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hyuuckly · 3 years

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their guilty pleasures

— mark & dream 00’ liners x fem!reader

— 2.1k

— smut

warnings: public sex, car sex, high sex, unprotected sex, masturbation, blowjob, fingering, coochie slapping, somnophilia

-mark lee-

okay mark is one horny whore. he’s an ass man. he’s the type to squeeze and rub your ass at any time, doesn’t matter where you guys are.

nothing better than to celebrate the end of exams by having a pool day with your friends. mark is laid on the flat pool chairs, watching you play around in the water. his stupid hot smirk on his face. finally, you get out of the pool and start walking toward him, sit next to his laying body to which he sits up and begins to move his hands all over your body with his chin against your shoulder. mark’s hands begin to move lower and lower until they reach the plush goodness that he becomes weak for. with your eyes wide open, you try to maintain your facial expression the same to avoid any suspicion from the others while mark continues to squeeze your skin and nip on your shoulder. his head then reaches closer to the side of your face, whispering how good you are for him in your ear. the warmth of his breath hitting your cold skin causes you to whimper quietly, make chuckles in response. you begin to relax into his touch until he pulls away, “let’s go for a swim.” you want to curse at him for teasing you but you refrain yourself as people are still around. your boyfriend stands up with his hand out for you to grab, you pout but still hold onto his hand and stand up. he leads you slowly into the pool, he chooses the end of the pool that is secluded and divided by a wall from the larger part of the pool where the others are playing around. he pushes you against the tile wall, hands immediately reaching for your ass and he begins to kiss down your neck and collarbone. the water ripples around you as mark starts to hump against you, letting you feel his hardness against his swim shorts. he’s groaning against your skin, barely caring about the fact your friends are here. thankfully, they are shouting, laughing, and making loud splashing noises in the water. his hands grip your skin roughly and they start to wander. his fingers brushing against your pussy, making you gasp. his left hand continues to massage your ass but his right thumb applies pressure onto your bud through the fabric, slowly circling it. his hips shoot upward each time a beautiful noise comes out of you. he’s being the biggest tease, not going faster on your clit. he wants to save your orgasm for when he can have you properly.

-huang renjun-

morning sex. that’s literally him. because what better way to start the day, right? i also feel like he’s the type to have wet dreams often and/or have morning wood frequently so he needs a solution

you awake first, met with the beautiful view of your boyfriend with messy hair and dressed in his large white shirt and grey boxers. you squint and rub your eyes when you see a dark patch on his bottoms, remnants of slightly dried cum seeped through the fabric. smirking to yourself, you crawl down until you’re laid between his legs. you graze your nails against his skin softly before placing soft kisses on his thigh. slowly, you peel the boxers down to expose his slightly hardened length. you wrap your hand around him, using some of his cum as lubricant but you add more by spitting onto the tip, watching your saliva drip past the tip and trace his cock. eagerly, you begin to lick around his length, trying to collect as much as his cum on your tongue as he’s the sweetest you’ve ever tasted. renjun’s breath fastens when you wrap your lips around him when he’s become hard enough. you look up at him to see him still fast asleep, you hum quietly around him before putting more of him into your mouth. your hands move to lightly scratch his stomach, then down to squeeze his thighs. being the light sleeper, renjun awakes the moment your nose reaches his hair. “oh fuck,” renjun swears he’s still dreaming. “such a cockslut. you couldn’t wait, huh, darling?” you try to pull off of him to snap back but renjun’s hands move fast to keep you still, causing you to choke around his length as he begins to thrust up into your throat. his fingers grip your hair so nicely you couldn’t help but let out sinful moans, joining your gagging noises. renjun’s hands leave to let you catch a breath and they transfer to your breasts, flicking and pinching your nipples. “come here, sweetheart. ride me, to make sure i’m awake.”

-lee jeno-

car sex. god this man would act like he doesn’t want to because it isn’t sAfE but deep down, he loves to see his princess all exposed for him, not being able to wait until you get home

“jeno,” you whine his name when he doesn’t look over at you. the hand that isn’t on the steering wheel squeezes your thigh, incredibly close to your panties. your skirt does no justice in covering you. “so impatient, princess,” he clicks his tongue and cocks his head to the side. you gulp at his tone. “open up for me, slut.” you oblige while also pushing your seat backward to make more room for your legs as you rest your back against the car door, right leg prompted on the dashboard and your left leg stretches behind jeno’s driver seat. jeno’s right hand moves up your inner thigh, his eyes still focused on the road ahead. he glances at your part for a split second which is enough time to catch a clear view of the big wet patch on your panties. “oh, the things you do to me,” he curses beneath his breath before he begins to massage your lady part. his thumb circles your clit through your underwear, making you whine for more. he growls and slaps your pussy before abruptly ripping your panties off. he looks back at you and moans at the sight of your glistening beauty and already fucked out expression. “you want me that much?” he coos. “i need you, jeno.” he chuckles at your response, silently replying by inserting one finger into you while simultaneously rubbing his thumb against your clit. he adds another finger, thrusting them in a heavenly pace. strings of your slick connect him hands to you. your juices gather down at the palm of his hand, some dripping down on the leather seat. he pulls his fingers out of you to suck on his own fingers, moaning at the taste of you. he looks at you as he uses his tongue to pick up the juices on your palm and wrist slowly. having enough, he pulls over to the side and turn his hazard lights on. without hesitation, he hooks his arms underneath your thighs to pull you close enough for him to ravish in your pussy. tongue exploring everywhere before stopping at your clit, flattening it against the bud and moving it up and down at a rapid pace. your loud moans fill the car and your hands grip his hair to make him stay in place. at this moment, jeno is thankful for his tinted windows since he can now take his time with you, giving you what you so desperately wanted that you couldn’t even wait to go home acting like the brat that you are.

-lee donghyuck-

his two favorite activities: (1) getting high and (2) fucking you. so why not combine them? he believes that it intensifies the pleasure of both sensations

you watch the smoke deep out of your boyfriend’s mouth, completely mesmerized at the sight of his plump lips parted as he rests his head back against the couch with his eyes closed. you move yourself so you’re straddling his lap, taking the joint between his fingers to take a hit before returning it to him. you keep the smoke in your mouth, waiting to release it until your lips begin to glide against his neck. he hums, vibrations can be felt by your lips. “i want you, hyuck.” your hands squeeze the bottom of his shirt, making him lift his head and open his eyes to be met with you just centimeters away from him. “you’re lucky i want you too then.” he smirks. he crashes his lips against yours, nibbling and licking your bottom lip. his hands rest on your ass, helping your move against him. the grey sweatpants he’s wearing doesn’t hide his boner well but it was a beautiful sight. he strips your shirt and bra off of you, immediately wrapping his lips around your nipple. his tongue traces your right nipple and flicks it while his fingers roll and pinch the other. “fuck, i need to be in you.” you hum, raising yourself off him so he can pull down his pants, you moan when you see that he isn’t wearing any underwear. his hard length slaps against his clothed stomach, precum leaking down the veins. you move the middle of your shorts and panties to the side, hyuck rubs you, spreading your wetness all over. he briefly inserts two fingers inside just to pull it out and push his fingers into your mouth while inserting his cock into you. his right index and middle fingers remain against your tongue, making you taste yourself, his left hand has gathered your hair together, pulling it back, exposing your bare neck for him. he drills into you, hips shooting off the couch at an inhumane speed. his lips attaches to your neck, whispering praises on how tight you are against your skin. with the drug filling his system and him filling you up so well that tears begin to well and you can no longer speak coherent words, hyuck is a happy man.

-na jaemin-

since he loves photographing memories, he has a collection of polaroids of you during sex, after sex, and your nudes which he shamelessly looks at when you can’t be there to take care of him

jaemin rummages through his drawers, desperately trying to find the equivalent to a pot of gold to him. he practically yelps out of excitement when he sees them hidden at the back of his middle drawer, he reaches out for them and looks through them, feeling his cock become harder as he look at you. there’s a polaroid of you laying on your stomach, showing off jaemin’s large load seeping out of you. another is you licking up his thick, red cock on your knees while looking up at the camera with puppy eyes. he eyes the one that’s just your tits covered in his semen. one favorite of his is a view of your opened mouth filled with his cum up close after you had sucked him off clean, thick strings of his cum connect the roof of your mouth to the bottom. jaemin could go crazy right now, he begins to rub himself through his sweats. placing the polaroid on the table, he uses his arms to lean against the table in front of him, eyes never leaving the polaroids. he pulls his sweatpants just enough for his cock to be release into the cool air, making him hiss. closing his eyes, he moans your name when he wraps his hand around his long length, trying to mimic your usual movements. he ruts upward into his hand. he bites his lip to conceal his moans. he stops momentarily to switch positions. jaemin rests both his hands on the edge of the table, forming a hole with them. “fuck, y/n.” he inserts himself between his hands, imagining he was taking you against his desk like how he’s done multiple times, and you’d always be such a good, pliant girl for him which he made sure you knew of it. his fervent thrusts causes some items to fall of his desk but he couldn’t care less when he was so close to his release. “baby, i’m so close- so so close.” his hands tighten around his cock, making him groan and hips begin to stutter. he opens his eyes only to be met with the polaroid spread out in front of him, he moans out your name loudly as his eyes never leave the pictures in front of him. he then recalls the moments when those pictures were taken, he begins to feel your touch, hear your whispers and moans, and vividly visualizes how his cum seeps out of you so smoothly as you clench the liquid out. he repeatedly curses as he reaches his release, his cum spurting all over the polaroids. jaemin takes a minute to catch his breath before picking up each polaroid to lick off the cum off of it. he has to keep his baby clean, of course.

#nct dream smut #nct 127 smut #nct smut #nct dream #mark lee #mark lee smut #haechan smut #huang renjun #haechan #renjun smut #lee jeno #jeno smut #na jaemin #jaemin smut #neosmutcollective

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akumaalert · 3 years

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Medical Log Sixty-nine

Karl Heisenberg x AFAB Reader (Uses She/Her); Explicit Content, 18+ ONLY

CW: Medicplay, medical kink, medical examination, voice kink, roleplay, consensual voyeurism

AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/31802593

"Medical log...this is my...sixty-ninth attempt."

You rolled your eyes. Of course he would go for a sex joke the second the recording snapped on.

Staying still was a difficult task. The steel table was chilling your back and your muscles screamed at you to purse away from the cold.

The warmth between your legs, however, demanded that you stayed.

Heisenberg began exactly as he said he would - listing off your name and age with that ever lilting voice that made your cunt clench in delight.

"Body is in...fuck...the most gorgeous condition..."

Playing dead was so hard when he was out of view. Heisenberg was so expressive and you were missing all the nuances you so adored. You could only picture him studying you - licking those delectably thick lips that you loved to nip. The fact that he was fully clothed and hovering over your naked body was as thrilling as it was nerve wracking.

Part of you willed stillness on the sheer fear that if you moved, the spell would be broken and Heisenberg’s role of doctor would be traded for actual work. Convincing him of doing this had not been the simplest task. The first time he caught you listening to one of his medical logs, he had raised a quizzical eyebrow and chuckled lightly at your blush. When you laid in his arms after making love one morning, you had shyly admitted the desires that had been ignited simply by listening to his voice.

"I think they umm...I think it's technically called medical play..."

The swiftness with which he cut you off still made you feel shame. "I'm not experimenting on you."

It took all the strength you could muster to look at him despite your cheeks absolutely burning. You placed a hand on his own cheek to rub the pad of your finger over one of his scars. "No. No...that's not what I meant. It's pretend. For fun. Roleplaying basically..."

You loved when his glasses were missing from his face. Green eyes flickered - studying you intently - before his lips stretched into an attractive smirk. "Would that turn you on, buttercup?"

