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creative-caramel-coffee · 2 months

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Just another red alert

SUMMARY: The enterprise is under attack and you seem to take the fall… literally.

TW: Broken bones, child abandonment, head injury, passing out, secrets

PLATONIC R

ENSIGN / NURSE R

A/n idk why 2/3 chapters so far include head injures haha. I’ll find something interesting and hopefully a little different for the next chapter lol.

Life on the enterprise was never boring that was for sure. You were getting ready to go to sleep when the red alert sounded. Dammit, i guess you wouldn’t be sleeping then.

You sighed sitting up in bed and swinging your legs over the edge. Well if you’re not going to sleep, might as well do your job and head to the bridge. You stood and got changed into your uniform. As you began to head over to the door, a huge jolt rocked the ship.

Catching you completely off guard you found yourself being thrown forward, hard, and directly into a wall. Putting you hand out to stop yourself you felt and heard the crunch of bone before your arm slipped and you went head first into the wall, knocking you out on impact.

The red alert sounded in the background while you laid half against the wall your broken wrist hanging limply by your side.

On the bridge things were looking slightly better. The Romulan war bird had caught the captain by surprise and worf was a second too slow on the shield. The ship rocked and Picard signalled to open communications.

“This is Captain Picard of the USS enterprise, romulan warbird you have fired on a federation vessel. This has been seen as an act of war. If you do not disarm your phaser banks we will retaliate with force.” He said gruffly and worf shook his head.

“No response captain.” The Klingon said.

“Alright Mr worf, power to the phasers and ready a full spread of photon torpedoes. Mr crusher bring us about 20 degrees star board. I want them in our sights.” He ordered.

“Aye Captain. Phaser banks charged, on your order sir.” He said.

“Not yet.” Picard said holding up a hand to gesture his sentiment.

“Sir a second vessel has decloaked aft starboard!” Worf said. “Sir it’s firing on the other vessel. The vessel had been destroyed.” He said. “Sir, they are hailing us.”

“On screen Mr Worf.” Picard said and the view screen flashed on.

“Captain. I apologise on behalf of the empire, a band of … rogues have been attempting to start war with the federation. They had commandeered a ship and paid with their lives. I trust this misplaced and misguided act of aggression is forgivable?” The romulan captain said.

Picard held up a hand and Worf turned off audio.

“Deanna?” The captain asked.

“He’s telling the truth sir. I sense no guilt or lies in his words. More like … apprehension for your answer.” She said and Picard nodded to worf again.

“Captain, i trust as this remains an isolated incident the federation is willing to … overlook this act as a sign of trust which will hopefully reinforce the treaty. However,” he said straightening his uniform, “It must remain as such; isolated.” He said.

“Thank you Captain. And once more, my apologies.” The romulan said and cut communications.

“Mr crusher lay in a course for our previous heading.” Riker order and Wesley tapped his console.

“Course laid in sir.” He said.

“Engage.” Riker commanded.

With that matter settled red alert was cancelled and riker combadge chirped.

“Dr crusher to Riker.”

“Riker here doc, go ahead.”

“Could you please send ensign L/n to sickbay. I have more patients than hands on deck currently and i need all my nurses here.” She said and Riker looked at Picard and frowned.

“She’s not here doc, i assumed she reported to you when she didn’t show on the bridge.”

“Well she’s certainly not here.” The doctor responded.

“I’ll go find her.” Deanna volunteered and will gave her a nod.

You were one of the few members of the crew with a duel posting. You took the com in alternating shifts to work in sickbay. With a degree in nursing and the skills of pilot from where you grew up on a colony, Starfleet had granted you a duel posting on the enterprise after you had managed to defend you colony at seventeen and then helped provide valuable aid to its citizens after the attack.

It was only a small colony, but you had been fast tracked in your entry process and it was barely a year later you had found yourself on the federation flagship.

Deanna was in the turbolift on the way to deck 17.

“Computer, locate ensign L/n.” She said.

“Ensign L/n is in her quarters.” The robotic voice responded.

“Strange.” Deanna muttered to herself. “Computer, what is the ensigns current status.” She said.

“Insufficient data.” The computer chirped.

“What is ensign L/n’s bio-readings?” She asked again.

“Insufficient data, ensign L/n has restricted access to that data to Dr crusher only.” The computer said.

“What?!”

“Ensign L/n has restricted access to-“

“Understood.” She said frustrated. “Why?”

“Unknown.”

At that moment the doors to the turbolift hissed open and Deanna strode out and towards your quarters. She tapped the consul on the wall and heard it chime, but there was no response.

“Manual override, command code Troi delta 2-1-0” she said and the door opened.

She glanced around before moving into your bedroom and hurried to your side.

“Troi to sickbay, medical emergency. Two to beam directly to sickbay.”

“Acknowledged��Counsellor.” A voice said.

A moment later the two of you were in sickbay. Dr crusher was just finishing up with the last of the patients when she saw you beam in.

“God. She never does things by half.” Beverley said, rushing to kneel next to you and scanning your full body with the tricorder.

“But thats what you love about her.” Deanna said and smiled.

“Yes” the doctor responded, “help me get her up.” She said and the two of them gently lifted you onto a biobed.

“she has a nasty break in her wrist. Surprisingly her head seems more or less fine. Probably due to her strong betazed brain healing fast.” Beverly said and Deanna looked up.

“Her what?!” She said standing up and Beverly winced.

“Sorry, i wasn’t supposed to say that.” She said and turned away to grab a regenerator for your arm.

“Is that why her scans are restricted? Because she doesn’t want people to know?” Deanna asked sitting back down by your bed.

“Yes. More like she’s afraid of it getting out. She was adopted on her colony after her parents abandoned her on an outpost in the same system. She does like to remember, she refuses to tell people. I think shes afraid of what people will think.” Beverly explained as she moved your wrist slightly and scanned it to check the bone was in place properly.

“Nobody has an issue with me?” Deanna said questionably and frowning.

“Yes. But your the Counsellor, you have to keep their emotions to yourself. Doctor patient confidentiality, something I just fail dismally in.” The doctor said as she switched on the device as it let off a low blue light and deep hum.

“I suppose the idea of someone who could spill all your secrets does pose issues socially.” Deanna said. “My mother certainly does.” She said with a laugh. “Is she fully betazoid?” Deanna asked.

“Three quarters.”

“How?”

“Her mother was betazoid and her father was half. Based off her genetics.” The redhead explained removing the device and scanning your wrist again to see how it healed.

“So what does that look like?” Deanna asked “is she telepathic?”

“To an extent.” You said and they both looked at you sheepishly. “I guess the cats out of the bag then. But i trust you’ll keep this between the three of us Counsellor Troi?” You sighed.

“Of course, i wouldn’t want you to steal my job.” She joked.

“I wouldn’t. And for what it’s worth I’m glad it was you, generally medical professionals are better at keeping secrets.”

“And I’m glad to have another of my kind on board.”

“I suppose so.” You said with a sigh and she frowned.

“You don’t like that?”

“More i don’t like to remember. And doc?”

“Yes?” Beverly said avoiding eye contact.

“Thanks for fixing my arm.”

“No problem, hows the head feeling?”

“Not bad, i think it was partly the rush of emotion.” You said and sat up rubbing your wrist with your other hand.

“You can’t block it out? Nobody taught you?” Deanna said sounding surprised.

“Nobody to teach me.” You said with a shrug.

“I can.” Deanna offered with a smile.

“I’d like that.” You said telepathically and Deanna looked shocked for a second before smiling broadly.

“Oh god. Now theres two of you. You know not all of us can join your mental conversation. Us normal people would like to know whats going on sometimes.” The doctor huffed and you grinned.

“Sorry doc. Confidential.” You said with an evil grin and she rolled her eyes.

“So what are the extent of your abilities Y/n?” Deanna asked and you smiled at her wistfully.

“Well I’m empathic, like yourself.” You said waving your hands as you talked. “I can communicate telepathically. I can catch some people’s thoughts but only if they are really focused on them and i try hard enough. But thats about it. Your mother sure posed a problem.” You said with a laugh.

“My mother?” Deanna said pulling a face. “I wasn’t aware you knew her.”

“Yep. Sensed me my first day here. Wanted to tell you but i begged her. A very out of character experience i must say.” You said.

“Im sorry.” Deanna said.

“Not a problem. I rather liked some of our conversations. I’ve never been to betazed. Not that i can recall. She was a good source of information.” You said with a smile.

“You’ve never been?!” Deanna exclaimed.

“Nope.” You said popping the p.

“I’ll have to take you on your next shore leave then.” She offered and you nodded.

“I’d like that very much.” You said with a big grin after a moment you swung your legs over the edge of the biobed intending to leave.

“Not so fast Miss L/n.” Doctor crusher said and you slumped your shoulders and sighed.

“Didn’t think so.” You muttered under your breath and Deanna chuckled.

“I want to do a more intense brain scan to check for any residual damage and your not to put any strain on your wrist for a few days. Next shift I’ll scan it again to be sure you haven’t been.” She said with a motherly look.

“Yes doc.” You said and she smiled, coming over and scanning your head with a diagnostic tool.

“This wont take a moment.” She said.

“Doctors? Am i right?” You said telepathically to Troi and smirked.

“You’re not wrong.” Troi said the same way. And Beverly raised an eyebrow.

“Why do i feel like you’re talking about me.” She said with an authoritative tone.

“Because we are.” You said with a grin.

“A grand error on my part.” She said with a sigh and turned off the device. “You’re good to go ensign. But your shift in sickbay starts in twenty minutes.”

“Aye aye captain.” You said with a mock salute, you winked at Deanna and offered her your arm. “Shall we make our great escape.” You said and Beverly sighed.

“always the dramatist, aren’t you Y/n.” She smiled.

“Whats life without drama my dear doctor.”

“I wouldn’t know.” She responded.

“And don’t ever try and find out.” You said pulling a face and hopping off the bed. “Let’s leave my dear Deanna.” You said.

The two of you said goodbye to Beverly and left to go find out the extent of your abilities and maybe learn a thing or two. But one thing was for sure, there was going to be chocolate involved.

#sicfic #whump #fluff #comfort #fanfic #star trek #Star Trek tng #Deanna troi #beverly crusher #hurt/comfort #self insert #hurt reader #injured reader #nurse reader #sickbay #star trek the next generation #platonic #doctor crusher #counsellor troi

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myemuisemo · 2 months

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As "John Ferrier Talks with the Prophet" in Letters from Watson, I'm sucked down the rabbit hole of Mormon Escapee Narratives.

There were several that were wildly popular in the years between the LDS settlement of Utah and the time when Doyle was writing. The one I can find an online copy of is Fanny Stenhouse's memoir, which appears to have had a couple versions under variant titles. The one I've paged through is Tell It All: The Story of a Life's Experience in Mormonism (1879, with foreword by Harriet Beecher Stowe). There's also an 1872 version titled Exposé of Polygamy in Utah: A Lady’s Life among the Mormons.

Fanny Stenhouse's existence is documented, and she went on the lecture circuit in the 1870s as an opponent to polygamy.

Her story matches Doyle's description of conspiracy theories, secret organizations, and atrocities in Salt Lake City so closely that it's likely he got his ideas from Stenhouse or similar materials. Newspaper coverage of happenings in remote Utah would, whether in London or Edinburgh, have been scanty and sensationalist -- although there is one historic event that might have excited interest, and its absence from the story muddles the timeline.

In spring 1857, President Buchanan sent the U.S. Army to the Utah Territory. The LDS residents feared renewed persecution, turned plowshares into swords, and fought a guerilla war of annoyance against the army. In September 1857, a group of Mormon militia slaughtered an entire wagon train of settlers bound for California (the Mountain Meadows Massacre). The wikipedia entry linked is worth a read, as it captures the "what really happened? who lied about what? was this an LDS policy or a group that acted recklessly on its own?" questions that swirl around efforts to make sense of the history of this era.

The "Utah War" wasn't the first incident of violence between LDS and "gentiles." Back in 1838 in Missouri, harassment and violence toward LDS settlers was met with the formation of the Danites (aha! Doyle mentions them!), a vigilante secret society that retaliated violently. The 1838 Mormon War is an appalling read on so many levels.

Whether the Danites were still operating in the 1850s in Utah is a question that historians today dispute. Their reputation in the 1830s was that they were determined to remove dissent within their own people, so the idea that forces within the LDS community would silence a man for disagreeing has some historical basis.

What's seriously missing in Doyle's account is that in 1858, Brigham Young's plan for thwarting U.S. troops was to evacuate Salt Lake City -- so thousands of LDS faithful boarded up their homes, gathered their goods, and marched off into the mountains. (There was talk of burning the city, but that apparently didn't happen.) Obviously, people came back, but that's a big thing for John Ferrier to have lived through without remarking upon. A year of widespread want from culling herds and missing portions of the planting season, combined with military occupation, seems like a big deal.

If we assume none of that had happened yet, then it's early 1857 and only 10 years since Ferrier and Lucy were rescued -- making his twelfth year of wealth in the future, the discovery of silver in Nevada also in the future, and Lucy just fifteen. The latter is still plausible for her being pressured to marry, alas. I think the timeline's just a bit muddled, though -- even with today's online resources, researching 30-year-old events in a far-away place can get messy.

Ferrier's unwelcome visitor is none other than Brigham Young, charismatic leader of the LDS community, and governor of the Utah Territory from 1850 to 1858. He was also a Freemason (remember the Masonic ring, weeks ago?).

Polygamy doesn't come up! What?!? We're in a generic sort of romance plot, where the innocent flower is to be given to a less noble and honest man than her preferred suitor. We know that the Drebber son is going to turn out to be a terrible man, but there's nothing especially indicative of it in Brigham Young's proposal. Since there's no mention of young Drebber or young Stangerson having pre-existing wives, it's likely Lucy is being offered the position of the legally married first wife.

Ferrier's plan is to flee. Since Doyle's readers are in the future, they may have a tingle of fear related to the doctrine of "blood atonement" (which was discussed in Stenhouse's book as well as in newspaper accounts) and the 1866 murder of Dr. Robinson.

#sherlock holmes #letters from watson

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ciaossu-imagines · 1 year

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I have so, so incredibly many polyships within KHR! I’ve been lucky enough to write for a couple of them on this blog but couldn’t resist writing for more! I let the wheel pick for me because I just couldn’t choose myself, used this prompt here, and hope you guys will enjoy these Gokudera/Reader/Yamamoto polyship headcanons!

Who accidentally pushes a door instead of pulling/vice versa?

Okay, but I feel like, while almost everyone assumes Yamamoto would do this, Gokudera actually does it more often and gets really upset and embarrassed whenever it happens. Like, so flustered that he’ll just walk away from the door in shame and not go into the store or building if he can help it because he doesn’t want to have to face someone who just saw him do that.

Who doodles little hearts all over the desk with their initials inside them?

This one would have to be you. Gokudera thinks those things are kind of weird and tacky and too cutesy to do that (of course, that’s being said by the boy who definitely came up with a secret language and taught it to you and then, begrudgingly, to Yamamoto just so the three of you could have your own way to communicate without anyone else knowing what was being said). Yamamoto doesn’t really vandalize anything; he’s just too sweet to do that.

Who starts the tickle fights?

Yamamoto would love a partner who is ticklish. He loves hearing your laughter and seeing you smile and, if you are ticklish, he’ll get into tickle fights on your worst days, making you laugh and smile even when you think you can’t. He never takes it too far though and when you say stop, he always does. Gokudera is ticklish himself, but whoever tries to tickle him is either getting a foot or a fist to the face, thank you very much. Because tickling is agony to him, he won’t tickle a partner.

Who starts the pillow fights?

Both Yamamoto and Gokudera do! Yamamoto starts them with the intent of it being fun and goofy but, as with throwing anything, it’s probably best if you hit the floor when he tosses a pillow at you or find a solid surface to hide behind while retaliating! Gokudera never means to start pillow fights, but he does have a bad habit of chucking things around when annoyed and he’ll absentmindly toss a pillow at you or Yamamoto, since he knows the soft projectile won’t hurt, when he gets super annoyed with either of you. This often leads to pillow fights, though it’s never his intentions…but he’s over whatever annoyed him by the end of it.

Who falls asleep last, watching the other with a small affectionate smile?

Gokudera is a night owl. He falls asleep late, normally around one or two in the morning at the earliest and normally a bit later, especially around the changing of the seasons. While he normally uses this as alone time, he might head into bed, if you’re in the bed with him, just to lay there and be with you, watching you sleep and feeling just really comfortable and relaxed in those quiet moments.

Who mistakes salt for sugar?

It’s you or Gokudera. Not usually Gokudera though – his salt is in a box that’s clearly labelled because he hasn’t really found any salt and pepper shakers that he feels he really needs or that look too cool to pass on. Yamamoto always checks because of an unfortunate incident as a kid when he tried to cook for his father for the first time.

Who lets the microwave play the loud beeping sound at 1 a.m. in the morning?

Oh good lord, it’s Gokudera. Gokudera so hard and he just really doesn’t get the issue with it. No matter how many times it’s explained to him or how much he’s told that it pisses you off, it’s always that small thing he completely forgets about.

Who comes up with cheesy pick-up lines?

I feel like Gokudera did this at the beginning of the relationship, just because he’s so inexperienced and easily flustered by anything romantic. It also probably doesn’t help that, starting out, he kind of took his romantic advice from Shamal. The fact that his ‘smooth’ lines normally cracked you up instead of made you swoon made him stop using them pretty damn quickly, though.

Who rearranges the bookshelf in alphabetical order?

It’s not alphabetical order. It’s numeric order, based on publication date for books and release date for movies, music, and games. Gokudera’s mind just works best that way, it’s how he likes them, and he will start reorganizing other people’s things that way too if he spends enough time in their space.

Who licks the spoon when they’re baking brownies?

Gokudera is nowhere to be seen when baking brownies. He wants no part in that, largely thanks to the trauma he has around baking due to Bianchi. Yamamoto doesn’t like the texture of raw batter, so the spoon is always yours.

Who buys candles for dinners even though there’s no special occasion?

I feel like this is another romantic gesture suggested by movies and books and Shamal that Gokudera pulls out to try to be smooth. It works out a lot better than the pick-up lines.

Who draws little tattoos on the other with a pen?

It would have to be you. Gokudera tried it once but to say he’s not gifted artistically is an understatement and you were glad to wash it off. Even he admitted it wasn’t that great. Yamamoto doesn’t really see the point and he prefers not to mark on you or Gokudera or to have fake tattoos on him. Gokudera though – please feel free to draw fake tattoos all over him, especially if you’re artistic, because the man would love it and might even make some of your art permanent.

Who comes home with a new souvenir magnet every time they go on vacation?

While it’s probably not magnets unless you specifically request them, I feel like both of these men are honestly really good about remembering to get souvenirs from anywhere they travel, even if it’s just a couple towns away, not just for their friends and family but also for your household and for you.

Who convinces the other to fill out those couple surveys in the back of magazines?

I feel like Yamamoto is easiest to convince to do them and will humour you or Gokudera if either of you are doing them, but Gokudera would take them more seriously, even as he tsks and pretends he thinks that they’re stupid.

#katekyo hitman reborn #khr #khr headcanons #headcanons #polyship #yamamoto takeshi #gokudera hayato

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slayer-of-titans · 2 years

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Why I Left Sarasota Memorial Hospital

I have decided to post in length my story about my experience at Sarasota Memorial Hospital and why I left my job there. I know it may seem somewhat personal, but I want to spread awareness of the corruption among management there. One might be able to see what I'm doing as "whistleblowing" because it involves retaliation (which is against company policy) and making my job so bad in order for me to quit (pretty sure that's against OSHA guidelines or something).

There was one incident on June 1 when a nurse snapped at me and I approached her afterward and told her that she could have been less condescending. I was willing to let it go after I got that off my chest, but then she grabbed the executive director to mediate. Granted, I did not even know who she was. Her name tag said that she had an LMSW so I assumed that she was one of the social workers but it turned out that she was actually the executive director. Anyway, she talked down on me, told me that I was being inappropriate and that nurses are above me and that they do not need to explain themselves. Whenever I tried to explain my side of the story, she kept interrupting. She also kept asking me if this was my first job like this, and I explained multiple times that it is not as I have worked at a behavioral health center for a year (and was continuing to work there PRN). I also have a bachelor's in psychology which IS indicated on my name tag so I don't place myself that far beneath the nurses since I have education relevant to my job as well. I did cry a little afterward because of the way that I was treated but not in front of patients or anything.

Everything still seemed fine after that until one day when I was called upstairs at the start of my shift. The DON told me that in two weeks I was being moved to the overnight shift, stating that they needed more females on that shift and that since I was in my first 90 days, they were allowed to do this. I asked to see the policy that allows her to do this and she said that she would show it to me later but she never did. They claimed that the move was only temporary but that they could not give me a time frame. They also implied that I had the opportunity to move back to second shift after but it sounded like they could keep me there permanently if that is where they wanted me. Keep in mind that I was interviewed and hired for the 3-11 shift.

I used to work overnight at my last job so I know that I can't handle being nocturnal. It had a negative impact on my physical and mental health. I told the DON this, and still offered to help out by picking up some overnight shifts, but she would not let up and said that I needed to be flexible. She did also admit that this was partially in retaliation for my run in with that nurse but told me that this would have happened anyway. She also did not understand why I had gotten upset, thinking I was upset with a patient who was acting out. Everybody who works with me at Palm Shores knows that this is nowhere near enough to bother me. When I explained the real reason why I was upset, she explained to me that nurses just get short sometimes due to the stress of their jobs and that I just have to put up with it.

I was obviously upset after that and my co-workers at Bayside (the building at the hospital that I worked at) who had worked there for years told me that they had never heard of someone being forced to change shifts before. They encouraged me to tell the DON that if she wanted me to work there, that I would be on the shift I was hired for. When I said this, she smiled and said "Then I have no choice but to accept your two-weeks notice." I also pointed out that if she lost me, she would be short someone for second shift and still need someone to work third as well. She did not care. So she would have rather lost me completely than allow me to continue working second shift full time.

