knew he grinned like an idiot, his cheeks hurting from the width of his smile.

"Hey, kid, you look a little lost there," Roy called, snapping his fingers.

"Oh," she put the bottle to her lips, the somewhat warm liquid coating her mouth, "sorry."

He shrugged nonchalantly, taking his own generous sip. Overlooking the woman curiously.

"LT, I appreciate this, but," Jane struggled with the words, with the absolute coldness she was displaying, "why are you doing this?"

"It's Christmas," Roy stated simply.

So it was, "I'm sure you have better company. Even others that had invited-"

"I did, but don't make this isn't all about you," Roy had his own troubles. Most of them the people that clamored for his attention. Jane wasn't like that, he found her near hostility refreshing. A good break from the worries of being a caretaker for everyone in the building before him. Jane didn't ask for anything. "I am still not convinced I was the one most suitable to speak with that Krogan, Wrex. You seemed to get on with them."

"You got it done."

"We had an unlikely connection, and he's a reasonable person."

Jane shook her head, twisting and opening up her palms in a dismissive motion. Apparently, that was that and a done deal. Returning them to silence.

"I am curious, how does one know so much about aliens, guns, and farming?" He pressed after a moment. The finding of her knowledge of crops was the most surprising thing to learn about her to date. Not that she had deemed to share this openly; instead, he caught it by chance as the Salarian and the Recruit brainstormed the best irrigation and propagation methods with their limited supplies.

Jane's cheeks flushed, even in the dim light, "ahh, I had mentioned my parents were colonists, just not that they were farmers. I'm not an expert or anything. Being a teenager when they died, I had little real interest in it."

"And the aliens?" He wisely pushed away from the subject, already seeing the hints of her recoil. The bobbing of her throat becoming a recognizable tic.

"My postings saw me in diplomatic positions. I spent a considerable amount of time on the Citadel and visited most of the homeworlds of the major council species," Jane glanced to her right, a soft smile spreading on her face.

All considered this was a fucked time to be smiling. Upon further consideration, visiting wasn't the proper term either, she had been there to try and break a siege or to deal with some Reaper-related threat. The smile arose because of the memories of her crewmates, former and well... they were all former now.

"How did you end up so lucky?"

"Some hard work, but mostly luck," her expression darkened before returning to a neutral state.

He had so many more questions. But she had her reasons for not divulging further, for reasons nefarious or more likely classified, Jane kept mum. Pushing her further could only end in retreat.

"Any other fun talents you want to tell me about?"

"Nothing that entertaining," Jane chuckled, "though I'd like to know how you managed to stash beer."

Roy returned the chuckle with a wink, "my secret, Recruit."

"Fine," she smirked, "but what about you? I know you served, but what did you do before this?"

"I own an orchard. I used to be more involved with it. But as men my age do, we like to retire to a quiet life."

"So much for that," Jane murmured, earning another toast with the LT, "any family?"

"Yeah, an old lady, somewhere back home," Roy grew wistful, "I have a kid, too. Somewhere."

Jane knew that tone, the somberness a feeling she was only too familiar with. Much as he never asked about her troubles, she returned the favor. Most had lost something, if not everything in this short but brutal war.

The man picked himself up as he finished his beer, stashing both bottles into a pile of rubble to retrieve later.

"You should come back inside for dinner, word and smell is that someone made actual bread. Rolls."

Roy offered out his hand.

#mass effect fanfiction #shenko #female shepard x kaidan #mass effect spoilers #fancition #take me home #mass effect #kaidan alenko #shep x kaidan

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awesomerextyphoon · 3 years

Text

A Warrior’s Heart | Phase 1: Welcome - 2

Girls’ Night

Summary: Ife begins her first ‘mission’ with the help of her friends.

Warnings: Swearing, Excessive Partying, Some Angst

Rating: Explicit/18+

Word Count: 4,145

Main Pairing: Stucky x Black!OFC (Ifekerenma ‘Ife’)

Characters: Ifekerenma, Wanda, Natasha, and Ife’s friends

A/N: I’m sorry that it’s been a while since my last chapter. Please practice self-care, everyone! Also, thanks to everyone who has given me feedback. Dividers were created by the wonderful @firefly-graphics! Check them out!

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

<<Previous

(late May 2015)

“Ah, that hits the spot!” Ife moaned as she submerged into her heated circular indoor pool.

So far the team has treated her well enough given how her first 24 hours went. No one had any major negative emotional echoes coming off of them and they even talked to her, especially Steve and Sam.

Her first mission was mostly a success.

The team was able to stop and apprehend the Macedonian weapons smuggler, Branko Stojanoski, before he made it to Paris with HYDRA/Chitauri stockpiles.

One would think that would be enough, but it left Ife with more questions. Why did some of the weapons look like Magitech? Why did one of the female combatants feel like more than human, like Natasha?

She needed to inform Eliza.

After Ife finished her R&R, she made her way to the Common Room only to find Wanda practicing her powers while flying. Well, trying to anyway.

Ife had always felt that Wanda’s methods were lacking which made sense. Both Wanda and Pietro got their powers ten months ago when Strucker and HYDRA experimented on them. They’ve never really had the chance to practice, surrounded either by vicious idiots or well-meaning comrades who were seriously out of their depth.

Perhaps she would be the best place to start.

Wanda was trying to levitate herself while taking apart the steel cube again with no luck. She couldn’t get herself in the ‘right mindset’ which was just aw well since she was always surrounded by chaos.

Their parents tried to shield both her and Pietro from the chaos outside their sanctuary of the apartment building. She even had friends in Angelika and Emil. They would pretend that they were exploring an enchanted forest and other fairy tale adventures. Pietro would join in when coaxed by Angelika (Wanda knew he liked her).

They were in their own little paradise...until the bombs came.

Wanda just got back from playing with Angelika and the music box that she got for her tenth birthday. Her mother was preparing Pietro’s favorite dinner when they heard the blaring of alarms and evacuation orders. Her father hurried them to the door, but their mother forgot to turn off the oven. He went back for her when the mortar shell hit their home.

Both of their parents died instantly. She and Pietro huddled together under the table for dear life when the second bomb landed four meters in front of them. They were in that position for two days wondering if the rescue efforts would sign their death warrants, all while glowering at the words engraved on the missile.

STARK INDUSTRIES

When the rescuers finally got them out, they found out that they were the only ones to survive the bomb raids. One of the rescuers handed Wanda Angelika’s music box thinking it was hers.

They attended their first Anti-US Imperialism protest three weeks later.

––––––––––

Years passed and Wanda would sporadically spare a thought for her parents, Emil and Angelika. She kept wondering what they would do if they were in her place. Somedays the only she could remember Angelika was when she played the music box.

One day, a man simply known as List approached them after yet another protest of a craven leader. List said that he could give them the power to end all the revolutions and strife in Sokovia.

Frustrated with the lack of progress, she and Pietro agreed to the experiments along with 212 other volunteers. Once again, they were the only ones to survive.

List and Strucker subjected them to painful and demeaning ‘tests of strength’ not two days after they received their powers.

Both their hatred for HYDRA and their yearning to be free grew in the coming months. She almost gave up, until one day in early March when the Avengers finally found the base.

This was their chance.

–––––––

It wasn’t hard to plant a seed of chaos into Tony Stark. He already had one foot in the proverbial hero’s grave already. To be honest, she was surprised at how quickly the Avengers turned on each other. Witnessing their inner anguish was just desserts.

The problem was that it worked too well.

Sure, it was fair game to go after Tony, but Bruce? In retrospect, setting the Hulk loose on Istanbul was a low blow.

And Seoul….where to begin.

As soon as she caught a glimpse of the mass extinction Ultron desired, she knew they fucked up big time.

She and Pietro only wanted the Avengers and the US to fall, not wipe out all life on Earth! They knew that they had to swallow their pride and hate if Earth wasn’t going to have an unexpected turn of events (i.e. everything going the way of the Dodo).

Thankfully, the total death count was three (especially since reports put the worst-case scenario at least 15,000).

Although sometimes Wanda wondered if her drive for revenge was worth it.

“Hi, Wanda! How’s it going?”

Wanda snapped out of her thoughts and turned around to find Ife with a warm smile.

She didn’t know what to think of Ife at first. Okay, besides the fact that she consumed enough food to feed a village in under two hours, she was kind. More importantly, she feared neither her nor her brother. She started cooking for the team and staff (turned out she’s what Sam calls a ‘supreme chef’), and would answer questions they had about non-humans. It’s just that something seemed amiss about her and the way she answered the questions like she’s hiding something.

Wanda returned the smile, “Not much.” Just trying to get a simple task done.

Ife pressed her lips together in contemplation, “I was wondering if you would like some help training. I’ve seen you practice by yourself and,” she hesitated for few seconds, ”well I figured you would like some help, or at least the company.”

“I would like that.”

“Great! Give me ten minutes.” And with that, Ife flew out of the room.

“Okay, this is a magic gauge. Homo Magi and other Non-Humans use it to see where a person is power-wise.” Ife explained as Wanda approached the peculiar object.

The gauge was made of glass (at least Wanda hoped it was glass), double-gourd in shape with floral engravings.

It glowed Venetian Red with the intensity increasing the closer Wanda got. The glow’s color quickly turned Burnt Maroon then Red Ink once she touched it. Soon she felt a pull from the gauge as if it was reaching into her mind. Her anxiety flared up and Ife pulled her out of the way as the gauge exploded.

“Well, um...do you want to take a break and continue tomorrow? I’m so sorry about that, Wanda.”

“It’s alright. I’ll see you around dinner.”

“Okay.”

“So, um how to put this...we might have a problem,” Ife stated as her friend group met virtually to discuss what to do for Girl’s Night.

“What is it, Ife?” Ashtoreth asked.

“Did they find out about your room? Or about the time when-”

“Okay, Djamila,” Itzel interjected, “Please continue.”

Ife shot Itzel a grateful grin, “Thanks ltzel. So you know how Eliza Maza tasked me with aiding the Avengers?”

“Yeah, so they can help us in the future? Figured someone from BNA would ask ya. Didn’t think it would be so soon.” Azeneth noted.

“Makes sense, they’ve been trying to get in with them for years now-” Mayumi started.

“Back to the direct topic at hand, is it possible that a few of you could help Wanda Maximoff?”

“The new Homo Magi that has the Magic Council up in arms?” Marama guessed as Ife grabbed the footage from earlier.

“Yeah. Take a look at this. I think we might have a problem on our hands.”

Ife watched as her friends’ expressions shifted from mild amusement to sad and worried. Except for Djamila and Gulmira, they had a good chuckle.

“I think Wanda has an affinity towards chaos magic, specifically reality-warping and possibly Hex Bolts. She might have more, I couldn’t tell. She’s more powerful than the Magic Council originally guessed. Although, that’s not the problem here.”

“She’s mentally and emotionally unstable,” Nermin stated.

“Right to the point, I see,” Marjani commented while examining her fingernails.

“Exactly. I fear that she may become a danger to herself and the planet.”

“And all of BNA’s hard work goes up in flames. So, what do you want to do, Ife?”

Ife bit her thumbnail in contemplation, “We have to train her. I can show her some of the basics, but the rest of us will have to train Wanda before she hurts herself. She’s barely making it on her own and let’s face it, no one else here knows fuck all about magic .”

“Hot in looks but clueless when it comes to magic and Non-Human affairs.”

“I wouldn’t say completely clueless, Azeneth.” Ife corrected, “I showed them ‘The Basic Bitch’s Guide’ and I’ve answered any basic question regarding Non-Humans. They’re not up to speed on BNA, but at least they know about dragons, yokai, and the Fae.”

“Ok. So, it’s safe to say that you’ll be keeping a tight lid on the UA, right?”

Ife sighed and offered Marama a small frown, “Yes. And it would be best that you do as well. Please?”

“No problem, Ife.” Ashtoreth assured her while the rest of the group nodded,” Now that we’ve settled the Wanda Matter, What are we going to do in celebration of Xiomara’s grand opening?”

Several days passed and Wanda was making great progress in her magical studies with Ife (after Ife promised to make it up to her). She was getting the hang of levitation and flight as well as basic Magical Energy Manipulation in the form of force fields, telekinesis, illusions, and some basic spells.

It was nice to not have to rely on her anger nearly as much. Though she couldn’t access Ife’s mind. Not that she meant to, it was an accident.

Maybe in time, Ife will let her.

“Hey, Wanda. I was wondering,” Ife bit her thumbnail as she’s want to do, “Do you want to come to Girl’s Night with me this Saturday? One of my friends, Xiomara, just founded and opened her own design studio! The rest of us wanted to celebrate. I figured it would a great chance to introduce you to my friend group and have some time away from the Compound.”

Wanda lowered her head in thought. It would be nice to meet Ife’s friends and connect with individuals who don’t fear her. Getting off the Compound would be a great bonus.

“Sure. On one condition: Natasha has to come as well.”

“Okay.”

After asking (slight begging) Natasha to join them for Girls’ Night, the trio agreed to meet outside of Ife’s quarters around 6:30 PM.

Natasha gently grabbed one of Wanda’s hands, “Relax, It’ll be fine.”

“I know. It’s just-”

At that moment, Ife stepped out into the hallway looking well, strikingly different. She was wearing a gold and sapphire mid-thigh length African wax print dress done in detailed petal designs. Most of her long Midnight Purple hair was in a single braid with a high, single wrap around the back of the head and a single row of gold bands down the middle of her scalp that she divided into three parts with a comb.

It was nice and a little weird seeing her outside of her uniform and tactical gear. She looked gorgeous!

“You came!” Ife beamed as she gave Wanda and Natasha a hug, “You look lovely,” she added noting their attire. Natasha was sporting a Faux Leather Mini Skirt with a Wine colored deep v-neck top. Wanda was dressed in a Spartan Crimson Deep V Bodice Satin Short A-Line dress.

“You look ravishing! You should be out of your normal gear more often!” Natasha praised as Ife frowned ever so slightly.

“Well, aren’t you going to let us in?” Wanda asked sensing Ife’s discomfort.

“Of course! Come in.” And with that, Ife welcomed the two heroines into her ‘apartment’.

“You do realize that we’re having our Girls’ Night in your room from now on, right?” Natasha insisted as she and Wanda entered Ife’s living quarters.

“I figured,” Ife muttered as she turned to look at her teammates, “I know I sound like an asshole for asking this, but could you not tell the others yet?”

“Well, you agreed to let us frequent the room for our own Girls’ Night, so yes.” Wanda decided as the trio came to stop in front of a 20ft (6.1m) spherical door with an Art Nouveau design.

“Okay. Let me put in the codes and we’ll be on our way.”

“Make sure to get all the characters this time, Ife. You don’t’ want them to wait for 30 minutes like last time.” A pretty deep, easy-going masculine voice chimed in.

“What-” Wanda started.

“Oh, that’s BEBOP, my AI. He’s like FRIDAY or JARVIS, but cooler.”

“A lot cooler,” the voice said before materializing in front of the women,” Let’s try this again. Technically, my name is BEBOP, but you can call me Spike.” The holographic man was tall (6’4” / 1.93m), lean and athletic in build, had a fluffy mop of dark green hair, light brown eyes, and wore a navy blue leisure suit with the sleeves rolled up.

“So you created Spike?”

“I made BEBOP, but he named himself Spike,” Ife explained as she tried her darnedest to enter the codes before Spike embarrassed her.

“She also has six patents for-”

“Got it! After you, ladies.” Ife announced as the door glowed Pale Gold and opened in a spiral motion.

The door opened to a coffee shop that wouldn’t be out of place in the ‘hipster corner’ of an urban neighborhood.

“Hello. What can I do for you three?” The barista greeted as they raised their head out of the book they were reading and smiled at the trio.

Ife glanced at the chalkboard menu, “I would like a medium Lemongrass Twilight Tea please.”

The barista’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly, “Seems strange for the season.”

“I know, but one should enjoy the simple things in life while they last.”

The barista seemed to like Ife’s reply because Wanda heard the ding of an elevator to her left.

“Enjoy your evening ladies.” The barista said as Ife dropped $100 into the tip jar.