And so the two of you had planned. It was convenient that the toys you needed were inconspicuous medical equipment. Most you already had and the others were obtained from the Duke without suspicion. At least you hoped. He was always a jovial fellow and at least didn't question the use for the pinwheel. Where the rest came from, you did not question. It wouldn't do to dwell on the purpose or origin when living in the shadow of Miranda's clutches.

When Heisenberg's hand ghosted near your head in the present, you repressed the want to moan.

"Proceeding with inspection..."

One leather clad hand cupped a cheek while a bare, calloused fingertip lined your lips. You could not entirely make him out like this, but you could see his green undershirt in delightful detail if you rolled your eyes high enough. His trench coat and his outer shirt had been discarded and the thought made your skin prickle. The spirals of his chest hair peeking from his shirt made your fingers tent with a want to touch him.

But cadavers couldn't move. So you swallowed and resisted the temptation to dart your tongue to meet his caress.

"Subject has the softest lips...prettiest damn thing I've ever studied."

Heat and the ever lingering static that was Heisenberg radiated just a breath behind you. If you had any courage to move just so, you imagined that his crotch sat just above your line of sight.

Would he already be hard? Heisenberg had held his typical swagger when you had mapped out your wants and respected his limitations. But you could tell that hesitancy still sat not so lightly on his shoulders. Perhaps he would need to drag things out - let his pleasure build as yours boiled in every limb.

Eyes half lidded, you nearly missed the scalpel floating gingerly through the air. As Heisenberg had insisted, only the handle touched your skin. Beginning at the curve of your jaw, it traced ever so slowly down your throat like a breath. Despite the lack of danger, the sensitive skin pimpled and your throat constricted.

"It's as if I built her myself...everything I could ever fucking want. Absolute damn perfection," he muttered. Feeling drunk off his words, you struggled to keep up with them all. After all, you were not sure how sensitive the recording would be. Heisenberg was a loud man - a grand man - and so rarely whispered as he did now. "A lovely neck...if only I had found her sooner...might have given her a necklace of teeth marks to wear."

When the scalpel slipped to your chest, your gasp could not be stifled. But instead of stopping, Heisenberg simply removed his fingers from your face to set both hands in a frame on either side of your head. He was adjusting and leaning and soon his eyes met with yours. Though you could not see anything below the rugged slope of his nose, you imagined his mouth as slightly parted.

His eyes were normally flecked with golds and browns, but the darkness there now was not an uncommon sight. You saw it when he was angry - returning from family meetings or trips to the Dimitrescu castle. Whenever his facade had been tested for too long with his "mother" and the walls came crashing down the moment the doors to the factory were closed.

You also saw it when he was lost to lust - when he used arms as steady as steel to hold you to him until you were both limp messes on the floor or the desk or the shower or the bed.

It was a color you so treasured - especially when the hints of softness clouded them as they did now.

Heisenberg's voice careened and curled just like the scalpel's handle around your breast. So light but so heavy.

"I don't need any damn notes for these tits...have them fucking memorized. Fuck what I wouldn't give to put my mouth on them. What a damn waste. Body is so cold and those nipples are perked up so nicely. Inspecting..." He audibly swallowed, clearing his throat. "Inspecting chest in detail now."

While the scalpel handle swirled against one of your nipples, Heisenberg's gloved hand went to your ignored breast in a firm squeeze. You were already so worked up by the mere prospect of your play. To have it as a reality with Heisenberg towering over you and switching his attention from your breasts to your eyes to your lips and back again was absolute torture. The leather on his fingers did nothing to help you. The gloves were old and worn into a fibrous texture that made every hair on your neck stand on end.

Your lover was a cruel man, but not a patient one. With his pointer finger and thumb, he twisted your nipple. Eyes clapping shut, you shook when you realized a tremble in the scalpel. A telltale sign of his passions rising and his powers thrumming along with them.

"Color?" he asked in a voice of gravel.

It took you a moment to understand his inquiry. Your stoplight system. That Heisenberg was already checking in with you filled you with a whole new type of warmth. Nodding with flushed cheeks, you ran your tongue against the roof of your mouth.

"Green," you muttered.

So he continued.

"Nipples are extremely responsive." The scalpel and his hand pulled away but for a moment before the sides were switched. But with them came the feeling of his bare hand on your equally bare chest. "I could stand here all day just admiring the view. Not a damn thing to say to do it justice."

He flitted between a tender touch and a rolling, twinging pinch. The scalpel rolled along with it all, though there were intervals when it remained still against your skin. As if his mind could not keep up with it all. It would start back again with a lurch and small grunts of frustration from its master.

"Moving to the lower torso..."

Your body arched when he moved and broke contact with your skin. The scalpel's trail became steadier as it looped around your breast to slide so terribly slow down the middle of your chest. Down it slipped and once again your fingers were fidgety. The skin of your stomach felt particularly sensitive, especially when the scalpel began to dance in patterns too quick and too slow for your mind to process.

"These hips of hers...the legs...hard not to get too ahead of myself..."

Though you could not see him at all now with your head locked in its position, it made the situation all the more welcome to your growing need. In your mind he studied you - watched your body with all the appreciation he was so fond of giving it. He might pay attention to your stomach - to the invisible designs he was tracing there. But his eyes would inevitably flicker to look between your legs. There was no gown or sheet to protect you from his hungry gaze. There was nothing at all preventing him from doing the myriad of things that you longed for him to do.

By the sound of his breathing, you knew Heisenberg was not left unaffected.

"Subject...is gonna fucking pay for making part of my work part of her play," he growled. "Do you have any idea how distracted I'm going to be every time I go in for an actual log? But you don't care, do you? It's all about you."

Tension hung in the air and one of your legs stretched upward, suddenly aching.

Heisenberg's hand came down fast to push it back into place.

"Didn't say I wasn't gonna indulge you," he said, playfulness in his voice. He gripped your knee still held in his hand with a soft touch. "Just that you'll pay for this later."

Lightly nodding, you felt his hand leave you. Your entire body tensed when the scalpel - ever streaming down your skin - began a descent that told you just how impatient Heisenberg had become.

It didn't help that a series of items - familiar and agreed upon in advance - floated over you on a glinting silver tray. You could not tell if they moved slowly due to his powers flitting with his emotions or if he simply was intent on you seeing them.

A bottle of lube. A bullet vibrator and its controller. The Wartenberg pinwheel. Another scalpel for the hell of it.

If the scalpel on your skin ran near your aching cunt, you never felt it. The next thing you knew, it was landing on your thigh and stalling.

As if he could not help himself, his hands were on you again. This time instead of pushing a leg onto the table, he pried both of your legs open with a prodding touch.

Though it broke your play, you took a large inhale of air. You could not recall ever being so wet or so ready.

Heisenberg let out a low whistle.

"You're soaked, buttercup." A pause. The telltale sound of buckles being clicked and dropped to the floor.

You could not take it and spoke with a whine.

"Not fair...I can't see you."

The chuckle he gave was dark. "A shame. It's like someone asked for this. Ironic. You're such a whore that your little game is preventing you from watching me. And I know how you love to watch."

The asshole took his time to slowly unzip his pants. The heat in your body was palpable and painful. A small gratified groan told you all you needed to know about where his hands had gone.

"Pretty, pretty girl..." he cooed. "Show isn't over yet. You had some requests and what kind of a lord would I be if I was to ignore one of my subject's pleas?"

The knowledge that he was stroking himself - languid even as your longing screamed through your very soul - made the pit of your stomach pulse with delayed pleasure.

Trying to even your breathing, you focused on the ceiling laid brown and bare above you. Or at least you tried. Heisenberg chose the absolute worst moment to bring both the second scalpel's handle and the brand new pinwheel onto the scene.

Huffing heatedly, you scrunched your face into a grimace. What a sight you must be - a scalpel on each thigh and a pinwheel hanging dangerously close to your cunt. You pushed the thought aside, unable to bear the image in your head.

"To the main event," he announced, voice returned to a rumbling purr. "Planting the 'control device.' Inserting now."

When he had added lube to the bullet, you did not know. Probably somewhere between your embarrassment and the blood pounding in your ears. Small and sleek, it entered your folds gently but awkwardly. Heisenberg's powers going on the fritz would never cease to endear you. He was so strong - so normally loud and wearing whatever mask that a situation called for. But in these moments with you, he was raw and his powers were unhinged in the most intimate of ways. It made you feel powerful - the ability to bring this lord of metal to timid movements when he could likely destroy the whole village with enough metal and mental will.

Rounding its way deeper and deeper inside of you, the bullet suddenly stilled. The sensations of the scalpels skating up and down your legs combined with the threat of the pinwheel overwhelmed you. If you had wanted to speak in that moment, it would have been quite out of your ability to remember how.

"Insertion complete."

Babbling during sex was another staple of Heisenberg's. But he was eerily quiet and controlled in the seconds that followed right up to the click of the controller.

The jolt to your core was immediate and you gasped in hurried breaths against the most exquisite pleasure you had ever felt. The fight to keep your fingers extended was lost as all ten fisted. You were so wet that the lube had been a moot point. The bullet buzzed inside of you and your hips shook with the herculean effort of staying still.

Heisenberg exhaled, voice faraway and dreamy.

"Ausgezeichnet...excellent. Progressing faster than expected."

You choked on air. Beyond your control, your body flinched against the hum of the bullet.

"Fuck," bit out Heisenberg. "Have a proposition for you...since you're going to be punished for making me work, I'm going to go back to the recording-"

"Oh God!"

"I'm going to go back to the recording," he repeated gruffly, ever incensed at being spoken over. "And I'm going to count the seconds that it takes for you to come. And however many seconds that is...that's how many spanks you'll be getting. Right on that luscious fucking ass of yours."

Another click of the bullet's controller made your eyes roll to the back of your head. Fingernails bit into your palm with the want to hold onto something - anything. How could you be so stimulated yet so far from release at the same time?

"I can see everything from where I'm standing," he continued. "Can you feel that wetness of yours? Dripping into your ass...pussy such a pretty pink shade. It'll go so nice with a red ass. One, two, three...you're building up to quite the spanking. Might want to hurry it along."

He was indeed a cruel man.

But not a patient one.

The pinwheel's weight was noticeable, but not deep. It pinched and rolled its way directly down and over your clit and the sensitive flesh splayed and shaking from sensation.

How you hated the gargle that you let out. It was ugly and incoherent.

"Too much!" you cried.

"Scheisse!" The pinwheel flew to the floor as the scalpels stopped. Even the bullet seemed to rumble ever lighter. "Color?"

It took you several breaths to gather the ability to nod. When Heisenberg remained quiet, you grunted. "Green...green...fucking green. Floor it."

Heisenberg laughed - all throat and no breath. "Floor it. Gotcha."

Making a strange sound - somewhere between a groan and a grunt - Heisenberg returned his hands to your body.

The hand free from leather stroked your thigh. The leather, however, fondled your mound and found your clit with practiced speed.

Barely able to keep up with the bullet and the scalpels and the trembles and the sound of Heisenberg's guttural encouragements, you closed your eyes and focused on the circles he made against that sensitive bundle of nerves.

You could not open your eyes or close your mouth. You could not do anything but chase a high approaching as sure as any sunrise.

Apparently taking pity on the mess you had become, Heisenberg only took one swift last round on your clit before speaking.

"Now to pass a current...through the body...using six volts..."

The words had no time to settle in before the action was done with his gentle hand on your quivering thigh.

Screaming, too, was beyond your control.

"Come on," he said through the return to your clit and the massage in your cunt and the swirls of scalpel handles on your legs. "Come on, come on, come on."

"KAR...k...kah..."

Your orgasm knocked the very air from your lungs. Pins of light erupted as your eyes squeezed with every furious flutter of pleasure. Your cunt was actually twitching and the glove on Heisenberg's hand felt so exquisite as it barely pressed down on your clit.