I called my manager at my old job and offered to come back full time on first or second shift and then also contacted HR at Sarasota Memorial about my situation. HR responded with multiple behavioral concerns filed against me, most of which happened AFTER they informed me I was being switched to overnights.One of the behavioral concerns was against me crying after they told me I was being moved to overnight shifts. But of course I cried about that. They railroaded me with that at the start of my shift and they weren't just making me change my shift but my entire lifestyle. They also alleged that I had walked away from a 1:1 even though I had another tech step in for me. The HR person also did not even know what a 1:1 is. Go figure.

HR said they would get back to me and immediately after the call my manager at Palm Shores offered me a full time first shift. This seemed like a clear sign from the universe so I accepted. I called back and had to leave a message saying that I no longer wished to work there but still offered to work my shift that day so that the ratio would not be short. When I arrived, the DON left me a message saying that she did not even want me to work that day so I just turned in my keys. My old job, on the other hand, welcomed me back warmly with open arms.

Could I have at least put in my two weeks? Yes, but that would have given the DON two more weeks to sabotage me and try to make my time there miserable. Sometimes, it is actually better to quit without notice, especially when you are in such a toxic environment.

Edit: forgot to mention that I've looked at other reviews on Indeed and found the following:

"Management focused on being punitive rather than encouraging and morale driven. New upper management at Bayside Behavioral Health is deceitful, threatening and retaliatory. HR does not intervene until flooded with complaints. Then they do the bare minimum. In any other state the environment would be consistent with bulling and a hostile work environment. Constantly being told by the DON that she has free will to fire anyone. No process or protocol followed, she just says your fired. New facility director has no clue and is being hand fed by the DON negative and derogatory lies about staff in which she has now lost all credibility with staff and lacks any leadership connection."

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writingwithcolor · 3 years

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Black woman saves and houses abused white woman and child

@dykecalianna asked:

Greetings! I follow this blog whenever I can and I recently came out with something in my story that I wanted to inquire about:

There’s a white woman in her late 30s, let’s call her “Vicky”, who (along with her daughter) is a victim of domestic abuse, and another character, a Black woman, “Cherry”, is made aware of this after a change encounter the two have at a café. She helps Vicky flee from her husband and lets her stay in her home - later, the two fall in love and get together.

I’m very aware of the White Saviour trope, and do my best to stay away from it. This is nothing like it, but does this fall under some sort of negative stereotype for Black women, like “saving the fragile white woman”? I should note that Cherry and Vicky are the exact same age, only Cherry is single and living alone. She is described by many as being very cute, and she is also secretly a well-renowned writer (she uses an alias when writing, so she kind of feels like a super heroine, which then ties with her storyline about Vicky). Also, I think it’s pretty clear, but the abusive husband is also white like Vicky.

I think it’s touching that Cherry saves this woman and her child from this abusive situation. I would like to discuss some areas that may help you explore if there’s a mammy / strong black woman / sacrificial negro dynamic here.

The chance encounter

Did Cherry (Black woman) meet Vicky (white woman) for the first time and instantly decide to get involved? I feel that it’s a bit sacrificial for Cherry to place herself in the middle of what could be a potentially deadly situation, as domestic abuse too often leads to, for a perfect stranger.

This level of involvement would not align with how much one might put on the line for someone they do not know at all. Cherry is now at risk of retaliation from Vicky’s abuser if he finds them, or Vicky allows him back into their lives and lets them know where her home is / they make up and he learns about Cherry’s involvement etc.

Their relationship prior to Cherry helping Vicky

The risk might feel worth it for someone you know, but it’s a lot to ask of a stranger. In the case of a “chance encounter becomes savior” situation, she also doesn’t know anything about Vicky and is letting a perfect stranger into her home. Of course, everyone is different and based on her personality and experiences may be willing to assume these risks. The child being involved might also influence that. Cherry might be one of those people, but it’s worth acknowledging as a big undertaking in the narrative. Her actions should not be brushed aside as nothing or just “her duty”. Too often servitude is just assigned as natural for Black women. Their own lives take a back seat and to take care of other people / ensure their well being comes first.

Suggestion: built a history between the women

A better fix might be to develop some level of a relationship between the two before Cherry risks so much to save them. They could even just be acquaintances. It helps if they know each other on some level, at the least. Even if it’s strangers that see each other often at the cafe and strike up small talk all the time but never speak outside of that, old high school classmates that ran in different groups, friends of friends. This creates some sort of relationship where Cherry feels she knows Vicky “enough” to assume the risks, especially as a child is involved.

Without knowing the exact circumstances, I’ll pose a few scenarios and explore the pitfalls.

If she witnesses the abuse

Witnessing the abuse and getting involved as she sees it happening - I wouldn’t fault her for that. I’d instinctively get involved too!

If something happens in the public eye, it would help if other bystanders get involved too; Cherry just happened to take it to another level and offered her sanctuary.

Again I’m still having a hard time figuring out why Cherry has been placed in this situation before proper authorities, women’s shelters, etc. if she doesn’t know her at all. As I’d suggested, it might be best if they had some sort of relationship prior, no matter how subtle.

The escape from the abuser

What role does Cherry play in the escape?

Physical strength / sacrifice

Is she expected to use brute force aka be “Strong” to physically save Vicky or fight off her abuser? I would avoid that, as you will have a Strong Black Woman on your hands.

Must Cherry put herself in direct danger with the abuser to save Vicky and the child?

It's asking a lot for Cherry to storm into the home, potentially get harmed or die for a stranger in a domestic abuse situation that she does not know a lot, if anything, about. For example, what if there’s deadly weapons in the house?

Could Cherry involve others to help?

Maybe Cherry could call authorities and possibly show up alongside them.

If authorities aren’t involved, perhaps she waits outside to drive the getaway car as the friend and child escapes (I’m 100% inspired by Enough with Jennifer Lopez). Even better, if she could bring along someone else, preferably non-Black, who could help in the situation.

Emotional strength

The Strong Black Woman is often about being forced into emotional labor.

Is Cherry allowed to react with fear, sadness and anxiety about the situation? Or must she keep it together for the sake of the White woman? Perhaps it’s triggering based on her past; she should be allowed to process that.

Allow Cherry to deal with her own wave of emotions. Even better if she has an outlet for that. She might not lay them on Vicky, but she also shouldn’t be expected to be a perfectly composed rock whose purpose is to comfort and support Vicky.

Vicky shouldn’t rely completely on Cherry for emotional support. She needs other sources to expel her own fears and emotions. Whether a therapist, parent, other friends, chat forums, journal, or a dog!

Mammy (dynamic between Cherry and the white woman and child)

Given the other factors in the story, I would stay away from Cherry being asked or offering to care for the child. Vicky should take primary care for her child or get help from others besides Cherry or other Black women, as this would give their dynamic mammy and servitude vibes.

Same applies to Cherry physically taking care of and serving Vicky - avoid it. Also, once Vicky is up for it or she has the means, they can split the chores or Vicky does the majority or contribute to housing expenses (again, if she has the means) but in some way she should pull her weight, so all the domestic care does not fall on Cherry.

It’s all about avoiding putting Cherry, the Black Woman, in the position as savior of white woman and child + servitude role any further than the implications the first incident creates. Initial comforting and support is fine, but the rest of the white woman and child’s world shouldn’t continue to rest on the Black woman’s shoulders.

Explore Cherry’s life outside of the white people

A very important aspect that will keep this away from SBW and Mammy tropes; give Cherry her own life. Cherry absolutely needs to have a plot line that does not revolve around Vicky and child. She needs to talk to other people, and about other subjects, besides those two. Her main problems, drama, and highlights of her life shouldn’t revolve around them.

Give her emotions, weakness, and vulnerabilities. She needs other friends and/or family, interests, and a little romance absolutely helps too. She is this amazing writer, so you’ve got something to work with right there! Ultimately, she needs her own life, things going on that have nothing to do with them.

Good luck with your story!

Colette

#Black women #BWWW #Friendships #power dynamics #mammy #Strong Black Woman #sacrificial negro #abuse #abuse tw #domestic violence #domestic violence tw #domestic abuse #domestic abuse tw #asks

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cthulhuliet · 3 years

Note

Hi hi ~~ big fan of your Lawlight work * chef kiss * So, if it serves to inspire you I got this little idea! NSFW A huge hc of mine is that Light loves L reading for him with that hot British accent of his, like come on, L`s dubbed voice with a brit accent??*agressive chef kiss* SOO imagine Light resting his head on L`s lap while L is reading to him and things get lewd in the novel :D maybe things coul get lewd in reality too 👀👀 oh, and another hc of mine is that Light rides D like a pro so ... maybe something with both? if you'd like 👉👈 No pressure at all tho!

Thank you so much for your kind words :') I am a fan of your Lawlight work as well, and even though it took a two weeks or so (my bad) I really hope you enjoy! (it also, as always, turned out to be a lot longer than I meant it).

close your eyes and imagine it

3.1k words | AO3 Link | warnings: explicit content, general kink, you know the drill

Most of the dreams were incomprehensible nonsense, and L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents. “Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one. Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit.

The one where Light discovers a dream journal he had written during the Kira investigation and can't help but be embarrassed by L's role in his fantasies. L, of course, does not mind. -

“A dream journal?” L questioned. He closed his laptop and Light smirked, raising an eyebrow, holding the notebook in his hands. L crossed the room and took the journal from Light, “Where did you find this?”

Light shrugged, “On my bookshelf with a lot of my other textbooks and such.”

“How old is this?”

“Was in my late teens, I suspect.”

L flipped through the book idly, Light’s neat handwriting was pleasant and clean compared to L’s own scrawled and messy penmanship. The pages slightly stuck together, as the old notebook seemed to have not been touched in years. L stopped at a page and briefly read the contents and looked at the date, before his own eyes widened.

“Hang on, this is during-”

“The Kira investigation? Yeah.” Light’s slight smirk turned into a large cheshire. “I figured you might be interested in reading what I wrote.”

L bit his bottom lip, looking up at Light, one eyebrow raised, “Does the Death Note still give you nightmares to this day?”

Shrugging, Light came up to L and looked over his shoulder at the notebook, “I mean, sometimes? But I also believe that having nightmares is just a part of being a person.”

“Or you have become so numb to your own murderous tendencies the nightmares do not affect you that much anymore.” L muttered, just loud enough for Light to hear.

He did hear him, of course, and he retaliated by shoving L hard enough for him to fall backwards onto their bed. Light socked L on the arm when he flopped down onto his back as well as L went to read Light’s journal to himself.

“Leave me alone, Light, can’t you see I am busy?” L teased, which earned him another hit on his arm, “You are being bothersome.”

Light crossed his arms, now sitting next to L laying down on the bed, “Those are my dreams, you are not reading without me, obviously.”

“Well then lie down so I can read them to you.” Light was the most frustrating man that L had ever been with. He wouldn’t have him any other way.

L sat up and rested his back against the headboard. Light assumed his usual position and rested his head on L’s lap. L idly put his hands through Light soft brown locks, twirling his soft hair through his fingers.

This was not an unusual position to find the pair in. Light often requests that L read to him, the other man finding the restrained but smooth baritone of L’s voice to be incredibly attractive, but also incredibly calming to listen to. It is not the first time his voice has been complimented, and it certainly will not be the last. Sayu has told L multiple times that he should become a voice over actor. He politely declined. The rest of the people do not matter, really. The only praise he needs is when Light humbly hands him a book he reads before bed, and falls asleep to L’s voice quicker than any amount reading on his own.

“‘ April 1st, 2004: I was present for class at To-Oh university, however we were all forced to give a presentation about when we believe all of our classmates will die and why. This was a horribly dark and drab lecture hall, and I had forgotten my cue cards about why Sakurano Mari was going to die due to dementia .’ This is not exactly a fun read.”

“It was not exactly fun to think about either.”

“I am going to find a different one.”

L used one hand to run his fingers through Light’s hair and the other to flip through the journal, skimming through the contents. Most of the recounts were incomprehensible nonsense, though there is no judgement to be had there. Whenever L does sleep, most of his dreams are disconnected fragments of stories -- feelings and emotions rather than a complete narrative.

L had just about given up on the month of April when he saw a long entry that made him pause. His eyes widened at the contents.

“Huh.”

Light shifted a little bit to make himself more comfortable, eyes only half open, “Hmm? Find something interesting?”

“I am in this one.”

“Are you?”

“Did you frequently dream about me?”

There was a beat, and Light responded coolly, “I cannot remember specifics. Hence, the journal.”

L hummed, a small smirk Light could not see grew on his face, “Well then, I will read this one out loud for your benefit:

“‘ Damn that Ryuzaki. He is plaguing my thoughts not only during the day, but I cannot even escape the damn bastard in my dreams’, I love you too, dearest ,” L sardonically snided. Light pinched his thigh , “ ‘Last night's events were particularly egregious, as this is not the first time something like this has happened, but I feel mortified even writing this down. Though, maybe if I recount what happened (like with the nightmares) these dreams will go down in their numbers.

“‘Ryuzaki and myself were in the library studying next to one another. I was eating a biscotti with tea. As it was in my mouth, Ryuzaki came up and bit off the end of my biscotti and just chuckled at me. I wasn’t sure what to do or say, but I just know I felt really hot an -’”

“L…” Light gripped his thigh dangerously, “What are you doing.” It was phrased as a question, but Light said it as a command. He ignored him. Light was never the one to give out commands anyway.

“‘ I cannot remember much but the next moment Ryuzaki’s lips were on my neck. Everything was fuzzy, but I could feel him biting marks into me and was teasing me by grinding against my di- ’”

Light growled, “I’m taking this away from you. Now.” He moved to sit up, but L’s hand was still in his hair. L gripped his roots harshly and shoved him back down. Light whined at the action, swallowing hard.

“You are not going anywhere.” That was a command, and Light took it as such.

“This is mortifying…” Light muttered against the mattress, his speech breathy.

L hummed and pulled Light’s hair up, forcing him to look at him, “I disagree.” He lied. “You are going to be good and listen to me read this whole thing.”

Light laughed, cocky, though his eyes were glassy with flushed cheeks, “Oh yeah? Or what?”

“Or how about I get to come and you don’t, hmm?” Light opened his mouth and closed it again, face flushed with shame. L let go of his hair and Light buried his head in L’s lap. L smirked and chuckled, “You are so adorable, all blushy and embarrassed…” Light whined at that, running his fingernail down the inside of L’s thigh.

“‘ This is not the first time this has happened, though I have to admit, it was the best incident. Even hazy, I had never felt that sensitive and stimulated. I just wanted to stay like that forever.’” L had one hand on the book, the other held a distracted, but firm, grip in Light’s hair, who was presently biting his lip and running soft strokes over L’s cock. “‘It was even better when I got to put my mouth on Ryuzaki. I have never sucked a dick before, so my brain could only supply what it imagines it feels like, but it was not even that that made it so good. Ryuzaki would hold my hair tight and look down at me while I was on my knees. He kept telling me that I was a slut, but that I was doing such a good job for him. Even before this I thought Ryuzaki had such a nice voice, I wish I could hear him more…’ You think my voice is nice, huh?” L asked, keeping his voice level, as Light’s feather touches became firm palming.

He groaned again, “Tch, shut up.”

“No.” L pulled him by his hair, forcing Light to look him in the eye, “I think it is time you shut up.” In only a few seconds, L manhandled Light and dropped him to his knees on the floor at the edge of the bed. L sat at the end, grabbing the journal with one hand and undoing his jeans with the other. “How many times have you sucked dick since writing this? Hundreds?” Light finished the job of removing L’s pants and underwear, his cock standing erect in front of him, “C’mon cock-slut, show me what you got.”

Light eagerly took L in his mouth, expertly utilizing his tongue on his head. L closed his eyes and tried to not become overwhelmed by the sensation. He opened his eyes to see Light’s cocky doe-eyes staring back up at him.

“What was it that you dreamed of? My hand tight in your hair, fucking your mouth, telling you you’re being a good slut, right?” L asked, rhetorically as he returned his hand to harshly grip Light’s locks. He slowly moved Light’s head up and down, spit dribbled out of the corners of his mouth. Light’s face was blood red with humiliation and lust, it was perfect.

L bit his lip as Light took him all the way down his throat, refusing to be the one to break first. He picked up the journal again, eyes focusing and unfocusing on the work in front of him. “‘ Ryuzaki kept calling me good boy, telling me I was taking him so well, and never had anyone ever made him feel as good as I was. I felt so overwhelmed. I had never felt such extreme desire for anyone, but I think at that moment I would do anything for him.’ Do you still want to hear all that? Still want me to call you a good boy, and tell you you are taking me so well?”

Light groaned around L’s cock, the vibrations from his throat sent a shiver up his spine and L suppressed a needy whine on his end. After years of doing this, Light knows exactly how to push him to the very edge-- to give him so much and yet not enough.

“‘ My memory gets a little fuzzy here, but Ryuzaki laid down on the desk, and he grabbed me by the thighs so hard I think I would have had bruises in reality. I grabbed him by the throat and rode him on the desk. A part of me was worried, because the conference room in the library was all glass, but also my head was so hazy and it felt so good.’” L pressed a thumb against his lips, “Had Light fucked himself on toys at this point?”

He pulled off of L, slowly stroking him as he thought about it, “I think at that time I had. I only realized I was not straight shortly after high school, and my sexual drive moved pretty fast after that.”

“‘Shortly after high school’, shortly after meeting me, right?” L smirked. Light opened his mouth to attempt a retort, but just narrowed his eyes.

“Such an egomaniac you are,” Light scoffed, “Not everything is about you.”

“No, not everything. But this is.” L reached under their bed and pulled out a box of toys and lube. He casually tossed the bottle and a large blue dildo in front of Light, “Stretch yourself open with that. I want to see you.”

“You don’t want to do it yourself?”

“Like you have earned that privilege yet.” L leaned forward (careful to not fall off the edge) and grabbed Light by the chin, forcing him to look L in the eye, “You’re going to open yourself up on that cock, and when your slutty hole is ready for me, you can ride me like in your fantasies.”

He could almost see the blood rushing to Light’s ears-- being literally talked down to-- condescended and scolded like a child. And yet, his pupils were blown all the way out, L barely seeing the amber color of Light’s eyes, and his jeans and underwear were, of course, already halfway to his ankles.

Light took the tip of the toy and fucked his mouth in and out with it, eyes never leaving L’s. He was already 3 fingers deep inside of himself, lewdly moaning around the cock very intentionally.

“This is a good look for you,” L remarked, breathily, slowly stroking his own cock.

Light suctioned the dick to the hardwood, and hovered over it, teasing his hole with the tip, “Well, if you are going to keep calling me a slut- fuck… I might as well lean into it.” Light bottomed out on the toy, one hand running through his hair, another sucking on two fingers as he slowly moved. Light, flushed and fucked out and using himself, was the pinnacle of sex and desire-- L began to question his decision about who exactly this was a punishment for.

“Ngh, this cock is so big , L… But it doesn’t feel nearly as good as yours.” Light dragged his teeth across the bottom of his lip, pointed looking at L’s cock, now leaking precum. Light knew he was getting to L. He knew exactly how he looked and exactly what L was thinking.

Fucker. Two can play at that.

L slowed down his own movements, raising an eyebrow at Light, “A common whore like yourself would be satisfied with any cock inside of him. You want mine so bad? Close your eyes, think…” L held the book open with one hand, “‘ I feel like I am going crazy. I am supposed to want this stupid bastard dead. And yet all I want right now are my hands on him and his on mine-’” Light groaned, finally touching his neglected aching cock, “‘-and it is so hard to focus on bringing him down, when the entire time I am dreaming about Ryuzaki’s voice in my ear, and my hands around his throat, and his tongue and mouth on me everywhere . I may just have to take care of him so I stop feeling this way... ’ My my, Kira... ” Light groaned at the name, “I thought you would be a bit more careful than to let your inner thoughts so out in the open like this. What would have happened if someone had gotten a hold of this?”

“I- Fuck- Academic rivalries are not uncommon....”

“I wanted to sentence you to death and you still could not stop thinking about me inside of you-”

“Oh shit L…”

“-or my hands on your cock or my fingers stretching you wide open. You still want me to whisper in your ear and moan , telling you what a good boy you are, right?”

“Yes… yes I want that L…”

L tutted, “And yet you aren’t a good boy. Desperate and begging… Writing down naughty thoughts and fantasies about someone who you wanted to die?” L shook his head, casually tossing the book aside. He reached for his own cock again, slowly stroking it watching Light fall apart, giving himself dual sensations, “Kira needs to make up his mind about what he wants. Because I don’t think he is good at all.”

“ L please…”

“Please, what?”

“Please let me on your cock.”

��Why would I allow that?”

Light stopped his movements on the dildo, only slowly stroking his cock at the same speed as L was his own, “I am not a good boy, I am a cock-slut for you, and only ever you. Fuck me please,” Light begged, broken and desperate.

L stood up and grabbed Light’s hands, pulling him off of the toy. He brushed the hair out of Light’s eyes and pulled Light on top of him, “So good, Kira. You don’t have to be a good boy for me, you can just be my good slut.”

He kissed L, hard, biting his bottom lip as he lined himself up on L’s dick and sunk down on him.

“ Fuck, you feel so much better than that cheap plastic,” Light straddled L properly, pressing his hands against L’s chest as he rode him, not wasting anytime picking up speed.

“Such a good whore for me, Kira,” L said, kissing his wrist, “You really do ride cock like you get paid to do it.”

“I know,” Light said, breathy and fucked.

L huffed, “A bit cocky, aren-”

“Now it’s your turn to shut up,” Light said, pressing down on L’s pressure points, his fingertips pushing hard enough into his throat it will surely leave marks against his pale skin.

L’s eyes rolled in the back of his head and Light moved his hips faster, L snapping back up to meet his thrusts, which quickly became sloppy as black dots began dancing in the corners of his eyes and his lungs started burning. His eyes welled up with tears and his entire body was on fire, his limbs going limp. He felt the white, hot edge so close and tangible. Every thrust felt like a rattle of electricity hitting every nerve and every part of his consciousness so closely and he just needed more -- Light relented, moving his hands away from his throat. L eyes snapped open wide and he coughed, taking heavy breaths. Tears fell from the corners of his eyes, and he dug his fingertips into Light’s waist, harshly grabbing him by the hips.