The elevator was a lot bigger on the inside with its interior having a modern Victorian design.

“What’s wrong?” Ife asked as the elevator’s doors closed behind her.

“Nothing.” Natasha replied as she did a quick scan to see if any ‘funny business’ was about to go down.

“Relax and enjoy the ride,” Ife assured as the elevator started to speed up its descent after a few minutes.

The elevator’s interior got larger and larger until a voice announced that the elevator would be entering ‘Pod Mode’. Automated controls and windows started forming at the front and sides of the now morphed elevator interior.

“You might want to strap in,” Ife advised as three seats formed from the now pod floor.

The pod paused in its descent and accelerated forward on what seemed to be high-speed rail tracks.

Wanda looked out the windows in awe as she started to see a floating light, then a floating landmass, then buildings Wanda only saw in fantasy/sci-fi novels and concept art.

“Welcome to Nephetz, ladies,” Ife announced sensing Wanda’s wonder and Natasha’s subtle amusement.

Hopefully, they’ll like her friends.

Twenty minutes after Ife made her soft announcement, the trio arrived at the number one club in Nephetz, Zenaida.

Ife walked up to the bouncer, a troll in sleek obsidian armor, and showed them her invite.

“Welcome to Zenaida, ladies.” the bouncer greeted them as Ife led her fellow Avengers past the threshold.

Wanda gasped at what was before her.

The club’s interior was massive, to say the least. The first thing to hit her was the giant floating orb over the center of the dance floor. It had stage lights shooting out pinks and light blues orbiting around it like satellites and what looked to be five women dancing on a stage about 33’ (10.1m) above the orb. A DJ stage was set in the far left of the dance floor with sparkling mist flowing beneath it. Around the dance floor was a body of water containing spectacular coral reefs and grottos with what seemed to be mermaids, tritons, nymphs, and Aquatic Atlanteans dancing in it. Above the main dance floor were 25 floating islands with magically sustained clouds underneath them. All around the club were glowing orbs much smaller than the one above the dance floor.

All in all, it was probably the coolest place Wanda’s ever seen.

“Ife! Finally, you’re here!” a tall, dark-haired woman in a black PU Jumpsuit with a maroon oak crop jacket walked up and pulled Ife into a short hug.

“Salam, Nermin! I see you’ve made it early.” Ife remarked as Nat softly elbowed her upper arm.

“Right! Nermin, these are my teammates, Natasha Romanova and Wanda Maximoff. Natasha, Wanda, this is Nermin Ozana Negrescu. She was the one who helped me in Novi Grad.”

Nermin held out her hand, “It’s a pleasure to meet you both! Ife has told us much about you.”

“Good things I hope.” Nat prodded as she shook Nermin’s hand.

“The best,” Ife assured.

“Well, we have one of the VIP Islands for Xio’s bash. Let’s go!” Nermin announced as a self-driving group hoverboard descended in front of them.

“All aboard!”

The floating island had about 40 people lounging around different tables and booths with the largest one having 17 people around it.

“Ife!” The island’s occupants cheered when the hoverboard dropped off the group.

“Late again, I see,” a woman in a Cardin Green asymmetrical maxi dress with a plunging V-neckline, padded shoulders, and long sleeves.

“I know, I know. Husna, I already got it from Nermin at the entrance. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry, Ife. We know.” Husna reassured Ife as they made their way to the big table.

“Everyone,” Ife announced making the table’s occupants turn their heads, “Sorry I’m late,” everyone groaned, “I know. But, I would like you all to meet two of my new teammates, Natasha Romanova and Wanda Maximoff.”

Everyone on the island crowded around the duo effectively pushing Ife to the sidelines.

Wanda felt it was a bit surreal meeting Ife’s friends. All of them looked happy to see her, not the mixed looks of fear, hatred, and disgust that most people (outside the team) would give her.

{{Ife sure has a lot of friends.}} Wanda thought almost bitterly.

Ife’s friends, or ‘crew’ as she calls them, were an eccentric group of demigoddess, Fae, Homo Magi, Homo Superius, Demons, Jinn, Orcs, and Succubae.

Their names were: Caterina IsmeneMetaxas, Itzel Erna Alondra Losnedahl (Arnesdottir), Batari Moon, Thiri Rajvir Sharma, Marama Zehra Arslan-Avci, Ashtoreth Marceline Sabah-Faucher, Nermin Ozana Negrescu, Djamila Ijebusomma Ngozika Amantea, Azeneth Esperanza Zoraida Ramirez, Gulmira Eriayomi Hendrix, Mayumi Filippovna Lebedeva, Marjani Subira Xun, Husna Meadhra Al-Hashim, Astridr Kara Signe Losnedahl (Bjørnsdottir), Xiomara Ekundayo Jimenez, Aghavni Jamshidi, and Lakshmi Hamasaki.

((Here are the face claims for Ife’s friends))

When she got past the ethereal glitz and glamour, Wanda realized that these women were quite funny and nerdy, like Ife.

Maybe her heart had room for a few more friends.

“I can see why you’re worried.” Azeneth stated as she and Ife were watching Wanda being the center of attention, “I can feel her anxiety from the threshold.”

“I know. Do you think you can help her?”

“We talked about her before you arrived. Djamila, Nermin, Nazaret, and I will train her if she’ll have us.”

“I’m sure she’ll have you. Thanks, Azeneth.”

“No problem. Although, there has been talk amongst the Magic Council about her. Strange is doing his best, but there are others who want to bring Wanda in.”

Ife frowned remembering the Magic Council’s need for control. This wouldn’t be the first time her crew has ruffled a few of their feathers.

“So, did BNA find anything about the Magitech info I sent them?” Ife asked in reference to the Branko assignment.

“Nothing yet, I’m afraid. It seems that HYDRA’s not dead just yet.”

Ife pressed her lips together in annoyance,” Thanks anyway.”

Azeneth noted Ife’s choice of words,” It looks like it’s time for the toasts.”

“To Xiomara! May all your dreams be fulfilled and the well of your creativity never runs dry!” Caterina proclaimed to the crowd.

“Here, Here!” the crowd cheered as everyone down another shot of Zenaida’s House Fireballs (Nat and Wanda had a lighter version).

“To Xio Labs!” Djamila shouted as the crowd downed another round of Fireballs and Xiomara got up to speak.

“Thank you, everyone! It has been a rough couple of years, but it was worth it. And with your support, it will be glorious!” Xiomara exclaimed to thunderous applause and the raising of glasses.

“Alright, time to dance!” Lakshmi trumpeted as she, Djamila, and Marjani coaxed everyone to the dance floor.

“Don’t worry, I’ll follow,” Ife reassured Wanda and Natasha when they noticed her hanging back on the VIP Island.

Ife flew down to the dance floor once everyone else got off their VIP Island. She found Lakshmi up to her usual shenanigans (flirting with a female Undine). Wanda was dancing with Batari, Aghavni, Djamila, and Gulmira while finally easing her nerves (that’s a win in her book).

A couple of guys tried to flirt with Wanda, but Batari and Gulmira shooed them away.

Ife spied Natasha checking out Renata Labriola, a drider, in her human form.

Ife’s plan seemed to be working perfectly.

“So, are you ready to let loose?”

Ife groaned as she awoke on a super comfy couch. She didn’t remember what happened after that question was asked. It was probably Djamila getting back at her for Spring Break.

“Figures she would do that,” Ife muttered to herself as the Woman of the Hour waltzed into the room with Natasha and Wanda in tow.

“Nice to see that you’re awake,” Djamila stated in a sing-song manner that made Ife want to throw a pillow at her.

In good fun of course.

“Neat.” Ife deadpanned followed by a mirthless chuckle when Djamila pointed to the time.

“You looked and felt pretty tense during the toasting so I gave you a gentle push to loosen you up a bit. It worked and you were the center of the dance floor for about an hour, flew up and danced on the platform above the orb, made-”

“Okay, okay. I get it.” Ife interrupted too embarrassed to know what happened next.

“Fine,” Djamila raised her hands up in submission, “After your escapades, you and your teammates were wiped and I had the three of you crash at my place for a few hours.”

“Thanks, Djamila.”

“Just so you know, now we’re even.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Ife grumbled as she got her things.

“Okay, let’s head back.”

The trio passed the way back in relative silence, but a peaceful one instead of the stereotypical hangover groans and slight shame.

“How did you find last night?” Ife asked as they stepped into her quarters.

“It was great,” Wanda stated, happy that she found people who weren’t afraid of her. Perhaps she could ask Ife if they could help her with her powers.

Ife could hear the emotional echoes of excitement from Wanda and smiled knowing that she succeeded in her plans so far.

“That good. One more thing,” Ife paused, not knowing how to phrase the next bit of information,” the portal uses a time manipulation spell (and some other stuff) and well, the 15 hours we spent in Nephetz was about three hours on the Compound. Just wanted to let you know.”

“Right, good night, Ife.” Nat said as Ife led them to the door.

“Hey, Nat can I ask you something?” Ife queried when Wanda passed the threshold.

“Shoot.”

Ife pressed her lips together in contemplation, “Does the rest of the team know you’re 80 years old?”

*-Elsewhere-*

“How is our Danica faring?” A woman in black asked.

“She’s doing well, better than we expected.” A voice replied from the shadows.

“Good. Has Kaecillius and his team dealt with the Magic Council yet?”

“Not yet, Mistress. Though Jon Canmore has gotten his own show on CNN and Maximus has procured enough Terrigen Crystals for our plans.”

“I see. Have our allies in the Inter-Realm Parliament be informed of our progress.”

“Yes, Mistress. One last thing, Our sources believe that the French Ambassador is on to our plans.”

The woman sighed, “Have Yelena handle him. We can’t leave anything to chance now.”

“Of course, Mistress.” The voice uttered and left.

They’ve put so much into this and they can’t fail. Not when they’re so close.

Next>>

Taglist: @giorno-plays-piano @lookiamtrying @jtargaryen18 @sapphirescrolls @jobean12-blog @sweeterthanthis @gotnofucks @mculibrary @saiyanprincessswanie @golden-ariess @navegandoaciegas @stargazingfangirl18 @opheliadawnwalker3 @tilltheendwilliwrite @imanuglywombat @bucky-the-thigh-slayer @navybrat817 @anyatheladyclown @buckysbunny @nacho-bucky @donutloverxo @stephanieromanoff @threeminutesoflife @angrybirdcr @angrythingstarlight @chixkencxrry @hurricanerin @marvelfansworld

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cosmica-candy · 3 years

Text

Chapter Three: The Favored Realm

Another chapter written by @mechamastermind with illustrations done by yours truly for our Coraline NSR Au!! Sorry this one took a bit but I think you will all love this one!!

Chapter Two

Neo stood in the hallway, clutching his shirt as he stared up at the thing wearing his father’s face. Its lips formed a smile so perfect Neo could feel his spine trying to crawl away. The eye was the worst to look at. In place of a pupil, its one eye only had a single X in the middle of it. It spoke with such a soft tone.

“You’re just in time for Supper, dear.”

Neo could feel his stomach twist as it spoke with Nova’s voice, with his father’s voice. He took a step back out of fear, and asked it,

“Who are you?”

“Why, i’m your father, Neo.”

“You’re not my papa…” Neo took another step backwards, twisting the fabric of his shirt in his hands.

“No, i’m better for you than he is.”

“Why don’t you go fetch your daddy, Neo, he’s in his office working I bet.”

Neo began to slowly back away, going further back into the hallway that he found himself in as he tried to get away from whatever or whoever that was in the kitchen.

He stopped in the doorway to what in his house would be Neon’s office, and through a half open door he saw his Daddy sitting in his office, scribbling into a children's book with a rabbit on the cover. The Other Neon looked over at Neo and his eye lit up and softened, despite his eye having a large X in the middle of it, Neo felt comforted because it looked just like his Daddy. The other Neon held out a hand and said

“Neo! My boy… Come come, I just got done writing a new story for you, let’s read it together like we used to.”

Neo felt his heart stop a minute, it had been weeks since he got to read with Daddy, they were too busy with the move. Even the fear of the unfamiliarity of this place could not stop him as he walked over to his daddy’s knee, and get scooped up into his lap.

Neon wrapped his arms around him as he held out the book for them both to see.

“The Bunny and the Wolves den.”

“There once was a little bunny, who lived with his big bunny family. He was the smallest and youngest bunny of the bunch, and was loved by everyone. But one day the little bunny went wandering around the woods. When he hopped a little too far away from his burrow and found himself in a neck of the woods he didn’t know. He was approached by a giant bunny, the size of which he’d never seen before. It had big floppy ears and huge rabbit feet, Why he looked so friendly!! It had big soft eyes and large pointed teeth--”

The Other Nova called from the kitchen,

“Boys! Come on! Let’s dig into Dinner!”

Neo held his daddy’s hand as they walked back to the kitchen, and while he might not have his daddy’s eye, he still felt as warm and soft as the one he knew.

Other Neon pulled the chair out for Neo as they sat back down. Other Neon sat right beside Neo to reassure him, even as the Other Nova walked to the table and sat at the other end. On the table was a huge spread full of Neo’s favorite things to eat: Mashed potatoes on a train, seasoned chicken breasts, spinach with melted cheeses on top, and three trays of jello in three different colors. Even with all his suspicions Neo couldn’t bring himself to not eat, afterall it was all of his favorites. He dug in grabbing all he could and putting it on his plate and chowing down. Between chewing and swallowing he exclaimed,

“This is all so delicious! Thank you!” The polite boy with manners had to say, as Other Neon simply replied

“It’s hard to believe something that looks this good is true!!” There was a soft thud that came from under the table as Other Neon went down to rub his shin.

With Neo's plate cleaned of all the food he could eat, he patted his stomach, the mark of a good meal. The Other Nova clapped his hands together as he looked around the table,

“We should play a game!”

Neo looked up at his Other Papa, feeling his little body gasp as this man that looked like Nova asked to play a game with him. It had been so long it almost brought Neo to tears.

“A g-game?” He stuttered out as Other Nova leaned down and rubbed his hair,

“Yes my little one, a game! What kind of game would you like to play?”

As Neo looked around the kitchen, there had only been one game on his mind since his family had moved into this big mansion.

“Hide and seek?”

The other neon jumped a little in his seat from excitement, resting his cheek against his clasped hands,

“Oh that’s a lovely idea!!” He said, then leaning down to whisper into Neo’s ear.

“Make sure to hide real good.”

Another thud came from under the table as Other Neon went to rub his shin again. Other Nova glaring at him,

before turning back to Neo, his eye glinting with a shimmer as he told Neo,

“Hide and seek sounds like fun… I’ll give you a ten second head start.”

Neo didn’t know what compelled his legs to run so fast, it felt like his body went into a fearful escape mode while his mind was happy to play with his dad, but he sure did run fast.

Darting out of the kitchen and down the long twisting halls, he skirted across rugs and hardwood flooring nearly knocking over vases off tables as he found himself in the main living room. He looked over at the fireplace and thought it might be a good place, but one glance told him it was still hot from the glowing cinders in there. But across the room on the back wall was a large wardrobe, big enough for him to hide in! He giggled as he pulled the doors open and crawled inside, leaving a little crack open so he could peek out, and just as he crawled in he heard the Other Nova countdown to 1.

“3… 2… 1… Here I come~” Neo giggled again, he felt so happy again playing this game with his dad-- It… wasn’t his dad. But he was still happy. This one was nicer than his dad.

He heard Other Nova begin to slowly walk down the halls, as he was humming a tune that echoed through the big mansion. He was getting closer, Neo could feel his little heart beating in his chest from excitement. He was right at the entrance to the living room when Neo felt himself let out a little giggle, but as soon as it entered the room, neo reached up and covered his mouth out of fear. From the tiny crack that he could see out the wardrobe, he could see something so tall it hunched over in the house, many shades darker, details were hard to make out from the tiny sliver of visibility Neo had, but he could hear an unmistakable ticking coming from it as it walked in. Its clothes long, torn, as it looked like the night sky. This hulking thing walked over to the fireplace and knelt down by it, reaching into the still burning embers with its bare hands and digging apart the ashes. It was still humming. Neo could hear his heartbeat inside this wardrobe echoing out, and he let slip a tiny gasp.