"Yes! Yes!" Egging you on with a happy laugh, Heisenberg uttered praises that registered in a haze. "At last...wonderful...what a good girl."

As the absolutely mind-numbing orgasm faded into your very bones, you lay there exhausted and beyond satisfied. Breathing became a chore that your throat seemed unused to performing.

Heisenberg moved as efficiently as ever to complete his work. The bullet was removed with care by his own fingers. When it had turned off, you had no recollection. The scalpels clattered to the table with a metallic hiss.

Sweat built on your brow and dragging down your temple, you swallowed and swallowed again. The sound of rushing water perked your tired body. You were slow to rise, testing fingers and a palm burning with indents of your nails. Soon, however, you had sat up. A swirl of satisfaction still sat low in your belly.

As satiated as you were, you could not help but enjoy the sight of Heisenberg standing before you. In one hand was a glass of water begging to be brought to your parched lips. In the other he held the recorder. You watched with hooded eyes as he clutched at the recorder before dropping his hand to adjust his pants.

Pants that hung low on his hips with the zipper pulled wide. The adorable swell of his lower belly was visible underneath his shirt. His cock was curved at such a beautiful angle above silver hair. It was blushed a dark pink with veins reaching up to a head that was nearly purple with need.

Bringing the recorder back to his mouth, Heisenberg eyed you before huffing.

"...ending recording."

#karl heisenberg x reader #karl heisenberg x you #karl heisenberg #resident evil #re village #ao3 #smut #kinks with karl #x reader

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phis-corner · 3 years

Text

statue of ice

yes i am still updating this fic lmao

main masterlist ◈ maribat masterlist ◈ ao3 link

She only lasts a few weeks before caving and telling her brother that she’s Ladybug.

The Guardian – Fu is his name – was vehemently against revealing her identity again, already annoyed that she’d told Jason. Privately, Marinette thinks that Fu can “go fuck himself”, and maybe Jason would have said it out loud, but she does not.

Instead, she ignores his wishes and tells Tim anyway.

To his credit, her brother isn’t even surprised. He just quirks a smile during their scheduled video call and says in a light voice, “I guess it runs in the family, then, doesn’t it?”

Marinette is inclined to agree. After all, what are the odds that both of them ended up being protectors of two cities?

.o0o.

A week later, Tim calls her to confirm Marinette’s suspicions that Gabriel Agreste is Hawkmoth.

“He’s slippery. Paid to have all the security cameras around his home removed, but I traced akuma sightings on social media and marked them on a map and what do you know, his house was right in the center of the circle. I also checked out the property. He literally has a butterfly window, Mari. Everything in his house is butterfly patterned. It checks out.”

“Thank you, Tim-Tam. I’ll take care of it from here,” Marinette says. Her mind is already working, forming a plan to take Gabriel down. Permanently.

It has to be public. The city wouldn’t believe it otherwise, and some are already accusing Ladybug and Chat Noir of creating the akumas themselves so that they can make themselves look good by defeating them.

Exposing Gabriel as Hawkmoth would cause the downfall of his company and result in the loss of thousands of jobs, but Audrey Bourgeois had a Parisian branch of Style Queen that was still fairly new and looking for employees, and she knows that Audrey would most likely hire all of Gabriel’s employees out of spite.

“Are you sure you don’t want us to help?” her brother asks. “You don’t have to do this alone, you know.”

She knows. She wants so, so badly not to do it alone, to have her brother by her side as she faces down a magic user that could turn her into a puppet in the blink of an eye if she allowed herself to feel just a little bit too much, but she can’t bring him into this. Can’t bring anyone else into this. Tim already spends his nights stopping rapists and murderers and seeing all the horrors that Gotham has to offer. He doesn’t need to see what Paris throws at its people as well.

“It’s a miraculous matter, Tim-Tam,” Marinette says instead of voicing any of those thoughts. “Besides, bringing anyone else in puts them at risk of akumatization. It’s best to keep as few people involved as possible.”

“Okay then,” Tim responds, not fully managing to hide the disappointment and apprehension in his voice. “Good luck, Mari.”

The corners of her lips twitch upwards in a tiny smile. “I am the living embodiment of good luck, Tim-Tam. It will be alright.”

.o0o.

It is easy to poke and prod at Gabriel’s ego until he thoughtlessly lunges, crashing through his own window onto the street below when she dances out of his way.

Ladybug follows, dropping and rolling with a familiarity that comes from being forced to do that same motion countless times, and she toys with him, dodging, ducking, but never really attacking, until the news helicopters start circling overhead.

Chat Noir arrives just as she sweeps Gabriel’s legs out from underneath him, and he doesn’t quite manage to stifle his gasp of horror, all irritation at Ladybug for taking Hawkmoth down without him forgotten when he sees who is underneath the mask.

Ladybug may find Chat Noir (Adrien Agreste, she reminds herself,) a nuisance at best, but she is not heartless. She knows what it’s like, to want to believe that one’s parents are good people. She knows what it’s like when that illusion one tries so hard to maintain finally shatters, and it’s something that nobody deserves to experience.

Chat’s face hardens as Ladybug starts murmuring words in an ancient tongue underneath her breath, casting a spell on his father, who gave up the fight as soon as the butterfly was removed from his hands, to ensure that Gabriel will never be able to touch another miraculous again. He won’t be able to exist within three feet of one.

It’s a good thing she chooses that spell too, because it protects Gabriel from his son’s wrath.

As the authorities are cuffing his hands behind his back, something cold settles in Chat Noir’s eyes as he calls up a Cataclysm and lunges at his father, the clawed hand rippling with dark magic outstretched, ready to disintegrate a living, breathing human being.

Gabriel is yanked backward by an invisible force, pulled out of harm’s way, and Chat’s Cataclysm lands on a chunk of debris instead. The Black Cat is held back by his partner before he can try something else.

“Chat,” Ladybug hisses, as he struggles in her hold, still trying to go after his father, who is being put away into a police car. “It’s done. It’s over. He won’t hurt anyone ever again, and the justice system will deal with it.”

Chat Noir slowly starts to resist less and less at her words, and she takes that as a cue to continue. “It feels anticlimactic, and I know you want to do more. You think we should do more than just let them take him away, because you’ve been fighting on the front lines of this battle since the beginning. But our part is over. Our duty has been fulfilled. He won’t be acquitted, if that’s any consolation. There are mountains of evidence against him.”

Her partner turns around, suddenly, and buries his face into her shoulder as his body jerks with what she realizes are sobs. He’s crying,Ladybug realizes. He’s crying for his father. For who he thought his father was.

When was the last time she cried for one of her parents?

Ladybug reaches a hand up and awkwardly pats Chat Noir on the back for a moment before she spots the reporters.

“Let’s take this to our usual meeting spot,” she whispers to her partner, and he nods, composing himself in an instant. Janet would have liked Adrien, she thinks. Gabriel’s parenting style was evidently similar to how Marinette had grown up.

Five minutes later, they’re standing on the Eiffel Tower, overlooking the city they’d sacrificed so much to protect.

“This is it, isn’t it?” Chat Noir asks, turning to her. “This is the end? There’s no use for us anymore.”

Ladybug inhales slowly, taking in the view from above one last time and committing it to memory. Not that she needs to – her eidetic memory ensures that she’ll never forget. It’s for the sentiment, she supposes.

“Yes,” she murmurs. “We have to give them back now. Say goodbye to our kwamis.” She’ll miss Tikki’s company, she thinks, but not as much as she misses Jason’s. The kwami was sweet, yes, but she didn’t understand Marinette’s need to do something other than being Ladybug.

“Where do we even return them to?” Chat questions, and then she remembers that he’d never been told of the Guardian’s existence.

Ladybug unhooks her yoyo from her side, tossing it up and down one last time as she prepares to swing. “Follow me,” she says, and then she throws the yoyo and leaps off the side of the Tower.

.o0o.

Fu’s massage parlor is just as inconspicuous as ever, and somehow, no one is walking along the street when Ladybug and Chat Noir enter.

The Guardian has been expecting them – there are three cups of tea sitting on the table in front of him.

“Ladybug, Chat Noir, please sit,” he says in his wheezy voice. They oblige, but the tea remains untouched on the table.

“Chat Noir, it is time to return your miraculous,” Fu states, and the two of them stiffen, immediately picking out what’s wrong with that sentence.

“Why am I not included?” Ladybug inquires, her polite tone holding an undercurrent of danger. “There cannot be a Ladybug without a Black Cat.”

“Well, you see, you won’t be using the Ladybug,” the Guardian explains with a slightly condescending look on his face. “But there can only be one Guardian, and I’ve chosen you to be my successor.”

The sound of Ladybug’s palms slamming on the table makes the other two people in the room jump. “Absolutely not,” she declares as she stands up. “I did not agree to become the Guardian. This has never been discussed.”

Fu looks up at her with confused eyes. “But you became a candidate when you agreed to put on the earrings, and Chat Noir is simply not fit for the job.” Out of the corner of her eye, she sees Chat Noir wince, but he does not disagree.

“I put on the earrings because people were dying,” Ladybug growls. “Because this city needed something, someone, to look up to, and there was no other viable option. The Guardian is never in the light. They spend the rest of their extended lives hiding in the shadows to protect a box of magical jewelry. The Guardian is not a symbol of hope, because nobody knows the Guardian exists. I put on the earrings to be a symbol of hope, not because I wanted to, but because people needed one. The people don’t need one anymore, and I don’t want to continue doing this.”

“I was fighting a war, Fu,” she spits, furious words laced with venom. “I was fighting a war with one ally by my side and we were both children. Now that the war is over, I am no longer needed, so I am leaving. I want the shreds of innocence I had before this war back, but that is not possible, so I can at least try to move on from this instead. Let me move on.”

Without warning, she reaches up and carefully takes the earrings out of her ears. She would have loved to rip them off in one swift movement, but earrings were not that type of jewelry. The Ladybug suit disappears in a flash of pink, and then she is Marinette again, standing in a massage parlor with a pair of red-and-black earrings in her hand and two sets of wide eyes fixed on her.

“Marinette,” Chat Noir breathes. “Oh my god, I… I’m so sorry.”

Marinette drops the earrings on the table in front of them. “Are you sorry for being an ass, or just sorry because the person you convinced yourself you were in love with was an illusion?” she asks, not looking at anyone or anything in particular as she pivots on her heel and strides for the exit.

When she reaches the doorway, however, she pauses, eyes still fixed straight ahead of her. “Oh, and Adrien?” she calls, eliciting two identical noises of surprise. “For what it’s worth, I’m sorry too. About your father, of course.”

Then she opens the door and walks through, never once looking back as she sees the city that once weighed so heavily on her shoulders from the ground looking up, instead of from above, gazing down.

.o0o.

She’d spent some time wondering how she was going to adjust to life in Paris after that, knowing what she knew about Adrien and Gabriel and what Adrien knew about her.

As it turns out, she only has to go through one week of feeling Adrien’s green eyes on her at every available moment in class and going out of her way to avoid him, because her mother dies.

It’s surprisingly anticlimactic.

Janet Drake was always such a formidable woman. Her mere presence in a room could make grown men cower. To Marinette, she seemed almost invincible – always superior to everyone else, untouchable as she lashed out with quick with and a sharp tongue and long nails digging into her children’s shoulders. If there were ever any cracks in Janet’s façade, if it even wasa façade, she’d never seen one.

And yet, in the end, it turned out that she wasn’t untouchable after all. She’d died because she drank poisoned water out of desperation, even as Batman was right there. Batman had arrived to save them, he had freed them from their bonds, and the first thing they did was drink water poisoned with nerve toxin. Jack had survived, though he was in a coma and paralyzed.

Janet did not.

And that was it. That was the end of a woman that had dominated Marinette’s life for so long, a woman whose voice still hissed and lingered in her mind, reminding her to sit still and be silent and never, ever let your emotions show on your face.