“L? I’m sorry, you told me you would tap out if-”

“Kira, more-- again-- now.” L commanded, and Light did not hesitate. He grabbed him by the throat and put his fingers in L’s mouth for good measure. Light was riding him with expert pace and precision, his lower body strength and years of running paying off. L’s legs trembled, and he used the last bit of his unfucked mind to dig his nails into Light’s hips and rock him faster and faster on his cock, reaching that beautiful and terrible and intense edge.

“ Ah- L! ” Light comes only a few seconds before L himself, moaning around Light’s fingers as he loosened his grip, but still only letting a fraction of the air healthy for the human brain into his head.

Light did not move himself off of L immediately. He moved his hand away from his throat, but kept small pressure on his neck with one of his thumbs.

“What are you doing?” L muttered. Light said nothing. L opened his eyes, tapping him. “Light?”

Light blinked, looking back, “Sorry, was feeling your pulse.”

“Why?”

“Wanted to make sure I didn’t kill you.”

L smiled softly, “Don’t want me dead anymore?”

“Sometimes. Certainly not like this, it’s too personal.”

“What, killing me while my cock is in your ass is too close for comfort?”

“Something like.” Light smirked and pressed a soft kiss against L’s lips.

After cleaning up, Light told L he wanted to burn the dream journal to prevent further embarrassment.

“Over my dead body.” L said, holding the notebook just out of reach.

Light smirked, “I have no problem arranging that.”

#my writing #lawlight #light yagami #l lawliet #death note #prompt fills #asks #bored-bitch-stuff #more writing to come!#also I apologize that this is so long and it took so long to write ;-;#but either way!!#enjoy!!

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true-blue-megamind · 3 years

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Fan Theory Thursday – The Not-So-Evil Overlord?

Shhh… Want to hear a secret? Come closer... SPOILER ALERT!

Okay, this one delves a little deep into the imaginative side of Megamind fan theories, however I believe it holds enough interest and has enough support to be well worth discussing. There is a supposition which I frankly love: our favorite blue alien was an Overlord of sorts before he briefly took control of Metro City, and he had good reasons to be so. That might sound a little crazy, but bear with me.

This idea has appeared in several fan fictions, and essentially goes as follows: Megamind was more than a supervillain; he was also a crime boss, and he chose that path for the most unlikely of reasons. Bizarre though it may seem, his primary drive was bettering Metro City. (And, yes, I’m aware of how contradictory that sounds.) However, it’s logical when considered more closely. By making himself the de facto ruler of the city’s underbelly, Megamind was able to control crime to an extent, probably even setting limits on certain activities, and guidelines for others. In the majority of fan fictions using this concept, that includs things like reducing violent crime, setting purity standards and purchase limits for narcotics, and ensuring sex workers were neither underage nor abused.

I’ll be the first to admit that, on the surface at least, this seems like nothing more than fans seeking to justify or even moralize a beloved character, but research reveals that there is actually some support for this theory. Firstly, there is the fact, touched upon previously in the Fan Theory post concerning the Warden, that Megamind was clearly already establishing control over other criminals at a young age. While writing a truly wonderful blog article, Demishock actually went through the trouble of deciphering the newspaper clipping shown at the beginning of the film’s title sequence. It contains, among other things, a reference to the fact that, although an elementary school age child, Megamind was feared and obeyed by other inmates at the prison where he grew up. A quote from the Warden reads: “I've got experienced, hardened criminals in here who are afraid of him.” The article goes on to mention an incident which involved a few other inmates, adding that “the other prisoners refused to point fingers for fear of retaliation.”

It is quite possible that Megamind was already building and consolidating a base of power.

Next, there is the fact that the blue man seems to have lines he won’t cross, even as the self-proclaimed Evil Overlord. In one of the storyboards, when Megamind is approached by the Doom Syndicate, he clearly holds them in disdain, yet they are careful to placate him. Obviously they have somewhat different standards. When Agent Orange—who was later reimagined as Psycho-Delic before being cut from the film entirely—compares Megamind’s “inspirational” defeat of Metro Man to “a car crash on prom night,” the blue alien looks rather disgusted. Although they refer to celebrating his victory, it also seems the Doom Syndicate may be indirectly asking Megamind’s permission to go on a crime spree. While this may be because he is the new Overlord, it seems odd that other villains would immediately leap to the assumption such approval is necessary if they were accustomed to acting on their own. However, if they were already in the habit of requesting the blue alien’s sanction, their actions make more sense.

youtube

Whatever the case, it seems that, once again, Megamind and the Doom Syndicate may have very different ideas of what sorts of crimes are acceptable. The Destruction Worker refers to “really putting the screws to the city,” while Agent Orange adds his desire to “swim in the torment of the innocent.” However, these suggestions don’t seem to match what we actually see Megamind doing. In the movie, Megamind does, indeed, go on a crime spree, but none of it appears to be violent. He certainly causes chaos, but no one seems to ever be injured. In fact, in the DVD commentary, one of the creators even states outright that the supervillain never goes beyond vandalism and theft because he doesn’t really want to hurt anybody. (Indeed, in the film it rather seems that, by being raised in jail, bullied, and constantly rejected, Megamind was pushed into supervillainy.) This, together with the previous evidence, paints an image of a man who has been forced to do some harsh things, but who nonetheless dislikes violence and, deep down, possesses a certain moral code, albeit a skewed one.

There are, in fact, several other details that point toward Megamind being far from truly evil despite being a supervillain. As I mentioned in Megamind and Identity, he displays several redeeming qualities, such as his largely friendly treatment of Minion, his respect for Roxanne’s intelligence, and his playful, affectionate game of fetch with the brainbots. However, I won’t go into a long explanation about that here as it can be found in the aforementioned post.

Nonetheless, I don’t believe we can seriously expect that the former villain has never once hurt anyone in his life. Keep in mind that, as discussed in the post How Strong is Megamind, the blue alien almost certainly had to fight in order to survive. However, his unwillingness to attack citizens suggests that he only injured others when it was absolutely necessary. Similarly, the aforementioned “news article” indicates that he may have limited his physically aggressive responses to other criminals only. (After all, the reference to prison inmates fearing him is the sole evidence of possible violence we have.) I have seen it suggested here on Tumblr that he may have taken over Metro City in part because he believed that, if he didn’t, someone worse like the Doom Syndicate would. It may even be possible that he was afraid of appearing soft and thus losing control over the criminal underworld.

Of course, it has to be mentioned here that Megamind also fought with Metro Man, who certainly wasn’t a criminal. However, there are two factors that I believe need to be considered. The first is that it is very likely that Megamind didn’t expect he could truly harm his nemesis. This is evidenced by both the his apparent shock when Metro Man seems to actually be dead, and by his overt statement during the museum scene that he “didn’t think it would really work.” The second is that, as young Metro Man was a bully, tormenting Megamind without provocation and encouraging other children to do the same, Megamind may have mentally placed him in the bad guy/threat category.

His lack of violence is not the only proof that Megamind had a better heart than most credited him for even when he was a supervillain. Keep in mind that he had a holographic disguise watch and a hoverbike. Presumably, Megamind could have simply fled Metro City when Titan turned evil, but he didn’t. Instead he went to Roxanne for help, stating that if they could not find the new villain’s weakness Titan would “destroy the whole city.” And this was after Titan had tried to kill him. Clearly, despite being a supervillain, Megamind cared enough about his home town to put his life in danger.

The final support for the Benevolent Overlord theory is less obvious: Megamind had to have been getting funds from somewhere even when Metro Man was still functioning as the Defender of Metro City. (Indeed, in some of the early concept art, the Evil Lair was imagined as a luxurious space boasting things like a huge library and a sleek laboratory. Some fans still picture the living quarters in much the same way despite the creators stating that he built his inventions from whatever he could get his hands on.) Near the beginning of the movie, Minion mentions a supplier in Romania, and presumably he and Megamind had to be getting food and other necessities somehow. While it’s true that the blue villain was clearly not above thievery, we also know that his plots were always defeated by Metro Man, so it’s safe to assume that he rarely if ever got away with stealing anything before the former hero’s supposed “death.” Of course, it also seems extremely unlikely, even laughable, that Megamind would have had a day job. Where, then, did the money come from? Many fans theorize that, as the local crime boss, he received a cut from all illegal activity. It certainly seems like the most probable explanation.

Art by Kory Heinzen, found in The Art of Megamind by Richard von Busack

So why would Megamind build his technology and machines largely from scrap if he had a constant cash flow? Given his concern for the city, several fan fictions have imagined the blue man secretly and anonymously donating a significant portion of his ill-gotten money to various charities and non-profits. That idea is not directly supported by any evidence, but it does fit with what we know. It’s also consistent with Megamind’s character: a feared supervillain who possesses a surprisingly good heart and, given his past, knows too well what it’s like to be thrown away by society.

So, was Megamind a crime boss as well as a supervillain? Did he use that position to secretly better life in Metro City? If so, is he still doing that now that he is the Defender of Metro City, thus curbing criminal activity from within as well as fighting it from without? (For the record, given that there is no apparent gang war happening during The Button of Doom, I would propose that the answer to the last question may be yes.) These are certainly interesting ideas to consider, and the mere fact that this animated film offers enough details to argue the point is a testament to just how well-constructed the movie is. I consider it yet more proof that the film Megamind is truly an underrated masterpiece.

#Megamind #Megamind movie #megamind fan theory #fan theories #fan theory #fan theory thursday #Overlord #crime boss #good bad guy

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thedemonstherapist · 3 years

Text

Tension Solution

Summary: “I think this tension between us needs resolving. Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”.

Wordcount: ~4,2K

Pairing: Kaeya Alberich x GN! Reader

Warnings: Swearing, Enemies to Lovers, Sexual innuendos, Small mentions of blood

Author’s Note: Here it is! My Kaeya enemies to fuckers piece. A huge thank you to @gnocchi-ghoul for Beta reading this for me! I had such fun writing this, and you all know I’m a sucker for some good tensioned sworfighting, and this smug bastard has been on my mind ever since starting to play the game. I know this is not my usual content, but I write when I want, about who I want, ok? I’ve had so little inspiration over the past months that I’ve got to take chances like these and go with them.

Banner is not mine! If you know who to credit it to, let me know, I couldn’t find it!

There he came again. That stupid coin between his fingers, flung into the air at random intervals. That stupid grin softening his face, cheerful greetings echoing through the noisy hall. Oh, and above all, that tremendously stupid way his eyes find you immediately, just trying to do your work.

You lower your gaze, pressing your pen down onto paper with renewed determination. Jean and her new open doors policy be damned, you couldn’t wait to slam it in his face. Of course it’s the last few minutes of visiting hours that he decides to come back from his commission. Three blissful weeks of calm while he was stationed out near the Liyue border, no comments, no irksome remarks, no-

“Don’t tell me you’re too busy to greet me”.

You sigh. Kaeya observes you with his arms crossed, casually lent against the doorframe. His sword is still strapped to his back, droplets of water running down the blade, and he clearly hasn’t gone to take a shower yet, covered in dirt, mud and sporadic dried blood.

“Captain”. You can’t help your displeasured tone. “I see you’re back”.

“Inspector”. He raises a brow in retaliation. “I sent a notice stating my return three days ago”.

“Oh, that”. You pick the unintelligible letter from your desk with two fingers, holding it at an arm’s length. “Apparently your messenger didn't go for a swim on the way here. Could you confirm?”

His jaw tightens momentarily, as you note with satisfaction, but it doesn’t deter the grin. “You should be used to my handwriting by now”.

You place it back on your desk with contempt. “I am not. Hopefully your report to Jean is a little more… readable”.

He shrugs, beginning to peel off his gloves. “She’s never complained about it”.

Taking a deep breath, you try to calm yourself down. Kaeya tends to make you irrationally angry, and no, it wasn’t just the absolute nonchalante recklessness he treated his position and commissions with. You couldn’t count the times he’d risked more than his own life in battle, somehow always managing to pull it off in the last second. And of course, that was his surefire way to getting out of trouble, no matter how much Jean grilled him for it afterwards.

“Go clean up”. You try your best to make your dismissal abundant, leaning back over your work. “You’re dripping water on my carpet”.

“Oh, we’re touchy today, aren’t we?” Kaeya’s grin widens into a smirk, pushing himself off the frame. “Did Fawks hit on you during your patrols again?”

“That’s none of your business”. You shoot him a glare, tapping your nails impatiently. As if you still had the opportunity to go out on patrols, you’d been holed up in your office pretty much ever since becoming Inspector. You wished you could get out again, your body had been aching for some action for weeks, but he was the last person you’d ever confess that to.

Kaeya hums lightly, and instead of exiting, takes another step into the office. His eyes wandered your shelves with staged disinterest, but you knew he was looking for something to use as ammunition.

“I’m assuming you couldn’t hear me” you state, sarcasm adding a bite to your tone. “I told you to clean up. You look like you haven’t seen soap since leaving Mondstadt”.

“Oh, Y/N, always so worried about my appearance” he muses, drawing closer to your desk. God, you hated that stupid cat-like expression he bore, so sly and pretentious. “I’d be more worried about yourself, frankly”.

“I’m not playing these games, Kaeya”, you reply sharply, fingers tightening around your pen. “Go take a damn shower, and stop ruining my carpet. I don’t know why your immediate goal seems to piss me off, but I’d like to maintain some level of professional dignity between us”.

He rolls his eyes. “By Barbatos, you really are wound up today. I doubt that’s just my fault”.

“Be delusional, then”. You shake your head. “I don’t think Jean would appreciate another formal complaint, so do her the favour, if not for me, and get out of my office”.

“Fine”. He turns around, but not before throwing you another glance, and damn it, you know he has one last trick up his sleeve, just by the way he says it. “However, before I forget-”.

“What?”

“You’re pre-reading my report for Jean. Her orders”.

---

“... and that bastard didn't even take the time to brief me about the mission outcome, the entire time he was dirtying up my office!” You end your rant with an angry flourish, slamming your hand down on the table. “I don’t know what he intended with that whole interaction, he just likes making my day so much worse!”

Your friend chuckles, stirring her drink idly, an ocean of calm in comparison to your raging fury. “Man, if we weren’t close, I would never guess Kaeya to be such a pain in the ass. Each time I’ve encountered him he’s been so chivalrous and kind”.

“He just can’t keep it in his pants”. You cross your arms, sitting back in your chair with a huff. “If you ever end up in his bed, I will personally hunt him down”.

She laughs. “Oh, don’t worry, I won’t put you in that position”.

“I just don’t understand it”. You run a hand through your hair, glancing around the tavern. It was unusually crowded for a Thursday night, you’d been lucky to get your usual table. “Why he has this stupid grudge against me. We used to be normal colleagues, back when we were both only trainee’s and officers, but then one day the switch flipped and it’s like we can’t stand the sight of each other ever since. The worst thing is, he has every last person in Mondstadt wrapped around his finger! So nobody understands my frustration!”

“First of all, Diluc exists. Second of all, aren’t you higher ranking than him?” she asks, and you regretfully shake your head.

“No, Captains and Inspectors are on the same level. I personally didn't feel ready to be a leader in combat situations, so I passed on the opportunity. Now I miss active commissions so much, my poor sword is nothing more than an ancient relic at this point”.

“Surely, you’ll still be sent out?”

“I don’t have a command, the only times I might be are on extraordinarily dangerous or sizable sightings, or for assistance to Captains. Rue the day I get sent out with Kaeya”. You shudder at the thought. “That would end in total disaster”.

“So you really have no idea why Kaeya began to dislike you so suddenly?” your friend inquires, tilting her head aside. You shake yours. “And there wasn’t some kind of incident that caused this?”

“Not that I know of”.

A grin spreads over her face. “Hey, you ever considered that he likes you a little too much for his own good?”

“That’s some misogynistic bullshit”, you snort. “Guys are rude to people because they like them, yeah right. That’s just trying to normalise shitty behaviour in the name of quote-on-quote love”.

“I know that”. She gives you an exasperated look. “But… you have to admit that the two of you have some serious chemistry”.

“What are you even talking about?” you question, downing the rest of your drink.

“Every time you two interact”. She raises a brow knowingly. “Remember that time you were bickering on patrol through Mondstadt? I swear, even without a vision, I could see sparks between the two of you, and I wasn’t the only one, you got the entire town talking. You get on each other’s nerves because you have some unresolved tension you need to work out, and neither of you wants to admit it”.

“Shut up”. Your cheeks suddenly feel suspiciously warm, and you firmly decide it’s the alcohol. “Fine, Kaeya’s attractive, but he’s so fucking annoying because he knows that. He messes with me ‘cause he knows how to get in my head, and gets some kind of sadistic pleasure from it”.

Your friend makes an attempt to interrupt you, but you don’t let her, motioning to her to let you rant. “Let me finish. He was nice enough up until he got that damn ego boost after being promoted, I think, and even then I could still talk to him without the need to stab myself in the eye. He’s just so frustrating, never thinks twice about anything he does, and always gets away with it, plus he has this weird urge to always show off that stupidly toned chest of his and - by the Seven, I hate that idiot smirk of his, and the fact that he’s so damn perfect at his swordsmanship, I can’t even deny how good he is in battle, Jean has said he rivals her, and I despise that he knows he looks good while doing it, he-”

“So, how much longer were you going to let them just talk?” A voice offhandedly asks from behind you, and the blood in your veins turns to ice. Your friend smiles lazily, winking at you.

“Oh, you know, however long they need. Y/N’s been ranting quite a bit this evening, you really get on their nerves”.

You whip around, and sure enough, there he is, the cause of this mess. Kaeya has his arms folded, grinning down at you with thinly veiled satisfaction. You’re pretty sure half of the tavern is watching, and your blood turns from freezing to seething within seconds.

“How long have you been there?” you ask stiffly, glaring at your friend. She pulls an innocent face, leaning back in her seat with performative disinterest. Traitor.

“Just long enough to hear what I needed to”. Kaeya’s grin is threatening to split his face in half. “You really think I’m that attractive, huh? I never would have guessed”.

You jump up from your chair, spitting out the first thing that comes to mind. “Fight me”.

He actually laughs, a few of the tavern occupants joining in. “What? Are you sure you’re not mixing up a couple words there?”

You clench your jaw, deciding to just go with it. “Fight me. Knights of Favonius training ring, tomorrow morning. I’m sick of your attitude”.

“Oh?” He cocks a brow at you. “I hope you’re ready after wasting away in that office of yours”.

“I could beat you blindfolded”, you reply presumptuously, mimicking his stance, unable to ignore the fact that he smells a little too good for your tipsy state. At least he finally took your orders. You hold his stare regardless, unwilling to give in.

“Thank the Seven, you’re working this out at last”, your friend sighs, sipping at her drink. “And here I thought you’d take the sexual tension to the grave”.

Kaeya’s lip twitches in amusement as he extends one hand. “Tomorrow morning at seven. I’ll try not to kill you then, for that sake alone”.

You give him a dirty look, reluctantly shaking his hand. “Your chance of me doing the same is decreasing with every word that leaves your mouth”.

“I can live with that”. He suddenly leans closer, and before you can pull away, whispers in your ear, sultry tone leaving the hairs on the back of your neck standing up. “You’re going down, darling”.

Like Hell you are.

---

The training hall is usually relatively empty at this time of day. Some dedicated trainee’s use the morning to get their routine over, but otherwise, not many knights exercise this early. And though at least a few of them must have heard of what happened last night, not many are to be seen. Even if you could live with an audience, you decide this way is perfectly fine, especially in case of the (distinctly undesirable and should-be-impossible outcome) of you losing to him. You’re a bit out of breath from warming up, fixing your shirt before making your way over to the ring.

Kaeya is waiting for you there, clad in athleisure and in the midst of testing out a beginner’s sword. His vision is nowhere to be seen, and you curse him a little for not giving you something more to berate him for. Nevertheless, you straighten up as you approach.

“Good morning”, you greet him nonchalantly, walking over to inspect the racks of weapons.

A grin flashes across his face as he turns around, wiping the sweat off his brow. “Hello, darling”.

“Sweating already?” You raise a brow at him, deciding to ignore the nickname. “And here I thought I’d have a challenge”.

Kaeya laughs, rolling out his wrist. “You are cute when you’re acting tough”. Tilting his head aside, he watches you take your pick of one of the swords. The morning light bathes him in a soft glow, falling through the high windows, hair tied up in a messy bun at the back of his head, and- wait. Your cheeks grow hot as you realise what absurd directions your thoughts are heading to. Your friend must have gotten under your skin more than you realised last night.

Shaking your head a little, you roll your shoulders back and face him head-on. “Whatever makes you feel better. For the rules, as by training code, drawing blood is an immediate end”.

“No visions, no hits near the head or vital organs, dull blades and stop means stop”, Kaeya counts up calmly, making his way to the center of the ring. His blue eye gleams playfully in the light, and he swings the sword near aimlessly while walking. You grit your teeth at his relaxed manner. He wasn’t taking this seriously at all, huh?

“Don’t worry, Inspector”. He winks as he comes to a halt before you, maintaining the mandated arm’s distance. “I know the rules”.

“I’d hope so”, you reply, getting into position and watching him do the same. You decide to stir the pot a little, knowing it’s best to get into his head, and feign a smile. “I can’t wait until the rest of the knights hear about how royally I kicked your ass”.

He laughs lowly, and is immediately on the attack. Anticipating such, after years of observing him in battle, you parry it easily, ducking aside to avoid the next one. You wait until he’s nearly backed you into the corner, ego visibly growing with every move he makes, and take a rolling dive, knocking his legs out from under him with your own.

He manages to catch himself, and you’re relieved by the split-second of surprise in his expression. You withdraw towards the middle, blowing a stray strand of hair out of your face and, in a rush of adrenalin, smirk at him. “Not so confident now, are we, Captain?”

“You’re not as out of shape as I anticipated”, he counters, slashing his sword through the air as he repositions himself. Brows narrowing playfully, he adds: “It’ll make it more fun to thoroughly take you apart”.

You don’t give him more time to prepare. Blades crash onto each other as he masterfully deflects your attacks, and it doesn’t take long for the two of you to get out of breath. Neither of you can land a hit, no matter how feasible it seems. He handles the comparatively bulky sword with enviable ease, and you grow frustrated quickly, unable to break through his defences. In turn, you don’t let him back you into any corner, constantly keeping the playing field level and returning every new strike with your own.