The things head instantly snapping behind to stare at Neo, and through the crack he saw its eye, massive red and irritated with a shining splinter in the middle of the iris, and it was looking at him through the crack.

The instant it laid its eye upon him Neo curled into a ball and looked away. HIs heart beating so fast it felt like it was going to run out of his chest as he began to sing his Father’s song to make him feel safer.

“Night sky… Twinkling star… Listen to daddy… I’m never too far…” He got stuck on the first line as he was too scared to remember the rest… he heard giant footsteps shuffle towards him and the wardrobe as the doors were flung open.

“Aha! I found you my little one!” Neo looked up to the sound of his father’s voice once again, now seeing the shape of his papa, a giant soft man with a single eye looking down at him… it looked just like his Papa again, the only thing was its different Iris, the X.

“Wasn’t that fun my little one? Would you like to play again?” He asked him, as Neo reached up and wiped his eyes dry of his fearful tears.

“I… I think i’m tired… I want to sleep…”

“Alright Neo.” The Other Nova picked up the small boy and carried him up the stairs, Other Neon joining him as he stood by as Neo was tucked into the bed by the Shape of his Papa. Neo was tired, more exhausted than he thought he could be by his time here… The last thing he heard before he drifted off was the voice of his Papa telling him,

“Come back anytime, we’ll see you again~”

Elsewhere…

Nova was running around the house frantically, searching for his son that had been missing for hours at this point. No one had seen Neo, and Nova’s husband went running around outside to try and catch him. Nova’s mind raced with thousands of possibilities, not one of them good. He passed by neo’s room at least a dozen times, each one checking in to see if he’d be there, and each time of course, there was no son. Nova ran down the steps of the staircase and started heading towards the stairs to the basement neighbor, perhaps they had seen his boy. When he had suddenly heard a meow right by his head. He turned sharply and saw that sitting on the windowsill of Neo’s room was an Orange tabby cat with pink star filled eyes. Nova had never seen such a strange looking cat before, and certainly no one in the mansion owned a cat like that… and it was sitting on the window to neo’s room… Before he could question the cat he saw it walk under the window into Neo’s room, and Nova without realizing it called out after it,

“Wait!!” He said, chasing it into the house as he darted back to his sons room. And there he saw the most peculiar thing yet. His boy neo was just in his bed, perfectly tucked in as if done by his parents. The cat was nowhere to be seen, but Neo was safe and sound and in his sight… Even if Nova had a million questions.

#nsr #no straight roads #milkys art #neon j #dj subatomic supernova #neo #cora au

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darkestdesired · 4 years

Text

The Gladiators Prize

@bugmanor

Warning:Smut,Water sex,swearing,Felix being a sexy and clingy Beast,Poor little reader never stood a chance.

Request: NSFW Felix x Innocent/Shy S/o.

An:I am so so so sorry this is so late,I hope this is ok! It's been a while since I've written smut but i am kind of happy with how this came out.

Gladiators had always been my favorite thing to study in history class,they were usually more beast than man.The stories always ended two ways but always with death,Either the lion or the man were leaving that arena alive.

Most of the time it was the lion.

But i never thought I'd actually get the chance to meet one in real life,That was until i found out that my entire college history class was going to the city of Volterra to visit some of the many wonders it had to offer. I was absolutely stoked,i was living by myself and had been wanting to move there my whole life,I was even saving up and nearly had enough.Might as well see what it had in store for me.

The plane ride over was exhausting but i was so glad when our bus finally arrived,Mrs.Gillard whistled to get everyones attention."Alright everyone,our hotel rooms aren't ready yet so why don't you all check out the shops while we wait." There was a wave of relief filled sighs throughout the group causing her to roll her eyes.She was always such a mean woman. I wondered around next to a few shops before deciding to lean against the wall of an alley,pulling out my favorite book about gladiators and blocking out the ouside world.

"Hello there gorgeous,what is someone as stunning as you doing here all alone?" I heard a deep voice ask,Looking up my face heated up immediately as i saw the devilishly handsome man infront of me.He was like a giant compared to me,but he seemed a bit starstruck as well as our eyes met.

"I-I uh.." It was as if my brain had completely shut down,he didn't seem to mind though since he chuckled."Didn't mean to surprise you cara mia,I simply saw a living goddess and wished to introduce myself." He reached over and gently took my hand in his before bending down and making a show of keeping eyecontact as he kissed my knuckles."You smell absolutely heavenly my dear,and what might your name be?" He said in a gruff sultry voice causing my knees to grow weak. "My n-Name is (Y/n)" i said like the utter mess that i was. He smirked down at me and stepped closer,i dropped my book and tried to move back but i was already against the wall.He listed his arms and successfully trapped me between his hulking body and the brick,The cape he wore blocked me from view from the wondering people that walked around outside.

"Such a lovely name..(Y/n).." My name rolled off his tongue like it was his lifes mission to make me faint from bliss. "My name is Felix Volturi Cara Mia,I suggest you remember it." I gulped,"And why is that..?" His eyes chuckled as what sounded like the mix between a growl and purring erupted from his throat."Because you will be screaming it soon enough."

This is it..This is how i die,i thought as he leaned his face closer,his eyes dark with lust."You are mine.." He purred.Something in me urged me to let go and live in the moment,But the sound of one of my classmates yelling my name broke me out of my trance. With a flustered face i quickly moved his cape and dove under his arm,not even attempting to look at him in fear that i might fully lose control.

He watched as i ran out of the valley and out of sight,bending down he picked up my book.He sniffed the book and purred at my scent,He chuckled when he saw the title of the book."Mmm we are destined my little flower,You can not hide from me."

Tossing and turning in bed i huffed before sitting up,I had been lucky enough to not have a roomate,but even that joy couldn't suppress the events of the day.I couldn't get felix out of my head,I had never had someone so attractive talk to me before,and especially not like that.Thinking back on it he looked a lot like the gladiators in my book,if i didn't know any better i would have assumed he was one.

Realizing i wasn't going to be falling asleep anytime soon i decided a nice bath in the tub that seemed more like a pool compared to mine back home would get rid of the heated fantasies that brought a blush to my (S/c) cheeks,Tredding my way into the gorgeous bathroom i undressed on my way there,not even bothering to pick them up on the way, before hopping into the nice steamy water.

I guess that's why i didn't hear the sound of the window opening.

Felix sniffed the air,causing him to lick his lips when he could still smell the traces of my lust,he thanked the gods when he saw my cute but sexy black panties laying onthe floor.Not even hesitating he picking them up and breathed in my scent,barely stopping the growl that threatened to escape.He stuffed them into his pocket before getting undressed,setting his clothes on a chair.There he leaned against the doorframe and watched as i played with myself,i forgot to shut the bathroom door.Since the tub was round i sat with my back to him,Not even realizing the danger i was in.

Sighing in pleasure i added another finger to my tight pussy,"Ah..Mm...Felix..." I moaned. Biting my lip i leaned my head back against the edge of the bath."That's right,say my name again Cara mia." My eyes shot open and i saw Felix standing over me with a sly smirk. Gasping i quickly turned and sat on the other side ,Blushing furiously when i saw the state he was in. "Do not be frightened my love,I told you you are mine." He stepped into the tub until he was knelt between my thighs.

"H-How..How did you get in here..?" I asked,Shaking despite the warm water that engulfed me. He chuckled,"I have my ways,Now let us continue where we left off,Shall we?" Leaning in he captured my lips,he started off gently and waited as i froze with wide eyes.It only took a a few seconds before i melted in and began kissing him back.

From there the kiss got more and more heated,His strangely cold hands grazed at my fragile skin from my shoulders to my breasts,He swallowed my moans as he kneaded my breasts and piched my now perky nipples.My hands held on his braud shoulders for support,Knowing if i let go i would likely sink into the water. Pulling away he licked his lips hungrily as he saw my blazed out expression,"Look at you,So needy for your gladiator hm? Does the idea of such a strong man claiming you turn you on? You are my prize for all of my victories my dear,it is time to claim what is rightfully mine." He pushed his knee forward and smirked,obviously pleased as i began to rut against his thigh involuntarily."That's it,Give into the pleasure." He grinned when he pulled away his knee,eliciting a whine."Do not worry my dear,I will give you what you desire." Grabbing my thighs and wrapping them around his waste he wasted no time in guiding his large member into my aching core.

He hissed and clenched his eyes tight in ecstasy when he was fully sheathed in my warmth,"Fuck..You are so tight my goddess..Tell me..Am i the first man to taint your sacred flesh? Tell me! For i shall hunt down any who has dared to take what is mine." He growled while mercilessly pounding into me once i had gotten used to his size. "N-No..I..I was.." He grinned widely,his dark red eyes glowing as he drowned in the beautiful sound of my moans."You are mine! Do you hear me? No one will dare to even think about taking you from me once i am done with you! Tell me you are mine!I will treat you like a queen." He reached down and grabbed my chin,not to hurt me in the slightest but to force me to look deep into his eyes."I-I am yours! Please Felix..Ahn..hah.." Tears poured down my cheeks,wrapping my arms around his neck he nipped at my neck,causing me to wriggle.

Now that i had accepted him he was going to ensure that i would not be able to walk for the next month.Leaning back he pulled me with him so that i was now riding him,He opted to watch as i bounced on top,enjoying the sight of my breasts bouncing.

"Forget all about the life you have lived before my innocent little mate,i am never letting you go again." I was so blissed out that all i could do was nod,running my hands down his stunning abs.

"Fe-Felix..I'm so close..Please..!"He licked a a stripe up my throat,relishing in the shiver the visibly rolled up my skin."As am i cara mia,Come for me!" With a few more harsh thrusts i felt my body spasm in the most amazing pleasure i had ever felt before.I could hear his grunts as his hands tightened on my thighs,"Fuck...(Y/n)!" He hissed.

I kissed his forehead before burying my head in his shoulder,letting exhaustion take over."All mine." Was the last thing i heard before darkness consumed me.

When i finally awoke i was dressed in an unfamiliar bedroom with my back pressed against a cold chest,arms secured protectively around my waist."Go back to sleep my love,You are home now." Felix's deep comforting voice said against my shoulder causing me to smile."Hmm.." Was my only response as i buried myself deeper into him and drifted back to sleep.

My gladiator kept his word,He never let me go.

#volturi imagine #twilight imagine #felix volturi #felix volturi x reader #felix volturi imagines #felix volturi imagine #twilight

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solitaszn · 4 years

Text

freak like me...

this is my first smut go easy on me

pairing: oscar isaac x reader

summary: a long night of dancing, turns into some skincare fun, but you have something else up your sleeve.

wc: 1.75k

warnings: cursing, SMUT, slapping, degradation, dom fem/ sub mas, tying up

“i’m exhausted.”

“yeah, maybe going out dancing wasn’t that great of an idea for date night”

“next time let’s watch a movie and order pizza and get fat together.”

you and oscar had been dating for around two years now. and he still had new ideas for date nights, it’s like his superpower. you had gone into the bathroom to go take off the rest of your makeup that the sweat hadn’t taken off.

“hmmm. he can’t be that tired. let’s find out” you thought excitedly.

you saw that he was sitting on the bed, slipping off his sweat matted button up and his undershirt. you put up your hair to start your night routine.

“gonna start your skincare routine that lasts 3 hours?”

“it literally takes 20 minutes oscar. come on let’s do it together”

“ok but only if i can put the mask on you”

you both head to your own sinks in the bathroom and wash your faces. then you pull out three different kinds of face masks.

“what’s the difference?”

“you gotta brush this one on, unwrap this one, and peel this one off” you instructed.

“oh. let’s do this one!” he pointed to the clay mask in the small container

“ok let’s do you first”

you open the container and dip the brush into it. he watches you carefully as you hold his jaw steadily and brush it over his face.

“can i look now?”

“oscar please.”

“ok ok.”

“alright. done”

he turns to see himself in the bathroom mirror. his face green with the mask, he slowly smiles at himself and side eyes you.

“i look like the hulk. but i like it. ‘cause i can do this!”

“ahh! oscar!!”

he picks you up and twirls you around and peppers kisses on you, leaving patches of mask on your cheeks. he sits you down to being putting the mask on you.

“ok your turn”

“oscar please put it on right.”

“i can draw remember. i think i can put a face mask on you.”

he holds your head while he concentrates on your face. admiring you every second he can, like this is the last time he’ll ever see you. he tickles your nose as he glides the brush over it.

“you’re gonna make me sneeze!!”

“alright I’m done! now you’re my little she-hulk”

you look up to him and roll your eyes, then turn to see yourself. your face mask is perfect on your face. your eyes widen as you move closer to examine what he’d done.

“where’d you learn to DO this?”

“one of my stylists taught me how to do it before i got ready for one of my events”

the both of you waited for them to dry while you watch an episode of your favorite show. the timer on your phone went off. and the two of you finish up the routine. oscar returns to the bed as you finish up. he watches you again, this time with his eyes gliding over your body. you pick up your phone to play some music. you scroll for a bit until your finger stops over freak by doja cat. your heart flutters as you imagine how the night can go if you press play. without hesitation, you press it and the music fills the room echoing off the walls.

oscar hears the beginning of the song making his heart melt. “aww how cute she’s playing put your head on my shoulder” he thought.

the music stops for a bit. his eyes quickly shift up from his phone and then back to you.

“freak like me”

he freezes and his gaze looks up from his phone, eyes widen at the lyrics. and you turn to him and start dancing while singing along and pointing at him.

“you want a good girl that does bad things to you.”

you see him shift around and squirm a bit before placing a throw pillow on his lap. he’s still watching you, cheeks starting to almost glow red on his tanned face. he bit his lip as you kept singing and then slowly move toward him. he crouches over the pillow in hopes to hide himself.

“you’ve never been no one as nasty as me”

you pry off the pillow he was clutching and toss it to the side. his eyes dart up to you, his mouth hanging open while it curls into an open mouthed smile. you slowly climb on his lap. his arms snake around your hips and his hands steady your lower back. your hands drape over his clothed shoulders.

“spice up your life, come get a freak”

you trace his jawline with your finger and lift his chin. his breath hitches as you begin to make a trail kisses down to his collarbone. making a few kisses prominent by sucking on the soft skin causing the capillaries to break. his eyes fluttering closed from bliss. you took off his shirt exposing his perfect caramel tinged skin and toned body.

“chase him just enough for him to hate me”

you felt his hands roam around to take off the pajama top you had, which resulted in you putting his hands under your knees so he couldn’t touch you.

“please. let me please.”

“not yet”

he groaned in protest. he hadn’t seen this side of you before and to be frank, he liked it. he loved the way it made you confident, which made you way more sexier than usual.

he tried to cause what friction he could so he could feel some pleasure. you climbed off of him, which made him sigh and clench his jaw. you saw the tent you made in his boxers. you lifted his shirt over his head and tossed away in the same pile of clothes next to the pillow. he was eager to just grab you and push you onto the bed, rip off your clothes and do what he wanted to your body. before he could lift himself off the bed you had already pushed him back onto the rest of the bed. he moaned as you wrapped your hand around his jaw. you slapped his face while you told him to shut up. you leaned down to his ear and whispered to him

“are you ok baby?”

“fuck yes. please keep going”

“please what?”

“please ma’am”

you go to grab a box full of things you’ve been wanting to experiment with.

“stay here. don’t touch yourself while I’m away. i will know and you will get punished.”

“yes ma’am”

you return to him sitting on the bed eager for your return. you place the dark wooden box on the nightstand, pulling off the lid. you pull out a few strands of tying rope and you climb on top of him again, straddling his hips.

“are you ok with this?”

“yes.”

you begin to tie his wrists to the bed posts and then make your way to his ankles. you tighten it making him moan out. you stopped and admired him from the bed. you kissed a trail from where you left on his collarbone down to his hipbones. he whimpers, calling out for you to touch him.

“p-please i need it ma’am”

you climbed back onto him. his hot skin igniting against your cold body. you start grinding against his hard on. him whining out in pleasure.

“ride me please.”