Tim – he’d never had that mindset thrust upon him as forcefully as she did. After all, Tim had a father that didn’t despise him for his gender. Jack took charge of molding the son, and so Tim is crying, when he tells her all of this. He thinks he’s being subtle, but she’s his sister. She knows better.

Marinette didn’t care for her mother much, but she supposes she could give the dead at least some modicum of respect.

So as she packs her bags and books the next available flight to Gotham City, Marinette honors her mother’s wishes and does not shed a single tear for Janet Lynn Drake.

statue of ice

@whydoexamsexist @myazael @miyla-lokidottir @ira-sairain @zalladane @frieddonutsweets @moonlightstar64 @karategirl198-blog @consumeconstantly @maybe-nonsense @colorfulmongerpsychicranch @ola-is-dead @bee-wrecker @jeminiikrystal @neromerp13 @artemisdragona @severelyenchantedwonderland @miraculouslydumb @pepelachanel @stainedglassm @nyx-in-line @heldtogetherbysafetypins @silversaphire12 @zalladane @theymakeupfairies @thefoxandthewolfs @m0chik0furan

permanent

@wannajointhecrabcult @miraculous-simmer7 @certainmuffinbagelcalzone @fantasyislive @chocolateherringtacofan @alyssadeliv @susiej1118 @aestheticnpoetic @toodaloo-kangaroo @ladybug-182 @itsmeevie01 @g-arya @souleateralicestein @nightstarblue @i-is-mysterious @moonystars14 @vixen-uchiha @flapdoodle-noodle @labschaos @nathleigh @jalaluvsu @kaithehero @iamablinkmarvelarmy @luveverything12 @technicallyburninggarden @crazylittlemunchkin

unspecified

@momothefemur @indecisive-mess-named-me @laurcad123 @ilovefluffbutsmutisalsogreat @sassakitty @fusser90

#maribat #my writing #statue of ice au

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extant-exhaustion · 3 years

Text

When L is like,

"I'm sitting down and pouring tea as if I do it every day, Go through the motions like the hands upon a clock. Though it feels right, a part of me knows that it's wrong As if another's will had moved me. ...

Is this the way it ends now?" _

And Light is like,

"I know by now you understand you're but a pawn upon a board; I've won the game but never gave up half my years. Life will continue just the way I've always planned; Let the cold, hard justice crash the system. I've always stayed a step ahead, But you were with me all the way."

...yeah.

#lawlight #death note #death note musical #your honor they’re gay #gay gay gay #the musical leans into the lawlight ship SO hard #and the way jeremy jordan sings his lines here is just…wow #l lawliet #light yagami #ee: mine

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parismemes · 4 years

Text

SENTENCE STARTERS FROM DEATH NOTE: THE MUSICAL

WHERE IS THE JUSTICE?

“where is the justice when the guilty all go free?” “i see a young man’s anger burning in your eyes.” “show me what’s right about the wrongs that we allow.” “this whole damn system’s broken way beyond repair.” “what about the victims waiting for some justice?” “how can we turn away and say that’s just the way things are?” “your simple arguments have all been made before.” “the world’s not black and white.” “what good is law that can’t punish those who break it?” “isn’t everybody sick to death of all this stuff?” “we owe them some justice.”

THEY’RE ONLY HUMAN

“isn’t it a laugh?” “isn’t it a shame?” “we stay eternally bored.” “they’re only human; they don’t see.” “who they are is who they’ll always be.” “they push and they shove with this thing they call love til they fall.” “isn’t it a farce?” “isn’t it a waste?” “i really don’t know and don’t care.” “they give and they take, hoping someone will help break their fall.” “they can’t see all the years they could give you and me.” “they give and we take.” “i’m intrigued by their love.” “let’s call.”

HURRICANE

“did i hear correctly?” “writing is the gun--i only have to aim.” “the sky will scream once they feel the power of the hurricane.” “finally, a chance to find a little justice.” “there’s nowhere to run to.” “take what fortune grants you. use it while you’ve got it.” “flawless execution.” “i am the mighty hurricane.” “i am the god of a brave new world.” “the time for talking is finally in the past.”

KIRA!

“where i come from is a world of bone and dust.” “all i am is always bored.” “from time to time, i visit seeking fun.” “it’s no big deal, really, is it?” “we sit and gamble all day long.” “it isn’t right, it isn’t wrong.” “there really isn’t very much to do.” “now and then, we spy on you.” “humans are such funny creatures, always thinking you’re so smart.” “the more things change, they say that, the more things stay the same.” “you think you’re making changes, but the only thing you can change is your name.” “mind if i just take a bite?”

I’M READY

“they say i’m too young, and they call me a fool.” “the world may be cold, and the world may be cruel, but this world is all that i’ve got.” “i’m ready, ready or not.” “the road is too long to believe you can walk it alone.” “together we might find a place to belong.” “if you’re ever afraid, you can just lean on me.” “let me kiss you. and then let me kiss you again.” “ready or not, i’m in love with you.” “i don’t care where we go.” “i don’t care what the world has to say.”

WE ALL NEED A HERO

“when i get afraid, i reach for your hand and i go on.” “the best of us can come from any place.” “we all need a hero.” “we fight the good fight.” “something must be done.”

THE GAME BEGINS

“empty your mind of any theories.” “start at the end of all your queries to learn where things begin.” “you analyze by working backwards.” “even perfect crimes have perfect flaws.” “the game begins the same way.” “anticipate his adaptation by using all you’ve learned.” “some minor detail will draw you in and then another one will draw you out again.” “the chase is on.”

THERE ARE LINES

“there are lines that can’t be crossed.” “there are things you shouldn’t do.” “you don’t justify the means in the service of an end.” “send a thief to catch a thief.” “trap a liar with a lie.” “nothing wrong can turn out right by saying wrongs are right to do.” “you don’t load a gun, close your eyes, and shoot.” “you don’t kill a man just to buy a clue.” “this is not a plan lawmen can pursue.” “you know that i feel as you do for these lessons i’ve learned at your knee.” “i think maybe by working with you, helping you will be helpful for me.” “never cross these lines.”

SECRETS & LIES

“all of the data has been analyzed.” “there’s something i don’t see.” “what information is eluding me?” “how can i ever be at ease with ___?” “he/she/they can go to hell.” “the truth is hard to sort out among the secrets and the lies.” “familiar faces watch you, but with a perfect stranger’s eyes.” “i’m smart enough, so it appears, to win this stupid game.” “i’ll rid the world of any criminal who wants to play, and also rid the world of anybody who gets in my way.” “the line is quickly blurring between what’s right and what is not.” “i don’t care who gets hurt, as long as i get one more shot.”

MORTALS & FOOLS

“what i see in your eyes is a counterfeit emotion.” “you believe in the spell of this thing that you call love.” “try as i will, i just don’t understand it.” “love is for mortals and fools.” “it never turns out quite the way that you planned it.” “why do you break all the rules?” “what i feel is so real that it sets my poor heart racing.” “try as you might, you will not understand it.” “love makes you break all the rules.” “love can make you come alive or take your life away.”

STALEMATE

“each time i challenge, he responds.” “i haven’t figured out just how.” “i wonder, is this guy for real?” “is he who he claims to be?” “why would he make a point of telling me?” “he doesn’t rattle easily.” “like it or not, i am his alibi.” “let’s get to it.” “clock is ticking, so let’s just do it.” “lose or win, this is it.” “his name is obviously fake.” “he’s waiting for my first mistake.” “i’ll wait also, but more patiently.” “we’ll see who blinks first.” “i know you’re gonna love my brand new song.” “i know we’re gonna be a perfect fit.” “it’s me and you forever.”

I’LL ONLY LOVE YOU MORE

“i owe you more than anyone.” “you rescue me from all my tears.” “i’ll pay any price for finding you.” “my restless knife is worth so much more because of you.” “i’ll only love you more.” “i’m here now.” “please, please don’t run away.”

HONOR BOUND

“___ is exactly who he seems to be.” “coincidences can’t replace hard facts.” “what if i’m seeing bends as light refracts?” “would i have the strength to do anything i needed to for justice’s sake?” “i must come to my senses and my sanity.”

PLAYING HIS GAME

“time to rethink.” “margin for error is slim.” “he could win.” “i can’t use the same plan.” “time to start thinking like him.” “what would i do if i got inside his head?” “i’ll walk in his shoes as long as it takes.” “does he see pixels, not dreams?” “all that promise keeping is harder, i’m sure, than it seems.” “how would it be if i saw the world like him?” “i must be ever so careful.” “don’t move until you are ready.” “don’t lose your cool or you’ll blow it.”

BORROWED TIME

“you can do most anything you want to me now.” “you will never change my mind.” “i’d rather die than let you make me betray him.” “i’m living on borrowed time.” “i will hold out longer than you.” “i’m cheating death with every breath.” “every day that i don’t die is borrowed time.”

WHEN LOVE COMES

“i’ve always lived without it.” “that’s what the poets say.” “i never believed that anything could feel this true.” “when love comes, it takes you by surprise.” “finally there’s someone to cry for.” “i can’t believe the peace i’m feeling.” “even if i die, love will survive.” “funny the things the human heart will put you through.” “don’t fight it.”

THE WAY IT ENDS

“though it feels right, a part of me knows that it’s wrong.” “i’m like a software program caught inside an endless loop.” “is this the way it ends now?” “how could i not see this coming?” “i know by now you understand you’re just a pawn upon a board.” “let the cold, hard justice crash the system.” “i’ve always stayed a step ahead.” “this is the way it ends now.” “i’ve seen through you right from the start.” “you’ll never, ever get away.” “don’t you see that you will die today?” “feel how a minute spends when you wish you had a minute more.”

#rp meme #rp memes #ask meme #ask memes #sentence starters

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selfless1978 · 3 years

Video

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THERE SHE GOES. WITH INSANITY AND WOES

The blue and black Hayabusa bike sped over the highway. It’s rider crouched low as she reached speeds well over 100mph. Deep brown eyes hidden under the blue helmet intent on the road. Her leather clad body had left her long coat behind, not wanting to rip it in the winds. But her katana was securely strapped to her back and her pistol belt was firmly wrapped around her waist.

She was on a personal mission, one that had held close meaning to her. Vicky was going to start her vengeance with the man who had stolen her innocence. She snarled under her helmet, once she had thought this was justice enough. Now she understood it wasn’t.

On a long and lonesome highway East of Omaha You can listen to the engines moanin' Out this one-note song You'd think about the woman Or the girl you knew the night before

Gone now was the innocent child that had held so much hope for the world. And snuffed out had been another should who never even made it past her twelfth birthday. Vicky had spent years wondering what her friend would have grown into. Would she have been successful in life? Would she have had children of her own?

She would never know. And only now was she able to revenge her innocence lost and that life taken. And Vicky had ever intention of doing just that.

The justice system was a joke, letting him live while that child was buried in the ground and others still mourned her loss. The bike sped on through the night, it’s rider anxious to reach her destination.

But your thoughts will soon be wanderin' The way they always do When you're ridin' 16 hours There's nothin' much to do And you don't feel much like ridin' We just wish the trip was through

The night was long and dark. Weariness was nothing to her. Stiff muscles from the long ride were ignored as she weaved through the sparse night time traffic. Vicky was tuned into her bike, both moving as one as she guided it towards her destination. Her thoughts nothing but a vicious cycle of memories best left in the deep dark of her past but bursting forth the closer she got to her destination. The pleas of a little, defenseless girl echoing in her mind, over and over as they were ignored.

The engine revved as she sped it along even faster. Closer to her destination.

Here I am, on the road again There I am, up on the stage There I go playin' the star again There I go, turn the page

Vicky still needed to eat.