“You know what, I’ve missed this”, Kaeya pants, quick to switch hands as you sidestep him, attempting to land a hit on his blinde side.

“Huh?” is all you can answer in return, deflecting his counter aimed at your back, and darting aside.

“Training”. He nearly misses the parry, forced to back up if not to risk a blow to his abdomen. “With you”. He shoots you a brash smile, easily twisting out of your range.

You huff, irritated at the fact that he still has the mind to flirt. “Your silver tongue isn’t getting you out of this one”.

“I meant it”. And of damn course, his tactic worked, the point of his blade sinking into your shoulder. “Remember when we used to practise together?”

“Before you became a dick, you mean?” you shoot back, attempting an aggressive strike at his lower thigh. Your body is getting sore, heart pounding against your ribcage, breaths coming out short and strained, but despite it all, you’re enjoying this. In any case, you’d rather die than admit to him that you’re having fun.

You really needed to get out of your office more.

Kaeya laughs, equally exhausted, before advancing at an alarming speed. “I’ll give you that one, darling”.

Your blades cross, metal clashing loudly, and you can see an opportunity form as he shortly weakens his hold. Rotating your sword in the opposite direction to try and hook beneath his, you’re so distracted by the possibility of disarming him that you don’t notice the satisfaction that washes over his expression as you do. One swift swipe of his foot and you’re falling backwards, weapon nearly ripped from your hand.

Your back hits the mat with full force, air knocked out of your lungs, causing you to give a strangled gasp. Kaeya is smirking down at you, but he’s as out of breath as you are and there’s sweat soaking his shoulders. You don’t think before you move, so infuriated by the words you know are about to leave his mouth, fingers tightening around the handle.

The hit against his shins sends him to the ground, but not sideways as planned, instead straight onto you. You don’t have the time or the mind to roll out of the way, and he tries very hard to catch himself, hands landing on either side of you. You yelp as most of his weight hits you, momentarily forgetting what’s even happening.

“Fuck”, Kaeya groans, arms shaking as he tries to brace himself. “You like playing dirty, don’t you?”

Slowly regaining the ability to breathe after nearly being crushed, your eyes dart to see him dangling over you, legs and lower body resting on your own. If anyone hears of this out of context, you’re moving to the other end of Teyvat. He’s panting, no doubt as shocked as you are, strands of his hair tickling your nose. His face is mere inches away from yours, heat seeping through his clothes onto your skin.

Decidedly too close.

Your blade kissing his throat is a much better sight. You know you’re technically breaking the rules, but the way his eye widens, corners of his mouth twitching and brows raising to the sky is just too good of a picture.

“Get off me”. You growl, trying to steady yourself with your other hand.

His laugh sounds astounded, but contrary to your demand, he does not. Instead, his chin juts forward, pressing the metal into his skin for earnest. There’s no blood, of course, all these swords are dulled to near uselessness, but it does leave you speechless at the amount of reckless pride he seems to possess.

Kaeya hums, clearly satisfied at your reaction. “I’ll be honest, this is not how I initially pictured you under me”.

What a smug son of a-

“Oh, fuck off”. Your knee makes contact with his stomach and he rolls off you with a grunt. You scramble to your feet, grimacing at what you're sure will be a bruised tailbone later. He’s already composed himself, twirling his sword idly as you get a proper grip on your own. Looking you up and down, his grin widens into a smirk.

“Though you do look similar to the imaginary aftermath”.

“I am going to kill you”, you hiss, red flashing before your eyes as you charge at him. Kaeya begins to laugh once more, but it quickly dies down as your moves become more and more aggressive, driving him out of the ring and towards the wall. The thought of whoever may be around again crosses your mind, but honestly, you can’t care about who may be watching, every last bit of strength you have left is focused on Kaeya and his stupid fucking face and the way he evades your strikes with a precision that only leaves to be desired to every onlooker. It makes you want to actually scream. You finally land two hits on him, arms beginning to shake from exhaustion and overwhelming adrenalin.

But once more, Kaeya catches you off guard. The switch flips just as his leg hits the wall and you’re just beginning to notice your own smile, sure of your victory. His expression darkens, lip caught in his teeth as his eyes narrow down at you.

Your blades clash as they did before, and of course he uses your own move against you, managing to perfect it. Your sword goes flying to the ground, and the moment you lose your grip is the moment you’re being slammed against the wall that he was nearly backed up against mere seconds ago. The tip of his sword is digging into the soft skin of your throat, positioned perfectly above your Adam's apple.

Suddenly, it goes very quiet, the silence only interrupted by your laboured breaths. Maybe it’s the fact that he near literally has a knife to your throat, but you can’t tear your eyes away from him. His hand is pressing on your shoulder, pinning you to the wall, keeping you in place. His leg is slotted between yours, barring you from moving an inch.

For the first time since you’ve met him, you have nothing to do but to admire him. Sweat is making his hair stick to his skin, an exhausted flush upon his dark cheeks. His body is visibly tense, stare boring into yours with a kind of intensity you’ve only ever seen during active combat. There’s nothing unintentional about the way he’s restraining you, nothing hesitant about the placement of the blade against your skin. His chest is heaving, teeth digging into his lip in constrained effort, fingers digging into your shoulder as if expecting you to fight back.

You don’t.

Instead, you let out a shaky breath. The adrenalin is still surging through you, but you can’t feel the constant urge to punch him in the gut anymore. Huh. Weird.

“You won”. Your voice is calmer than it ever has been talking to him, accepting of your defeat. Plus, your body is beginning to realise that whatever just happened hurt, and quite a bit at that. You wince, knowing you’re going to need some ice to get through the rest of the day.

Kaeya shakes his head determinedly, stare not wavering. “You had me in practically the same position less than a minute ago. You could have flipped me over with ease and won. You didn't. That’s the only reason I got you here”. His grip on your shoulder eases up. “We’re equal”.

Withdrawing the sword from your neck, he takes a step back, relinquishing his hold on you. You feel strangely dazed, automatically reaching to check for cuts on your neck. “I guess?”

“You okay?” He sounds relatively quiet as well, nearly uneasy, which does not fit the overconfident persona he usually bears. Whatever tension there was before has yielded to something more cautious, like strangers navigating their way across broken ice.

You nod, reaching to pick up your sword. “Fine”. You pause briefly, debating your words before meeting his eye again. “That was… good exercise. Thanks for fighting me”.

He laughs a little, and you’re taken aback by how much you don’t feel like reacting. What was going on? At the latest after that laugh you’d usually be back at his throat.

“Sure”. There’s the typical amusement in his face, but his smile is less egregious and smug. It’s… kind? “I’d have no problem repeating it”.

You raise your shoulders, unsure of what to do now. “I guess… I wouldn’t either?”

“Good”. He runs a hand through his hair in an effort to fix the mess it’s become. You’re beginning to hear the confidence you’re used to re-enter his words, but it doesn’t appear to bother you. “Friday’s at seven, then. We’ll make it a regular thing”.

“Trying to kill each other?” You surprise yourself with the attempt to ease the tension, and why in the world do you have the urge to smile at the sight of his?

“If that’s how you want to see it”. He shrugs, placing his sword back on the racks. Glancing over his shoulder, he regards you for a long moment. “I think your friend is right”.

“In what regard?” you ask, in principle fully aware of what that expression means for you.

Kaeya’s shit-eating grin has made its way back onto his face. “I think this tension needs resolving. Whatever means it takes”.

You can hear the words in your head before he says them.

“Be that with swords against each other’s necks or in my bed. You decide”.

#genshin impact #genshin impact fanficion #genshin impact fanfic #genshin impact kaeya #genshin kaeya #kaeya alberich #kaeya alberich x reader #kaeya x reader #kaeya alberich fanfic #kaeya fanfiction #hope you enjoyed <3

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sarita-sketches · 3 years

Text

Ignorant Bliss

Pairing : Conny Springer x Fem Reader

Genres : Smut, very smutty! Lots of angst: Lovers to Enemies to Lovers again

Warnings : BIG ATTACK ON TITAN SEASON 4 SPOILERS !!! Read at own risk. Heavy sexual content including vaginal sex, oral, general foreplay, dominance, slightly kinky. Brief mentions of death and character trauma

Summary: You and Conny were once lovers but a tragic accident caused the two of you to fall apart leaving nothing but hatred between the two of you. Two years later after the incident you’re sent on a mission with him to foreign lands where you end up having to share a bed in an inn for the night. The past resourfaces leaving growing tension between the two of you that becomes completely unbearable.

A/N : Hi this is my first time posting anything, I’m also an artist so if this posts generates enough interest I might do an NSFW drawing to complement it 👌🏼

“Y/n are you listening to me” your captain’s voice forced your attention back in to the room that you were currently stood in with the rest of the squad members who had not yet left for Marley.

“Yes, my apologies Captain Levi”. Though he was significantly shorter than the rest of the members of his squad, including yourself, Levi’s presence took up the room where ever he was – no one stepped out of line with him so you ignored your body’s urges to retaliate with a snide remark as you normally would have had it been anyone else.

“Y/n and Conny I am ordering you both to infiltrate Marley and rendezvous with your team mates, make contact with them as soon as you can”.

Your body stiffened at the name of your fellow comrade that you’d been paired up with. Seeing your composure shift Levi challenged you.

“I am assuming that I can count on you to carry this task out without any issues, yes y/n?”

“Yes sir” your replied, devoid of all emotion if anything to not let Conny have the satisfaction of getting under your skin.

God this was going to be the end of me, you thought to yourself, if not this war then he will be.

“Good, I want you both to remember that this is bigger than us all so neither of you screw this up or I will personally beat you both into pulps. You’re both relieved”.

You didn’t wait to see if Conny would say anything to you, your legs carried you as fast as they could out of the room to your quarters that you once shared with the other girls in your squad, you wished they were here right now. The memory of Sasha weighed heavy in your heart as you laid on your bunk thinking about the times you’d talk about the different kinds of foods you would find in your adventures, the people you’d meet. You remembered Sasha had given you the strength to finally tell Conny how you felt. She was there through all of it, giving you advice on how to deal with her best friend when you would have an argument with Conny. Your sleepless nights when you’d be ridden with anxiety. She was there through to the very end.

The memory of your dearest friend colliding against you propelling you away from the looming mouth of the titan rips you apart, plagued with the image of you friend being ripped from limb to limb where you should have been instead.

Your body began to shut down, you try to steady your breathing but it’s no use. You feel your panic begin to rise and bloom across your chest as your breaths fall shorter than normal. You try to work though the exercises that help you control these episodes but to your own dismay you can’t focus. All you could see was Sasha’s face crumpled in fear as she screamed for you to run. Why did you have to save me Sasha? You cried out in desperation in the lonely confines of your room.

That day you hadn’t just lost Sasha, you lost the last part of you that was clinging on to the hope that things would be okay one day. But that hope died the moment Sasha did. It wasn’t just you who felt it either, it wasn’t spoken of but you felt the resentment of your comrades, of the person you loved, knowing that they wished it had been you that day, not Sasha. Only Mikasa had shown you kindness, the kind that was heartfelt and genuine that made you feel safe but soon Mikasa was sent along with the Armin, Eren and Jean to Marley once again leaving you with nobody.

-----------------------------------------------------

The next morning you found yourself in the same hall you had been in last night with Levi and the rest of your comrades.

Get over yourself y/n he hates you and you hate him. You hate him. You hate him. YOU HATE HIM. Levi once again begrudgingly pulls you out from your thoughts forcing back into reality.

“Let’s go soldiers” he declares and yourself and Connie stiffly follow behind to the vehicle that transports you both to the port where you’re met with a small boat you assumed would carry you to Marley.

“Are you both clear on what your orders are?”

“Make contact with the our comrades and rendezvous and escape without being noticed” you and Conny say in unison.

“Alright good. You’re all under strict orders to not die”.

With that Levi turns on his horse and rides back to the walls leaving a deafening silence in his wake. Neither of you say anything to each other, you don’t bother looking at him, you doubt he does either as you both mount the boat and head for the enemy territory.

A few hours into the journey you were beginning to feel restless, this was your first time crossing over such a large body of water and you weren’t sure how you felt about it, the silence between yourself and Connie wasn’t helping either. Reluctantly fed up of the silence you get up from the spot you were keeping warm and walk over to Connie. You’re never prepared for the hatred you see in his eyes whenever they make brief contact with you; it had been like that since Sasha’s death.

“What do you want” he mumbled forcing himself to look at anything else but you, opting to glare at the ocean instead.

Choosing to ignore the ignited fire burning in side of you, you push on wards asking him if he wanted to train while you were both stuck here with nothing else to do.

“Fine” Connie replied reluctantly “but don’t cry when you hurt yourself, princess”.

The venom that coated the words he once used to sooth you cut deep within you, but you pushed that hurt aside burying it deep, far enough that you couldn’t reach it and instead let your anger that you used to trick yourself into hating Connie consume you.

In one swift movement your legs kicked Connie from underneath him resulting in a loud thud as his back hit the hard wooden deck. Not wasting your breath you immediately were on top of him pushing your entire body weight down pinning his arms either side of his head. You cringed at this familiarity.

“That’s a lot of talk for someone who-” you were immediately cut off as he swung his arms down, bucking his hip up towards you sending you flying onto the deck. Conny moved quickly, before you could regain your senses he was already out from underneath you. His body pressed harshly against your back, his right arms tightly wrapped itself around your throat, his other behind your neck. The feeling overwhelmed you as the memories plagued your mind only now he held you with the intention to hurt you. He didn’t care anymore. Panicking you pushed your body backwards but to your dismay he simply held you tighter in his headlock, his own legs wrapped around yours.

“What was that?” He growled into your ear. You stayed silent. “That’s what I thought, who’s going to save you now huh y/n? Pathetic, if you had been better she would still be here”.

Something with in you snapped, you knocked your head back bashing against Conny’s forcing him to let out a scream reluctantly letting go of your throat. Before you could stop yourself your fist found it’s self against Connie’s cheek.

“Fuck you, you piece of shit”. You tried to steady yourself as you slowly pulled your body weight up walking away from him, not bothering to look at him.

“Say something like that to me again and I will kill you” you spat. With that you disappeared.

Evening stained the sky with all of its brilliance, shades of rose and golds were spread as though they had been painted by someone, illuminating the world beneath it. It sure was a cruel joke, to have such beautiful sights and yet in order to have these experiences you needed to live and that was a curse in the world you lived in. Sighing, you focused your attention to the crystal ocean mesmerised by the waves as they lightly folded over one and other occasionally making the boat sway a bit more than the usual. Strange creatures swam around, freely without a care in the world; you wondered what it was like to be free like that. Lost in your thoughts you hadn’t realised that a person had appeared until their voice cut through your thoughts stealing you away from the momentary feeling of peace.

“Miss we are almost reaching the shores of Marley, we should be making contact by nightfall”.

“Thank you commandeer”.

The tall man satisfied with having delivered the message left, assumingly to let Conny know. Your heart felt heavy in your chest at the thought of his name. NO! You interrupted yourself not allowing your heart to deceive you… he doesn’t love you and you don’t love him, the people you once were are no longer there.

You finally reached the shore and were left with a vague direction of where you both were supposed to be headed. Silently you both walked through the forest for cover not wanting to be seen by anyone else. After what seemed like hours you finally came to a town that seemed to be guarded by walls, guards patrolling it without a chance to sneak in.

“Levi could have warned us about this” you huffed taking in your surroundings assessing any points in which they could sneak in.

“Wait here” Connie said, before you could object he was already half way down walking to a couple of guards along one section of the wall. You watched as he single handily took them both out stripping them of their uniform and hiding them behind some trees. He finally made his way back towards you throwing the jacket along with an arm band.

“Wear this” he mumbled not bothering to look at you as he made his way over to the gate, you hesitated before reluctantly following in his steps. The guards scoffed looking at you both with disgust but made no movements to try and stop you from entering. Once you were far enough into the walls, covered by the crowds you let out a breath of air you had not realised you had been holding in.

“Conny! You mind slowing down? It’s no use if we end up getting separated”. Conny immediately stopped pulling you into a dark alleyway.

“If you keep shouting like that we are going to get caught. So shut the fuck up”

“Well if you weren’t walking so fast and slowed down to use that non-existent head of yours we might have a better chance at finding the others quicker, then this whole nightmare will be over” your waved your arms explosively in the air in attempt to keep your frustrations under control.

“I don’t want to be here as much as you and I especially don’t want to be here with you so don’t make our lives more difficult than what it actually is” you finished forcing yourself to not break away from his stare as he towered over your frame. When you were met with silence you safely assumed that you had had the last word, taking this opportunity you suggested that you both go to find an inn for the night where you can both devise a plan to find the others. Thankfully, Conny did not object to the idea, though he didn’t look thrilled either – no matter, that’s his issue you thought to yourself.

It didn’t take long for you to find an inn, it seemed in good condition and didn’t stray too far from the path you had both familiarised with. You look over to Conny searching for a mutual agreement, not that he had much say in the matter. Regardless, he nodded as you both walked in. You were met with the smell of antique wood with a hint of the ocean breeze. It was nice, much nicer than any of the places you had ever grown up in back at home. Taking in your surroundings you noticed the white walls were decorated in hints of gold and brass, large paintings of people dressed in fine gowns clung on to them. Beneath your feet the carpet was red and plushie with ornate gold patterns that matched the walls. It took everything within you not to gape at the place. In the midst of your admiration at the grandeur of this place you hadn’t realised that Conny had already walked up to the main desk and was negotiating with the woman before him. There was a smile stretched on his features, a small glint in his eye using the same charm that used to work on your self – or rather used to use on you before everything had gone to hell.

STOP you thought, no good will come from this, besides he is only pretending to get a cheaper bed for the night. Your suspicions confirmed when he turned back around catching your eye, the glint was gone replaced with his cold demeanour. You both followed the lady up the creaky stairs to the room that would be yours for the night. It was late and all you wanted to do was to just collapse on a bed and sleep but just like everything else, nothing was ever easy as you were both presented to a room with a single double bed. Great.

“Have a wonderful night you two” the woman cooed as she disappeared down the hall presumably back to her desk. You turned to face Conny who was burning holes into the bed.

“Stare at that any longer and you’ll set the place on fire”

“Whatever, I’ll take the floor”

Your eyes couldn’t have rolled further back into your head even if you tried.

“God, Conny you are such a pain, what good will it be if you don’t get enough sleep. The last thing I need is the plan fucking up because of me because you don’t want to share the damn bed”.

“I was being respectful” he spat, his tone covered in venom as though with each word he ever said to you was a direct hit to slowly intoxicate you until you were nothing but bones.

“Respectful?” you repeated, bringing your face a hairs width to his “are you fucking kidding me right now? RESPECTFUL?! You lost all respect for me the night Sasha died, you don’t know how to be respectful. You only know how to be a selfish asshole who not only broke my heart, but left me when I had no body! She was my friend too, Conny! I didn’t just lose her that night I lost you. You have treated me like shit ever since. So don’t give me this bull shit about respect when you don’t know the damn meaning of it!” your chest was heaving, completely breathless as you looked up at him.

“You done?”

“No, one last thing” your hand went flying towards his cheek but before it could make contact he tightly gripped your wrist pushing you harshly against the wall. You hadn’t noticed in your anger his eyes had clouded over as though pain brimming at the edges that had been locked away for the last two years.

“What did you expect me to do? I lost my best friend and I realised that I could lose you too, in any moment you could be ripped away from me”. His cracked voice filled the room, making you faintly aware that anyone could hear you but in this moment you didn’t care. You felt dizzy as neither of you yielded from each other’s stares.

“I can’t lose you, I did all of it so you would leave but you stayed” his voice now barely above a whisper.

“I never would have left” tears spilled out of both your eyes blinding you both.

“Damn it y/n why do you have to be so stubborn” before you knew what was happening his hand lifted your face to his lips as they crashed against each other. The familiarity made you melt into his touch, your body shuddering as his other hand gently wondered across your hips.

Momentarily breaking away you felt Conny mumble words against your skin.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he repeated over and over, desperation in his voice growing with each plead for forgiveness. Tired of it you force Conny to look into your eyes

“Shut up and kiss me, I don’t want to hear this right now”.

Darkness clouded over his eyes, a new shade of confidence settled upon him and he wore like it was his own skin. Conny moved his hands towards you thighs pulling you up so that your body was now pressed against him. More forcefully this time he re attached his lips to your own, slipping his tongue between your teeth earning a moan from yourself. You felt his smirk against your lips as they moulded together, in response you pulled his hair making him growl against you.

“Fuck, don’t do that y/n” he pressed himself against you as though warning you what would come if you didn’t stop, still you couldn’t help but moan at the feeling of his hard cock pressed against your heat; it ignited a fire with in you that had been smothered and now it was consuming your very soul.

“Conny” you breathed, your voice laced in seduction as it reached his ears, his hands tightening around your muscly thighs.

“Conny please, I need you”

Immediately your back was met with cold air as Conny slammed your body onto the double bed situated in the middle of the room. The bed was a soft contrast to the harsh wall, the mattress dipping as Conny climbed over towards your body. Your lips re-joined, tongues clashing against each other unlocking a primal instinct with in the both of you as the kiss deepened and became more heated.

“God y/n, I missed this so fucking much” he breathed, his ember eyes locking with yours, taking a bit of your h/c hair with his fingers tenderly placing it behind your ear. His other hand caresses your face.

“I love your eyes”. He looks down at your swollen lips dipping his head towards them.

“I love these” he mumbled against them gently pecking them. His free hand trails down your body as though he was savouring every curve, eventually making its way to the curve of your behind. His hand gripped it tightly whilst he whispered into your ear “I especially love this”. The gesture forced a gasp out of you, not being able to control the smile that was plastered on your face.

“Conny” you whined, but it was short lived as your body filled with the overwhelming sensation of his lips dragging across the sensitive part of your neck.

“That stopped your whining” he chuckled, the vibrations sending your eyes rolling into the back of your head. Fed up with his teasing you took matters into your own hands catching him by surprise as you rolled out from under and pinned him beneath you.