“ok only because you’ve been a good boy”

you opened up the nightstand drawer to grab a condom. you put it up to oscars lips. he tears off the foil and spits out the rest making it flutter by his face and roll it onto him. you sink your hips into him. earning a loud sigh escaping from your throat while you steadied yourself on his bare chest, scratching as you adjusted to his size. he moaned out in pleasure causing him to buck his hips up.

“fuck!”

“do i make you this excited baby?”

“yes!”

you start moving up and down making him groan deeply and making you make high pitched cries. you lean down to kiss his full lips and bite on his lower one. he tries to grab your neck but his action is protested by the silk rope straining him away.

“you wanna be outta this ropes honey?”

“mmhmmm”

“ah ah ah! use your words”

“yes y-es please fuck”

you unknot each limb from its post and his hand make its way to your hips guiding you in and out. his short nails digging into your skin. making you bite down a moan.

“ah i think I’m gonna-“

“no no! you have to ask permission for you to cum!”

“please let me please!”

“not yet”

as you grow closer to your climax you feel him twitch inside you, you ride out your high which caused your hips to slow down and you caught your breath. you lifted yourself from him causing him to gasp out.

you rolled the condom off of him.

“what are you- ohhhhh”

began to bob your head up and down making one of his hand grip the duvet and the other gripping your hair. making you make a low moan that sent vibrations. he looked down at you and then back up, his eyes rolling to the back of his head in euphoria and brows curving up into his sweat matted hair hanging down.

“i’m gonna- i’m gonna- cahhh”

you ejected yourself off of him with a pop while you still jerk him off. his chest making out shallow breaths as his back arches and he releases all over his lower abdomen. his body goes limp as his chest rises and falls slowly. you grab a towel to clean him and yourself and throw yourself next to him on the bed, putting the sheets over the both of you. you laugh as he looks at you.

“whoa. where the hell did you learn to do that” oscar asked staring at the ceiling in awe

“lots and lots of research.” you said sarcastically.

“you mean going through my search history?”

“yeah. i mean, you never told me how kinky you were.”

“neither did you.”

both of you looked at each other until oscar pulled a quick breath and lifted himself on one arm and picked up his phone from the nightstand, clicking it open and pressing on the pizza app.

“so uh. you still up for ordering pizza and getting fat?”

“duh. that was the whole point dork.”

#oscar isaac #x reader #smut #oscar isaac smut #Oscar Isaac x reader

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supernaturalfreewill · 4 years

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Words: 5,089 Demon!Dean x Reader Warnings: None really! Summary: Y/N meets Lucifer and moves forward with plans. We learn a little more about what once happened between Y/N and Dean. A/N: This has been a long time coming. I have had writer's block on this story for some time, but I think I've worked through it! This is part of a series! Read the other parts first! Part 1 :: Part 2 :: Part 3 :: Part 4 :: Part 5 :: Part 6 :: Part 7 :: Part 8.

Your name: submit What is this?

The constant thunder served to cover the sound of your approaching footsteps. You entered alone—the demon underlings refused to enter the chamber and were quite literally shaking in their boots. But not you. You strolled into the darkness, broken at first only by the blinding flashes of lightning. As you approached the hulking structure, flames rose up and licked around it in a circle, obscuring any view of what you knew to be inside. You stopped at the edge of the fire, the intense heat blowing back your hair, and raised a hand before slowly dropping it to the ground. The fire abated, obeying your command. The interior of the rectangular cage was cloaked in shadow and stillness. You stared hard into the abyss, trying to pick up some movement or shape. You didn’t have to strain your eyes for long.

There were suddenly two points of fiery light burning deep within the darkness—his eyes. They were red hot, like the irises were made of flame, but after a moment they dimmed and disappeared. Footsteps followed, slow and deliberate, and echoing loudly in the cavernous chamber, even over the sound of the thunder cracking and rolling overhead. You marveled at this inwardly now. How could there be thunder and lightning? Wasn’t there a ceiling of some sort way up there? Something, somewhere above you? But apparently He and His effects defied explanation.

You stepped over the line of holy oil that had been burning at your feet and he came into view. And he was looking right at you with curiosity as he emerged from shadow.

Your heart beat a little faster.

“Yes, I can see that easily,” he said, turning his eyes back to you again, guessing at what you were thinking. His lips curled into a devious smirk. “But there’s something else, isn’t there?” You did your best to keep very still and to keep your face impassive. He pressed his face close to the bars and his eyes bored into you. The intensity of his gaze was unbelievable and you almost quailed under it for a brief moment before you steeled yourself again. Best not to show weakness to the literal Devil during your first meeting. “How is it that a Knight of Hell is walking around with an almost untouched human soul still?”

You gulped at the tightness in your throat but said nothing. He only smiled wider. “Where, oh, where did you get that?” He let out a chuckle and stretched his arms up over his head casually and sighed. “Aren’t we going to meet properly?” he asked.

You gulped, hoping your voice wouldn’t come out strained and tight with nerves. “You don’t know who I am?” you asked him.

“Can’t exactly get the news or the weather down here,” he said in a singsong voice. “And you’re not one of the old Knights of Hell.” The devious smirk grew on his face again. “I certainly would remember you. You’re all shiny and brand new.”

You swallowed again at the tightness in your throat. You hated to admit it, but he radiated power.

“So, you have me at a disadvantage, you see,” he said. He kept his voice low, the tone still casual, like you were two strangers meeting at a bar. “You obviously know who I am because you came looking for me. No way to stumble on this place by accident—and I’m a little conspicuous. But I don’t know who you are, so let’s remedy that.” He stuck an outstretched hand through the bars. You eyed him warily. What was your move here? Could you snub a handshake from frickin’ Lucifer? Was it some sort of trick? Could he really do anything to you? Afterall, he was still in the cage.

You stepped forward and grasped his hand, your heart hammering in your chest. He took a firm hold of yours and tugged suddenly. You couldn’t stop a small, surprised gasp from leaving your lips as you were pulled right up to the bars in front of him. His eyes, no longer wreathed in flame, were an icy gray blue and they were again boring into yours. You felt a chill climbing up your arm from the hand he was clutching. He lifted your hand in his and brought it slightly through the bars, kissing the back of it before his lips curved into a mischievous smile. “Enchanté,” he said. The corners of his eyes crinkled with his smile. He finally let your hand fall from his, leaving your fingers still feeling strangely cold. You stepped back.

“I’m Y/N,” you finally managed.

For some reason this sent him chuckling again and he hopped a little playfully away from the edge of the cage, one foot at a time. “Oh, you are? …perhaps I do know something about you,” he said. The smile was still on his lips and there was a brightness in his eyes as he turned back in your direction. You gave him a questioning look. He shrugged. “I used to have some loyal followers who managed to get the occasional message to me. Before Crowley put a stop to that… In any case, you,” he said, pointing at you with his index finger, “run with the Winchesters.”

“I used to,” you corrected him. He looked at you with renewed interest.

“Are you sure? From what I’ve seen the only way out with those two is six feet under, you know what I mean?” he said with a fake grimace. He rubbed at the stubble on his chin. He gripped a bar in each hand and stared at you, seemingly studying your face again. “How exactly did you become a Knight of Hell?”

“That really isn’t important,” you replied.

A smile flickered on his lips again and he shrugged carelessly. “Right. I’m sure it has nothing to do with Dean being a Knight of Hell…”

You licked your lips a little nervously but said nothing. He seemed to know more than he first let on.

“Hmm. And, uhh, Y/N, that human soul glowing inside you… is that yours? It seems surprisingly unmarred. Pretty unusual. In fact, I can’t think of ever hearing of anything like it in all my eons.”

“I have a proposition for you,” you interrupted loudly, wanting to steer him back toward your purpose and away from your backstory.

“Ooh? Is that so? You have a proposition for me? Because I have several in mind for you.” Lucifer bit his bottom lip. “As you can imagine it has been a very, very long time since I had any visitors, let alone one quite as striking at you are. And I’d really like to get to know you better,” he smirked.

You ignored his innuendo. “How would you feel about running Hell?” you asked him bluntly.

You saw a flash of something in his eyes, maybe desire or surprise. “From in here?” he asked, gesturing to the cage. “Well, that’s quite impossible,” he chuckled. “Besides, I don’t think Crowley would concede.” There was a question in his voice and you knew he was trying to feel you out.

“You don’t have to worry about Crowley. He’s… let’s say, indisposed.”

“Is he dead?” Lucifer asked, an eager and hopeful look on his face. “Because that would be great news. I’m so sick of that little, meddling twerp…”

“So, you’d be interested?” you asked again.

“Sign me up,” he said, again leaning casually on the bars, wiggling his eyebrows at you. “But what’s the catch?” Every time he looked at you, you felt like he could see you without your clothes on… and you couldn’t figure out if he actually could, or if perhaps he was seeing your true form, your soul or some Knight of Hell version of it… It was a vulnerable feeling, and if there was one feeling you hated as a demon it was vulnerability.

“There would be certain concessions you’d have to make. Things you would need to agree to,” you said. “Terms.”

He smiled deviously. “Really? And you’d just take Big Bad Lucifer at his word?”

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. “Of course not.”

He pointed at you enthusiastically and chewed on his bottom lip again. “I like you. You have spunk.” He paced slowly in the cage, but his eyes stayed fixed on you. “I’d like to know more about these concessions and exactly how you think you’re going to hold me to them. But more importantly I want to know why you’re even here in the first place.”

You thought about how to answer that question for a long moment. There were several reasons you had ended up where you were… which one should you offer up? Or should you offer up none of them? But, finally, you settled on a half-truth. “Revenge,” you said. This snapped Lucifer’s eyes to your face and a faint smile grew on his lips.

He chuckled and wiped a thumb over his bottom lip. “Personally, one of my favorite reasons for mayhem.” He paused thoughtfully. “On whom, may I ask?”

You crossed your arms a little guardedly. “I’ve fallen into this whole… running Hell thing,” you said. “It’s more a side effect really. Turns out, someone does actually need to do it. And I have essentially zero interest in most of the job.”

“So, revenge on Crowley? You took over just to piss off Crowley and now you’re stuck with it. Amazing how much administration and bureaucracy is involved in running a realm, isn’t it? Not to mention all the eager underlings,” he said, rolling his eyes.

“It’s simple. I have my own plans and I want to be able to do them when I want, how I want.”

“Sounds like what we all want, doesn’t it?”

“Let me be perfectly clear: you would not set foot outside of Hell. You can do whatever you want regarding… let’s call them, day to day operations. But that’s it.”

He held up his hands, palms out, lips pressed into a tight line. “Hey. Considering my current position, I would still call that a huge upgrade…” He leaned on the bars again. “So, when is my coming out party? Where do I sign?” He was looking you up and down without the slightest effort to hide it, and you felt the hair raise on the back of your neck under his gaze, but you weren’t quite sure exactly why. Was it just the pure power that he radiated? Was it some foreshadowing? You didn’t know, but it did make you uneasy. Still, you plunged recklessly ahead. What exactly did you have to lose?

“I have some things to prepare first,” you said vaguely.

“Oh, preparations? Party decorations? I’d like black streamers and Devil’s Food cake,” he quipped. You shot him a blank look which only elicited a shrug. “I get it. Enough with the questions. I just find you so… interesting. I’ve been sitting down here, rotting in obscurity and boredom and suddenly a brand new Knight of Hell shows up at the Devil’s cage wanting revenge on Crowley and some sort of, let’s say partnership. I’m not supposed to ask questions?”

“You can ask questions. Just don’t expect an answer.”

A wide smile broke out on his lips and he pulled the bottom one in between his teeth again. “Are you flirting with me? Because it’s working.”

You felt another prickle run up your spine and gulped at the nervous tightness in your throat which you were trying so hard to hide. “Just… sit tight. I’ll be back.”

“Like I have any other choice!” he said with a smile. “You’re just trying to play hard to get, trying to keep me titillated!” he called after you.

You stepped away back, breaking the gaze between you and him, and flicked a hand and the holy fire sprang up around the cage again. You could feel Lucifer’s eyes on you the whole way to the door, even though your back was to him. It was with some sense of relief that you finally closed it behind you. This was insane. What the hell were you doing? Did you seriously think you could pull this off? The alternative was to keep going the way you were—annoyed, frustrated, angry—you hadn’t asked for any of this. Crowley had turned you. So, whatever happened, ultimately, it was on him… Right? And Dean—just the thought of him sent you reeling with anger, frustration, and… shit. How was it that Dean was somehow still eliciting this whirlwind of emotions? You’d had enough. You wanted control again, so you were taking it.

There was a small gaggle of demons waiting just outside the door looking amazed and scared and you turned to the one in front. “Did you get them?”

He gulped and looked a little sheepish. “We—we still have to find a couple more.”

Your jaw tensed. “Well, do it. Now.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

Sam gritted his teeth when he stepped into the kitchen early in the morning to see Dean sitting at the island with a mug, apparently at his ease.

“Sammy,” he said, raising his mug slightly. “Little brother… How’d you sleep?”

Sam let out an irritated scoff. “How did I sleep? How’d I—you want to know how I slept? I didn’t. I didn’t sleep. Because the King of Hell is in one room, and a Knight of Hell was wandering the bunker. So, I didn’t sleep.”

One corner of Dean’s mouth flicked upward. “You really need to learn to relax…”

Sam grabbed the empty carafe off the coffee pot and gestured vaguely. “I thought you made coffee,” he said.

“What do I look like, a barista?” Dean’s gruff voice answered.

Sam glared at him. “You’ve got a mug.”

Dean looked down into it and back up at Sam. “This is whiskey.”

Sam rubbed a hand over his face. “Whiskey. It’s 6 am.”

“I run on demon time now, Sam,” he said, sipping carelessly at his drink. “It’s where I do whatever I want, whenever I want.”

Sam’s eyebrows lifted. “Really?”

“Yeah. Really.”

“So, you’re telling me of all the possible things you could be doing, running on ‘demon time,’ this is what you want? Sitting in the bunker with me, Cas, and Crowley.” Dean didn’t say anything, just held his brother’s eyes with a blank expression on his face. “For some reason I find that a little hard to believe,” Sam said skeptically, turning to fill the carafe with water and put some actual coffee on.

“Do you have some sort of point you’d like to make? Something you want to say to me?” There was a dangerous growl in his voice now.

Sam sighed heavily and turned around to face him again. “I’m sick of this ‘I don’t give a shit’ act, Dean! You showed up here because of Y/N, so some part of you, no matter how small or how far down you’ve shoved it, actually cares about something. And yet you won’t even tell us what happened when you saw her! Make up your mind—you can’t have it both ways! You either want to figure out how to get Y/N back or you don’t. …But I don’t know. Maybe you really don’t care. Maybe you don’t care if Y/N ends up dead or—”

Dean was on him so fast that before Sam even realized it he was up against the wall with Dean’s hand on his throat and the glass carafe was shattered on the floor. The puddle of water was slowly expanding, weaving its way around the shards of glass, making them look even more like jagged ice crystals floating in a shallow sea. Dean’s breath was hot on Sam’s face. “Don’t you ever say that about Y/N again. You have no idea what the hell you’re talking about.” With some effort, his hand shaking as he drew back, he released Sam. His eyes were filled with a savage light that Sam had never seen before and for a moment he was reminded of the power and anger this version of Dean was capable of wielding. Dean gave him one final glare and stormed from the room.

Sam heaved a frustrated sigh and reached up to rub at his throat. Gulping down the sudden wave of fear, he grabbed a broom, starting to sweep up the shards of broken glass into a pile. Cas breezed in.

His face immediately darkened as he took in the mess on the floor and Sam bending to pick up a few particularly large pieces of debris. “I heard something. What happened?”

Sam sighed and tossed the pieces forcefully into the trash before running a hand through his hair to push it out of his face. He gestured vaguely at the mess. “Dean. Dean happened…”

Cas swallowed at the uncomfortable tightness in his throat and gave him a questioning look. “What do you mean?”

Sam sank heavily onto a nearby stool. “I don’t know. Nothing. It’s probably my fault… I was—challenging him.”

Cas’s brow sank even lower over his blue eyes. “Sam—don’t do that. I know it’s hard to reconcile but he’s not entirely the brother you knew… He’s not the same.”