The truck stop ahead came into view and Vicky slowed the bike and guided it onto the off ramp and then into the parking lot. She easily dismounted, placing her helmet down onto the seat. Not even bothering to disarm, she stepped into the building. Her hard, cold features and her garb immediately caught the attention of the few souls still awake at this late hour. Startlement at her complete disregard of the no weapons sign clearly plastered on the door.

“Hey!”

Vicky’s eyes snapped to the large man behind the counter where a few pies were set out.

“You can’t bring those in here lady.”

She just sneered at him as she continued to make her way further inside.

The man made his way around the counter and moved in to cut her off. “I said you can’t bring them in here!” He stood infant of her now, blocking her path. “Leave them outside or get out!”

Vicky moved quicker than anyone in there could even blink. She yanked the man towards her, her arm reaching up to grab his hair on the back of his head before slamming his face viscously onto one of the tables. Blood splattered all over the clean surface as there were a few shouts and everyone scrambled to their feet while the restaurant worker fell to the floor.

So you walk into this restaurant All strung out from the road And you feel the eyes upon you As you're shakin' off the cold You pretend it doesn't bother you But you just want to explode

She continued farther in, ignoring the scared eyes that now followed her every move. The only waitress scrambled to get out of her way as she went behind the counter and grabbed a couple plates of apple pie. Vicky could hear the terrified whispers around her, but she didn’t care. None of them knew, none of them would understand. And none of them mattered.

Vicky ate her prize before moving over to the soda fountain and helped herself to a drink to wash down her meal. When she finally finished she turned and saw the scared faces huddled in different booths. One fool actually got up. A big, burly looking fellow. Vicky just eyed him cooly as she made her way to the door, her intent now to leave.

He made the same mistake, trying to block her way. She just gave him an icy glare. She didn’t even each for her weapons, her expression alone the only warning he would get to get out of her way.

“Lady, you ain’t going anywhere.” He pulled his own concealed pistol out, but that was as far as he got before she sped in. Grabbing him by belt and arm, she easily hoisted him up and over and he flew, arms waving frantically before he crashed into a set of table and chairs.

Vicky left him a groaning mess on the floor and walked out. A few moments later the bike roared back to life and was once more speeding on it’s way.

Yeah, most times you can't hear 'em talk Other times you can All the same old clichés Is it woman? Is it man? And you always seem outnumbered You don't dare make a stand Make your stand

After a few more hours her destination finally came into view. The prison where he was locked up. Once more the bike was guided to a stop and she dismounted. Her eyes hardened and her face determined as she made the rest of her way on foot.

Getting in unseen was ridiculously easy. And the first thing she did was find the power core for the facility. A small grenade was tossed and as she turned around it exploded, plunging the compound into darkness a moment before the emergency generators kicked in.

Those were the next to be taken out, Vicky easily maneuvering around the chaos she had just started. Now looking for her target.

Here I am, on the road again There I am, up on the stage Here I go playin' the star again There I go, turn the page

The halls were filled with screaming and yelling as the inmates either tried to figure out what was going on, or to try and use it toothier advantage. There were even a few excited bought of laughter at the incompetence of the guards to get the situation under control.

When the black clad individual made her way down those halls, easily taking down any guards she came across, the jeers rose even more.

Vicky ignored the commotion in the cell block. Her eyes searching for only one that was worthy of her attention.

She found the cell she was looking for and ripped the door off. She stepped into the cell. Those brown eyes looking over the two cell mates inside. One was starting wide eyed at her while the other cringed in his cot.

Vicky knew which one she wanted.

“Get out.” She growled lowly at the cowerer. Her eyes boring into the now older man she knew. Still sporting the mustache she remembered from her childhood.

The inmate ran.

Out there in the spotlight You're a million miles away Every ounce of energy You try and give away As the sweat pours out your body Like the music that you play

“Vicky?”

She sneered back at her tormenter, the murderer of her friend. So, he did remember her too. Good. Then she wouldn’t have to tell him who was about to end him.

“Vicky-”

She lifted him up and threw him against the wall hard enough to break bones. She didn’t care which ones they were as she stalked in again.

“Shut up.” She snarled at him. “You, don’t get to put my name in your filthy mouth.”

How pathetic he looked to her now. Huddled on the floor, groaning in pain. One time, he had terrified her. Not anymore.

Vicky pulled out something she had brought, just for him. Even through his pain his eyes widened at what she held.

A hammer...

Vicky spun it once in her hands as she glared down at him. “An eye for an eye, tooth for a tooth and a hammer for a hammer. Enjoy your time in hell, you son of a bitch.”

Then, just as he did so many years ago to an innocent little girl, Vicky slammed the hammer into his head. She watched cooly as his body spasmed in the last moments of life before she turned and walked out. Her job now done.

Later in the evenin' As you lie awake in bed With the echoes of the amplifiers Ringin' in your head You smoke the day's last cigarette Rememberin' what she said What she said

The spent cigarette was flicked into the air before she calmly mounted her bike. It fired up and the flames left behind illuminated her form before she drove off back into the early morning hours.

A hammer for a hammer. A death had finally been avenged. But her innocence would never be regained.

Yeah, and here I am, on the road again There I am, up on the stage Here I go playin' the star again There I go, turn the page

A wheelie was popped as she picked up speed, when the front wheel hit the road again it sped off again at high speeds. It’s rider cold and hardened to the devastation left behind. A rider who had just begun her hunt.

And there I go Turn that page There I go, yeah, yeah There I go, yeah, yeah

There were more who had torn her life apart. And the preparations had already been made to find them.

Here I go, yeah

And she would find them.

Here I go, yeah There I go There I go

The dust rode high behind her. The tail light the only thing to see as the bike disappeared off into the distance. Then, it too was not to be seen. It’s next destination unknown, for now.

And I'm gone

#Evil Vicky

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honey-harper-official · 4 years

Text

We Were All Villains In the Beginning - Chapter 1

Background and Other Chapters

Word Count: 3127

This is an au where the Renegades are the villains and the Anarchists, now the Resistance, are the vigilantes. @healing-winston-pratt came up with this idea and I just ran with it.

--------

One more round Nova promised herself. Just one more.

She swung at the training dummy with her leg, the side of her foot crashing into the rubber head hard. The head jolted to the side, leaning over to touch the shoulder before it snapped back after Nova's foot had passed by completely.

Nova looked at the board which buzzed as her foot receded, signaling the end of the training round.

5000 newtons of force was on the board. It was a new high score and people in the training arena clapped politely.

"You did great kid," Ingrid said, giving Nova a high five while she wiped sweat off her brow and drank from her water bottle. "You keep getting better each time. I think you're about ready to be sent on your first mission."

"Really!" Nova exclaimed, her brown eyes lighting up. More then anything, Nova wanted to be sent on a mission for the Resistance so she could help take down the Renegades.

10 years ago, when Nova was nearly 7, a group of six prodigies called the Renegades took over the city of Gatlon. The previous government was oppressive of prodigies and needed to be replaced, but the Renegades only made problems worse and forced everyone into more tension.

Thanks to them, all prodigies, people with superhuman abilities, were forced to become Renegades if they somehow didn't manage to find a way to flee to a place where the Renegades hadn't taken hold. Cruel and brutal, the Renegades changed everything to the worse, both for those with powers and those without.

Tensions between the two groups only worsened and many, like Nova's family, had fled underground with the Resistance for shelter. Nova's family, her uncle Alec specifically, had been the ones to start the Resistance as immediately, they had gone too far.

Nova's dad, David Artino, had been a prodigy and saw the signs of brutality early, using his abilities to make a helmet to amplify powers that Alec could use to wipe out the Renegades before they took root. But the leader of the Renegades, Captain Chromium, or Hugh Everhart, had found out and killed David for it in front of Nova, taking the helmet and using it to supposedly then kill Alec and force the Resistance underground after they thought they had squashed it in it's start.

But that was far from the case as Alec and the Resistance was alive and thriving underground and Nova only had the most to gain by getting rid of the Renegades as she had already lost the most.

She didn't even want revenge for what happened to her father. She wanted safety for herself and others. She wanted actual justice and to end the tension as that was already happening in the Resistance where prodigies and non-prodigies alike were living in peace.

Most of all, Nova wanted to live a normal life. She wanted to see the sun and not have to flee back into the shadows. She wanted to be able to exist instead of her mother having to wipe any trace of their existence off the map after their father was killed, Nova using fake papers made by a woman named Millie to navigate the city above the one she resided in whenever she was forced to.

"I really do think you're ready for a mission and I'm sure your uncle and mom and the other heads of the Resistance will all agree," Ingrid said. "You're the most skilled person we have since you've been training so hard so long. I think of all people you're made for this stuff."

"I promise I won't let you down," Nova said, trying to keep her voice down so she didn't draw attention from the others.

"It's not official yet," Ingrid said. "So don't jump ahead. But I think you're ready and once I tell the Heads and your family this, I'm sure you'll be assigned a mission soon."

"I sure hope so," Nova said. She had been training her whole life to be assigned a mission and was the last of the people in her peer group that hadn't been assigned one if they wanted it. Narcissa already began taking up missions and Callum had progressed past the training stage so he could go work in the tech house and Kaden was already helping with teaching the younger kids in the Resistance.

"You go eat something while I talk to the Heads. Seriously kid you've been at it all day. Put something in your stomach and shower," Ingrid laughed, ruffling Nova's hair which had fallen out of its braids for the most part.

"Just one more round," Nova said.

"Fine," Ingrid agreed. "But then you have to go take care of yourself. I swear I'm about to put limits on your use of the training arena. Let other people take a turn."

Nova laughed as Ingrid left. She went to the touch screen against the wall to start up another round when a voice called out her name.

"Owl!" Someone, Maggie, yelled. Her family had always called her Owl since she didn't sleep and ironically Maggie got the bird themed nickname of Magpie since she was drawn to metal like a magnet. A power she got from the bullet that hit her in the back as a baby.

Nova looked up and saw her younger sister leaning over the railing, looking down into the training arena at her.

"Mom says come eat!"

"One more-"

"No! You say that every time! Now. I don't want to have to wait," Maggie complained.

"Okay! Okay! Fine!" Nova said, grabbing her things as she went up the steps to greet her sister at the platform above.

Maggie looked up and down at Nova.

"For your safety and health we're taking the elevator up to our compartment. I don't want Mom yelling at me after you pass our from exhaustion," she announced, grabbing Nova's hand and pulling her to the elevator before she could refuse.

The Resistance was entirely underground and wasn't a resistance so much as it was a town beneath the earth. It was a gigantic labyrinth beneath the ground that dug into the dirt, enforced with wood and metal and clay.

It was made up of homes, compartments they were called, of all sizes along with shops, restaurants, a schooling system, a greenhouse, a tech center, a training arena, community out reaches, and more. It truly was it's own functioning town and ran just like any other place that resided by Gatlon.

Frankly, the only reason it had an economy was because people needed a small amount of money to circulate through in case they needed to go to the city above to buy something like a specific medicine or a certain ingredient or something that wasn't a general thing that the Resistance couldn't make or grow with what they had available.

If the world were to collapse, the Resistance would be the only place on earth that would make it. They already lived in secret underground and had nearly everything they needed with growing numbers and a thriving population.

The Resistance, for the most part, was located underneath the Gatlon City Park which spanned 840 acres and they only took up a quarter of that space. It was safer to be under the park because there was no structure above that would collapse though it wasn't like immense amounts of safety measures were put in place just in case of an emergency.

Regardless, the Resistance had plenty of space to grow and since Nova had been part of it since the start ten years ago when she was 7, she single-handedly watched as it became more then just a small group of people going into hiding but instead nearly 3000 people of all ages and backgrounds coming together to form a community and safe haven for all.

The elevator whizzed up to the top platform and Nova looked down at the town beneath her, hundreds of levels filled to the brim with shops and houses and places of all skill sets.

Nova, along with the Heads of the Resistance and the earliest members of it, lived on the top tier of the bunker world. They just kept digging deeper and expanding outwards like roots as more and more people joined.