“You’re taking too damn long” you said leaning down towards his lips as you rolled your hips against his hard member. Instantly Conny’s hands were digging into your hips, pushing you further onto him.

“Fuck baby” he growls, his tongue slipping into your mouth.

You tried not to laugh at the look of disappointment in his face as your lips left his, your head held upright as you continued to drag your clothed core against him. Knowing he wouldn’t last much longer before something snapped with in him, you moved off him unzipping his pants and removing his undergarments allowing his cock to be free from its tight constraints. Though you’d seen it before and had done many lustrous things to it with your mouth, it’s size never ceased to shock you. Gulping down your initial surprise, you moved your head towards the tip that was already gleaming with precum. Wanting to tease him the way he just teased you, you opted for licking the length of his shaft, your eyes never leaving his that were hooded over from the pleasure. His hands found themselves tangled between your hair strands in attempt to guide your mouth around this cock.

“Use that pretty mouth of yours will you, fuck”.

“What if I don’t” you smirked at him, your tongue still leaving wet strips along the side of his cock. Suddenly you were yanked away from his throbbing member, forced to look at him, spit and saliva dripping from your mouth.

“What did you just say” he questioned, the dominance flowing off his tongue like venom.

“You heard me” you smirked at him. Oh you were in for it, your core tingling with excitement. Conny forced you to lay over his lap, a stinging sensation spread across one of your ass cheeks. Even though you were still fully clothed, you knew that it was going to leave a mark regardless. The sensation made you sign in response leaving you greedy for more.

1, 2, 3 slaps rained down on you, with each one the heat with in you got more and more unbearable.

“You’re such a brat” he growled slamming his palm down against you one more time before grabbing your hair and forcing your mouth onto his cock. You moaned in pleasure as his member filled your mouth all the way to the back of your throat. Conny initially kept his hand there bobbing your head repeatedly against his shaft. Satisfied that you would keep going he moved both his hands and leaned them against the back of his head as he took in the sight of you, your ass in the air as you gagged your self on him. It was almost too much sending him over the edge.

“Y/n stop” he moaned almost not being able to control himself, but you took it as an incentive to push yourself deeper on his cock deep enough to set off your gag reflexes.

“Fuck! y/n I said stop!” he growled as he pulled you off him bringing his hand around your throat.

“I’m sorry” you lewdly spoke, taking your bottom lip slightly between your teeth.

“You will be. Now strip”.

You complied obediently, hyper aware of the way his eyes glazed over your body as you removed each item of clothing. The hairs stood on end over every inch of your skin, he looked at you as though you were a meal about to be devoured. Once your body was fully bare before him he let out a long breath forming in the shape of a cloud before you both, not realising how much the temperatures had dropped. Repeating your actions Conny removed the rest of his own garments and it took everything within you not to gaze at his sculptured form as he lay naked before you. You were reminded of all the times during training that Conny removed his shirt along with his comrades to cool themselves off, but you never lingered long enough for fear of getting caught. Now he was before you, you could no longer help yourself and your eyes instinctively dragged across his abdomen, his arms that were decorated in scars and veins that popped against his tan skin.

“Like what you see” he questioned you, a devilish grin plastered smugly across his face.

“Don’t be shy” he said as he shifted his body towards you. “I know you like it, you always had before, and don’t think I never noticed the times you would steal glances at me during our training y/n”.

He smirked at the deep shade of rose that was now spreading across your cheeks. You were both now kneeling on the bed, chest to chest.

“You’re so beautiful y/n” he whispered as he leaned his forehead against yours, his eyes fluttering closed, you kissed his lips in response. His hands roamed your body exploring every inch of skin before landing on your breast. The roughness of his fingers against your smooth skin drove you insane.

“Ugh Conny, you’ve teased me enough. Please” you begged, pleading him to touch you and to work on your body the way he used to.

“So impatient” he smirked against your lips, but obliged regardless. “But okay, what ever you want princess”.

With one swift movement he had you laying on your back once again, while he shifted his body off the edge of the bed. His head began trailing wet open mouth kisses against your bare legs, slowly making his way towards your core.

“I have barely touched you and you’re so fucking wet for me princess, look at you” he mocked as he lightly dragged a finger dipping slightly between your folds before removing his hands again. He watched in amusement as your body begged for more.

“So desperate”

“Can you blame me” you breathed. “Connie I swear down, do something or so help me god I will-”

“You talk too much” Conny chuckled as his tongue finally dipped between your folds. He explored you, no, he devoured you completely and you became lost in his touch. Your breathing became laboured as he continued to attack your clit. The rolling of his tongue against you drove your mind insane. Unable to do anything else, you closed your eyes to be welcomed by a rainbow of colours, stars dancing before you as a finger was inserted into you. Your hips bucked against him letting out a loud moan that filled the silence of the room

“Oh god” you exclaimed as Connny filled your walls with another digit, pushing them deep within you. The curl of his fingers inside you made you scream, one of your own hands grasping the sheets, your knuckles almost white. Conny’s tongue once again began playing with your clit while he pumped the two digits in and out of you, the over stimulation sending you places you had never been before.

“Fuck” you moaned over and over. “Conny I’m going to cum”

“Not just yet princess” he growled against you. You panicked feeing the knot coming undone as he sped up. You frantically let out a string of lewd sounds.

“I want you to come on my fingers when I say so, can you do that for me?”

“Yes!” you breathed out, your desperation growing with each passing moment.

“Say my name y/n”

“Conny”

“Again”

“CONNY!” you screamed.

“Good girl, I want you to scream my name just like that when you cum. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to. Are you going to do that baby girl?” You nodded a yes a response.

“Cum for me princess”

Finally the knot untied with in you and your body shook against his touch uncontrollably. You had been possessed by him, his touch a drug and this was the high. The feeling spread across your core, your chest up your throat until a guttural sound dripped out of your mouth in your release.

“Connie” you moaned his name over and over as you came down from the pleasure.

“Fuck that was so hot” Conny mumbled against you.

Wasting no time, Conny was above you kissing your lips, his own coated in your juices. Before he continued to do what you both yearned for her looked into your eyes, his voiced dripped in sincerity as he asked you if it was okay for him to do this.

“yes” you whispered, he nodded in response.

His next movements sent your body into another wave of pleasure as he slowly pushed himself inside of you. Each vein you could feel against your walls had you feeling greedy needing more of him inside of you. Your legs wrapped themselves around his waist bringing you both closer. Conny attached his lips to your lips as you both found your rhythm. Each thrust coming in harder than the last until the gentleness that had been present before had become completely eradicated. Conny flipped you so you were now on all fours as he inserted himself again earning a cry from you as his cock spread your walls apart making you lose your mind.

“Fuck, yes Conny just like that” you moaned loudly.

“You feel so fucking good y/n” he grunted as both of his hands came to steady himself on your hips as he drove himself further into you.

Conny lifted your body up so your back was firmly pressed against his chest as he continued to pound your walls into oblivion. One of his hands roughly grabbed your breast while the other rubbed circles around your clit. You couldn’t even put words together anymore as you felt yourself come undone under his touch for the second time.

“Don’t you dare cum until I do. We are cumming together princess” he growled harshly in to your ear. You moaned in return.

His thrusts started to become sloppier and slower burying himself deep inside you, you knew he was on the edge so you grinded against him earning a low grunt.

“Fuck y/n”.

His pace quickened on your clit in response, with one of your hands now grasping at his hair as you tried to contain yourself from orgasming.

“Now baby girl”

With that you both came undone as you felt him unload his warm substance deep within you whilst your body exploded in pleasure for the second time that night.

Both of you breathing heavily, you collapsed onto the bed in unison.

“I want you to know that I never stopped loving you y/n. What I did is unforgivable but from now on I hope I can atone my actions and show you how much you have always meant to me”.

For now you weren’t sure how to respond, you didn’t exactly want to let him off the hook, but you wanted to savour your time with him. If one thing was true it was that you could both be ripped away from each other at any given moment; so instead of saying anything you kiss him bringing your body into his as he adjusts his arms around your waist.

“We will talk about it back home, for now I want to spend this moment with you and live in ignorant bliss with you”.

You both fell asleep in each other’s arms that night, feeling okay for the first time in two years.

184 notes · View notes

justimajin · 3 years

Text

Til Death Do Us Part ♜ Pt.7

➟ Pairing: Namjoon x Reader

➟ Genre: Angst, Fluff, Eventual Smut

↳ (3.8k), Arranged Marriage AU

➟ Summary: If someone told you that you’d be marrying the Kim Namjoon, you would think you were being lied to, or worse, that you were hallucinating. However, fate seems to have it’s own ways of making the impossible possible and before you even know it, the title of Mrs. Kim is bestowed onto you. There’s just one problem: you’re not sure if Kim Namjoon is the person he says he is and the truth of your own identity is dangling by the strength of a mere thread.

➟ Warnings: 18+ rating, the angst is strong with this one

gif credit.

➟ Previous Parts: Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6

➟ Next Update: Tuesday, February 2

The home is somewhat cozy.

It’s smaller than the one you and Namjoon have been occupying, doors and rooms completely foreign. There’s a serene meadow nearby that remains you of the garden, and within the interior of the house lies a surprisingly expansive assortment of spiraling halls, all leading into different directions.

The aftermath of your sudden kidnapping led Namjoon to the decision of temporarily retreating elsewhere.

“It’s not much, but it’s definitely doable.” He explains, pacing around the bedroom and double checking the various drawers for clothes, “I don’t think we’ll be here too long, but there seems to be enough supplies.”

You remain seated on the edge of the bed, eyes staring at the ground in silence. Namjoon quickly glances outside the window before resuming to take apparel out of them.

“We should be safe here.” He hurriedly says, carefully placing the clothes aside, “I haven’t been able to get into contact with my family either, so I’m hoping they know to stay under the radar after discovering our absence. In fact, I‒”

“You knew….”

Your voice is incredibly faint, akin to a whisper. He’s crouched down on the ground, hands clasped around a cotton shirt when they freeze in place.

Slowing rising from his spot, he turns to face you. The first thing that captures his attention is the accumulation of tears within your eyes, your features twisting.

“W-Why didn’t you just kill me?”

He walks closer to you, “Y/N…”

Your facade snaps, no longer able to play a game of pretend.

“I was sent to spy on you, Namjoon!” You rise from the bed, stalking towards him and placing your hands on his shoulders. “I was going to kill you!”

“Y/N!” You abruptly glance up, startled from his tone.

Namjoon holds a pained expression, and carefully holds your hands, just like you had reached out for his as you stopped him from going to work, “I-I’m not going to kill you….”

You can only stare, eyes wet and teeth digging into your bottom lip. The discovery has been killing you on the inside, the sinking awareness that he was capable of getting rid of you within any split second and that he knows, he knows of everything you’ve done in that house.

It’s slowly driving you insane….and it terrifies you.

“But why?!” You cry out, “I’ve killed Taehyung, I’ve murdered Eunjoo!”

Your hands frantically tremble, voice cracking, “What’s stopping me from killing you…?”

A wave of tears run down your cheeks and your quivering hands raise to cover your face. Amidst of contemplating everything you’ve done, you can’t understand his actions and it serves to make you wonder why you’re even here.

Why even bring someone as horrible as you into this house?

His arms immediately wrap around you, tugging you closer. Your head rests against his shoulder, sobs amplifying.

Namjoon sighs, his chest rising and deflating, “Honestly nothing is, if you ask me.”

He truthfully admits it ‒ you do have the power to end his life, and he knows that, “But I accepted that being with you meant that I couldn’t interfere with your work and I wasn’t planning to either, Y/N.”

“Y-You were waiting… you were waiting for me to kill you….” You shake your head as Namjoon continues to hold you, “I-I’ve killed so many people Namjoon…”

Somehow, his knowledge and awareness makes you want to confess it all ‒ confess how much your hands have been horribly tainted.

“I know, Y/N.” He whispers, “I know.”

The wedding has commenced.

An union between families has been forged.

And Namjoon is no longer a single man.

“I’d like to leave for bed now.” You smile, painting a look of exhaustion after conversing with Namjoon and his parents, “I’m feeling quite tired.”

“Of course, of course!” Namjoon’s mother understandably waves you off as Namjoon’s father wraps a hand around his son.

“Go on, Y/N! We need to catch up anyways!” His father says, smiling at him.

Namjoon stiffens in his hold as you depart, following after his father into a separate room.

The moment the door shuts close, the warm tone in Namjoon’s eyes turns cold. There’s a dark look in his father’s irises as he crosses his arms and leans against the wooden desk, staring at his son intently.

He already knows what words he’s about to spew, and it's something his father acknowledges.

“You know already, don’t you? Of what those pesky L/N’s sent into your home?”

Namjoon hums, meeting the latter’s stare intently, “How long do you intend on keeping her around before getting rid of her?”

“Perhaps for all of eternity.” His father lets out a snarl, but Namjoon challengingly quirks up a brow in retaliation.

“Are you being serious?” He slams his fist against the table, “Do you even hear what you’re saying?!”

Namjoon’s mouth twitches, “I’ve already told you and mother multiple times ‒ I plan on marrying only once.”

“So you’re going to have a L/N spy for a wife?! And bury this empire to the ground?!”

“As the next heir, what I do to the business will be out of my own accord,” He sharply retorts, “And Y/N....has me for a husband. I’m no better than she is.”

His father’s face turns bright red, angry veins running through his neck. Thankfully he doesn’t notice how Namjoon’s voice softens when he speaks of you, or the way there’s something spurring silently within his eyes, something that begins with pure curiosity and ends with wishing for a reflection.

“You will bring our empire to its downfall.”

Namjoon smiles.

“Then so be it.”

***

Kim Namjoon is blind.

He doesn’t speak nor scrutinize, not a word leaving him as he notices a small wire sticking out from the bedroom window, ironically appearing to just be a simple one used for electricity but perfect enough to be connected to a static code receptor.

He doesn’t retaliate with anything when you coincidentally arrive at his office with the excuse of bringing his forgotten lunch, painting on naive eyes during the meeting he holds with the shareholders of his company. He becomes aloof to their glares and scoffs, granting you complete access without being intrusive, and yet without any of his own actions, your exterior cracks ‒ breaking it on purpose to protect and defend your own family.

His eyes flicker at witnessing your intent firsthand and without hesitation, he offers his help even if it meant welcoming deceit with open arms.

Perhaps that act makes Namjoon hopeful, too hopeful in fact, when he draws more interest in you and wants to know more, even if your words are filled with lies and twisted truths. Perhaps his curiosity of who his wife truly is becomes too much for him to handle, that he must simply know about the person behind the mask, the person he saw at the altar that was avoiding his gaze and looking terrified beyond belief. He sees her again briefly when you begin to indulge him about your life before becoming a spy, but Namjoon can already pinpoint that he’s too hopeful as your mask surfaces again, innocently maneuvering yourself into being allowed to accompany him to his company’s warehouse.

It makes him wonder, wonder if he was truly playing himself into a trap. If his father was right in a way, if he should simply cut off his hopeful ties and ultimately step away before it’s too late.

But Namjoon decides to do something different, he decides to do something that you might be horribly frightened by, but he won’t ever hesitate to do.

He becomes truthful.

He tells you everything, what his business is, what his family is, what he is, and he can clearly see it. The terror that swims within your eyes, the astonishment that crosses you with being confronted by the truth and the hesitation, the very hesitation that drives his hopes up higher than they could be.

But there’s one factor that Namjoon underestimated, and that’s how far you were willing to go to fulfill your role.

He hates how late it took him to realize, scorns at how the combination of your sudden nausea coupled with Taehyung’s departure wasn’t obvious enough for him to decipher.

The moment he comes back home that day, it’s strangely silent. He assumed that Eunjoo would be around and that you were perhaps consulting with her about your health, but the moment he rushes up the stairs, he can see it all.

It looks squeaky clean, save for the few drops of blood stuck to the underside of one of the carpets that would have been easily ignored.

Abruptly, the sound of the shower alerts him, and he knows exactly where the culprit is.

He knocks on the door, carefully leaning his ear against the wood.

“Y/N? Y/N, are you feeling better?”

“Y-Yeah...I’m feeling much better, Namjoon.”

His eyes narrow. The sound of water restricts his ability to hear properly and gives you a sufficient reason not to face him at the moment, and your voice is hesitant and deeper than usual.

The incident happened very close to his arrival, and you’ve been injured in the process.

“Alright….I’ll just be here, if you need anything.”

Before heading off to bed, he attempts to assess the situation to the best of his ability.

Taehyung left shortly after you were feeling sick and was convinced that having you around was a bad call on his part. If Namjoon doesn’t hear from him tomorrow, it’s highly likely that he was able to figure the truth about your identity and decided to finish the job himself, ultimately failing.

Eunjoo is nowhere inside the house. She doesn’t leave at sporadic times with informing him or leaving behind a notice, making it possible that she unintentionally found out who you were and decided to take action.

There was only one simple method you could have used to render them silent.

His back hits the wall as he squeezes his eyes shut, a deep remorseful sigh leaving his lips.

“Why did the two of you need to get involved in this?”

After that night, Namjoon sees a stark difference within you. It’s almost like there’s a deep crack within the surface of your mask, your own worries and concerns easily leaking out.

And you make no move to sew it up.

It brings him to the point where he even convinces you to go back home, that maybe leaving all this would grant some peace of mind to you. In the process, he was even able to keep the investigation under control and the spotlight away from you, as his involvement and words were trusted more than anything.

But of course, your collective duties to your families reigns higher than anything.

Ultimately, he knew solely getting involved in the investigation placed him in threatening territory. That as subjected, he would be able to easily decipher your actions and be given the opportunity to compromise your identity.

So what better way was there, than to get rid of him? To pretend your husband met with an unfortunate incident, all while to cover up your tracks along the way?

It was his last day ‒ he knew it. He would have to conclusively tie up your investigation in such a way that you would never be found out as the culprit. His perceived demise led to him parting a farewell gift for you as well, something he had hoped he would have survived long enough to see you wear.

But when given the golden opportunity, you casted away your ensuing aim, choosing to save him instead.

After taking time to calm down, a question lingers in your mind for Namjoon.

“A-Are you going to tell anyone?” You wonder, peering over at the opposite side of the bed where he sits, “About me…?”

Namjoon looks away from the window, instantly shaking his head, “Of course not.”

Although his answer spreads relief through you, a small smile tugs at the corner of his mouth. “But I do have to say, having a wife that was prepared to secretly kill me would have made a really good brunch story.”

You let out an exhale, shaking your head with a smile that manages to crack through, “My family won’t know about you either, but that doesn’t take away from the fact that my life is in danger.”

At the mention of prior events, you crane your head to the side and narrow your eyes.

“It’s strange.” You place a pondering finger on your lips, “No one ever informed me that the Kim family was being targeted….”

Eyes suddenly widening, an abrupt thought sparks in your mind.

Your voice drops into a whisper, “My mission…”

“Huh?” Namjoon leans forward, attempting to catch a glimpse of you. Turning around, there’s dread in your eyes.

“My mission.” You repeat, firmer this time. “It’s been compromised.”

Recognition spreads through his irises as you uncomfortably shift.

The feeling of a target resting on your back as well makes your stomach wind up into a thousand knots.

“Well, are you going to follow through with it?”

Your brows furrow immediately, answer coming through without hesitation, “No.”

“Then the best way to combat it is to act as if nothing ever happened.” Namjoon explains, “They don’t need to know that someone is aware of your true identity.”

Your eyes twinkle with the information, “Then I’ll need to set up some kind of communication line with them.”

For this to work, you’ll need to keep in touch and send false reports through. However, your hopes dwindle with the knowledge that you don’t have any of your equipment with you.

As if he knows exactly what you're thinking, Namjoon quirks up a smile and slides off the bed. He reaches his hand out to you, which you take in confusion.

“Come on, I still need to show you the rest of the house.”

***

Namjoon ends up leading you to a separate hallway, one that’s extremely lengthy and almost never ending until you reach a door you wouldn’t have been able to find yourself. As Namjoon knocks against it and presses his ear against the door, you notice a handful of maids walking by, some sending you friendly smiles that you return.

The door opens and Namjoon gestures you inside.

You’re greeted to the sight of two men in the room. One of them leans against a wooden table with his arms crossed, a pair of glasses resting on the bridge of his nose and his brown hair considerably tousled. The other sits at the same table, his cheeks full and blonde hair parted to the side.

The blonde haired man eyes are wide, staring at you in fascination.

“Is this her?” He immediately blurts out, and when Namjoon nods, he instantly gets up and rushes over.

A breathtaking angelic smile spreads across his features as he reaches his hand out, “Hi, it’s great to finally meet you.”

You return the gesture but are puzzled with the interaction, your eyes swaying over to Namjoon. The man with the glasses stands up straighter, walking over to you with his hands in his pockets.

His gaze is scrutinizing and there’s a faint twinkle residing within his irises. “Do you know who we are?”

You're hesitant to answer, shaking your head.

He immediately scoffs, eyes blazing with anger, “You never mentioned us?!”

At the sound of his spiking loud tone, Namjoon sheepishly smiles and just shrugs. The man scoffs again, shaking his head.

The action makes your mind churn, and the more you stare at the two, the more bits and pieces of information begin to weave together.

Something suddenly flickers within your eyes, jaw instantly dropping down. Your finger shakingly points towards him in awe.

“K-Kim Seokjin….” Your sight moves over to the man you just shook hands with, pupils widening with more realization, “and Park Jimin?”

A smug smile crosses Seokjin’s lips, “Ah so you do know who we are, Miss Y/N.”

His voice gives off the inkling that he knows just as much about you as you know of him ‒ even doubting that his extensive knowledge is perceptive and aware of more.

“I’ve only seen the two of you a handful of times,” You turn to Namjoon, “When I was familiarizing myself with individuals involved in the business, we had plenty of photographs and records on each person and the tasks they oversee.”

“‒But there were some individuals that barely had any information on them. They would be spotted near you from time to time and aside from just a name, those parties remained a mystery.”

Your eyes flicker up again, oscillating between the two. Seokjin smiles, appearing impressed with your ability to remember the trivial matters.