Sam let out a dry scoff. “Yeah. Tell me about it…” He sighed again, deep in thought now. “There’s something though…”

Cas nodded. “With Dean. About Y/N.”

Sam’s eyes shot up to meet Cas’s. “Yes. Exactly. He threatened us about messing with him, warned us about messing with Y/N, and then he just freely shows up here all of a sudden? And then just now… I said something about Y/N and that just set him off. It was like a switch flipped.”

Cas continued. “I’ve noticed it too. If the old Dean, some part of him, wasn’t still in there with this Knight of Hell, he wouldn’t give a damn that Crowley turned Y/N. He wouldn’t care about anything. He wouldn’t be here. Or he would have killed all of us by now...”

Sam nodded. “And yet he called us. He showed up here. He’s furious with Crowley...” He gave Cas a knowing look and the angel nodded.

“We need to know what happened between the two of them. It might explain why Y/N suddenly went barreling into Hell,” Cas mused. “I don’t believe it was only to punish Crowley.” The look in the angel’s eyes grew faraway as he sunk further into thought. “We need Dean to talk to us.”

“Yeah, good luck with that,” Sam scoffed. “He’s obviously being tight-lipped about it on purpose. There’s something he doesn’t want us to know, for whatever reason.” Sam stood up and resumed his kitchen clean-up. “And no one is going to force it out of him.”

“I just can’t shake the feeling that somehow Y/N is going to be his way back from all of this…” Cas said. Sam gave him a thoughtful looking, his brow wrinkled with worry.

“Then we better try our best to find out what really happened when they last saw each other.”

Cas went in search of Dean and after checking the usual common areas he headed deeper into the bunker, peeking into every open door. He was expecting to find him in his old room but was surprised to see it empty and undisturbed. Just next door, however, was your room, and Cas found Dean inside, standing over your desk.

He cautiously stepped across the threshold and waited patiently for Dean to speak, not entirely sure that he even would.

Dean was studying the books, notebooks, and stray paper spread out all over your desk. He paged through it gently, almost tentatively, with slow, intentioned movements. “All this—all of it… it’s about me. I mean, about Knights of Hell and demons… Every single note, every marked page.” His deep voice was absent its usual gruffness, and Cas noted that this wasn’t the first time he had seen Dean, the Knight of Hell, soften when thinking of you.

Cas swallowed a little nervously. “She wanted to get you back. We all did. But she was the one who refused to give up. Even when I stepped away. Even when Sam couldn’t go on.”

Something changed suddenly and Dean let out a wry laugh. “Waste of time,” he said, dropping the paper in his hand and withdrawing suddenly from the stacks of notes like he had been burned.

Cas’s brow contracted. “Is it?” he asked, meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Well, a lot of good it did her. Clearly, I’m still a Knight of Hell. And on top of that, it seems she is too. There is one thing I do know,” Dean said a little quietly, “Y/N doesn’t belong in this world. A frickin’ Knight of Hell,” he said, shaking his head.

“She would say you don’t either,” Cas asserted.

“That’s not the same.” Dean licked his lips thoughtfully and stared back at the angel for a long moment.

“Let me ask you something,” the angel started cautiously. He hoped if he could just keep Dean talking about you, perhaps he would explain what had occurred when you saw each other. “Why the hunting? The monsters? The humans?” Cas asked him. “I mean the demon underlings make sense. Might as well be an annoying fly under a newspaper but… why is going after the human criminals?”

Dean’s mouth lifted on one side and he crossed his arms over his chest. “You know, at first I thought she was just experimenting, trying out her new form and they were convenient targets. But I think it’s more than that.”

“What do you mean?”

The deep bass of Dean’s voice was now touched with gravel again and he paced over to sit on the edge of your bed, glancing at the novel and trinkets on your bedside table, now dull with a layer of dust in your absence. “Think about it. If she just wanted to learn new tricks she didn’t need to hunt down bad guys and monsters. She could have smoked the first thing she came across. But even now she has a conscience or something like it. She isn’t just killing just to kill. She’s clinging to some purpose, however self-manufactured it is,” he said, getting up from your bed and dusting off his hands. “She’s just trying to feel something…” Dean trailed off here and Cas watched as a cloudy veil came over his eyes.

“You saw her?” Cas asked, already knowing that he had, but hoping Dean would reveal more.

“Oh, yeah, I saw her. She threw me into a wall,” he said with a smirk. Cas’s expression darkened.

“Why?”

“Because she could,” Dean said. “But after that I made a point of getting in her way,” he said, stretching his arms out in front of him.

Cas shook his head, not completely understanding, but he felt like he was getting close to something. “What do you mean?”

“I got in the way of her hunts. She didn’t like that.”

“How?” Cas pressed him. For now, Dean seemed content to talk, but the angel continued to press for more details.

“Killing who and what she was going to before she could. She really didn’t like that,” he said, one corner of his mouth flicking upward again. “All I was doing was pushing her buttons, trying to get a response. Payback for what she had been doing to me…” Here he trailed off again and Cas watched a change come over his face.

“What had she been doing?”

Dean’s green eyes flickered up to meet the angel’s and for a moment Castiel felt certain he was about to explain, but the next second the that had passed and he offered only a vague explanation. “There’s some connection between the two of us, probably just a Knight of Hell thing, but… it made it easy for us to get at each other.”

“Hmm.” Cas was pretty sure that it had much less to do with being a Knight of Hell than it did with whatever was between you and Dean.

“I could find her. Somehow, I just knew where she was and where she would be next.”

“Well, where is she now?” Cas asked.

Dean stood up and shrugged, the corners of his mouth turning down. “I don’t know. Based on that voicemail she left, my best guess is that she is actually in Hell, and if so then it seems I can’t reach her there the way I could when she was just running around icing douchebags.” He shrugged again.

“And all that happened between you was a fight?” Cas asked again.

Dean seemed a little caught off guard by the question and it took him a long moment to answer. “Apparently.” And with that he strode out, leaving Cas standing alone in your room with a peculiar feeling that wasn’t true and almost more questions than when he started.

Some years ago

The trip to South Dakota and what had happened between you and Dean while you were locked in Bobby’s panic room left you with a hopeful excitement in your chest. As you rode in the back seat of the Impala, heading back to the bunker, you couldn’t help glancing up at Dean behind the wheel and you caught him looking over his shoulder at you several times as well. As soon as your eyes met, both of you broke into nervous smiles and you felt your cheeks respond with a warm flush which lingered long after you turned your attention to the waves of grass whizzing by outside.

Finally making it home late that night, Sam immediately muttered sleepy goodnights and headed for bed. This suddenly left you and Dean standing alone in the front room and the atmosphere was thick with expectation. Dean tossed the Impala keys down on the table with a loud rattle and his green eyes caught yours.

He shoved his hands into his pockets, shifting his weight a little nervously, the eye contact between the two of you magnetic. “Sooo…”

You laughed a little anxiously. “So. Alone again,” you said, unconsciously biting your bottom lip.

Goddamn… Dean couldn’t handle that and he tilted his head at you a little as he gave you an almost desperate look, his lips falling partially open as if he was about to say something. Your blush deepened and you were about to ask him something in return when suddenly he was right in front of you, slipping an arm around your lower back and his fingers into your hair and crashing into you, pulling you against him so suddenly, so forcefully that you were unbalanced on your tiptoes. The heat and passion of that kiss was staggering and you sank into it, giving yourself over entirely to the sensations of Dean—the rough stubble on his jaw, his strong arm tight around you, his lips moving effortlessly with yours, hungry and pleading.

Your lips broke apart for a brief moment and Dean studied your face, you doing the same in turn. The green of his eyes was olive in the dim light and there was a flame burning that you felt spreading straight to the center of your chest, heating you up.

“Is this—was that okay?” Dean asked you, suddenly a little unsure, a little worried he wasn’t reading the moment right. He had told himself for so long that wanting you was pointless, because it was impossible you wanted him back in the same way. He didn’t deserve you. So, the idea that this was happening at all was surreal and he was terrified of screwing it up.

“More than okay,” you replied. Your voice was breathy, like you’d just run a marathon. “Dean—”

His lips met yours again before you could even get the rest of your thought out and the next second it was gone as you were surrounded by, enveloped in Dean again.

You broke apart with no small amount of effort, your arms around his neck, and gave him a shy smile.

His eyes were questioning as he studied your expression.

You slipped your fingers in between his and gave him a warm look, starting to tug him in the direction of your room.

Dean’s heart pounded. He wanted this so badly. There wasn’t a single other thought in his mind. All he could think about was the feeling of you beneath his fingers, the taste of you, the intoxicating scent of your hair… He followed you down the hallway toward your room, but when you both were rounding the last corner there was a familiar rustling noise behind him and he spun to see Cas standing there with a grave expression on his face. His fingers slipped from between yours and you stood beside him, your heart sinking from stratospheric heights to the lowest depths at the shadow that was on the angel’s face.

“We have a big problem,” Cas said. And just like that, it was like you were yanked out of the perfect dream into a nightmare.

#demon!dean #deamon #dean x reader #demon!dean x reader #reader insert #supernatural #spn fics #fanfiction

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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Dreams and Lullabies

Another @bingokisses fic! This one fills the prompts “Wiping Away Tears” and “Cheek Kiss.” I thought it was about time for a bit of Nanny & Warlock, since I don’t think I’ve ever posted any...

Also available on AO3!

Warlock Dowling woke from his nightmare in a strange place.

The blanket suffocated him, twisted around his chest, and he struggled to get free. But he froze when something nearby gurgled, growled, roared to life. It was too dark in here, and he couldn’t see anything but strange shadows hulking all around, some boxy, some lumpy.

His fingers clutched at the blanket, pressing it to his mouth. A scream was trying to crawl out of his throat, even as he shrank, huddling, trying to make himself as small as possible. Apart from the gurgling rattle, he could hear heavy footsteps somewhere close, and a whimper forced its way past his lips.

Somewhere nearby there was a click – a scrape – and a pair of glowing eyes loomed out of the darkness.

The scream tore free, breaking into a sob as Warlock buried himself under the blanket—

“What’s the matter, love?” a soft, familiar voice called out as the room flooded with light.

Peeking cautiously over the edge of the blanket, he saw a tall, unsmiling woman, red hair in a tight bun, standing in the room’s doorway. One hand rested on a light switch, the other pressed her glasses against her face.

“Nanny!” All at once he started crying, great hiccupping sobs he couldn’t hope to stop. “I thought – I thought—”

“None of that, now,” she chided, crossing the room to stand beside his bed. “You’re almost six years old. There’s no need for—”

“Where am I?” He could barely gasp the words out. “I want – I want—” He dropped the blanket and pushed his hands against his head as more tears fell.

“You’re in the hotel room. Don’t you remember?” He looked up to find Nanny watching him with her head to the side. She stared at him like that sometimes, stiff and confused, as if she’d never seen a child before. “We’re in Zurich for your father’s business. He and your mother are still at the dinner, but we had a lovely day—”

“I want to go home!” Warlock's face burned hotter than the tears, and the sobs and wails shook him until he couldn't breath, gasping as if he were drowning.

Part of him knew he was being a stupid baby. He could see it was an ordinary room, the boxy shapes just furniture, the lumpy one his clothes laid out on a chair for the next day. Even the scary noise was just the air conditioner. He remembered complaining about it before bed.

Everything made sense now, but it didn’t matter – it wasn’t familiar. He wanted his own bed and his own room and his favorite stuffed bear that he’d left at home because he didn’t need it, he was a big boy now, but that was a lie, he did need it, he wasn’t a big boy and his father would be so disappointed he was throwing a tantrum, and Nanny would see he was still a baby and he couldn’t use his words, but he didn’t have any words right now, just tears, so he cried and cried and cried.

For twenty minutes – or maybe just five seconds – Warlock sobbed his eyes out. Then the bed shifted and he felt a finger under his chin. “Warlock. Look at me, love. Look at me.”

He sniffed and let Nanny tilt his chin until he could see her face, watery and blurred by tears. She sat on the bed next to him, face as stern as ever.

Then the hand laying in her lap lifted up and wiped the wetness from his cheek, carefully, as if afraid to hurt him. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Warlock nodded and felt the tears start again. “There was s-something chasing me and – and – and I don’t remember what but it was scary and big and it almost got me—”

“Hush now.” Nanny’s thumbs gently brushed away his tears again. “It wasn’t real.”

“I know!” He wailed it, feeling the heat of tears building up again. “Only stupid babies are scared of dreams but – but – I am!”

“Don’t be silly, love. Everyone gets scared by bad dreams.” He blinked up at her narrow face as she pulled out a white handkerchief and wiped his cheeks dry. “There’s nothing to be ashamed of. But you’re awake now, and I’m here. You’re safe.” Her fingers ran across his cheek one more time. “As long as I’m here, you’re safe.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.” One of Nanny’s rare smiles appeared – just a flicker, a flash on her lips – but it filled Warlock with more warmth than a cup of Brother Francis’s hot cocoa. “Are you ready to sleep now?”

Warlock looked around the room again. He still felt a strange, creeping feeling up his spine that wouldn’t go away. “Can you check under the bed?”

“Warlock…”

“Please?”

“Alright.” She slid off the bed and he heard a rustle of blankets. “Oh, my. There is something under here.”

Warlock tensed, ready to jump up and run – until Nanny reappeared holding a worn grey bear. “Eddie!” Warlock grabbed the toy into a tight hug, feeling the last of his fear melt away like ice cream at the beach. “But I left him at home!”

“I thought he might be needed here. Don’t tell your mother, though. It’s a secret.” Nanny pushed a finger to her lips and Warlock quickly did the same back. Nanny always had the best secrets.

“Now. Time to sleep.” Nanny straightened the blanket and Warlock settled down into a pile of pillows, holding onto the bear as tight as he ever had.

“Nanny? Do you have scary dreams?”

She pressed her lips into a line and sat on the bed again. “Everyone who dreams has bad dreams sometimes.”

“Do you…” he pulled the bear closer, remembering the feeling of something - some monster - right behind him. “Do you dream something awful is chasing you?”

“Occasionally.”

“And…what do you do?”

She leaned closer, until their foreheads almost touched. “I turn around and I yell boo as loud as I can.”

“And it works?”

“Oh, yes.” She waggled her eyebrows. “Your Nanny is scarier than any monster. As are you, my little Prince of Darkness. Try that next time.”

He nodded happily, glad to have a plan. “Can – can you sing me a song?”

“Of course, love.” Nanny ran her hands across the blanket again. “Go to sleep and dream of—”

“Not that one.” Warlock sank a little further into his pillows. “Not tonight.”

“What do you want, then?”

“Hmmmm. What’s your favorite song ever?”

Nanny pursed her lips. “That’s a secret, too.”

“Please? I won’t tell anyone, I promise.”

She glanced at the door one more time, then nodded.

I’ll be your mirror Reflect what you are, in case you don’t know I’ll be the wind, the rain and the sunset The light on your door to show that you’re home.

When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you’re twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands ‘Cause I see you

I find it hard to believe you don’t know The beauty that you are But if you don’t, let me be your eyes A hand to your darkness, so you won’t be afraid

When you think the night has seen your mind That inside you’re twisted and unkind Let me stand to show that you are blind Please put down your hands ‘Cause I see you.

As she sang, Warlock felt his eyes grow heavy, until he couldn’t fight it off any longer. Just before he fell the rest of the way to sleep, he felt Nanny’s lips press against his cheek. “Good night, love.”

All night, he dreamt a giant snake coiled around him, keeping the monsters away.

Nanny’s song is “I’ll Be Your Mirror” by the Velvet Underground, which Neil Gaiman said in a Tumblr post is Crowley’s favorite.

#good omens #good omens fanfic #soft crowley #nanny ashtoreth #Crowley & Warlock #crowley is good with kids #nightmares #emotional h/c #very soft h/c #kid warlock #velvet underground #my writing #ao3 #ao3 link

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fanficwriter013 · 4 years

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The Tower: The Queen of Asgard - 30

The Tower: The Queen of Asgard An Avengers Fanfic

Series Masterlist PREVIOUS //

Pairing: Avengers x OFC, Bruce Banner x Bucky Barnes x Clint Barton x Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers x Natasha Romanoff x Tony Stark x Thor x Sam Wilson x OFC (Elly Cooper)

Word Count: 1908

Warnings: None

Synopsis: The twins are now three and while the Avengers know that Clint and Thor are the biological father’s none of them know or care which blond, blue-eyed baby is related to which man. When Riley gets the power to control wind and it becomes evident that she is the heir to the Asgardian throne, Elly, Steve, Thor, and Tony take the twins to Asgard to train her.