She watched happily as people sung down between the levels, taking the stairs or ladders or whatever there was to move from level to level as each floor had a hollowed out center and the buildings looked almost liked links in a chain that had been tossed in a pile, going in all directions.

Nova and Maggie reached the top floor and went into their compartment.

As soon as the door opened, Nova was hit with the smell of sinigang. Fish, rice, tamarind, and taro were just some of the few things she could pick out in the stew already and her mouth watered. It was her favorite and Nova wondered if it was some sort of special occasion that she had forgotten about.

Immediately, Nova went to grab a bowl but her mom, Tala, stopped her.

"Go shower first. Then you can eat. We wash off before supper."

"But I'm hungry."

"You're also covered in sweat. Go shower and Evelyn Margaret take off your shoes," Tala said.

Maggie, or Evelyn Margaret as that was her first and middle name, jumped and scurried to go put her shoes on the rack by the entrance. For the most part they called her Maggie, a nickname of her middle name, as that was the name Nova's father had wanted for her but instead it got turned into her middle name. Originally they had always called her Evie but after David's passing, Tala and Alec and eventually Nova and everyone else called her Maggie.

Nova went to the bathroom in between her and Maggie's rooms and turned on the shower before grabbing fresh shorts and a t-shirt as it was still decently hot and humid in the Resistance as it was summer though being underground and the AC kept the temperature a bit lower. Of course Nova was still going to be hot even after a cold shower as she had been training all day and her body temperature was probably that as someone with a bad fever.

Nova washed off as fast as she could so she could eat, hastily drying her hair and putting on fresh clothes before she raced out of the bathroom so she could eat. She was starving and went through a bowl of sinigang in seconds.

"Sweet rot you're hungry," Tala laughed. "It's a good thing I made plenty. I was hoping there would be leftovers for later but I guess not."

"Maybe that's a good thing," Nova said as she server herself a second helping. "Fish never does do well as a leftover."

"Yeah," Maggie agreed, nodding and pinching her nose while her face crinkled in disgust at the thought of day old fish in the fridge.

"Please tell me you did something besides train today," Tala asked as she began to rinse out her bowl and put it in the dishwasher.

"I did my normal chores today at home and then did my work in my centers before training for the rest of the day."

"You need to do something else."

"Hey I worked in the greenhouse, the tech center, and helped work with the younger kids in training today. That's a lot besides personal training," Nova said.

"And yet there's nothing besides training that you do for fun," Tala pointed out. "When you aren't at your dance classes or doing any work you're just training. Why not start back up with your drum set again or embroider something?"

"I embroider at night along with reading and my night rounds," Nova pointed out as she ate.

"Then practice drums again and find something else to do. I want you doing more then training and ballet for fun in the day time."

"But I have all night to do what I want."

"And how often do you do anything normal teenagers do like play video games or watch something on YouTube off your laptop?"

Nova bit her lip. Her mom had a point.

"Touche."

"Ha! Point Mom!" Tala said. "Now finish up and go down to Meeting Room 1. Your uncle and the rest of the Heads want to see you."

Nova's heart soared. The Heads wanted to see her and Ingrid said that once she told them that Nova was ready for a mission she should get one.

She was about to get her first mission.

Nova devoured the last of her food quickly and took care of her dishes before brushing her teeth and making herself look a bit neater. She was finally getting her first mission and she didn't care if it was being given to her by the very people who raised her, she was going to look as nice as she could for the event on such short notice.

Nova kissed Maggie and Tala on the cheek for goodbye and shoved on her shoes before going down to Meet Room One on the first level.

She straightened her clothes out one last time before knocking on the door.

It opened, and surrounding the table were all of the Heads; her uncle Alec, Honey Harper, Leroy Flinn, Ingrid Thompson, Winston Pratt, Malee Suwan, and Adriana Sandoya. While Malee and Adriana hadn't been part of the original Resistance members, they joined shortly after and were in charge of their own respective departments. There were other department leaders that weren't on the board but Malee and Adriana were the most prominent department leaders who joined later as they ran the biggest operations, putting them in charge.

Nova straightened her back and stepped in, trying to shove down her smile.

"You wanted to see me?" She asked.

Ingrid winked at her right away and Alec cleared his throat, the metal door shutting.

"Insomnia take a seat please," Alec said, using her alias meaning that they were talking business. Just because she was his niece didn't mean she was getting any privileges.

Nova sat in the last empty chair, leg bouncing and her fingers tapping against her legs.

"For a while, you've been the last person in your peer group to be assigned a mission after selecting that path despite being the most well trained," Alec, or Ace she should be calling him as it was a business matter and not a family one, said. "There is a reason for this."

"Insomnia we've been developing a more intense plan for the past few years," Ingrid, the Detonator, began. "We are planning on having someone go in as a spy into the Renegades and feed us back information as well as steal back the helmet your father made. This way we can use it to overthrow them like we had originally planned before the Captain took matters into his own hands."

Nova's lips quirked into a frown. They all knew what the Detonator meant. They all knew she was referring to how Hugh Everhart broke into the Artino family apartment and shot Maggie and David in front of Nova before taking the helmet and leaving. She would never forget it and she would never be able to properly sleep again because of it.

Nova remembered it vividly. She had been playing in her room while her mother was out to get more medicine and her dad was trying to get Maggie to stop crying from her fever when the door slammed open.

Nova heard yelling and Nova raced over to see what was happening, watching from the open door before Hugh pulled out a gun and fired. The first hit Maggie, maybe unintentionally or not, and the next hit David, sending both of them collapsing to the ground in a pool of blood.

Nova screamed and ran to the closet in her room for safety, trying not to sob so loud that Hugh would find her and kill her too. She remembered the closet door opening and Hugh just staring down at her before ignoring her and closing the closet door and leaving.

When Tala came home, Nova was over David and Maggie's bodies trying to get them to wake up. Luckily, and miraculously, Maggie had survived, gaining the ability to manipulate metal as she clutched onto the silver bullet. David was not as fortunate.

"So you want me to go in as a spy?" Nova asked.

"Yes," Honey Harper, Queen Bee, confirmed. "But we had you train much longer then others because it's such a dangerous task. We know of all people you're the one who's best fit for it. You're the best fighter we have who will for sure stay loyal and they don't know you exist at all."

"Don't you think Captain Chromium might recognize me. He's seen me before?" Nova asked.

"The Captain is as dense as a brick and more prideful then anyone. I doubt he will notice," Leroy, Cyanide, stated.

"But know that if you take up this mission, it is insanely risky and emotionally and mentally draining. You may very easily lose your life in this job if you aren't careful," Ariana, Equation, added.

"So it's your choice if you take this up or not," Winston, the Puppeteer said.

"Do my mom and sister already know about this as well as the details of the job?" Nova asked. She didn't want to come home and tell her family that she might be going on a suicide mission.

"Yes they are aware," Ace said. "I talked to your mom about it and told your sister. They are on board with it. As long as you're 100 percent sure you want this mission then it's yours."

"So do you want the mission?" Malee, the Architect, asked.

"Can I have more details if possible with how we're supposed to make me become a Renegade?" Nova asked.

"We'd stage a moment where you would use your power to knock others out in front of a Renegade so they pull you into their system," Cyanide told her.

Nova bit her lip. She knew how to use her powers but she hardly bothered to use them. She hadn't used them since she was little unless it was an emergency. The only power she had used was her ability to not sleep since she had little choice against it.

"Yes," Nova agreed anyways. "Yes I do."

She didn't care how risky it was. She wanted the Renegades to fall after all they had done and she wanted everyone to finally have back freedom.

"Then congratulations on your first mission Insomnia," the Detonator said, grinning.

--------

Tag List:

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#nevada fanfiction #renegades trilogy #renegades #archenemies #supernova #supernova spoilers #nova artino #adrian everhart #nodrian #danna bell #narcissa cronin #danissa #osby #tuckva #oscar silva #ruby tucker

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highsviolets · 4 years

Text

steady

pairing: obi-wan x jedi!reader. set during TCW.

summary: you’re sick. he’s war-weary. mutual support ensues. shameless fluff.

word count: 2k+

rating: G

A/N: this is my first time publishing fic! also my first time writing obi-wan lol but the muses (aka, tumblr + watching tcw + i’ve gone to the doctor too many damn times in the past month) insisted so I had to obey. all comments + criticism + reblogs are welcome; the ask box is always open for a chat! Enjoy, my darlings xx.

STEADY, a fic by corellians-only

The standard issue grey wool was coarse under your skin, but its raspy texture was lost on you as you gripped the blanket even harder, clutching it to your chest.

Tears slid down your face and joined into the fabric balled in your hands. Your body mimicked the position of your blanket, curled into a ball as the stubborn pain in your knees twinged every so often, heckling you with reminders of your insolent body.

You took a deep breath and attempted to focus your eyes, peering out the small transparisteel window. Few Jedi were granted such luxuries, but you had been granted such an apartment by the Council on account of your health. The increased exposure to light was supposed to be good for you, the doctors had argued, providing reams of medical evidence linking light exposure to increased rates of recovery.

Usually, watching the lanes of speeder traffic was soothing. It centered you, gave you an outlet for your excess mental energy. Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, your closest friend, would often join you for afternoon tea and he would listen, bemused, as you composed stories about the speeders glimmering in the light of Coruscant’s setting sun.

How you have energy for anything else is beyond me, Obi-Wan would always say, chuckling and shaking his head in fond exasperation The way you carry on, I’m amazed you even sleep.

You always insisted that yes, I do too sleep and would claim to bar him from any more stories until he apologized. He, of course, would oblige gracefully, and would return the next day, week, month — whenever he wasn’t marshaling clone armies in the Outer Rim — always with a new box of tea to share and a few stories of his own.

Now, though, the window seemed to mock you, representing the farce that was your supposed recovery. Your traitorous knee shot through with pain again and you groaned aloud, stifling the noise with the blanket and began crying in earnest.

Force, but none of it made sense. Just a week ago you had been cleared to re-enter active duty, been fitted for new armor, assigned your own command, and now you were sidelined until further notice.

Evidence of substantial musculoskeletal deformities. Possible complications with other bodily systems. Maybe even the brain. Further testing needed. Impossible to return to active duty at this time.

The Two-Onebee’s dispassionate diagnosis repeated on a loop in your head, and it seemed that the more you tried to quash it down, the more insistent his voice became.

You tried turning away from the window, to find a new distraction, but the effort was too much.

Kriff, you swore, before catching hold of your rising anger and releasing it into the Force. You repeated the Jedi Code, first in your head, then aloud, in a feeble attempt to steady yourself.

“A Jedi knows not pain.” The voice was smooth and steady — like silk, you thought randomly, the errant thought galloping through your head, if it had the strength of velvet.

“Well maybe you don’t, Master Kenobi, but this Jedi certainly does.”

The acerbic retort left your mouth before you even registered the thought. You sighed, a sound that amplified your bitterness and regret. You hadn’t even realized he had entered your quarters.

“I’m sorry, Obi,” you apologized, lowering your eyes to stare at the now-wet blanket in your hands. “I didn’t mean it.”

Obi-Wan began to cross the room with long strides. “Yes, you did,” he corrected softly, speaking as he walked. “You do feel pain.”

He had reached your bed and stared down at your prone form. Maker, he was tall.

For once, you allowed yourself to appreciate his body— tall, broad shouldered, with a narrow waist that suggested he could easily best any being in hand-to-hand combat. His strawberry blonde hair had been cut recently, reduced from shoulder length to the style he had sported shortly after becoming a Master and taking on Anakin as his unruly apprentice. His neatly trimmed beard, though, made him look every bit the distinguished Master Jedi.

Your eyes dragged over him lazily before meeting his. Their cerulean orbs usually emanated serenity, like a calm day on the ocean world of Mon Calamari. But you saw only riptides of pain — and was that fear?