Namjoon steps forward, offering up an explanation, “I think it’s great that we don’t need an introduction, but it’ll probably surprise you to know that Seokjin and Jimin are shareholders within my company.”

Your jaw instantly drops and Namjoon chuckles, “I’d like to call them my secret shareholders, because aside from funding and aiding me with my company, they’re both equipped with other skills.”

At the mention of it, Jimin lets a small smile slip out and Seokjin’s eyes twinkle. “They’re the only ones I can truly trust and because of that, I don’t expose them to the world and they know to keep a low profile.”

You nod, slowly processing the information. It's still baffling to know that despite the amount of rigorous training and memorization you’ve done to prepare yourself for this task, there was still something missing that you wouldn’t have known until Namjoon told you himself.

And their ultimate purpose is something he eventually explains.

“The reason why I’m introducing you to them is because they will be staying with us until it’s safe to return home,” He points to Seokjin, “And I wanted to bring you to someone that knows communication lines inside and out, so that you can send your reports back.”

Your wide eyes come into contact with Seokjin’s, and he begins to back away, gesturing to you as he heads towards the door. You take it as a sign that you need to follow after him, leaving Namjoon and Jimin behind as you exit.

He leads you down a separate hall, entering a room with multiple devices attached to the walls. There’s various cords and headsets that mimic your initial intelligence reporting within the dark corridor, alongside computers with jargon written on them.

Your first reaction is to simply stare in awe, “Wow….”

Seokjin smiles, flopping down on a chair and wheeling himself over to a computer. He hands you a headset, beginning to type frantically on one of the computers.

“This is how you’re going to hear the signals being sent through.” Spinning around in his chair, he grabs onto a bronze and steel contraption and gives it to you, “This is an upgraded version of a telegraph sounder that connects to these computers and should allow you to send information via morse code.”

Your eyes instantly light up in recognition and you begin to carefully tap against the metal, noticing a reception signal forecasting onto the screen. Seokjin points it out to you right away and begins to type something into the keyboard.

“This technology is so advanced….” You mumble, eyeing the screen keenly.

“It’s good for using multiple lines when the signal you’re sending out isn’t just being received by one location.” Seokjin explains.

You hum, continue to test out the machinery. Seokjin hooks you up to the same line you were using to communicate previously and when a successful correspondence is sent through, he grins.

After assisting you through the process, you start sending the information over like usual. Seokjin glances at his phone, slowly rising from his seat.

“I have to get back to the others.” He guides you to sit where he was, letting you take over completely, “Namjoon wants to discuss the events of what happened with you two.”

You nod, eyes glued with the screen and occupied with decoding and understanding the message you receive. “If you need anymore help, don’t hesitate to ask.”

You quickly nod and Seokjin carefully exits the room, attempting to disturb you in the middle of communicating. Your hands work furiously to decode the messages, pupils rapidly flickering all over the screen.

However in the midst of this process, you don’t notice the abrupt static coming through from a screen that was previously turned off.

***

By the time you leave the room, you are thoroughly exhausted.

It seems so far things are under control, though you were vigorously questioned on the delay of your previous mission. A tumble of excuses are conjured within a spindle of minutes, differing from your simple inability to do so due to your husband constantly being occupied with your investigation and the fact that he has been remaining underneath the spotlight. Regardless, it seems acceptable enough and though displeased ‒ you’re reminded that the job must be conducted efficiently as soon as possible.

Wiping your clammy hands against one another, you peer around the hallways. It’s still considerably mind spinning to understand where the long expansive pathways lead to, especially in such a small house, but a friendly smile greets you right away.

“Miss Y/N?”

You whirl around to see one of the maids you had passed by earlier on, and she bows before you.

“Master Kim alerted me that you were in this room.” She explains, “He’s been waiting for you.”

You nod in retaliation, following after her. Your eyes begin to roam around, noticing the fine wood carvings on each door and the way there are multiple rooms in the current corridor you’re in. It doesn’t seem much like a house but more so like a mansion with its endless ways.

The maid leading you abruptly stops and you tilt your head to the side, attempting to see what was before her. The sight of a window greets you instantly and you raise an eyebrow, but suddenly it dawns upon you that you’re no longer in the same hallway anymore.

Instantly, your eyes snap up and the maid swivels, her hands wrapping firmly around your mouth from behind. You erratically kick your legs and attempt to grab onto bundles of her hair, but your shoes are soon dragging against the carpet.

Your brows shoot up in alarm when more maids begin to pool in ‒ one of them begins to strenuously wrap a broken wire around your hands as another gives the first maid a damp piece of cloth. They immediately switch places, the fabric pressed right against your nose as you furiously push away from them with muffled grunts.

Suddenly a wave of vertigo hits you and your eyes begin to frantically dart around, barely being able to focus on the way a cool breeze hits your face.

As seconds fly by, your limbs fall limp and your pupils roll back in your sockets, rendering you completely unconscious.

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my-writings-and-musings · 3 years

Note

Hello! I don’t know if you’re still doing this prompt but how about the Oxygen Loss but with either Rung or Ratchet? I’m not sure how you would do Ratchet, maybe he’s away from the Med Bay at the time the LL is being attacked?

I've got some of my favorite bot Rung for you, and Ratchet is in part five listed below! Let's have some angst with the good phsychiatrist!

Part One: Here!

Part Two: Here!

Part Three: Here!

Part Four: Here!

Part Five: Here!

Part Six: Here!

Part Seven: Here!

Part Eight: Here!

Part Nine: Here!

Part Ten: You're Here!

Part Eleven: Here!

Part Twelve: Here!

Rung

·Perhaps being human just made one think differently from Cybertronians in the most unusual of ways, but you truly never understood how anyone could forget the lovable phsychiatrist, though you have quite a few unique reasons to remember him. While he's actually rather sociable and energetic, the two of you most often enjoy relaxing together in his office. Today you're doing just that by chatting away about the various pieces of earth media you think he'll enjoy. Whether or not he actually ends up having interest in any of them, he takes great pleasure in discussing your suggestions. Not only does it give him a better glimpse into earth and the culture of its inhabitants, but it also allows him to hear about your own tastes in entertainment, and that alone could keep his interest for days. Just hearing you talk about yourself so happily is a delight.

·Unfortunately the fun times are interrupted by an emergency broadcast, one the two of you are equally baffled to find is little more than a garble of indecipherable warnings and instructions. Before any kind of explanation can be requested, the line goes off completely, fading out to silence that doesn't even register static. Having served on many ships in the past, Rung has theories straight away as to what could be going on, and they vary from trivial to concerning. For this though, he wants to err on the side of caution. That means getting somewhere safe. If something is indeed wrong, he explains, help can always be found in a number of key locations. Considering where his room is, he knows the closest safe place is the medical bay.

·Wanting to be wary but not panicked, Rung admittedly struggles over whether or not to get moving. Though he doesn't say why, you know one of his biggest fears is being unable to protect you, something he worries he can't do being adverse to combat. A small smile of encouragement naturally lights up your features as you lay a hand on his. You promise him you trust his judgement no matter what. A look of gratitude is knocked off his face when his whole office trembles, and it's replaced entirely with a look of terror as the ship gives a mighty buck, sending your tiny body flying. An athletic dive saves you from crashing into anything, and instead you find yourself held in a pair of trembling hands when the world levels out. On his knees and quite frazzled from the jolt, the first thing Rung does is ask if you're okay, and he lets out a sigh of relief when you confirm you are.

·The incident gives him the impetus to make up his mind; the two of you are going to head for more secure territory. In agreement despite being so frazzled, you let him take the lead and try to convey just how grateful you are to have him at your side for all of this, holding onto his digits as he prepares to get moving. There's so much obvious planning in the processor behind his furrowed brows you can practically hear the metaphorical wheels turning. He wants to be ready for any possibility, so much so that he grabs his rarely used combat staff from the corner. Despite the circumstances, your heart actually flutters a little; to you he's always looked quite dashing wielding the weapon.

·There's silence when he enters the hallway at last, and it drives him to hug you to his chest in a move that comforts himself just as much as he hopes it comforts you. It certainly helps you feel secure, as the move puts you right beside his spark, one that leaves no doubt as to its status as brightest on the ship. A soft and melodic humming seems to pass straight through his chestplate at all times. Pressing against him, you let the sound soothe the tension from your much smaller body. Even if you can hardly protect him from much of anything, you hope he feels a bit safer in your company, though he's hardly struggling to move boldly through the ship. From a distance one might have even missed the light tremble in his frame.

·Scared as he might be, he's faced situations similar to this before, and came out with the knowledge that it's best to move as he is now; quickly, but quietly, so as to avoid being taken by surprise. However, he had the aid of his natural resilience to get him through past situations alive. Incredible healing abilities have always been a literal life saver, but now, the fact that only he would be saved... The thought of recovery is just as agonizing as any wound when he thinks of you not being there when the physical pain faded. Fear of such an outcome makes him freeze when the first sound of movement meets his audials; there's something rather large nearby, and it isn't an Autobot. Nor is it a Decepticon, further inspection tells him when he listens intently, as he can hear how unnaturally it moves even from his makeshift hiding spot. It has to be one of the attacking forces.

·Rung looks down as you hold your breath, having heard the same sound and doing your best to make sure the alien doesn't find either of you. For an instant you're both left frozen and the air is tense enough to feel as if it's smothering you. Scouting the situation as best he can, the small mech takes note of the fact he only has one usable path to the medical bay from this position, as any other course would require a great deal of backtracking there simply isn't time for. The only viable way forward is this one, and as there's only a single enemy... Looking down at you one final time let's him make a decision. This has to be done, for your sake, and he quickly sets you down in an open yet depowered electrical hatch, one likely left this way by a bot abandoning it in the midst of some maintenance. Hopefully it will keep you safe...

·You know what he's doing when Rung whispers for you to stay down and make a run for it should things "end poorly", but you don't even get a chance to try and stop him, the fear in his optics all but breaking your heart as he disappears from view. Alone in the hatch, a million thoughts storm in an attempt to form a plan. Being so tiny leaves you very few options... Yet a forgotten tool, some kind of Cybertronian screwdriver, opens up a slew of dangerous possibilities. What you assume to be adrenaline fills you so fast you get dizzy, but you don't let that stop you as the makeshift weapon is clenched between your shaking hands. Unbeknownst to you, Rung executes his first attack at the same instant, finishing off an impressive ambush with a ferocious stab intended to end a fight before it can begin.

·Rung isn't surprised when his attack merely staggers his opponent; just dissapointed as the brute turns to retaliate. Bloodied weapon in hand, he simply doesn't have the reflexes to avoid the hit that comes next, though he does manage to land a small puncture wound as a powerful blow slams him against a wall. As he is pinned by the overwhelming weight of a much larger being, he can only think about you... The weapon is immobile in his hand, as useless as he knows he is, and he prays this commotion will at least enable you to escape. Pressure hard enough to crack his armor suspends any thoughts beyond pain as the alien goes in for the kill. Only, it's interrupted by a very unexpected attack at the base of one of its legs, one that staggers it as something tiny and very sharp is stabbed as deep as it can go... by you.

·There's no time to celebrate before a reflexive kick sends you sprawling, your tiny body rolling across the ground from a mere glancing blow. Between the window of opportunity and the glaring rage on your behalf, it's all Rung needs to turn the tide of battle. Though he's sloppy from anger and pain, his staff finds a weak point and the bladed end sinks deep, sending the gargantuan being toppling like a gigantic tree. Before the thud has finished echoing Rung is by your side, kneeling on a visibly damaged leg to look you over. Despite the strength of what hit you, there's something off in how bleary you are as his face spins above you, as if the world is slipping away. Your injured partner can see it too. In fact, anyone could see you're struggling just to breathe, and that sends a chill through his spark. Whether or not this level of incoherencey makes any sense for your manner of injury, he doesn't have time to ask questions, needing to get you somewhere safe instead. All he takes the time for is to plead that you remain awake.

·Before he can damage his leg further by attempting to struggle into a standing position, luck arrives in the form of a squadron of armed bots, who heard the sound of combat and came to investigate. The sight of the ship's tiny phsychiatrist and the hulking alien he obviously killed makes most of their jaws drop. In a rare loss of composure, Rung begs them to take you to the medical bay as fast as possible, tears hidden only by his lenses. Slipping out of consciousness while you're lifted by dexterous hands, you can only be glad he'll be okay, and that despite your tiny size you made a difference... A quick thinking bot heeds the instructions and carts you off for treatment. Rung can only pray help will be given in time, and as he's helped along after you the bitter sense of failure hurts worse than any injury; how could he be so worthless as to let you down in this of all moments?

·The feeling is not at all relieved when he arrives for care of his own and is told that you'll live, only because the true cause of your sudden deterioration strikes him hard. You were suffocating, tiny organic body failing from a lack of critical resources, and yet you'd been forced to save him. Did this mean he had hurt you more than anything else today, because he'd been unable to handle himself, making you waste precious oxygen and energy? As soon as he's patched up he requests to stay alone by your side, which is rather difficult due to how many bots want to praise his efforts in taking down an enemy. Their intentions are at least appreciated. Yet he's left to agonize as he waits for you to stir, removing his glasses so he can hold his head in his hands while the emotions overwhelm him.

·Upon waking, it's hard to ignore the fact that most of your body hurts in one way or another, particularly in a few stretches of your arms and legs where bruises will no doubt be blossoming soon. Yet the mask on your face is what really gives you pause, especially as you open your eyes to see the interior of a medical bay suite. A familiar dash of copper catches your attention before you can think too hard. Rung is just beside you, yet you can't tell if he's awake or powered down by the way his helm is leaning so heavily against his palm. The question is answered as soon as you stir, and his usually bright optics snap open to reveal an exhausted grey. Despite the visible anguish, he smiles as soon as he sees you, reaching forward to brush your cheek as he softly says your name. Static blurs his voice into an uncharacteristic croak.

·A tad bit accustomed to worried minds in confusing situations, he gently relays what led to you being here, trying to remain neutral but slipping in a bit of self admonishment as he gets to his failed defensive effort. The memories flood back despite the injuries you suffered and the lack of oxygen in the moment. A far different scene comes back in your mind's eye, one of a mech valiantly charging into a fight just to give you a chance at escape, and you take hold of his digit despite the pain of moving your arm. When he tries to stop the action you cut him off gently, saying that he's not just the reason you're alive, he was the source of your own burst of courage that resulted in you saving his life. Your love for each other is why you're both here to live another day.

·The devotion in your words takes him by total surprise. For all the adoration he has for you, he's not even accustomed to being remembered by anyone, let alone treasured. Honest as can be, he can only silently wipe away a few happy tears as he requests you forgive him for the self imposed criticism. Smiling back, you promise to do so, and to always help him remember that he's worth all the love you have for him. With tenderness only he could possess, Rung leans down to leave a soft kiss on the side of your head in silent thanks. There simply aren't words for the happiness you give him even in the hardest times...

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lost light #idw #tf #my writing #my asks #anon #rung #rung x reader #human reader #self insert #requests

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pi-cat000 · 3 years

Text

BNHA: something sad (Resentment)

Summary: The last time Katsuki sees Izuku alive the other boy is rushing to save him. A ‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies.

Characters: Katsuki Bakugo

Fandom: My Hero Academia

WARNINGS! Major Character death, swearing, heavy angst, graphic descriptions of violence

Other parts in this AU: (Something Sad), (Anger), (Grief)

This is the direct sequel to (Implosion)

......

“Not many people get hit with a concussive blast of this strength and walk away will so few injuries.” Is what the paramedic that looks Katsuki over says, hand glowing a faint blue as he uses some sort of diagnostic quirk.

“It looks like you have a few cuts, bruising, strained muscles and sprained wrist from what I can see. I’d recommend getting a proper examination at the hospital but there’s nothing life-threatening here.” The medic continues.

The emergency doctor at the hospital confirms the diagnosis and shakes his head in disapproval, adding, “…bruising on your ribs and a fractured finger. No concussion, thankfully, but you’ll have a nasty bump on the back of your head. If your quirk didn’t make you naturally resistant to these sorts of shock-based blasts, you would be dead..”

…

After that, everyone is practically falling over each other to lecture him on how irresponsible and reckless he is.

His mum arrives and there is a lot of shouting which just pisses him off.

“HOW AM I SUPPOSED TO REACT WHEN I GET WOKEN UP AT ONE IN THE MORNING BY POLICE TELLING ME THAT MY IDIOT SON, WHO SHOULD BE ASLEEP, IS IN HOSPITAL!!”

“WHAT THE HELL WERE YOU THINKING!

Then there is the quiet disappointment he gets from his father when his mum is done yelling which only fuels his resentment.

“I don’t understand why you did it son. Did you want to get into that fight? Or was it a mistake? Please. We can’t help if we don’t know what’s going on.”

Eventually, he finally snaps, “I fucking felt like it! That’s why I did it! And you know what, I’d do it again.”

It wasn’t like he could or even wanted to explain that he’d jumped out his window to wander the streets at midnight because he had had a bad dream and his All Might poster had looked at him funny. That the rage and anger were preferable to that sinking empty feeling that had turned his every waking moment into a pointless repeat of everyday routines and useless interactions. That every time he let himself pause and reflect, Deku’s stupid smiling face was mocking him from the afterlife.

Next, he spends an hour with Senior Officer Watanabe recounting every possible detail from his stroll through the streets to his climactic fight with Lanky, Tiny and Grease-Hair.

“Well, you definitely don’t do things in half measures kid. So far we have private and public property damage, unlicensed quirk usage, quirk usage with the intent to harm, vigilantly activity, assault...”

“Assault! Why the hell is that on the list. Those bastards started it.”

“You can’t go around beating people up no matter how good your intentions are!”

“So, you wanted me to just watch!”

“Yes!” A long breath, “I know it can be hard but you need to wait for the pros. You got lucky this time but what if things had been different? You had misread the situation. What if you had been badly injured? What if you had accidentally injured the victim or killed someone? There is a reason we make people get a license for Hero work. Seison Masuyama is a B-rank villain.”

“B rank? He wasn’t that strong.”

“His quirk, Kinetic-Force, collects kinetic energy and releases it in one overpowered attack. It’s deadly to most people. You were lucky he had already used it once that day and that you were resilient enough to withstand it."

After multiple repeats of the ‘you’re lucky you’re not dead,’ with a side order of ‘it’s a good thing you’re still a minor because you could go to jail for this,’ he gets to go home.

It is three in the morning by the time he arrives back at the apartment, two exhausted parents in tow, having been issued an ‘official warning,’ an order to complete 100 hours of community service and instructions to undergo a psychiatric evaluation. He has never felt angrier or more resentful.

A days later and he is back at school, wasting his time watching clocks and avoiding classmates.

Nothing had changed.

…

The car screeches to a stop at the school gates, throwing Katsuki forward in his seat. His mum turns to fix him with a stern glare, eyes narrow.

“If you’re not waiting right here by the gate when I come to pick you up or so help me I’ll be escorting you to and from your classroom from the rest of your school life,” she threatens.

“Lay off you old bat,” Katsuki snaps as was becoming routine since his mum had started driving him the short distance to school, “I got it the first million times.”

“I’ll believe that when I see it.” A finger is pointed at his nose, waving in an almost menacing fashion. “Remember. Here. School Gates. 4:00pm. Don’t you dare think about ditching again.”

Katsuki sneers and kicks open the car door, turning to slams it shut with as much force as possible in retaliation. He stalks through the gates, shouldering his way through a group of loitering students. They all scatter when they recognise him. In some ways, he prefers dealing with the anger and yelling of his mum than his father’s quiet disappointment. That doesn’t stop it from being annoying as hell.

A spike of pain runs through his hand from where he must have used a little too much force on the door. Maybe he should take his father up on those kickboxing classes. Sure, he had practised punching after reading a bunch of online guides, but reading and solo practice were completely different when compared with real actual fighting. That was assuming he was going to be getting into more real fights. He opens and closes his bandaged fist, feeling a slight sting in his wrist and fingers. He glares. Four days on and he can still feel the echo of adrenalin. The thrill of righteous anger had been so much more satisfying than the directionless rage he was accustomed to. It had rekindled some of that fire that drove him to be the best, to win, chasing away the sickening emptiness which had been dogging his every waking step.

He wants to feel that again…He wants to do something other than listlessly go through the same daily motions as he drifts towards his now uncertain future.

“Hey Bakugō!”

He keeps walking, ignoring whatever loser classmates wanted to talk to him.

“HEY!”

A hand lands on his shoulder and Katsuki twitches, a hairs breath away from spinning and firing a blast point-blank into the pest’s face. Instead, he stops and deliberately turns to glower at the pathetic piece of trash behind him. Murata Taheiji from his homeroom is standing there, one hand on his hip, flanked by two other boys he doesn’t know the names of. Two more appear to stand in front of him, blocking his way. They are all puffed up like they think they’re hot shit. Katsuki scoffs. Are these failures really trying to bully him? HIM!?

“How about you get the fuck out of my way and go find a first year to pick on. You know, someone more on your level.”

That gets him an irritated scowl that transforms into a patronising grin, “You were always such a stuck up prick Bakago…Acting so high and mighty all the time. Not anymore, I know the truth. You’re just like the rest of us.”

“Huh?” he drawls, dragging out the sound, turning so he is facing the boy, “What the fuck are you on about.”

“My dad works for Musutafu police dispatch and he told me something real interesting yesterday.” A dramatic pause, “He said that you got arrested a few nights ago.” There is a laugh that is echoed by the four surrounding him. By now the confrontation has garnered the attention of several onlookers, who are slowly drifting closer.

“All that shit about being a Hero and you got arrested. What’d you do? Steal some candy from a convenience store? We all know you don’t have money.”

Around them, the growing audience is eyeing him with varying levels of eager anticipation like they think he’ll break down and start crying because of some dumb-ass insults. Damn, if that doesn’t just piss him off. How dare these losers think him that weak.

“Don’t compare me to your loser selves,” he dismisses aggressively, making to turn and forcefully elbow his way past. He is stopped by Murata’s hand which is still on this shoulder.

“You know what I think. I think you’re all talk.”

Katsuki stills, letting the words sink and curdle in his stomach. In one short move, he turns and steps in close to Murata so they are almost nose to nose.