Not every Asgardian is happy with their king’s choice of consort, nor the impurity of the heir’s blood. While others expect Thor to make things more official. What’s clear is, the role of Queen of Asgard is not easily filled.

Author’s Note: Written with @avengerscompound

Chapter 30: Preparations

Loki burst into my room early the next morning to wake me up. I had been curled up tightly into Clarke’s side overnight, apparently, I’d started conditioning to move in close to warm bodies in my bed. I jumped at the sound of Loki shouting at me and sat up quickly while Clarke just blinked around the room bemused.

“You need to get up!” She barked. “You!” She pointed at Clarke. “There is breakfast out at the dining room.”

“I don’t get to eat?” I asked.

“You are being cleansed. You shall eat after the bonding. At the feast. When you have been bathed you will be given a soup made of herbs.” Loki explained, impatiently. “Now hurry up. I have too many things to do to be babysitting you. Get up and go to your bathroom. Now!”

I scrambled out of bed as Loki swept back out of the room. Clarke got out of bed slowly and stretched. “You think they’ll give your scalp a good scrub? Get rid of those impure thoughts?”

“If they get rid of those, there won’t be any of me left,” I joked and we both started laughing.

“Okay, you go get cleansed. I’m gonna eat. I’ll meet you back here to dress,” Clarke said.

I should have guessed by the fact that Loki kept saying cleansed that it wasn’t a simple bath. I was painted in thick, warm mud from head to toe and then wrapped in leaves and left for around half an hour. After that, I was hosed off and given an enema. They did hair removal everywhere except my eyebrows (which they shaped) and scalp. Something I normally didn’t really do. I was then taken into the large tub with four attendants and they started to scrub me down.

The water was hot and pungent. I couldn’t quite place the scent of the soaps they were using, but they were floral and slightly woody. They used large scrubbing brushes on my body and scrubbed my skin to the point that any part of my skin that wasn’t covered in the henhalda artwork, turned bright pink. They washed my hair. First with a soap. Then with hot oil that they left in for a while, before scrubbing it with soap again and finally a cream-like substance I assumed was the Asgardian equivalent of conditioner.

When they seemed happy with how clean I was, I was led out of the bath and dried off and oil was rubbed into my skin. By the time they were done, my skin glowed and my hair was as soft and shiny as it had ever been. The cleaning had done something to the Henhalda too. It was brighter and slightly reflective, and there were parts that now shimmered like they were alive.

I was given a thin robe and allowed to return to my room. Clarke was already in there, along with Katveil and another 4 women. Two were older, while two were around Katveil’s age.

Clarke was sitting on a large, comfortable-looking chair that had not been there before and three of the women were working on her. One doing her hair, one her nails and one giving her a pedicure. “Wow, they sure did clean you, huh?” Clarke said.

“Oh, yeah. Inside and out.” I said, making Clarke pull a face. “Morning, Kat,” I added smiling at her.

“Good morning, Elly,” Katveil said. “I’ve come to do any touch-ups on the art.”

I nodded and the two of us moved behind a screen that had been set up for dressing. “Are you excited?” She asked as I dropped my robe and she began to look me over closely, touching up any spot she wasn’t happy with.

“Oh yeah. A little freaking out. It’s a big deal.” I answered. “You know, the big ceremony. Living longer. New powers. Being cleansed.”

“I’d be nervous too,” Katveil said.

“You’ll be pleased to know that Hulk did great with the Henhalda,” Clarke said. “I saw Jax at breakfast. Well everyone really. Loki is going to have the kids with her all day. They’ll get ready with her and Thor. They have no idea what’s going on but they’re super excited about all the things that are happening.”

“Oh, that’s good. I’m glad they’re with one of their parents,” I said.

“Yeah. They’re good. Hulk has been in control since yesterday. He fell asleep at one point while they were doing Henhalda. Jax said he plans to stay in control until after the bath. So it’s probably Bruce now, or Bruce soon,” Clarke said.

“Oh good. There were definitely parts of the cleansing Bruce would not have enjoyed.” I said as Katveil turned me around.

“So I guess you get the nails and hair done next and then we dress,” Clarke said.

“Elly also has to drink the broth that was made for her. But that is essentially correct.” Katveil said. She stood back up and picked up my robe, holding it open for me. “I am done. Just stay standing for a little while.”

I nodded and slipped the robe back on. “Thank you again. You made the whole process very enjoyable.”

She hugged me and wished me good luck before leaving me with Clarke and the other women. Just after she left Loki came into the room, carrying a bowl with the twins marching after her.

“Mommy!” The twins, cried, breaking formation and running at me. I crouched down and hugged them both.

“Hello, my little terrors. Are you being good for Auntie Loki?” I asked.

“Yes,” they both said in unison.

“D’joo know dat everyone has dis on dem?” Pietro asked, scrunching his fingers on my arm where he could see the Henhalda.

“I know. It’s pretty isn’t it?” I asked. The twins had both been fascinated by the artwork when they had seen me last night and they both had made up a story to go along with the bits they could see.

“Wiwl it go away?” He asked.

“Eventually. It’s just a special thing for today,” I explained.

“Okay, my darlings. We have to take breakfast to all your parents. Say goodbye to your mother.” Loki said, with much more patience in her voice than when she’d come to wake me up.

“Otay,” they both said and hugged me again.

I stood when they let me go and Loki handed me the bowl. “Drink all of it. When it is time for the ceremony I shall return to take you personally with the twins. Do not go with anyone else.”

“Thank you, Loki,” I said.

“I shall be glad when this is over. I need a vacation,” she said, playfully. It made me chuckle and she shook her head and left the room followed by the twins.

“Did Loki…?” Clarke asked looking from the door back to me.

“I think she did. I’m her favorite,” I joked.

Clarke snorted. “Don’t let her hear you say that.”

I drank the soup. It was pungent and tasted really medicinal and did nothing for the fact I was ravenous. I was then bustled into the chair where my hair was cut and styled. My nails were painted and my makeup was done.

When it was done my nails were painted with the same iridescent oil slick style the fabric of my dress was and decorated with Celtic style knotwork in gold. My eyeliner was done in a cat-eye style with gold and purple eyeshadow, and my lips were painted a deep red. I had my hair braided in a thick, loose braid with a gold and silver hair vine adorned with crystals wound through it.

The women left and the tailors bustled in immediately helping both myself and Clarke into our dresses. Clarke's was a shade of lavender to offset her eyes, in satin with ornate silver armor that sat on her hips, chest, and shoulders. The skirt ended at her knees and she wore knee-high black boots with the same silver plating on the sides and toes.

“Wow, Clarke,” I said as the women helped me into my dress. “You going to be my bridesmaid or security detail?”

“I can be both,” she teased.

They did a last few adjustments on the dress and then moved me in front of the mirror while they fit the gold diadem and veil in place. I couldn’t even believe I was looking at myself. I looked like a queen from a fantasy novel, dressed in shimmering liquid color and lace and painted in ornate detail. At my forehead sat a dark opal that shimmered with blue, red, and green and matched the rest of my outfit.

“God damn, Elise. You are a queen,” Clarke cursed. “Look at you.”

I smiled. “Well, at least I look the part.”

“Good luck to you, my lady,” one of the tailors said bowing slightly. “I shall fetch the lady Loki.”

The tailors left and Clarke came over and rubbed my arm. “Ready to become Mrs. Odinson?” She teased.

“That’s not how it works here,” I deadpanned.

She started laughing just as Loki came in followed by the children. She had a floor-length gown in her usual dark green and gold. The gold mostly forming panels around the bust but also running down her arms in elaborate scrollwork. She had smokey eyes and black lips, and on her head, she wore her horned crown.

Riley was wearing a white dress with a gold sash around the middle, while Pietro had white leggings and a gold tunic. They both had flowers in their hair. “Wow, mommy, you wook so beudifuwl,” Pietro said, awestruck.

“Thank you, honey. You look very pretty too. So does your sister.” When I said that, Riley pulled a face.

“Are you ready?” Loki asked.

I nodded and our small group made its way down towards the main hall. Though we took a less direct path than we normally would take. “I’m taking you to the front entrance,” Loki explained as we walked. “Thor will be waiting at the throne with the High Priest. I shall go and stand with him. When you hear the crowd quiet and the music start-up you will proceed down the main aisle to the throne. Do you think you can handle that?” She asked.

“I think I can do that.” I agreed. “What about the others?”

“They will be entering from different doors. You will take the main one because you are the mother of the heir, and you will be accompanied by your children,” Loki explained. “You should attempt to time your procession that you and the others all arrive at the same time.” She stopped when you reached the doors and turned to look at me, her face set in deadly seriousness. “Elise, when you go on your journey, remember who you are and what they mean to you. Do not get lost in the fear of the unknown.”

I nodded. “I will.”

“Good,” she said and reached to touch my arm before pulling her hand away and saying something in Asgardian to the guards by the door. When she turned back she addressed the children. “Alright, my darlings. Take care of your mother. I shall see you very soon.”

“We wiwl Aundie Woki,” they both echoed. Loki nodded and slipped through a small side door.

I took a deep breath and looked over at Clarke and waited for the signal.

//NEXT

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thenameisel · 3 years

Text

(It's been years since I wrote, but this game, well, gave the inspiration to do so again. So if it's a little long, and I tend to write on mobile... so forgive me. :) )

The Titan walked along the pebbled shoreline, an orange thermos in hand. It was a particularly large thermos, of the kind one uses to carry enough beverage of choice for multiple people. But in the Titan's hand it looked perfectly normal. An oversized thermos in an oversized hand.

A Ghost glittering golden floated sedately along side, occasionally pausing to scan a particularly interesting pebble.

The sun had not quite yet set, however thick clouds threatening rain obscured the little light remaining, making for quite a dreary evening.

Ahead, a half dozen Fallen bickered over a collection of washed up junk, looking for anything salvageable. Each in turn looked up from their work, eyeing the newcomer warily. Their movements were fluid, but jumpy. A weird bobbing grace. Suddenly, all heads come up in unison, many hands reaching for almost as many weapons.

The Titan snorted a short laugh as the Ghost vanished. "We're not interested in your junk. Just let us pass."

Either the Fallen didn't understand, or, more likely, had no reason to trust the statement. After all, what Guardian would walk past a group of humanity's foes without beating them to a pulp? One of them took a step forward, lifting a lance into an aggressive position. The Titan sighed, shrugged in mild disappointment and looked around for a flatish rock. Finding one, a hand came up in a classic 'one moment' gesture, and the thermos was placed on the rock with the utmost care.

As the Titan stood upright, the massive hands started to spark with Arc energy.

"Allrighty. Let's do this."

Further along, up in a nook on a bluff, a Hunter lay in wait for prey. There had been a tip off about a smuggling ring making a trade somewhere in this area, and a master of shadows had been sent to intercept it. Once in the area, a suspicious beacon had led to a particular stretch of beach, and an inlet hidden by tall rock walls, with plenty of nooks someone could hide in.

One such had proven particularly useful. It was a good perch, well up above the small sheltered area, just enough space to lay prone. Dressed all in dark colors, the figure was almost invisible in the fading light. A matte black Ghost rested beside, a single eye as intent on the empty beach below as the Hunter's two. Rifle in hand, the pair lay in wait for something to happen. When it did, it most certainly wasn't what they were expecting.

"Those Fallen down the beach are making noise again." The Ghost whispered. "Something's got them mad."

"Think it's the smugglers?"

"Maybe."

So they settled in to wait again, but the noise got loud enough that the two could pick out distinct words. "No, not the smugglers." The Ghost said disappointed. "Their clamering about killing someone."

The Hunter groaned, face in the dirt. "Ok. I guess we should go see what's going on. If someone needs help..." The statement remained unfinished.

A soft glow emitted from the Ghost as it gained height, and the Hunter stretched muscles sore from laying in wait. Suddenly the noise from the Fallen was punctured by the crack of Arc energy, and the outline of the inlet's entrance was lit with blue light. The noise of Fallen gunfire returned the assault.

"Damn it. That's going to warn off the smugglers."

"Oh look on the bright side!" The Ghost chipped in cheerfully.

"And what would that be?"

"I think I know who that is!"

Another groan and the Hunter, head shaking, jumped out of the nook to the beach below. The Ghost chirped happily and followed. There had been the beginnings of a smile on the Guardian's face after all. They may have lost their intended prey, but one of another kind had just blundered into their sights.

The Titan continued down the shoreline, thermos in hand. Behind, a half dozen Fallen lay, a few barely clinging to life. The remains of the Arc onslaught sparked among the scrap.

"There's an inlet up around the next bluff" the Ghost said, popping back into reality, "I'm picking up a faint beacon. It's not one of ours."

"Oh?" The Titan said, "That sounds interesting. Shall we take a peek?"

The Ghost made a simple affirmative sounding tone, then paused. After a moment a second, slightly more complex and happier sounding tone was emitted, before vanishing in a flurry of sparks.

The Titan chuckled quietly. That Ghost tended to be a somber fellow, and that was practically joy. So something was definitely up.

The bluff ahead jutted almost out into the water, only a narrow band of large rockfall skirted it with just enough pebble shore to pass. Good spot for an ambush. Not that something like an ambush was concerning to a Titan. But it wasn't to be, and the way was uneventful. However, there had been a distinct feeling of being watched. But that wasn't a bother either.

Round the corner, and into the deeper gloom of the inlet. A few strides in and visibility was getting very poor. The Titan methodically peered into the shadows, though there really wasn't much use, as the day was ending and the black of night was coming fast. An oversized hand was raised, palm up, requesting some additional light.

Before the Ghost could materialize however, a shadow detached itself from the bluff wall, launching itself at the hulking form.

The shadow hit broadside full force, but the Titan's stance held. Bellowing, one hand desperately clinging to the thermos, the other pulling at the dark form, which had worked up to the wide shoulders.

"WATCH MY TEA!" The voice thundered through the inlet, echoing across the walls, disturbing sleeping birds, loosing rocks and who knows what else.

"Well stop thrashing about!" The Hunter said, now balanced in a squat. Dark gloved hands quickly worked around the edges of the Titan's helm, trying to find the latch.

There was a shout of triumph, which quickly became holler of shock as a massive hand came up, managed to grab a good fist full of cloak, and pull the Hunter from the perch.

"Enough of that!" The Titan held the Hunter in the air at arm's length. Legs came up however and wrapped around the large arm. A wriggle, and the Hunter dropped free, but cloak-less.

With a grunt the Titan tossed the dark fabric towards the triumphant shadow.

At some point their Ghosts had materialized, circling the pair. The golden one's eye rippled in humor as it surveyed the scene. The black one made cheerful burbling noises while circling what was apparently old friends.

"Allright allright." The Hunter laughed "I'll get you next time. But seriously, what is with the tea? I have never seen you out of the Tower without your helmet. You refuse to take it off! And yet, you always bring tea!"

"It's for after."

"Leave it in your jumpship!"

The Titan thought for a moment, studying the thermos, as if looking for damage. "Perhaps."

"You're ridiculous. You know that right? Ridiculous."

"Am I?"

There was pause, then a moment of realization, and a large hand produced from a belt pouch a fist sized paper wrapped package and tossed it to the slender form.

The pair were illuminated solely now by their Ghosts. On odd match, one small, slender and graceful, the other large, hulking and intimidating. One in shades of black, the other tan and navy. The Hunter unwrapped the package partially.

"OooOooH. Sweet! You know I love these things!" Inside was a popular street food from the Tower. A deep fried bun filled with herbs and cheese. It was a food that was cheap and traveled well. The fact they were high calorie helped too, what with the running around Guardians did.

"So." The Hunter said, finding a low rock to sit on, and removing a blackened matte helmet. However the face stayed hidden in the shadow of the hood. "What you been up to lately?"