“I just saw the medical report,” he said steadily, holding your gaze. “I’m so very sorry.”

You nodded absently, distracted. Something was wrong here.

And that’s when it hit you.Two things were missing, actually.

Your eyes narrowed in suspicion. “You’re wearing your armor, Obi-Wan,” you stated slowly. “You don’t usually wear it when you’re in the Temple. And,” you added accusingly, “you’re shielding your Force aura from me!”

Obi-Wan took a step back, obviously surprised at the turn in the conversation. Without preamble, he joined you on the mattress rather unceremoniously. He sighed.

“I’ve just been remanded new orders. I’m to deploy almost immediately.” His voice was hard and brittle, a far cry from its usual dulcet tones.

“Oh,” was all you could manage. “Grevious again?”

Obi-Wan shook his head. A lock of hair drifted onto his forehead, forming an arching shadow on his smooth skin.

“No, some trigger-happy Separatist general thought they could institute a few system wide blockades and get away with it.”

“Which system?”

The General’s laugh was like molasses that hadn’t been extracted in time — deep and smooth, but weary and bitter. “No place you’ve heard of, I can assure you of that.”

Sensing an opportunity to draw him out of his reverie, you pouted playfully, sticking out your lower lip and widening your eyes. You reach out to tug at the trailing sleeve of your robe but there’s nothing there but the cold greaves of his armor. Your hand meets his instead, trailing the outside of his palm in a delicate touch that nevertheless caught his attention.

Obi-Wan looked down at your touching hands, then turned his gaze on yours. The heat in your cheeks onset rapidly, but you ignored the discomfort — A Jedi knows not pain — and pursued your mission.

“Try me,” you said as impishly as you could manage when it felt like you were being x-rayed by his eyes. “I was given the Academic Award of our Padawan class, after all. Master Koon said I had makings of a real archivist.”

That made Obi-Wan laugh, a soft sound that echoed in the sparse chambers. “What you leave out, dear one, is that he finished his sentence with the words if you didn’t have such a mouth on you.”

A wry smile settled on your lips. “Hm, that is true,” you conceded. You tried to pull yourself up again to face him properly, but faltered, crashing back down onto the mattress with a soft swish of sheets.

Immediately his brow furrowed in concern. “Here, permit me,” he instructed in a low voice, and fierfek if that commanding tone didn’t make your cheeks drift into an even brighter shade of red.

Obi-Wan clasped your hand firmly and used his weight to counterbalance your own, placing his other hand in the small of your back to guide your ascent.

You gave him watery smile as you settled down beside him. “Thanks.”

“Anytime,” he responded mildly, still holding onto your hand.

“So,” you said, “uh, a blockade? Will you be bringing Jedi Skywalker?”

“I don’t want to talk about that,” Obi-Wan announced suddenly.

“Oh?” you questioned, tilting your head in confusion. Obi-Wan was silent for a long moment.

Trust your feelings, your Master had always instructed you as an apprentice. You think too much.

You reached out in the Force, extending your senses. Your aura brushed up against Obi-Wan’s, which, you realized, was startlingly similar to your own just minutes earlier. Surface skimming revealed that he was tense, resigned, confused, but with a lingering respect to his duty and something else, just below the surface, that you couldn’t quite place.

Amplifying your presence, you sent him waves of calm and reassurance, urging him to let you in.

“You know you can talk to me, Obi.”

He nodded, the wayward locks of hair bobbing with his movement. “I know, Y/N. It’s just —“ he paused, searching for the right word — “so bloody complicated.”

“Isn’t everything, these days?” you whispered back.

The silence dragged on. You withdrew your presence and occupied yourself by going through a mental checklist of what hurt and what didn’t. Judging by the color of the sky, the Two-Onebee would be arriving shortly to deliver your evening medicine and file another medical report.

Finally, he spoke, the words coming haltingly. “I’m not afraid of death, Y/N.” Obi-Wan looked down at your intertwined hands as though they possessed the secrets of the galaxy — or at the very least, the magic bullet that would end the Clone Wars.

“What I’m afraid of,” he finally continued, “is what I will miss out on if I die.”

Well, then. “What to say to a disillusioned General” wasn’t a course that you ever saw offered at the Temple, but he was your oldest friend, and you had to try.

“You’ve lived a brave life, Obi-Wan. You’ve stayed true to the Code and conducted yourself with honor.” You squeezed his hand. “I have no doubt that if you fall in these wars, it will be in the pursuit of peace and justice, and that you will be welcomed into the Force.”

Obi-Wan shook his head again, and you sensed a spike of anxiety in his Force aura. “No, it’s not that. I’m not afraid of dying,” he repeated. “I’m afraid of leaving behind a life I could have lived. I’m afraid of —“ he took a deep breath and met your eyes. “I’m afraid of not coming home to you.”

Your jaw dropped of its own accord, but he kept speaking. “I’m —“ he stumbled over the words — “I’m afraid of never seeing you again. I’m afraid that I’ll come home, for good, and you won’t be here anymore. And I’m afraid of my fear. Fear is the path to the dark side. We are supposed to be above attachment, I know, but I can’t just very well ignore the fact that I love you.”

“Perfect love casts out fear.” The words came to your mind unbidden, like the lyrics of a childhood lullaby. “You said it yourself, Obi-Wan. Love is not attachment. Love does not cause fear.”

This time, he was the one who squeezed your hand, eyes searching yours wildly, daring to hope. “Is it —? Are you —?”

You reached up and cupped a hand to his face, running your thumb over his cheek soothingly. “What’s this?” you teased lightly. “The Negotiator with nothing to say?”

“Honest to entropy, sweetling, I —“

You cut him off with a kiss, chastely pressing your lips to his. Come here, your Force aura beckoned to his, come see how much I love you.

He readily agreed in body and spirit, drawing him near to you even as his presence merged with yours. You sighed into him, bringing one hand to curl into his hair as the other disentangled from his fingers and the other slid around his neck

Obi-Wan gave as good as he got. Your earlier hurt at his shielded Force presence dissipated as he opened himself and permitted his aura mingled with yours, the combined strength of both your presences almost overwhelming in a chorus of home safe here always yours. He, too, lifted on hand to settle in your hair, running his fingers through your tresses as he mouth gingerly explored yours. His palm settled on your waist, and you could feel its heat through your thin robes.

A few moments later the two of you separated, both a little dumbfounded at what had just transpired.

“Was that okay?” he murmured.

“Always the gentleman,” you jibed, but without any true heat. You settled your head on his shoulder and let him sense your peace and contentment in the Force. He was strong and steady beneath you, just as he always had been, you thought.

Obi-Wan smiled and dropped a kiss to your hair. “I need to make my way to the hangar,” he said, regret tinging his voice. “I can’t keep Anakin waiting.”

“We can’t have that; Jedi Skywalker may take matters into his own hands,” you joked. “Remember when we were on Nar Shaddaa?”

He laughed again, and warmth suffused into your chest. “I like to forget about Nar Shaddaa. Unless you’re referring to when you thought that Captain Rex was one the enemy commandos and almost launched a grenade at him before I stopped you?” Obi-Wan retorted, arching an eyebrow.

“Well, in that case, I like to forget about Nar Shadda too.” You laughed as he stood up slowly, taking care to not exacerbate your aches and pains.

You looked up at him from the edge of the bed, smiling fondly. “Don’t get killed out there, Kenobi.”

“Don’t let the medics boss you around. I don’t like the look of that Two-OneBee. Maybe it’s Separatist infiltration droid.”

You rolled your eyes. “I think you’re spending too much time with Jedi Skywalker and his Padawan. You’ve become so dramatic, Obi.”

Obi-Wan gently took your face in his hands. “My dear, where do think they learned it?”

“Maybe you should teach me all you know,” you said breathlessly.

“Maybe I should,” he responded evenly, but his eyes darkened to indigo and you knew he had caught your meaning.

“Is that a promise?”

Obi-Wan bent down and kissed your lips one last time. “Ask when I get home,” he ordered against your mouth.

He straightened and began making his way to the door. “Obi-Wan! Wait!” you cried.

Obi-Wan turned. “Yes?”

“I love you.”

He grinned, and his hair glinted in the last vestiges of sun reflecting off of the Coruscanti skyscrapers.

“I know, dear one. I love you too.”

Fin.

#obi-wan fic #obi-wan x reader #cg's og's #cristina writes #sw fic #obi wan fic #obi wan x reader #tcw fic #obi-wan x you #obi wan x you

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marveloussupernerd · 4 years

Note

Are your requests open? If not, feel free to ignore this and have a great day! Otherwise, would you be willing to write a part two of the 707 one with a sick MC? I think it would be hella cute if Seven caught the cold that MC had and she has to return the favor? I totally headcanon that feverish/sick 707 would forget all about his "I'm dangerous stay away" mentality and become a clingy human magnet! I just think it would be so cute and if you don't write it, I respect your wishes! loliloveyoubye

They sure are! Sorry it took a while to get to this, school and all. You’re so sweet anon I love writing for y’all it’s no inconvenience at all ❤️ and ily2!! ALSO I reread the seven w sick Mc and wow thank you all for tolerating my incorrect use of your/you’re and to/too. I swear I know the difference but at night I think I’m too tired to notice LMAO

Sick Seven

Summary: Defender of Justice never gets sick! Until... he does. Luckily he has you to take care of him.

You had finally gotten over your cold, thank goodness. It had taken a bit to fully recover, but now you were feeling great. It was the weekend, the sun was out... it was the perfect day for a picnic date with Seven. You decided to call him to check his schedule. He picked up on the second ring.

“Hello?” His voice was muffled.

“Hi Babe! What are you up to?” You asked, twirling a piece of hair between your fingers.

“Oh... I’m still in bed.”

“Still in bed?” You questioned. “Do you not have any work?”

“No, I’m-“ he broke out into a fit of coughs. “I’m sick.”

He really didn’t sound well. “I thought the Defender of Justice had an immune system of steel or whatever,” you commented, quoting him from the week prior when he took care of you.

“I was wrong.”

He never gave in that easily. “Wow... you really are sick.” You put the cute outfit you had planned back and grabbed some sweatpants and a t-shirt. “I’ll be over in a half hour, Baby.”

“Okay,” he sniffled. “Thank you.”

You made a quick stop at the store to grab some food, medicine, and tissues. Seven never stocked up on things like that, so you figured it was better to be safe and get extra. Still, you kept your promise and got there in 30 minutes.

“Please state your name.” The door instructed you. You hated this security system. You called Seven. Three times, no answer. He must be asleep. You called Saeran.

“Hello?” He answered. He sounded extremely confused.

“Hi Saeran. I’m at the front door; you mind letting me in?”

Within a few seconds, the door opened. Saeran grabbed a few bags from your arms and helped you carry them in. “I’m glad you came,” he admitted, looking down at the groceries you had brought. “He’s been pretty pitiful.”

You giggled. “I’ll try and whip him into shape. Thanks Saeran.”

You made your way into his bedroom. He... wasn’t there? His bed was disheveled, but no Seven. You went back to the living room. He wasn’t on the couch either. Next you went to the office area. There he was, sleeping in his chair.

“Seven,” you whispered. He didn’t move. “Seven,” you shook him slightly this time.

His eyes peeked open and he groaned. “So tired... so sick.”

“Hi Love.” You ran a hand through his hair, messing it up a little more than it already was, then kissed the top of his head. “Let’s get you to bed. We can’t have you sleeping on your chair.”

“Thanks for coming,” he grumbled, his voice tired and miserable. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too. Okay, so bed. What do you want me to do? You want medicine? Tea? Soup? Tissues? Cuddles? Heating pad? Ice pack?”

“All.”

“At once?” You questioned. He nodded. “I’ll... try my best. Have you taken any medicine yet?@

“Some Advil a few hours ago.” He shrugged. You grabbed his arm and helped him up.