“Don’t fucking touch me,” he warns. The other boy tenses, looking like he wants to say something else equally stupid. If he remembers correctly Murata has some sort of muscle-enhancer, reflex quirk. One of the only worthwhile quirks in the school.

Katsuki jerks his elbow up and around in a quick jab. It smacks into the loser’s face. Crack. Guess having fast reflexes didn’t make a difference when you never saw the blow coming.

There is a cry of surprised pain and shouts of alarm from the peanut gallery. The other boy falls back, tripping over his own feet. It is ridiculously simple to lift a leg and deliver a kick to the stomach, not even a strong kick, so his failed bully thuds onto the ground, tossing up a small puff of sand. Unlike the fight in the ally, there is no rush of excitement, no spike of anger or adrenaline. No exhilaration. He is just irritated and maybe a bit disappointed. That’s what he gets for expecting anything out of the pathetic losers that went Aldera Middle School. They were more annoying than anything else.

Murata rolls around in the dirt, wheezing, trying to draw breath. He can almost imagine Deku running up to complain about his violent tendencies or sprout some shit about Hero’s needing to protect people like Murata didn’t ask for it when he decided to try his luck bullying someone obviously stronger than him.

The reminder of Deku sours his already shitty mood.

“Ah…you broke my nose. YOU BOKE IT…ah…it hurts. Do something!” The idiot calls to his equally idiotic friends as he tries to stop blood from pouring down his face.

Katsuki gazes coolly at the boy before directing his attention at the four other ‘bullies’ standing frozen around him.

“You extras got something else to add to that?” With Murata out of the game, the rest of the pathetic group shuffles about uncertainly.

“Ah…we’re good,” The tallest one says nervously, “Sorry about that Bakugō. No hard feelings right?”

He scoffs.

One of the boys moves forward to pull Murata upright, kneeling and pulling out a tissue to help stem the flow of blood. “Crap. I…I think Murata needs to go to the nurse. This looks serious.” There are a few more apprehensive glances in his direction like the other boys think he’ll insist on continuing the ‘fight’-ha! like this has been anything near a fight- until they are all bloody messes on the ground. Kaksuki rolls his eyes. As if he has the patience to deal with any more of these losers.

“Cowards,” he mutters, shoving past. The crowd of students who had gathered to watch the failed confrontation, scramble to get out of his way. A strong breeze rushes through the school’s courtyard, drawing attention to how quiet it has suddenly gotten. Barely audible whispers follow in his wake and he can feel many sets of eyes on his back, watching.

“He always did have a bad attitude.” They murmur.

“Guess he’s a real delinquent now.”

“…did you hear what Murata said. Do you think Bakugō actually got arrested?”

“That’s got to be fake right? Murata is full of hot air.”

“No way. I believe it. You don’t have to share a class with him, I’m telling you, Bakugō’s gone nuts.”

“Kind of scary when you think about it. With a quirk like that...”

He doesn’t know why they’re all so shocked. This isn’t the first fight he has gotten into on school grounds. Okay, so maybe he’d held off doing any real harm before now, well aware that U.A. would probably check his school record. It had never mattered to him because there was no point in beating up weaklings when he was obviously superior. Except for Deku…the only person he had ever really hurt, the only person he could get away with hurting without repercussions. And now he feels like extra shit. God, what a huge farce it had all been. Kaksuki clenches his fist and growls, wondering if it isn’t too late to ditch and go find somewhere secluded to blow off steam. Anything to escape this feeling of frustration.

He doesn’t have time to make a proper decision because news of his ‘fight’ had obviously spread to the staffroom. One of the second year homeroom teachers comes barrelling out of the school’s front entrance, eyes immediately landing on him.

“What happened!” Their eyes move past him to the bloody Murata, “Go wait in the principles office. Now.”

Well, he didn’t want to deal with his annoying classmates anyway. He stalks away, the sounds of the teacher fussing over Murata growing fainter behind him. When he arrives, the principal’s office is empty and he flings himself down into one of the comfy couches, irritated. The bell for homeroom goes off and Kaksuki remains sprawled across the couch, arm across his face to block out the light and his view of the clock slowly ticking away.

Just as he begins to contemplate leaving, Principle Fukuhara comes strolling into the room.

“ Bakugō,” the man lets out an exasperated sigh, “Sit up please.”

Katsuki moves his arm to peek out and glare at the man, deliberately ignoring the instruction.

“I just finished talking to Ms Yuki and the school’s nurse. You broke Murata Taheiji’s nose. I hope you realise how serious this situation is and that there will be major consequences. Aldera Middle School does not tolerate this sort of violence on its grounds.”

Silence. That was a fucking lie. Slowly, Katsuki pulls himself upright, meeting the man’s hard stare with his own.

“Well, do you have anything to say for yourself and your disgraceful behaviour..”

Katsuki narrows his eyes, “The idiot was asking for it.”

Obviously, it's the wrong response going by how the skin tightens around the man’s eyes, “I see...I’m sorry you feel that way. Up until now, our school has been more than lenient. We have overlooked your shameful behaviour these last few weeks because we wanted to give you time to settle after going through such as tragic incident. However, I am afraid that this time you have gone too far. Your parents will be notified. You’ll see the school councillor. You will be staying back for after school detention. Since this is your first major incident we…”

“First?” He cuts the man off. He is sick of hearing the moron’s voice. “Hahaha and people say you don’t have a sense of humour.” He laughs an unpleasant laugh which increases in volume until he is almost shouting.

“What sort of shit hole are you running? Three years I’ve been beating up the dumb idiots that come here and now you decide to care. Why is that huh? Is it because I’m no longer going to put this shitty place on the map and become a famous hero! HA!”

He lets his voice quieten, sneering “I’ll never be a hero so you’re shit out of luck.” Finally saying it out loud is like throwing a bucket of water over the embers of an already struggling fire. It hurts deep in his chest. The expression of shocked disbelief is almost worth it.

“Thanks for proving what a worthless profession it is,” he finishes with another hash laugh, rage simmering under his skin. When he tries to stand and leave a hand lands on his shoulder, pushing him back down.

The principal, who still looks somewhat stunned at his sudden outburst, orders, “Sit back down Bakugō! I am far from finished.”

Why do people always feel the need to grab him. He is so fucking sick of everyone pulling and tugging on him, trying to control him and hold him down. Katsuki turns slowly, that simmering rage pulsing, running down his limbs. Pop pop pop go his hands. He feels as explosive fire gathering in behind his eyes and in his shadowy stare. It is not the dramatic, adrenaline-induced anger he had felt when preparing for the ally fight. No, this is a dark burning rage, fuelled by his growing resentment.

“Touch me again,” he growls, low and intimidating, “and I’ll kill you.”

The principal snatches his hand back like he has just been burnt. A poignant silence follows in the wake of his threat.

“Suspension,” the man says, swallowing, “You’re suspended. I’m calling your parents right now.” And is it just him or does he look genuinely worried? There is even a hint of fear in his wrinkled face. Katsuki takes vindictive joy in the achievement. Finally…finally the worthless morons are seeing him, truly seeing him and not whatever Bakugō -delusion they’d all cooked up in their heads.

#bnha #mha #boku no academia #my hero academia #bnha fanfic #MAJOR CHARACTER DEATH #Katsuki Bakugō #‘the Sludge Villain incident gone wrong’ aka Izuku dies #graphic descriptions of violence #angst #bakugou swears and gets into fights #coarse language #fanfiction #fanfic #something sad au

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visionsofus · 3 years

Note

Hi! I hope I’m not bothering you but I was wondering if you’ve written Wanda’s first reaction to Vision’s human shimmer before?

hi! you'd never be bothering me! sorry this took a bit for me to get around to - my response ended up being a lot more long winded than I meant! thank you for reaching out with this, at the time I hadn't written anything like that but now I have ~ hope you enjoy 🥰

my inbox is open for anything and everything scarletvision

I just see you

synopsis: Vision hasn't seen Wanda in nearly a year, not since they both decided the danger was too great and they needed to go their separate ways. But he's still her emergency contact, so when Wanda ends up in hospital, Vision is the first to hear. Frantic, he travels to France, desperate to see her safe and harbouring hope that they might yet reconcile.

words: 4,140

read on AO3 here

There was a ringing coming from Vision’s bedroom.

It took a few shrill rings for him to realise that the noise wasn’t coming from inside his own head. Vision had been so wrapped up in his research that he hadn’t resurfaced for hours. It was a jarring thing to do all at once, to leave the carefully regulated interior of his mind and appear back in the physical world once more.

The ringing continued and Vision glanced around, his eyes adjusting quickly. Morning had quickly turned to evening and the pale walls of his room were lit up amber by the sunset.

The source of the sound was quickly discovered in the depths of his wardrobe, hidden within a pocket of a jacket he rarely wore. Vision fished the small flip phone out, anxiously. It had been a gift and the only person who knew its number hadn’t spoken to him in months.

Recalling that telephones only rang for a set time Vision hurriedly answered, lest it run through to the voicemail he’d never had cause to set up.

“Hello?” He said hesitantly, straining his ears to hear the person on the other line. The environment behind sounded busy, he could hear many voices piling on top of one another in chorus.

“Monsieur Maximoff?” The voice on the other side of the phone sounded stern, but unfamiliar. She was also speaking French. Vision did not know anyone who spoke French.

“I’m sorry, who am I speaking to?” Vision asked, fumbling for what to say and desperately grasping at the internet for a French translator. Mr Maximoff? He thought, who on earth was he talking to and how had they come across his number.

“Ah, Anglais.” The voice sounded more distant, as though she were talking to someone else. She returned, this time speaking in English with a heavy French accent. “Am I speaking to Mr Maximoff?”

Vision wasn’t sure what else he could say. “Yes, yes, you are. I’m so sorry, who is this?”

He was just about to trace the caller’s IMEI but the woman at the other end provided him with all the information he needed.

“Bonjour, Mr Maximoff. I am calling from the Toulouse University Hospital,” she said.

“Toulouse,” Vision repeated in astonishment. “Toulouse, France?”

“Yes, Monsieur,” she replied, sounding slightly vexed. “We had a patient brought in earlier tonight and you were listed as her emergency contact. Her condition is stable, but she had a hit to the head. We’ve observed her for a few hours, and she seems fine, but we wanted to advise you of the incident so you might pick her up.”

Vision breath caught in his throat as fear gripped his heart.

“To clarify,” Vision said shakily, “you are speaking of Wanda.”

“Yes.”

“Is she okay?”

He must have sounded rather strangled in his panic for when the woman spoke again her words were measuredly more soothing. “She is perfectly fine, Mr Maximoff. Just a bit shaken up with some light bruising and an abrasion on her forehead. We would like to monitor her overnight and if everything is okay, we can discharge her in the morning. Can you come to the hospital for then?”

“Of course!” Vision said frantically. “I can be there soon.”

She ended the call with a pleasantry in French that he didn’t recognise, but he was already on the move. He thought about leaving the phone behind, but decided it was better to have it near him in case the hospital called again.

Vision’s form blurred as he darted about the room grabbing at bits and pieces, he thought he might need. He wanted to travel light but also didn’t want to be caught unawares. He withdrew the travel bag he kept in his nightstand which contained any identification he needed to appear human. Vision had gotten his driver’s license once he had started making more solo trops and Tony had thought it useful. Vision obviously hadn’t taken the test itself; he was a better driver than any human and a test wasn’t needed to prove that.

He also retrieved his passport and the credit card he seldom needed to use. None of these listed his real identity, mind you. Instead, they displayed his human glamour with his pale skin and a head of sandy blond hair.

There was no way he could travel under his true identity without being clocked by the authorities as operating without the Accords’ instruction. Vision doubted that visiting your ex in hospital counted as noble activities that the United Nations would look favourably upon in the event he was caught. Especially when that ex happened to be an international fugitive.

With his ID secured and slipped safely into the pocket of his jacket, Vision made for the door. He was out of the compound before the building’s AI had the chance to trigger the system and notify Tony that someone had crossed the property line.

Vision had never had cause to test his super speed over such extensive distances. There had always been easier alternatives for travel.

Thankfully, progress went fast. Though it was frustrating having to stop at ever major border or airspace to disappear offline so he couldn’t be identified as a hostile flying object. When he did have secure connection, Vision kept an eye on the news in Toulouse, terrified that Wanda might be discovered. So far, the feed was quiet, and Vision had to rest on the assurance that the woman he had spoken with on the phone had said nothing to indicate she was suspicious of Wanda.

In the end, Vision managed to make it to France in just over two hours, having had to detour over the North Atlantic to avoid some nasty weather. Staying low to the ground and mostly hidden under the cover of night, he risked getting within two miles of the hospital before returning to the ground.

Vision ducked down an alley and took a moment to hide in the shadows. Taking a deep breath, he focused his energy on putting on the shimmer that made him appear human. It slipped into place easily. Straightening his jacket and running a hand through his hair, Vision ensured he looked relatively presentable before heading back out onto the streets of Toulouse.

It was an excruciatingly slow walk, but Vision knew he couldn’t risk drawing attention by walking any quicker than a human. Even in the early hours of the morning, Toulouse still had life to it. There were a few too many watchful eyes than he could be comfortable with. Even knowing that no one on this side of the world had seen his human form, it was still difficult to put the fear to rest.

Vision quickened his pace marginally as he reached the hospital’s entrance, figuring it might seem normal enough to hurry given where he was. In his head he reminded himself over and over that this was normal. He was here because he had received a call about his ‘partner’ who had been hospitalised. Vision felt sick even as he thought it.

Inside the brightly lit ground floor was a round desk with bright green letters hanging above that said la réception.Sitting behind the desk were three nurses. Vision caught the attention of the nearest and smiled politely.

“Bonjour,” Vision said, the language sounding strange in his mouth, “je suis ici pour Ms Maximoff.”

The nurse leant forward to catch Vision’s quiet tone. He was hesitant about using the last name ‘Maximoff’ and wondered why on earth Wanda hadn’t given them a false name.

“Ah,” the nurse’s eyes lit up in recognition and she turned to call over her shoulder, “Louise?”

Another nurse came around to the reception and as she rattled off something in French Vision recognised her as the stern woman who had spoken with him on the phone.

“Mr Maximoff?” She said with a welcoming smile.

“Yes,” Vision said hesitantly, “oui.”

“I though you would come by in the morning—”

Vision opened his mouth to provide reasoning for coming so quickly. He had forgotten how difficult it was, having to lie all the time when he was with Wanda.

“—but I understand you must have been very worried. If you would please follow me.”

Vision shut his mouth tightly, perhaps it was better to say less and let them assume more. The nurse turned away and walked down a long corridor to a set of lifts. She called one down and the doors opened with a chime, before gesturing for Vision to get in. As he stepped in, Vision let his hands brush against the control panel and shuddered slightly as he was absorbed into the hospital’s security system. It felt wrong, but it was better than risking someone having recognised Wanda already. Vision scrubbed through the security, uploaded a match of Wanda’s face and proceeded to edit all visual of her from the camera’s history. The system was too limited to even realise what was happening, let alone retaliate.

“Could you please explain what happened?” Vision asked politely as they reached the fourth floor and the elevator doors opened once more.

“I’m afraid I do not know much more than what I told you over the phone,” Louise said. “She was brought in about seven hours ago with a few other patients from a car accident. A vehicle lost control on the motorway and took out several other cars with it. A bit of a mess I am afraid.”

Lousie caught sight of Vision’s horrified face. “Not that Ms Maximoff was badly hurt,” she said hurriedly, “she is perfectly fine, and we will be able to let her out in the morning.”

Vision breathed out shakily as he was led down a brightly lit corridor. “Thank you.”

“Do not worry,” Louise gave Vision a comforting smile and stopped in front of a nondescript door. “You’re welcome to stay until morning though don’t tell anyone that I let you in out of visitor hours. There is a canteen on the ground floor, but it does not open until 7 I am afraid.”

“That’s alright, it won’t be a problem,” Vision said with a smile, eager to get inside the room and out of view of prying eyes. “Thank you for all your help.”

“D’accord,” Louise said her eyes crinkling in another smile and waving her hand, dismissing his thanks genially.

Vision managed to wait until she had retreated down the corridor before steeling himself and letting his human glamour fall. He did not want to see Wanda as anyone but himself.

As Vision erased himself from the corridor, he took the first step into Wanda’s cramped hospital room. The space smelt sterile, even to him and it was so wholly unwelcoming that Vision’s heart seized at the idea of Wanda spending hours here alone.

It seemed she wasn’t as troubled, instead lying sound asleep in the hospital bed. With the bed propped as it was, Wanda’s face was bathed in the light peeking through the blinds as car headlights flew past. Vision peered at her face intently, surveying the damage.

There was a graze across her forehead and a couple of stitches in her chin, but otherwise no other outwards injuries. There was a clipboard attached to the end of the hospital bed and Vision picked it up quietly to assess the doctor’s notes. It was in French, and shorthand at that, but he managed to decipher the words with the aid of his translator. MTBI. A mild traumatic brain injury, Vision thought. He knew it sounded much worse than it was and was comforted by the doctor’s following notes: no further cognitive symptoms, keep overnight, review in morning before discharge.

So there really was nothing else wrong. It was reassuring and he felt much better now that he was standing before Wanda’s sleeping form, her chest rising and falling steadily.

It was only then that Vision realised precisely how long it had been since he had last seen her. 8 months. Three seasons had passed since she had pushed him out of her life for good and he had let her. Wanda had sworn she didn’t want to see him again, and Vision had let it happen. He’d regretted the argument ever since it had happened

Now here he was, her unassuming emergency contact after a car accident. What if it had been something more final, what if that call had been made to deliver more devastating news, what would he have done?

Vision didn’t waste time pursuing such guilty thoughts further, instead going to Wanda’s side and sitting in the chair beside the bed. As he reached out for her hand, laying still atop the scratchy hospital blanket, he knew it was where he was supposed to be. As he took her hand her fingers twitched, registering the contact.

When Vision looked up, Wanda’s eyes were open, if slightly bleary. She blinked slowly in the darkness.

“Vis?” She whispered, her voice thick with sleep and exhaustion.

“Yes,” Vision replied, desperately wishing he could reach out and take her into his arms but knowing it was not his place to do so. Not unless she invited him to.

“It feels like you,” Wanda smiled and closed her eyes again, squeezing his hand. “I wish you were here.”

Vision frowned and wrapped both hands around hers. “I am here.”

Wanda stilled and Vision felt his hands grow warm and the familiar feeling of Wanda’s power. Perhaps just confirming it was him, or maybe it was a more involuntary reaction.

She sat up abruptly. “You shouldn’t be here!” The movement had apparently been too quick for her as Wanda winced and raised a hand to her forehead in pain. Vision jumped to his feet once more and helped her lie back down on her pillows.

“How did you get here?” Wanda asked, now wide awake and staring up at him.

“They called me,” Vision said slowly, trying his best not to distress her further. He thought about moving away from the bed to give her space, but she had grabbed a hold of his wrist and didn’t seem keen on releasing it. After so long without hearing her voice, Vision was content to stay as close as she would allow.

“The accident, was it bad?” He asked.

“Honestly,” Wanda said slowly, “I don’t really remember. It happened so quickly, nothing like a real fight. Just a flash of metal and I was lying on the curb. It barely touched me, but the paramedics insisted I come to the hospital.”

“As they should,” Vision said, unable to keep the distress from his voice. “What if something worse had happened? You really never know with head injuries…”

“Well, I feel fine now,” Wanda said relaxing somewhat amongst the cushions. “Did they tell you when I can leave?”

“In the morning,” Vision replied, “as long as the doctor checks you one last time before you leave.”

Wanda didn’t seem happy at the prospect of having to stay any longer than necessary but at least she didn’t push him to break her out of the hospital.

“I didn’t realise I was still your emergency contact,” Vision said quietly, looking intently at the mattress.

Wanda sighed quietly. “If you’re asking if there’s anyone else, there’s not.”

Vision stiffened. “I wasn’t prying.”

A few moments of silence passed by. “That doesn’t explain why I was listed as Vision Maximoff in your contacts.”

Wanda groaned and finally released his wrist, using her hand to instead cover her face in embarrassment. She sighed heavily and looked at the ceiling. “Let’s just say I was young, hopeful and in love.”

“That wasn’t that long ago,” Vision smiled, half-heartedly trying to joke past the growing discomfort in his chest. He hated that she used the past tense when talking about them.

“Yeah,” Wanda shrugged, “well a lot has changed. Being a fugitive changes things.”

Vision nodded, though he knew he’d never really understand what the last year had been for Wanda. “I hope it does not change everything.” He spoke slowly, afraid of saying something that might make her ask him to leave. “My feelings have not changed.”

Wanda bit her lip but seemed to be fighting off something like a smile. “Mine haven’t either.”

Hearing this made Vision breathe easily for what felt like the first time in months. Despite the circumstances, he was here beside her. Wanda was safe, light bruising aside, and through it all she somehow still loved him.

“I know things will always be complicated, but I hope you’ll think about letting me back into your life again,” Vision said softly, taking Wanda’s hand in his again. “It does not matter in what way or form, as long as I can be near you.”

“I’d like that,” Wanda said, her words barely above a whisper. Her chest shuddered as she yawned, wincing again as she shifted her head.

“You should rest. We can talk in the morning.”

Wanda nodded and let her eyes flutter close.

Vision stayed up for the last few hours of the night, a loyal shadow at Wanda’s side. All the while he counted down the minutes until they could leave and he could see Wanda safely to her house, wherever it was she was staying in Toulouse. It concerned him that Steve and the others probably hadn’t heard about Wanda’s accident, and he hoped they weren’t losing their minds with worry. There was another part of him that thought Wanda might be alone in France, she had always preferred staying in Europe when her small band of fugitives went their separate ways. But maybe that was just wishful thinking on his part.

It was foolish for Vision to hope, but he was starting to think the best way for this day to end was with him in Wanda’s bed. Of course, logically he knew they weren’t there yet. Even Wanda’s admission the night before to allow him back in her life felt like enough. But it was difficult to curb 8 months of longing.