The Titan looked around for a suitable seat, and finding none, shrugged and went to sit right on the ground. The movement wasn't the slightest bit graceful, especially not in all that armor. It was a little better than collapsing, complete with an expected curse. A suitable flat rock was found within reach for the thermos.

"Well. The usual mostly. But, oh boy, do I have a story for you!"

"Oh?" The word came out around chewing.

It had become tradition between the pair for the Titan to 'happen' to have the Hunter's favorite snack handy. It started a few years back, the then already veteran shadow had taken an odd liking to the hulking new light, and much enjoyed stealing parts of meals to get an outburst.

Sometimes, instead of outright theft the Hunter would swap out the contents of Titan's lunch for a box of crayons. That always got a good rise and threats in return. Eventually, the Titan's laid back nature won out, and instead there were often extra buns tucked away to keep the Hunter at bay. Turns out a well fed shadow causes less grief!

"Well. I was in the Tower last week when we had that crazy snow storm. I was waiting on a scouting party to return. You know how it is sometimes. I was doing my part, guarding the walls, and bored out of my mind. So bored I would have happily run a Rumble. And you know I hate those." Massive hands idly stacked pebbles. "So bored that when we saw a notice for a new Crucible event we jumped on it."

"A new one?" The Hunter leaned forward, interested.

"Yea! This one was called 'Removal'"

"'Two four person teams compete for the fastest time.' it said." The golden Ghost chimed in. "'Why not?' we thought, 'might be fun? Might be a variation of Control?'"

The Hunter chuckled. The Titan took over the telling again.

"So, we grabbed a couple more Titans, those two big Exos, I think you've met them, and somehow along the way we managed to gain a Warlock. Not really sure. I tried looking for you but I think you were off somewhere that day. Anyway, we march up to the main courtyard, and there's already a good collection of people who must have heard about the new event. Both Guardians and lightless. So we shouldered our way through the crowd."

"Of course you did."

"Well we were didn't want to be the last to try this 'Removal'! Anyway. We get through the crowd, somehow kept the Warlock with us too, and there we are the four of us in front of Lord Shaxx, and besides us another four, a Titan, two Hunters and a Warlock. Now Lord Shaxx is standing there, hands on hips pleased as punch."

The Titan paused for dramatic effect, "'GOOD TO SEE SO MANY TURN UP FOR THIS NEW TRIAL!'" The Titan boomed, imitating the Crucible handler's exuberant speech. "'ALWAYS GOOD TO SEE SOME ENTHUSIASM! AND I THINK WE HAVE OUR FIRST COMBATANTS!'"

The Hunter laughed again at the apt impression, dusted crumbs off and waited for the Titan to continue.

"Lord Shaxx looks us over. 'REMOVAL IS ABOUT CLEARING AN AREA. WORKING AS A TEAM QUICKLY AND EFFICIENTLY AS POSSIBLE.' Then he hands me, no joke, a darkness damned SNOW SHOVEL. I think he's kidding. Maybe he's lost it. He proceeds to hand snow shovels out to the others. All the time going 'ONE FOR YOU, ONE FOR YOU.' I'm just staring at mine, and at Lord Shaxx, confused out of my mind."

"And you fell for it."

"...What?"

The Hunter's head shook back and forth. "You fell for it. He tried that a couple years back with another big storm. Back before your Ghost found you."

The Titan's shoulders sank in disappointment that the storey wasn't new.

"Continue!" The Hunter urged, seeing the dejection. "How did it go? I still want to hear this!"

"Uh well…" another pause as the Titan gathered enthusiasm again.

"Well. Once we all had shovels, one of the Hunters threatened our Warlock with it. That was pretty funny. But I stepped between them and the Hunter stopped right quick.

Lord Shaxx sent us off to two of the larger jumpship landing terraces on the wall. You know the ones, big parking areas. Now I think ours was quite a bit bigger, but was higher then the other team's, which was right beside and below us, and I think they had more drifting. So I guess Lord Shaxx thought it fair. There were the usual extra Ghosts watching, no doubt streaming this…. Match."

At this point the pebble stack had become a small wall.

"So?" The Hunter asked, leaning forward. "Who won?"

"Neither." The Titan grumbled. "It started out well enough! We three Titans were clearing snow, quick as we can, just barreling through it. The Warlock helped here and there, but was mostly doing that thing where they heal you. Turns out it works just as good on sore muscles as bullet wounds. Unfortunately though the other team's Titan was a Sunbreaker. Apparently melting the snow was a viable tactic. And somehow is getting through the snow faster than we are!"

"Those Exos…." The Hunter asked, "They're big, but Sentinels right?"

"Yea. Totally useless in that situation. My Arc too. But we keep shoveling. But they keep out pacing us. Then the Warlock has a bright idea. Sounds good at first, so we go for it. Instead of piling the snow neatly we start chucking our snow onto their terrace. Oh boy that made them mad. Especially when the three of us heaved a large bank over and buried the same Hunter that threatened our Warlock earlier. That felt so good."

The pair laughed. "Unfortunately it went downhill from there. Lord Shaxx had already warned us a few times that we were… bending the rules. But as we stood there laughing at the Hunter, a flaming hand shot out of the snow bank and well…. I was the only one who never heard the gunshot."

"No… it came to that?" The Hunter asked, hanging on the Titan's words.

"It certainly did." The golden Ghost chirped. "I put my Titan's head back together just in time to witness it devolve into a fist fight."

"Lord Shaxx was so mad!" The Titan declared. "So mad. He's yelling at us over the loudspeaker, demanding we stop. Threatening to come in person. But, well, you know how it can be once the blood is pumping. I'm honestly not sure which of us jumped down first.

The Warlock pulls out a bow, starts firing on the opposing team, aiming for whoever's pointed a gun at us. I grab the Hunter who shot me, who's still stuck in the snow bank. I turn for a throw off the tower and my head slams right into the Sunbreaker's fist. That makes me drop the Hunter and we start pounding each other.

Pretty sure I broke a nose and who knows what else right through the helmet. Caved it in pretty bad. Still standing, still returning blows though. Suddenly hands that even I find big pull us apart.

'ENOUGH OF THIS FOOLISHNESS!' Lord Shaxx is bellowing. 'THIS WAS SUPPOSED TO BE AN EXERCISE IN COOPERATION!'

We're just standing there, Ghosts patching us up and he's lecturing us about not being so quick to blows, teamwork, and something and something else. I honestly can't recall a lot of the rant, my head was still swimming from first being brought back, then the fist fight. But I was maybe a little tiny bit sorry. The goal was to clear snow. Nothing else… but then again we weren't told fighting was off the table. I still say that Hunter started it by threatening our Warlock at the beginning."

"So then what?" The Hunter asked, putting the helmet back on. "Did he run any more 'Removal' matches?"

"Oh no. No way. After a good 10 minutes of lecture Zavala himself arrived. Started lecturing Lord Shaxx about his ideas. Said if he ever made mundane labor a competition again, he'd take the Crucible away from him. You'd think that would shut him up. Oh boy an argument started and to be honest, we took our leave then and there. Didn't matter, we all got stuck with snow clearing duty for the rest of the week anyway."

The Hunter chuckled, standing up. "That's kind of what happened last time. Zavala banned it, guess Lord Shaxx didn't take the order to heart."

"Where you headed next?" The shadow asked, playfully patting the massive forms helmet. Even sitting, the Titan's head came up to the smaller one's chest. "I've lost my prey for the night, you got any I can tag along for?"

"Oh definitely!" The Titan said happily, standing up and rolling shoulders before retrieving the thermos. "There's been reports of hive activity nearby. I was sent to scout it out. Maybe cause some damage. I bet with your help the two of us could clear it right out!"

"That works for me! Lead on!"

One large figure was seen leaving the inlet. The armor was tan and navy, holding a large orange thermos, barely visible in the small amount of light a glittering golden Ghost provided.

An odd matte black shadow, much smaller than it should be and sporting a cloak, flickered along the bluff wall not quite in time with the figure.

Every once and a while the golden Ghost would stop and sink to scan an interesting pebble. And every once and a while a Ghost shaped shadow that seemed to glow ever so slightly would dart ahead or lag behind, making the ever so quietest happy chirps.

#fiction #fanfic #destiny 2 #titan #hunter #my writing #oh its been TOO long #yea i dont know formatting #too bad #ghost

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pauldron-pieces · 3 years

Text

Perdita 'Aurelezra' Gentle's Backstory: From Elsewhere

Fandom: Dungeons And Dragons (5E)

Pairing: N/A, Perdita-Centric

Rating: Holy shit M.

AN: This is a hypothetical narrative scenario featuring original characters in a world created by my Dungeon Master. As usual, this is non-canon and I own nothing aside from intellectual properties specifically attached to Perdita Gentle. This installment is mechanically unsound in a multitude of ways and ignores certain important lore facets.

Applicable trigger warnings are listed inside. Enjoy!

Taglist: @sporadic-fics and @cookiethewriter!

Inspired By: The Little Mermaid Score: Bedtime and sleepmakeswaves: One Day You Will Teach Me To Let Go Of My Fears

[Perdita Gentle is a Warforged celestial warlock utilizing the Pact Of The Bastion homebrew, and her appearance can be found here!]

[!TRIGGER WARNING!: This installment contains multiple triggering scenes including vivid depictions of violence and brief mentions of character death. Stay safe!]

It came from elsewhere...

Amidst the hail of shooting stars peppering the landscape from the tail of the near-passing comet, something else arrived.

It was frail, fragile, spindly fingers clawing for purchase on the walls of the crater it emerged from. It did not make it much further than that, and it was discovered the following morning by two children surveying the damage in their family's garden.

Between the two of them, they propped it up, marveling at the chipped red gilding that coated its limbs. It stirred and they fled in a panic, running back towards the large house and calling for their parents.

×+×

Brand stared down at the crumpled mess of Warforged on his front terrace, an eyebrow raised. His two young children danced around his legs, alternating between pulling him forward and tugging him back. "This is the cause of all the fuss? This?" He asked incredulously.

"It moved by itself!"

"Aye, just as you move by yourself." The former captain commented dryly, ruffling his daughter's hair and utterly destroying the complex tangle of braids her mother had labored over. "You two lubbers have seen Warforged before, or have you forgotten?"

"Testin doesn't look like that!" His son protested. "Testin has a face!"

"You know how your hair is different from mine, pup? And how your sister's nose is less prodigious than this beak I sport? Warforged have such varied traits as well."

The head on the thing looked like an old Thanatonaut relic, just a smooth dome. It also bore archaic equipment for off-Flow navigation on the inside of its arms. Brand heaved out a sigh, smoothing a finger over his brown mustache in a meditative manner.

"Well, we can't just leave 'em out here. Ceere, have your mother ring Testin. And you, Kamer, are going to help me settle this poor rattler into one of our chairs out here." Brand rolled his eyes at how pale his son went, while Ceere stuck her tongue out at him. "Oi, chit, stop taunting your brother. Now shoo, and make sure your mother knows to tell Testin that it's important!"

×+×

Brand Gentle had made his fortune in his younger years as the eventual captain on a deep-space excavation platform. He had seen many odd things in his day, unearthed strange and unusual artifacts from times long gone by. Thanatonaut helms that predated mankind's fumbling into Flow travel, monoliths to terrible and forgotten powers; the refuse of man's advance into the stars.

Yet he had never seen anything quite like this. A Warforged birthed of a meteor, trimmed in battered red and gold like the veils of the Vespertine Order.

The former captain sat on his patio across from the mysterious Warforged, finally leaning forward in his chair after he collected his thoughts. "What is your name?" He asked quietly.

The thing ticked and whirred, and a hoarse voice answered, "I have no designation." A female voice.

Brand sighed heavily. He should have known it wouldn't be so straightforward. Beside him, Testin Awe cleared his throat. "Think back. Can you remember what happened before you woke in the Gentle's prize rose garden?" The hulking Warforged's tone was dry, blue eyes darting to Brand when he touched upon the sensitive subject. Brand was exceedingly protective of his roses.

More ticking. "Darkness." An odd shimmy of mechanics long unused as she tipped her head to the side. "I fell."

"I bet you did." Testin replied, then muttered under his breath, "Captain, she's battier than the Bakhroma Green."

Brand waved him off, giving the faceless Warforged across from him a tight smile. She cocked her head to the side again, and he got the unsettling feeling that he was being studied.

"I hurt your flowers. How can I fix them?" She queried.

Brand blinked. Testin, despite lacking an actual throat, seemed quite intent on clearing it today.

×+×

Calling her Perdita seemed to be a given. She was lost, constantly, wandering the grounds of the Gentle estate at all hours of the night and day. She had no physical needs, as was the custom of her race, so Brand saw no harm in her roving. She certainly didn't seem malicious, just curious in a blunt way.

Libertia, Brand's wife, took an odd shine to the spacey automaton. The former captain often found the woman chatting to her, trying to help her expand her ability for speech. Perdita was minimalist in her words, though she did eventually begin to speak more as the years passed.

Testin thought Perdita was a bit touched. "Still a little battle-rattle in that one." He had remarked privately to Brand, his craggy face oddly sympathetic for a Warforged. "Hard to shake sometimes."

Brand knew better than most folk that Warforged were more than adequate matches for their fleshy counterparts, and he took everything his old first mate told him as gospel. Testin was in agreement with Brand that the red and gold Warforged was decidedly not a threat.

"She just likes the flowers?" Testin asked suddenly one evening as he and Brand sat on the terrace. Brand nodded lazily, the smoke from his cheroot cigar twirling and arching through the air. "I don't get it, but...well, I guess you did have a penchant for gathering up the misfits." The gray-green Warforged allowed, his sidelong grin making Brand chuckle. "She's happy here, y'know. She mentioned it to me earlier. She thinks she's helping when you let her trim the bushes." His laughter was a rusty noise.

"She loves talking with Lib. Er, with may not be the right term. My wife could talk the legs off a table." Brand smiled fondly and Testin rolled those glowing blue eyes.

"Have you heard from Kamer at all?" The large Warforged changed the subject, frowning when the former captain sighed and shook his head.

"I'm not sure I should have sent him away for his schooling. What with the Empire gaining ground steadily, I'm uncertain how long the boarding schools will be safe."

"Hey, Kamer's smart. You know that. That kid won't get himself tangled up in anything. Besides, what the hell would the Empire want with a kid who's sole aspiration is to be an architect?" Testin tilted his head. "Now, Ceere-"

"Don't remind me, she's apprenticed to the Facturers now. Hopefully, by the grace of the gods, she'll put her tinkering tendencies to good use and stop destroying my beautiful skiffs." Brand groaned, putting his head in his hands.

"I mean, she's got great potential. Engine ripped itself apart in three different places."

"I'm well aware, you mechanical menace. It was my favorite Screamer class!"

×+×

Libertia was the one to suggest that Perdita consider taking up the habit of the Vespertine Order.

"You seem at peace whenever you come with me to chapel, Perdie." She commented one afternoon over tea. Brand raised an eyebrow at his wife, then glanced at the featureless automaton across the way. "Have you ever thought about joining the convent?" Libertia queried.

Perdita hummed thoughtfully. "I like the chapel. It's quiet. Makes me feel like I can stop moving." She offered a shrug. "I know I'm not...quiet." She was a much older model than Testin and her body tended to rattle or squeak at odd intervals.

"You don't feel like you can be still here?" Brand asked curiously.

"I am restless." The Warforged admitted quietly. "Some things help. The garden. The chapel."

Brand grunted, settling back in his chair and lapsing into thought. The Vespertine sisters were a formidable bunch, for all that they resided on this backwater planetoid. They seemed to have their proverbial fingers in a multitude of pies. He wasn't sure if he trusted them with his Perdie.

His mustache quirked up in a wry grin, realizing that he was thinking of the Warforged like she was one of his own children. "Do what you think is best, Perdie. Perhaps the quiet will help you sort yourself out. Gods know we tithe enough to the church, maybe in exchange for our continued generosity they'll accept someone a little less fleshy than their usual ranks."