“No wonder you feel so awful. I bought some cold medicine for you. Let’s take it and then I’ll start the soup.” He grabbed onto your hand as you walked, leading him to the kitchen where you had set all the bags. You popped out a pill from the cold medicine package, pushing it his way with a glass of water.

Seconds after swallowing the pill, he made his way to wrap his arms around you from behind, nuzzling his cheek into your shoulder. He... wouldn’t get off. “Seven. I’ve gotta make the food.”

“Make it with me right here.” His voice muffled from the fabric of your shirt.

“I don’t want you standing around too much. You need to rest.” Maybe your sympathy had gotten to him, because he hesitantly let go and left the room. You heard a curse muttered followed by a crash. Didn’t sound like he let it go.

“Seven let me-“ you stopped your sentence as you saw him carrying his rolling desk chair.

“Oh perfect. I’m too week. Will you bring that to the kitchen?” He gave you puppy dog eyes and you sighed, grabbing the chair from him.

Once in the kitchen, he plopped down on the chair and moved back behind you, arms wrapping where they earlier were and his head now resting against your back.

You did a test movement to go get the carrots. He simply wheeled around behind you, never letting go. “Problem solved.” He muttered.

You got to work preparing the soup. As you were cutting carrots, Saeran came in. He took one glance at Seven and sighed. “How do you deal with him?”

“I’m right here!” Seven replied, faking sounding insulted.

“He’s perfect.” You set down the knife and rested a hand on one of his own wrapped around your waist. “Extra affectionate today, but perfect.”

“How can I help it seeing you so domestic today? You’re so cute making soup and taking care of me.” He snuggled closer against you waist. “Stay the night tonight? Pretty please?”

“Of course I will. Lots of cuddles. Taking care of you.”

When the soup was finished, he sat at the table eyeing you expectantly. Saeran had a bowl himself.

“I’m not feeding you your soup,” you commented.

Seven let out a whine. An audible whine. “But I fed you your soup Baby. Pleaseeee!”

“I think he’s regressed back to being a child,” Saeran joked. The two of you laughed. Seven was not entertained.

“Eat your own soup like a big boy. Then we’ll cuddle in bed.” You sounded like a mom telling her kid to eat their vegetables. Sick Seven was something else.

“Throw in a kiss and I’ll eat it myself.”

“On the cheek.” You bartered. He frowned. “I don’t wanna get sick again. Just got over it.” You reminded him.

“Fine,” he sighed dramatically, which caused him to cough some more. He began stuffing spoonfulls into his mouth.

“Slow down!” You warned.

“Can’t.” Soup dribbled down his chin. “Your cooking is so good. When are you moving in again? I could eat your food all day.”

“Why don’t we talk about this when one of us isn’t sick?” You suggested. Seemed like a simple suggestion, but Seven was so eager to have you nice in, and then he got sick right after you recovered.

“‘Kay.” He picked up the bowl and slurped the broth. “All done. Kisses and cuddles.” He got up and dragged you up with him.

“Thanks for the soup!” Saeran called as you were dragged into the bedroom.

Seven made his way to bed, a little more pep in his step due to the medicine and soup. He pulled you toward him a little too hard, sending you toppling into the blankets. “Sorry.”

“It’s okay.” You got under the blankets, leaning forward to give him a kiss on the cheek. He took off his glasses, setting them on the nightstand.

“You are staying the night, for sure right?” He asked, flipping over to face you.

“Of course. If that’s what you want.”

“You know what I want?” He winked at you. You sighed. “For you to be the big spoon.”

That was a request you could handle. Seven settled in your arms. You rested your chin on his head, him curled up beneath you. “Good?” You asked.

“Perfect. Feels so safe. Night.”

You chuckled. “Good night. Love you Sevem.”

“Love you too...” he was drifting to sleep already “...Honey.” He was so cute in your arms. Granted, such a pain in the ass, but it was almost worth it when you got to see him resting peacefully.

#mystic messenger #mysme #seven

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firebird-inkheart · 4 years

Text

A Child’s Understanding Final

(previous)

Sabo led them to the well in the middle of the town, deciding it was more practical to wait there instead of lurking in front of the Yew. While Honyo collapsed and became a lump on the side of the well the boys worked on drawing up some water. The cicadas’ symphony rose with the tidal wave of silence. A gentle breeze wafted by, breaking the almost stagnating heat pouring from overhead.

It was almost a perfect summer day.

Honyo sniffled, dragging the back of her hand across her face over and over again. It was useless though. No matter how many times she did it there were always more tears that would appear to replace the other ones. The anger smoldering within was cooling, but in the wake of its absence was a queasy feeling that hurt just as much as the throbbing in her head did. The cut on her head had swelled into a sizable, tender lump now.

She glanced back at the Yew. It was a good thing poppop had showed up. Those shitty adults hadn’t been taking her seriously even though she had shown them she could understand the things they said. Hopefully poppop would succeed where she had failed and get those assholes to take back the things they said.

The bucket hit the lip of the well with a dull thud as it was hauled up. Sabo pulled out a spare kerchief and dunked it inside. He wrung it out and crouched, gently tilting her head, and began dabbing at the cut. Ace sat beside her when she winced, slipping his hand into hers.

She thought, again, of how much she liked his hands. They were rough from years of hard work and training combined, covered in scars and scabs. His knuckles were scraped, red, from where he had bludgeoned the man with the oversized bow tie. They weren’t strangers to a fight and were capable of great feats of strength. But even for as rough and powerful as his hands were, they were also incredibly gentle things. How anyone could hate them― how anyone could hate the boy that they belonged to ―she just didn’t understand.

“What were you thinking?”

Honyo blinked, pulling her face from Sabo’s grasp to look at Ace, her good eye growing large. Ace was scowling.

“Why did you start a fight with them? And by yourself! I know you’re strong, but even you couldn’t hold out against all of them. And they hurt you because of m―” He choked. “Because you―”

His face twisted something awful then. The corners of his mouth twitched as he fought to keep a wobbly frown from fully taking over, settling on a grimace, teeth clenched in frustration. Thick brows bunched together. Dark eyes shined, pained.

A lump formed in her throat the same time warm, fresh tears blurred her vision again.

“It’s not fair!” Honyo exclaimed. Her lower lip trembled. “Adults always think they know better so that means they can say whatever they want and not deal with the consequences. They said such awful things that hurt you and yet you’re just supposed to accept it? We’re all supposed to just accept it? That’s not fair at all!”

“You’re right. He shouldn’t have to just accept it. No one should.” Sabo agreed solemnly. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “But you heard what they were saying about Roger. About his family. Ace has to hear stuff like that all the time and keep moving forward anyway, or else the world will know about him and they won’t let him be until he’s gone. It shouldn’t be like that at all! But unless someone changes how things are run then we’re all stuck dealing with this shit called the justice system.”

“They’re wrong though! They’re wrong be-because Ace is good and kind and― and is so warm, l-like the sun! And the sun isn’t bad because it brings life!” She was sobbing now, wringing the boy’s hand with both of hers. Thoughts continued to tumble out rapidly as she repeated herself with desperation. “You deserve to live! You deserve it, you deserve it, you deserve it! And I’m glad you’re alive!”

Ace shook. He was being twisted and pulled in all sorts of directions, the heart beating within him, the heart so many claimed belonged to a demon, growing warmer and warmer as Honyo laid her own heart out. It was impossible to see clearly anymore.

He reached out, wrapping his arms around small shaking shoulders, and touched his forehead against hers.

Hot droplets pattered against her lap. And then a sniffle reached her ears. A shudder ran through Ace.

‘Oh…’ Ace was crying.

Her arms wound around him, grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, tightly hugging him back.

“Thank you,” came a very wet whisper. “Thank you.”

Behind them Sabo smiled, scrubbing his eyes before throwing himself onto the sobbing pile. They all went tumbling with a shriek―

That went on much longer than any of the children actually screamed for. A crash resounded from the bar and seconds later the balding man with the bowler hat scrambled outside, throwing the doors open with so much force they bounced off the walls more than once. Bowler hat guy managed to trip his way down the steps before the rest of his group came stumbling after like newborn colts. They ran over each other in their haste to get away from the man calmly strolling out after them.

“Have a nice day gentlemen,” Shin called, waving and smiling pleasantly. “And do consider never coming back.”

The children stared at him, two in utter disbelief and the other with stars in her teary eyes.

“Honyo?” Sabo slowly detached himself from the pile.

“Yeah?”

“Remind me to never get on your dad’s bad side.”

Ace nodded in agreement, helping her sit up. “Seconded.”

Shin turned towards them, his cold smile warming up instantly. He continued walking in his easy going manner until he reached them. “All settled!” he cheered. “You kids won’t have anything to worry about from them ever again.”

He crouched, cupping his daughter’s face once more to examine the cut. Satisfied that it didn’t appear too grievous― she’d be smarting for a while for sure, and he wouldn’t take his eyes off her anytime soon just to be safe ―he pinched her cheek with a small sigh.

“Bean, I know you meant well, but please, be more careful next time you decide to start a brawl in a bar.”

Honyo nodded and swiped at her tears with the back of her hand again.

“That being said, I’m proud of you.” A large grin lit up his face. He ruffled her hair while casually looking over the boys. “That goes for all of you. You kids really know how to put the fear of god into a bunch of grown men!”

Shin laughed, the sound loud and comforting, as he scooped all three of them into his arms. They yelped and giggled at suddenly being squished together and for a moment the air was filled with nothing but glee. When the laughter began dying down Shin pressed his forehead against Ace’s crown, merely humming in response when he looked up in an unspoken question.

“Now, let’s get you guys home,” Shin stood, swinging the kids around once before setting them down again. “So we can tell everyone about Bean’s first bar fight!”

“Yeah!” they cheered.

Warm fingers tangled with her own. Honyo glanced down at the hand that was only just a little bigger holding onto hers, then up at a very freckled face. That smile was bright, like looking into the sun. Her chest fluttered, losing her heart, in a heartbeat. She quickly looked back down and pretended to not notice the fire consuming her face.

He squeezed her and she couldn’t help but grin.

Yeah. She really liked his hands best of all.

++++

Bonus:

“You got into a bar fight? And I missed it?!” Zoro’s spoon clattered into his bowl with a heavy plop, sending soup splashing in every direction.

Beside him Luffy pulled at his hair with a despairing wail. “I was fixing the turnips when I coulda watched Honyo trash a buncha geezers! Turnips!”

Chante placed a bowl in front of him and gave him an unimpressed look. “I wouldn’t call eating half the row ‘fixing’ it niño. And tomorrow you’re gonna fix the carrots. Teach you to slingshot yourself near the garden again, huh.”

She glanced at the three troublemakers wolfing down their food, running a worried eye over Honyo’s bruised face and Ace’s red rimmed eyes. Her gaze drifted towards Shin, who absently wiped at Luffy’s face― seriously, she just gave the kid food, how was he so messy already? ―and let out a short, quiet sigh. The kids only gave her a very slimmed down version of the story, enough so that she at least got the gist of what happened, but she was going to have to press Shin for more details later.

“What even was the fight about?” Adri asked around a mouthful of spoon.

Sabo and Ace traded looks before shrugging. Honyo frowned at her soup.

“Some worthless adults said some worthless things,” Sabo answered, nonchalant.

“I still didn’t get that guy to take back what he said,” Honyo muttered.

“Didn’t need to hear him say it.” She tilted her head, looking up at Ace. His hand landed on her head and mussed it playfully. “There were better things to be heard from better people afterwards anyway.”

And with that a large grin split across his face.

#scribe's work #{ficlet: A Child's Understanding}#aldfjksjf #i'm so sorry i took forever to conclude this #hooray for happy ends tho!#feel like i could have wrapped it up better but ya know #just trying to be glad i finished it at all asjflsdjfld

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