As the clock ticked past 6am and the sky began to lighten behind the blinds Vision waited patiently, not wanting to disturb the rest Wanda so clearly needed. She had never been a quiet sleeper, always tossing and turning and mumbling in dreams. Vision was well accustomed with her habits, so it was unnerving to observe her stillness. But her breathing remained steady through until dawn. The only time Wanda had shifted was to roll onto her side, pulling their hands, which had found each other in the night, closer towards her.

Wanda finally woke around 7 and Vision busied himself by pretending to peer out the blinds and observe the street below.

“How are you feeling?” He asked over his shoulder, hearing the sheets rustle as Wanda sat up.

“Better now,” she mumbled. “But ready to get out of this place, I’d rather not risk it with the authorities in France again.”

Vision hated the way that Wanda said again. What had really happened in the months he hadn’t heard from her?

“No need to worry, I’ve removed you from security camera footage and before we leave, I’ll scrub us from the system again.”

Wanda rubbed at her eyes as she slipped out of the hospital bed. “Give me a chance to splash my face and change and we can get going.”

“No rush,” Vision murmured but it felt untrue. There was a rush. Even if he did remove them from the records there was no saying that a member of staff wouldn’t eventually recognise the name Maximoff and tell the authorities. Yes, the sooner they were out of the hospital, the better.

While Wanda was freshening up, Vision gathered her meagre belongings. Her necklaces, rings and phone had been left in a plastic tray on the bedside table. With everything safely in his pockets Vision slipped back into the hospital’s security system. From what he could tell, no alerts had been tripped but then again he didn’t know if the hospital had a specific code for ‘there’s an international fugitive on premises call the police’. Vision knew the hospital was nearly at capacity based on the records he had looked at, so the chances that their faces would stick out of everyone felt unlikely.

Nevertheless, it was better safe than sorry and there was no way they wouldn’t draw attention with him looking as he was. Once again, Vision closed his eyes and visualised his human shimmer, shivering as it fell into place. His skin tickled as his hair fell onto his forehead and Vision reached up to run a hand through it, a mannerism he had never had reason to practice but had seen others perform.

The bathroom door creaked as Wanda closed it behind her. It was a relief to see her out of the hospital gown and in something more Wanda.

“Vis how are you going to—” As she turned and caught sight of him, Wanda’s voice caught in her throat. She brought both hands to her mouth in astonishment.

Vision suddenly grew shy. Of course, Wanda had never seen him like this, of course it would be a shock. Did she even recognise him?

“It’s still me,” Vision said hurriedly, whether for her sake or his he couldn’t be sure. He rubbed awkwardly at the back of his neck as Wanda’s eyes continued to search his face in disbelief.

“I know,” she finally said, approaching him slowly. “I can tell it’s you.”

Just as she reached him the door to the hospital room slid open and a young woman entered.

“Bonjour,” Vision said hurriedly, taking a few steps back from Wanda and turning his attention to the doctor. Wanda’s eyes remained on Vision right up until the doctor approached her and asked her to do a few simply exercises. When she was sure that motor function was normal, they were told they were free to leave and to go down to the reception to begin the process of checking out. The doctor made Wanda promise to return to the hospital if she began experiencing anything like memory loss or migraines.

With the doctor gone once more, Wanda spun on Vision, getting far closer to him than she had yet. She reached up and placed a hand on his cheek, frowning.

“This is new.”

Vision nodded against her hand, relishing this one touch that he had spent months dreaming about. “I started working on this as soon as I left…”

He didn’t need to explain more and saw Wanda’s gaze grow shadowed as she presumably recalled their fight. It had been about their safety around each other, it always was. Wanda had been angry about Vision being put at risk around her, and he had been annoyed about the same thing for her. It had been so difficult to hide and meet up every few weeks back then, especially when Vision was so recognisable, and Wanda was being broadcasted around the globe. When Wanda had finally insisted on breaking things off, Vision had agreed. He’d returned to the compound and spent a week perfecting his new human mirage. It was all in the hopes that when she next called him things would be easier. But she hadn’t called.

“Do you have a—” Vision swallowed nervously, “—a preference?”

Wanda tilted her head curiously, “I don’t mind this new glamour, either way it’s you. But I prefer the you you.”

Vision tried to hide his relief as he raised his hand to Wanda’s which was still pressed to his cheek. Her thumb was running curiously circles over his skin. Carefully, cautiously, he took her hand and pressed his mouth to the back of her knuckles. The gesture’s effect was immediate, and Wanda closed her eyes.

“I miss being close to you,” she whispered, as they gravitated closer together. “I could imagine you; I could see you were safe on the news but nothings the same as having you here under my hands.”

Well, she’d had one more assurance than him at least.

It didn’t take much for Vision to pull her closer, hooking an arm around her waist and letting his human glamour fall. She sunk into his embrace, as he had imagined her doing for months and Vision wrapped his arms securely around her.

“Please don’t ask me to leave,” he said, strained.

“Alright,” Wanda said, her voice muffled as she pressed her head into the crook of his neck.

She drew back and took his face in her hands and kissed him. Vision’s legs nearly gave out from underneath him as her mouth moved softly against his own, something he hadn’t let himself dream of doing ever again.

Wanda smiled against his mouth. “We’re sticking together from now on.”

#scarletvision #wandavision #wanda x vision #wanda maximoff #the vision #wandavision fanfic #scarletvision fanfiction #asks #visionsofusfics

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magicalforcesau · 3 years

Text

Letters (part 1)

The written correspondence between Obi-Wan and Satine throughout their Hogwarts career. In this part, we see the early stages of their friendship leading up to where we find ourselves in the beginning of “Dancing with Ghosts in Your Garden”.

ao3 link

First Year- Winter

Dear Obi-Wan,

I distinctly recall requesting that we continue correspondence over the course of our winter holiday and yet, here we are nearing the halfway point without any trace of a letter. It is to my understanding that you are intrinsically hardwired to automate politeness, but such pleasantries are meaningless if you do not intend on following through. Here I was thinking that despite our many differences, that we were becoming acquaintances.

Before you go off developing delusions of grandeur thinking I am lonely or desperate for your reciprocated communication, I am quite well off either way. I am just miffed that I was not afforded the opportunity to practice writing in Mando’a more this break and my owl, Copikla, needed the exercise.

Should this letter find you well, I must emphasize that I am not crying out for a response. Your silence will be loud enough on your intentions regarding any pursuit of a potential friendship. Do not write back out of pity, either, because that would be as insulting as it would be foolish.

Sincerely,

Satine Kryze

Dear Satine,

Please understand that I am deeply apologetic for not writing sooner. It was not out of intentional callousness nor more damningly, indifference. Cody had written to me as well asking in regard to my whereabouts. Though it is not an excuse for my silence, I’ve mentioned before that my parents are very specific in what they expect of me, and unfortunately, I did not meet their hopes for the term. As a result, I've resolved to cleaning every square inch of the house. While this might seem like a simple set of chores, I promise you my house has many inches to clean.

Even in writing this letter I had to perform with haste. Mother has, of course, enlisted my assistance for the New Year’s party as she had for the Christmas party. I beg of you to ignore the fact that this is written on a napkin. All of my parchment is upstairs.

My semester at Hogwarts could have been completely dreadful had it not been for Cody and your combined efforts in preventing me from wallowing in my own self-pity. I am beginning to see the positives in starting fresh in Ravenclaw house and hope that one day, I will be capable of showing my parents the potential as well. Only time will tell, but I cannot wait to return to Hogwarts and that is because of the both of you.

I truly hope I can return some of the happiness you’ve given me and I say that not out of obligation, but from the depths of my heart.

Sincerely,

Obi-Wan Kenobi

Second Year- Summer

Dear Obi-Wan,

I know we just parted not but a few hours ago (don’t let it go to your head), but I couldn't help but look up what we were discussing earlier on the train. The International Statute of Wizarding Secrecy was formed due to the many witch and wizard (mostly witch- sexism and all that) burnings that were taking place all across the globe. Witches and wizards did not feel safe especially for their young, who could not control their magic as easily. However, as I suspected, there was opposition to maintaining secrecy and it was from none other than the pureblood sectors of magic.

That’s interesting, right? Especially when you consider our present political climate where it is the opposite. The purebloods preferred the melding of the two worlds, because they enjoyed coming and going as they pleased as well as associating with the upper class muggles of the time.

I hope you are not chained to your bedpost for the entire summer considering Ravenclaw claimed the House Cup in part to your miraculous save at the end of the match. You certainly deserve to see a little sunlight and that’s coming from someone as pale as myself.

Do actually write back this time if you’re allotted a quill and parchment. You’ll be insulted to know I am using a mechanical pen as we speak. There are some aspects of the wizarding culture that I will never understand, and the lack of simple innovation is one of them.

Sincerely,

Satine

Dear Satine,

What is truly a wonder is that someone is tackling the summer reading assignments even before I’ve managed to touch them! If you aren’t careful, everyone is going to start calling you the nerd behind your back. They’d be utterly daft to say it to your face, of course. I do not want to hear any nonsense about you finishing your homework before me, because simply using a standard pen is giving you a significant advantage to your arsenal. Before you retaliate with some droll rebuttal about how I’ve had countless advantages in being bred with wizarding history all around me, I think you need to reconsider my sources and how often I have to sift through half-truths to find reality.

For instance, the very piece of history you’re speaking of is told entirely differently in our textbooks than it has been my whole life. My family has always given off the impression that purebloods wanted to spare the less fortunate wizards from the muggle world and that it was those of lower status who did not understand the dangers of the world and got themselves twisted with dangerous muggles. It’s a little frightening how perspective changes the course of history.

The witch burnings were truly a terrible incident altogether, which is something all sources seem to agree upon. I do wonder though if they were more like martyrs for the ISS to begin. I’m sure muggle history has its ugly spots as well in regards to this era. When you finish your assignments and inevitably grow bored enough to write to me again, I’d be interested to hear the muggle perspective on historical incidents such as these. I’m sure as someone who has gone to muggle primary school, you were afforded a different and more rounded perspective on the matter.

Sincerely,

Obi-Wan

Third Year- Summer

Dear Ben,

I don’t understand how you can even REMOTELY believe that an institute that enslaves LIVING BEINGS of any kind is anywhere near acceptable. How do you go a full two years of knowing a person and never come across that key factoid? While I do often find myself trying to be considerate of the environment you grew up in, this is a basic core belief that is incredibly black and white. Either you believe that slavery is a reasonable option, or you do not. It is not a subject in which someone can have no opinion, because in doing so would only support those that believe in its merit. It’s how oppression thrives, not in its believers, but in those unwilling to say anything at all.

House Elves were not enslaved because it was the very reason they were created, but they were enslaved and then brainwashed into believing that their life’s purpose was to serve. The very ideal of their desires being infringed upon with the abolitionist movement was a narrative that was bred by slaveowners. A while back, when we spoke of witch burnings and of skewed narratives, you mentioned that you have been raised under the belief that historical moments happened a certain way. You then had to question your beliefs because your textbook said differently.

Allow me to be your textbook: wizards are not entitled to house elves. The institution that thrives off of the economic convenience of house elves was built on the backs of slavery. Cruelty. So, pardon me for feeling no remorse in the economic lapse taken when your ancestors were forced by wizarding statute to relinquish their slaves. In fact, I am doubling down on that apathy in how your family treats their paid servants.

Sincerely,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I never said owning a house elf was okay nor did I say I agreed with it. For Pete’s sake, do you always have to dig into controversy the moment we enter the borders of London? I swear you get pleasure out of catching me with my foot in my mouth with the excuse to go on some form of a tirade. How silly of me to ever dare to assume that I had the last word on the train.

House Elves were slaves and it was and always will be wrong. You’ll have no arguments from me in that regard and I’ve always believed that, with or without your infinite wisdom. I wish it was never a facet of our society, but it was. I’ve been honest with you in reference to how poorly my parents treat their servants and that they are not paid a typical wage, but out of indentured servitude. I was merely stating before that I have no pull nor say in ending this “contract”, not that I agree with its existence. While I’ll be honest, I never truly considered the injustice of it all until more recently, I never envied him and always showed compassion. I’ve been compassionate not to lessen my burden of guilt, but because it’s the right way to be.

I do not appreciate your comments in reference to my upbringing, as though that somehow makes me a lesser person simply because I come from bias. Everyone has bias and everyone must learn to differentiate from them.

My primary argument was from an economic standpoint only and in trying to raise the important question of how to repair that without relying on servitude. To this day, former elves struggle as some of the very elves who participated in the revolution are still alive and without a set purpose in this economy. Though they deserved to be free, the manner at which is was done was nearly as horrible as keeping them chained forever. Most fall back into stride of serving former masters. It raises the question of if they were ever really free and if we require such practices in order to thrive, are we really free? That doesn’t say much about us, now does it?

Now that I had more than exactly three seconds to articulate my point, does that satisfy you? Or would you rather return to your soapbox?

Sincerely,

Obi-Wan

P.S.: I hope your newfound abhorrence to my character does not prevent you from continuing to write this summer.

Third Year- Winter

Dear Satine,

Perhaps it’s near damnation for me to be physically documenting this moment, but I simply had to tell somebody. That impulse alone is a very frightening character change that I did not see coming. I’ve always thought I liked keeping to myself, but now I wonder if that was mere acceptance rather than preference. Regardless, I need you to know that I released Jar Jar, our humble and bumbling servant, from his contract this evening.

They were going to hurt him.

It wasn’t my parents’ decision, by my grandfather’s, who if you ever believed my parents were strict and traditional, you’ve never seen him in action. Practically senile, my grandfather loathes not only muggles and muggleborns, but halfbloods and low-ranking purebloods as well. My mother swears he was not as blunt and fiery in his youth, but I cannot be so sure.

Jar Jar has gotten a bit clumsier in his growing age as well. We have a whole lot of ‘loyal’ butlers and maids, of course, but Jar Jar has been with my family the longest, dating back shortly after the house elf revolution. He made the unfortunate mistake of spilling a glass of milk on my grandfather’s lap and his punishment was decided. It was to be done later that night in the backyard like he was a rabid animal.

I did not realize such practices even existed, nor that it was impossible for Jar Jar to simply run, since he still owes a significant monetary debt to my family on behalf of his ancestors. He would have died if he’d done so, because unbeknownst to myself, an unbreakable vow had been committed.

My Father was quite upset too, saying he’d grown to care for him and all the work he’s done since he was a child. It was the closest my father and I have ever come to sharing an emotional moment. Of course, now I can’t seem to hear anything they say regarding the matter without your words ringing through my head, so it was a bit muddled by the fact that he was more focused on losing out on Jar Jar’s service than on Jar Jar. He was also quite sloshed.

I could stand it no longer and I could simply not allow this sort of act to occur. They could have killed him if I’d heard correctly the sort of punishment method they were going to implement. I’ll spare you the details, but they were quite gruesome.

So, I crept upstairs, grabbed the savings I’d been holding onto beneath my bed, and I handed it over through a door that was merely cracked open enough to fit my hand through. I’m not even sure if Jar Jar knew it was me. All I knew was that Jar Jar was gone when they opened it later to retrieve him and we were all surprised.

Again, writing this down and admitting to it might be foolish, but while I might have committed a grand piece of treason from the shadows, I have never felt more relieved.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

Yes, recording the very stunt you are trying to maintain a secret is not the most logical way to keep it under wraps, but I am ever elated to hear that you did it anyway. I’m sorry to hear that Jar Jar was to be harmed at all- let alone for something so mundane and that he didn’t get to achieve freedom until late in life. Who’s to say if he’s truly free right now anyway, as you have pointed out before. However, I will say, he is certainly better off being far away from your grandfather, who cannot harm him anymore.

That does not, of course, take away from the bravery of your actions. I find myself apologizing not once, but twice in this letter, because I do owe you one for ever insinuating that you would be actively in support of cruelty. It is not your way and I should know that by now. Sometimes, I’m a bit too rigid for my own good and I’ll admit to that firsthand. I worry that your need to confirm this with me was simply because you feel as though I think ill of you.

This is not the case. I know I was brash and reactive the first time we discussed this, but while I try to empathize, you must do the same to me. I grew up in a world where this sort of nonsense only existed in history books rather than being an ongoing debate. What concerns me most about the wizarding world is that it refuses to evolve. Not only technologically speaking, but on a humanitarian level.

As always, please keep me updated. I fear not only for the safety of this recently liberated indentured servant, but for you, because I understand you stuck your neck out for him and I admire you for it.

Best regards,

Satine

Fourth Year- Summer

Dear Satine,

I can already tell that summer is going to be brutal around here. While the climate has been tolerable, my father insists on around the clock quidditch practice. It seems my ‘lucky’ catch in second year was not enough to fully establish their faith in me. I can’t say I blame them. I’m indisputably the worst player on the team. Ever since Ventress caught the snitch for Slytherin and took the cup this year, it’s just about all they can talk about.

I actually don’t mind playing quidditch with my father. He’s very passionate about the sport or moreover, being the best at it. My father was captains of the Slytherin team his 6th and 7th year at Hogwarts. Evidently, he was an unstoppable force. I know they’ve always wished that for me, for that feeling of pure satisfaction at one’s job well done, but I am not the athlete he used to be.

Speaking of Ventress, they keep bringing her around more often than not. She’s still as pleasant as ever, if you’re wondering, and actually mentioned you the other day. She’s still cross about your beating her in wizard’s chess. She hasn’t said as much, but I can tell. I’ve got plenty of practice with deciphering young women that project their annoyance onto me. I can thank you for honing that special skill of mine.

How is your family? It’s to my understanding that your sister is not participating in summer camp this year. I know you saw her at Christmas, but you mentioned that you hadn’t truly spoken due to being so distracted from festivities. I know that you do not enjoy talking about it so if you do not want to, please do not feel obligated. I understand better than many the complications of the families we have to love. It makes us question our sanity sometimes.

Best,

Obi-Wan

Dear Ben,

You must truly be miserable to be writing to me first this summer. Usually, I have to pry letters from your hands if I want to hear about the whereabouts of your family. Now that you’ve turned the tables on me, I can understand why you are less than forthcoming.

Bo being around certainly is odd when it never used to be. I’ve only been at Hogwarts for almost four years. Why does that feel like a millennium? She’s taken great care to be away every summer in its entirety for camp, but this year the camp had been closed. My mother says she’s furious, but I suspect that’s because she doesn’t have an entirely different setting to run off to. I suppose I can’t judge too heavily, but I usually do enjoy my time at home. Seeing my mother and my brother is always refreshing and warm. I don’t want to set the impression that I don’t love my sister, because I do. She’s just… difficult. She doesn’t understand or like the concept of magic. Where my mum and my brother see an amazing new opportunity for me, Bo sees absurdity and refuses to open her mind.

If I can be honest with you, and you’ve certainly proved thus far that I can, I suspect she may be a little jealous. It would not be out of character for her to project her own disdain towards me.

Explaining any more deeply than that would be migraine-inducing for the both of us. I assure you my familial drama does not run as deep as yours, try as you might to downplay your situation. Before you object, I know you care for your family and wish for them to be happy. Of course I respect that. Maybe because I would give just about anything for Bo to be happy too. Within reason. She’s a bit fixated on these violent video games and I assure you I would not be leaning into that lifestyle for the happiness of a twelve year old.

As for your playdates with Ventress, do try and put some distance between yourselves. I wouldn’t want you to catch anything contagious. You tend to sit awful close to Cody and I at lunch.

Best of Luck,

Satine

Fourth Year- Winter

Dear Ben,

I can’t believe we are officially halfway through our time at Hogwarts. It’s silly to think about when we’ve got so much ahead of us, but for some reason this evening, shortly after I got off the train, I couldn’t stop thinking about it. Now, here I am, losing sleep like an imbecile despite the fact that I’ve got plenty of time to consider the future. It doesn’t help that they’re already priming us for OWLS and eventually NEWTS shortly thereafter. It feels like just yesterday I’d held a wand for the first time. I’ve never been the same since, of course, but I also don’t feel all that different at the very core.

Well, I certainly don’t despise you anymore and that’s a difference. You’re going to tease me for being soft, but it’s 2 in the morning and the only part of me that is working to quell my anxieties is the realization that the passing of time has only strengthened my knowledge, resolve, and friendships. Not to mention my overall strength in general. At the end of this year, they’ll be announcing who the incoming prefects will be. Naturally, you’ll be amongst them by status and grades alone. I hope to be among that lot. You can’t possibly run the careful ecosystem of law enforcement without me. You’re far too nice.

Maybe you won’t be teasing me for going soft then…

I kid. You’re brilliant and Hogwarts would be lucky to have you. Your family is lucky to have you. I’m (And Cody, of course) very lucky as well. Do not make me say it again, but I will if I must. Sometimes, you need to be reminded of your positive light in people’s lives more than once and I suppose that's what friends are for.

I wish I had a more intellectual debate to pick your brain for at this moment, but in reality, I just wanted you to know that as we stand at the halfway point of our Hogwarts careers, I wouldn’t change a second of it.

Yours,

Satine

Dear Satine,

I’m missing the part where I was supposed to be making fun of you. I do wonder what brought this on, but then again, I find myself in a panic over the passage of time more often than not lately. I truly need to start learning to live rather than survive, because otherwise, I’m going to miss a lot of valuable moments. That’s what Professor Qui-Gon says anyway. I will not miss this one, though, because I am going to save and highlight the portion where you called me brilliant. Just for reference.

I would tac it to the wall, but that might draw some unwanted questioning.

I simultaneously can and cannot believe we are at the midway point of being in school. Look at how far we’ve come! I mean this in the most gracious way possible, but I feel as though I’ve known you all of my life. I don't even want to imagine what I would have been like if you hadn’t shoved all that dessert in my face during first year. Most likely a lot skinnier, which yes, I know that’s still saying a whole lot considering Tarkin refuses to call me anything other than “broomstick”. I’d be more insulted if he wasn’t going gray at 16. It’s quite a pity.

But truly, you’re the reason I didn’t starve and I’ll never forget that.

Ease your thoughts, my friend, because the future for you is bright and limitless. You’ll rise beyond Hogwarts in whichever world you so choose- muggle, magic or both. I believe I speak for Cody as well when I say we have great faith in you.

Truly,

Obi-Wan

#obitine #Obi-Wan Kenobi #satine kryze #The Clone Wars #star wars #magical forces au #fragments of the garden #dwgiyg #tcw

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