He got the faintest impression that Perdita was beaming at him, her whole body haloed with a strange golden light. But Brand blinked and the light was gone. He shook his head at himself, vowing not to spike his afternoon tea so strongly next time.

×+×

When the Empire came to the planet years later, they struck without warning.

Evening prayer had just finished, the last fleeting rays of sunlight peering through the simple leaded glass windows of the chapel. Perdita sat docile in the pew, her head bowed beneath her veil.

"It makes me glad to know that you've found some sort of peace and purpose." Brand commented, the now-elderly man ambling up alongside her. "Never put much faith in this church business, myself. Give me the Flow and a nimble craft and I'm a content man."

"Captain." She inclined her head. She had heard his sentiment many times before.

"I'm surprised you haven't gone out to chart the world, my dear. Your cartographer's gear will get rusty!" The former captain teased, settling down into the pew and patting her arm. "Surely, the Vespertine sisters ought to be spread?"

"It is dangerous." Perdita sighed. "I am trying. The Ferrarium Empire-"

"Bah, belay that codswallop here." Brand groused. "Bunch of nobles in stuffed shirts with too many guns and not enough good sense. Stole my good boy away and turned him into a simpering buffoon." He bowed his head, touching his thumb to his left cheek and then his sternum. "Thank the gods his mother passed on before he made that terrible choice."

An odd whistling caught his attention, and Brand cocked his head. His hearing had been shot for years, maybe he was imagining the sound-

The windows abruptly exploded inwards as an impact rocked the ground. Sisters scurried this way and that in panic, their veils fluttering like butterfly wings as they ushered the last few stragglers out of the structure. Brand, his ears still ringing from the first bombardment, felt a second one strike outside. Perdita was stiff, unmoving in the pew, so he seized her hand and made haste for the doorway.

"Perdie, we cannot linger in this place!" He tried to snap her out of it, her deceptively-heavy form slowing their flight. "It's the Empire, Perdie, we have to--" Through the haze of dust rising, the former captain caught sight of a massive dreadnought's keel flying low overhead. Rage burned at his soul; why would they come here of all places? This was a planet of agriculture, not manufacturing!

Perdita tilted her head, and Brand knew that she must have noticed the ship. "What is that?" She asked, her voice ticking up slightly in query.

"That is something that should not have turned its eye upon us!" Brand snapped. "Why the devil would they-" There was shouting up ahead, and scattered pistol fire. "Martyr's malfeasance," the elderly man swore, "I ought to have known."

The Inquisitors had arrived, bearing overpowered arms and causing chaos as was their want. Brand managed to slip around the edge of the advancing line, searching the crowds for Testin's large form. His old first mate was nowhere to be seen and Brand's heart sank.

An Inquisitor loomed up out of the smoke in front of them, halting the former captain in his tracks. "Identify yourself, civilian." The armored man droned.

"Or what? You've already blown the chapel and convent to pieces!" Brand spat. "What could the Ferrarium Empire possibly want from a sleepy little colony planet?"

The Inquisitor's baton met the side of the elderly man's head with a dull thud, felling him with ease.

×+×

Brand started awake, hacking and wheezing as he inhaled ash. He sat up, ignoring the throbbing of his head. Where is-

"Perdita!" He yelled, struggling to his feet and cupping his hands around his mouth. "Perdie, where are you?"

The cobblestones underfoot had been broken and scattered by the mortaring, making the footing uncertain. The former captain stumbled forward over the rubble, continuing to call for the Warforged.

A shimmer of red and gold flickered through the hellish smoke up ahead, and he fancied it might be her habit. His suspicions proved correct as her frail form solidified out of the clouds of billowing dust and ash.

"Perdita!" Brand exclaimed gladly.

She turned slowly at the sound of his voice, that damned veil still flapping fitfully in the turbulent air. Beneath the gauzy shroud where her domed head was, the former captain saw something blaze to life. Eyes, hundreds of them, glowing through the fabric. Brand stopped in his tracks, uncertain of what he was seeing. That blow to the head must have rattled him, now he was hallucinating!

Her hand pressed to her chest over the long habit. "I am the bastion." Perdita said calmly, as though they weren't being bombarded by low-flying aircraft. "I am Vespertine, I am Alizarin, I am reborn. My name is Aurelezra, and I fell to defend."

A shell plummeted from the sky and with a single motion, she obliterated it. One moment it was there, the next, she simply pointed at it and a shimmering golden manifestation that resembled an enormous rose blossom appeared directly in its path. The shell struck it, the impact sending foiled shrapnel flitting listlessly to the ground.

Brand was wholly bewildered. The only other time he had witnessed such power was when-

The thousands of eyes swiveled to stare at him, blinking rapidly. Brand swallowed hard. "What did those blasted nuns do to you, Perdie?" He asked, his voice so low he wasn't sure if she would hear it over the pandemonium.

Perdita tipped her head to the side, those eyes writhing and teeming nauseatingly over one another, flickering through the habit in a way that made Brand exceedingly glad she was wearing it. "I am the bastion." She repeated. She sounded hideously serene. "I am Alizarin."

Rifle reports barked through the air and Perdita turned towards the noise, setting off over the debris with sure steps. "Wait, Perdie!" Brand protested, fumbling after her as best as he could. "Perdie, are you mad? These are Inquisitors, you can't just..." He trailed off as he watched her simply walk through the line of gunfire. "Or perhaps you can." He muttered.

A strange golden haze shone around her body and every time a bullet struck the haze, a malevolent eye roiled to the surface to fix the attacker with a blazing stare. More shells rained down and each one was foiled or thrown off-target by shimmering, sunset-hued roses, blossoming riotously to life in midair like some grand fireworks display at a midsummer fair.

"Captain!" That was Testin's voice, thank gods. The elderly man turned this way and that, breathing a sigh of relief when he finally spotted the towering mass that was Testin.

"Testin my boy, you're a sight for sore eyes!" Brand said with a wry grin, taking in the small cluster of nuns that were teeming anxiously in the shadow of the massive automaton. Among them was the Mother Superior, her black veil a stark contrast to the usual red. "You've got some explaining to do, woman! What the hell have you done to my Perdie?" Brand thundered, itching to shake her until her teeth rattled.

"Sister Perdita has spent many, many hours reading the scriptures and studying our texts, Captain Gentle." The woman replied, almost infuriatingly calm. "She was brought to this planet for a specific reason."

"What are you on about? Look at her! It's like she's possessed!" The elderly man shouted.

"She has become more, Captain. A vessel for something that we mere mortals have only glimpsed. Alizarin, the Red Saint."

"There's a thousand blasted eyes all over her and she's sending out starbursts of roses that intercept cannon fire!" Brand roared. "I'll only ask once more, what have you done to her?"

"She willingly accepted this power, Captain. I suggest you calm yourself. I know you do not believe or trust in the power of the Red Saint, but Sister Perdita does." The matron retorted haughtily. "And when Libertia was alive-"

"Keep my wife's name out of your mouth." Brand snarled, his hand instinctively twitching down towards his hip for the piece he had carried in his younger years.

"Easy now, Cap." Testin intoned, raising a hand. "Easy."

"You planned this from the start." Brand accused the woman, a sick sense of realization blossoming in his gut. "You put the idea in Libertia's head, didn't you? Why Perdie?"

"Warforged make excellent vessels." The Mother Superior said simply.

Testin rumbled in threat overhead, one large hand settling heavily on the woman's shoulder. "I suggest you choose your next words very carefully." The Warforged paladin's tone was one of extreme irritation. "Unless you'd like to find out how bad of a vessel I can be."

"She has become a warlock of exceptional power." The woman hurriedly continued. "The Red Saint is pleased with our offering, and he will-"

"The Red Saint, aye? Unwilling martyr himself." Brand scoffed. "You've gone and turned my girl into a nightmare for the glory of that flayed demagogue."

"A nightmare that can go toe-to-toe with Inquisitor gunsmithing." The Mother Superior shot back smugly. "You knew as well as I did that it was only a matter of time before the Ferrarium Empire turned their gaze to the Fringes. Their grasping for resources is ceaseless."

"As interesting as your bickering is, we're wasting time." Testin growled, gesturing vaguely forwards. "She's gaining on their dreadnought. We following her?"

×+×

Everything was so loud.

"It is time, Aurelezra." His voice was like smoke, like whispers. He drew her attention upwards to the ship, He guided her hands as she wove the spell and He found her the suitable target. "They will not take this planet. They will never take again."

Perdita nodded shakily, power dripping and sparking from her fingers. "Never again."

"You have done well, Aurelezra. You easily outstrip the mortals." He praised as she raised her hands. "I shall do such wonders through you."

×+×

Without warning, a bolt of red light shot from Perdita's hands and arced up at the command ship. Testin swore loudly, the Warforged's face twisting into an approximation of a grimace. "Oh, that's not good." He said hoarsely, leaving the cluster of nuns behind as he moved forward.

"What, what's happened?" Brand asked frantically, trying to keep up.

"That was something that uh, I wouldn't have used. A little too spicy for me." The Warforged grunted, readying the hand cannon integrated in his left forearm. His heavy, elephantine feet easily crushed the rubble beneath him, clearing the way for the former captain. "If everyone on that ship isn't dead after that spell hits..."

"What?" Brand gasped.

Testin shook his head mournfully, not finishing that trail of thought. "We need to figure out where the ship will go down. Figure out whether we can break it apart ahead of time or whether your Perdie has a few more Red Saint tricks up that veil." Testin's sigh was heavy. "I'm sorry, Captain."

The command ship began rapidly losing altitude, listing slightly to the right. Perdita pursued it doggedly and Brand watched her raise her hands again. "Perdie!" He shouted, heartened when she paused. "Stop, Perdie!"

"Stay put!" Testin yelled, then said, "Cap, either get onboard or get left behind, we don't have time for your old bones."

Brand growled something uncharitable about his former first mate, then swung up onto the pro-offered arm.

Testin sprinted forward, easily catching up to the waifish Perdita and grabbing her around the waist with one massive hand. "I'd like to shake the marbles clean out of your chest right now, but we don't have time for me to be pissed off at you." Testin snarled at her, still at his full sprint. "You got anything else in that arsenal of yours, or are you gonna' let that ship crush someone's farm?"

"I can do it."

"What, exactly?"

Perdita pointed upwards at the ship and simply said, "shatter." A massive golden rose exploded into being on the keel, blowing a hole in the hull the size of the town square. Splinters and beams rained down, Testin barely managing to dodge a few of the larger chunks.

"Martyr's malfeasance, you're a menace!" The larger Warforged said in disbelief, the cannon in his left arm whirring to life as the ship sank within his range. "I mean, keep it up, but saint's blood you are an absolute terror." His cannon glowed, shoulder tight when he fired and sent the projectile rocketing upwards to erupt in a radiant blast. "Not fancy, but any port in a storm." He huffed, trying to chamber another round without releasing Perdita.

"There's so much." Perdita was shaking in Testin's grip. Molten gold trailed from her fingertips and every eye that shone through the veil was wide open.

Brand clambered across Testin's shoulders, the elderly man reaching out so he could grab one of her hands. "Listen to me, Perdie." He said loudly, trying to make sure she could hear him over the rapidly-approaching creak of timbers and warning system alarms. "You've got some kind of hellfiring power now, right?"

Perdita nodded slowly. "He's so loud." She breathed, and Brand knew with crushing certainty that she wasn't talking about himself or Testin.

"Aye, I'm sure he is. But if he wants to have you as his vessel, he needs to understand that you're the captain." Brand reasoned fiercely. "You bite back at that freeloader and you tell him you're the damned captain, you hear me girl?!"

×+×

I'm the captain.

Perdita clung to the thought, staggering through the red haze of her subconscious.

I'm the captain.

Alizarin nodded in acquiescence. "That you are, Aurelezra. For now. For this moment. What will you do?" He chuckled. "You are unfamiliar with such power. You have already overdrawn yourself. What will you do, Defender?"

It doesn't matter whether I'm tired. I'm the captain. Me. Not you, she thought stubbornly.

×+×

Perdita clawed her way up Testin's arm to his shoulder, the larger Warforged rumbling in confusion. "What the hell are you doing now?"

"I'm the captain." Perdita said sharply. Blast after golden blast was flung by her hand, the ship groaning under the assault. Timbers cracked and creaked like the ship was caught in a ferocious gale. "I'm the captain!" She yelled, "I'm the captain!"

The dreadnought rent itself apart at the scuppers with one final impact, briefly looking like the massive ribcage of some eldritch horror. The engines tore free of their mooring, the shriek of metal heralding doom for the trio as they plummeted downwards. Testin tried to backpedal, but he had built up such a head of steam and the engines were so enormous-

Brand fumbled to catch Perdita's hand once again, closing his eyes as he heard Testin grit out what he assumed was his final swear.

Looks like I'll be home soon, Lib.

"A Bastion for my faithful." That was not Perdita's voice. It was barely a whisper, smooth as silk and light as a favorable breeze. "Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have seen my power once before. Blessed are you, Brand Gentle, for you have survived my power once before. Blessed shall you be, Brand Gentle, though you do not believe."

A golden dome sheathed the triumvirate of individuals, millions of eyes scattered across it opening and closing at random. Brand gripped Perdita's hand as tightly as he dared, uncertain if he was the only one seeing this...wonder.

"Fear not, Brand Gentle. She will not be harmed."

The dome vanished and Testin fairly seethed with curses, the gray-green Warforged reeling back a step from the flaming wreckage of the engine that surrounded them. A neat circle had been sheared out from the dome, the edges still molten and smoking.

"That's it. Whatever's gotten into you, I'm tearing it out of you!" the paladin announced, grappling Perdita around the waist again. "Send that cosmic bastard back to the Deep Reef where it belongs, I-" He paused when she went limp in his hold, lowering his glowing right hand after a moment. "Uh...Perdie?" He asked warily, shaking her until she rattled. "Perdie?"

"I'm the captain." She responded, her voice reedy with exhaustion. Perdita reached out to Brand, and he carefully laced his fingers through her own. "I-I'm the...captain..."

"Aye child," Brand murmured, "that you are."

×+×

The whole colony banded together to scuttle the dreadnought's bones. The Vespertine sisters made themselves marvellously useful when it came to putting the dead to rest.

Most of the ship's crew had been slaughtered by whatever Perdita had done with that spell, and the few left alive had perished on impact.

Testin had grunted in satisfaction as he surveyed the red veiled sisters scurrying to and fro in the wreckage. "I think your Perdie just fired the galaxy's largest warning shot."

"Aye." Brand had agreed wearily. "Now all that's left to see is whether the Empire will take notice."

"Their dreadnoughts aren't usually...destroyed, Captain. Once word gets back to them, all hell's going to break loose." The Warforged predicted grimly, his arms folded over his chest. "You'd better make sure she clears atmosphere before they come back around."

"I don't think I could make her stay!" The former captain chuckled. "She's always been on the move, Testin. High time she did something with all that energy."

×+×

"The Gotengo has been moored for years, Captain. You think it can still hold up?" Testin mused, poring over the old schematics.

Brand sighed, raking a hand through his hair. "It's the finest craft I have at my disposal, dusty or not. And she'll need something nimble if she's planning on trekking out there through the blockades." He meandered to the window of his study, staring down at his rose garden without actually seeing it. "I've already gotten in touch with Squire Deering, and he claims he's found a slew of candidates for her crew."

Testin snorted in disbelief. "And you trust that penny-pinching miser? Guy probably trawled through three different wharfside taverns and asked for able-bodied seamen."

"Deering may be a...bit tight fisted, but he's a good man. I have great faith that when Perdita arrives, she'll be shown nothing but courtesy." Brand assured the gray-green Warforged, stroking his mustache.

"Correct me if I'm wrong, but I distinctly remember that waistcoat-wearing ponce saddling you with a ship that had a rotted out mainmast." Testin deadpanned. "What did he blame it on? Moths?"

Brand coughed awkwardly, clearing his throat. "Regardless, he will treat her right. Warforged or not, she's the captain."

"A new Captain Gentle." Testin shook his head ruefully. "Never thought I'd see the day. Bodes pretty shit for the Empire, if you ask me."

"All I hope is that she and that blooded saint first mate of hers give them hell."

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