#your honor i’m too much of a Coward to attempt it

[hyperfixat]

hbd to me!!!!!!! here’s a vent fic i wrote a few months ago so proceed with caution; reader attempted suicide, reader continues to have suicidal thoughts/attempts, reader seeks harm onto themself (both from external sources and self inflicted), reader is depressed!!! be sure to evaluate your mental state before reading this fic :3. this also contains a scene that i felt compelled to write for some reason involving assisted hygiene: idk i felt that needed a little acknowledgment..

ik its my birthday fic and it proably should be happy, but theres a bit of hurt comfort to this that i love and i polished it up to share so that hopefully u like it too.. again heed my warnings^

also final note; formatted on my pc, sprry if its funky

The first thing you feel upon waking up is disappointment.  This… you rub your face with your hands.  You can’t do anything right, you sigh.  Waking up is a clear sign of a failure as to your plans.

Although you frown as you observe your surroundings, this isn’t where you would be if someone had caught you attempting to take your life.  You wouldn’t be dumped in the middle of a sunny field.  This isn’t a hospital or ward, in fact there’s no sign of any modern buildings from where you sit.

Just where are you…?

You use shaky arms to lift yourself up, and begin to attempt to find a way home.  Or for something to just kill you.

What luck, you realize morbidly, you spawned on a plateau, and that’s all you allow yourself to think before breaking into a sprint and running both to and over the edge.

You hit the plains with a crack and you wheeze out a pained groan.  Before you can lift yourself up to try again or seek help or check for any witnesses, you feel your body fade away. It’s a weightless feeling as you sink into the earth of Teyvat.

There is not much pain, not as much as you had hoped or expected.  In ways this is a pro, for you are a coward in the face of pain no matter deserved or otherwise.

You fade, but not into the hold of death, at least you don’t think this is death, rather you fade from your spot crumpled on the ground into a sitting position firmly in the arms of an Anemo Statue of Seven.  The marble orb of Barbatos’ lookalike stops you from falling out of the statue’s arms and you heave a sigh.

How unfortunate.  It seems you cannot permanently die here.  Though… what if it was a fluke…?  With another bone deep sigh you fall to the ground and walk back to the ledge and stare down at the fifty foot drop.

Before you work up the courage to take the plunge a high, excited voice calls out for you.  You flinch, opening your eyes to see a youthful bard dressed in Mondstatian green, holding his hands out for you.  Venti is sprinting towards you and you take a step back nervously.  He seems to recognize you… but how could that be?  

His face falls as you back away and his sprint slows when he’s a few yards away from being able to reach out to you.  Venti calls your name again.  He falters, the smile adorning his face slips.

“Wait…” his voice wavers.  “What are you doing, Divine One?”

Why did he call you that…?  Is it some Mondstat greeting of sorts?  You can’t kill yourself in front of him and retraumatize the poor guy, so you allow him to get closer to you, and you don’t stop him when he sweeps his lythe form down into a kneeling bow.

“Hello.”  You greet, unsure of how one is supposed to act when approached by a fictional character.

Venti lifts his gaze from the ground up to your face, looking downright awestruck.

“I, we, have long awaited your descent, Divine One, it is an honor to have you grace the lands of Freedom with your presence first.”  

Uh-oh.  He seems to have confused you with someone else, because you are certainly no one special and definitely not any sort of divine.  How are you gonna break that to him without too much embarrassment on either of your parts?

“Please, come with me to the city, I’m certain the people will be delighted to host the one who shaped the world.”  His voice is high with a musical lilt, and it’s hard to decline him.

“I’m sorry,” your voice comes out dry, and you realize you’re terribly dehydrated.  “I think there’s been a mistake.  I’m not whoever you think I am.”

You take a step back, backing yourself up the hill onto higher ground.

“Whatever do you mean, Divine One?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

You shake your head, stepping further away from the Archon.  Venti reaches his hand out to grasp at the bottom hem of your pajama pants.  “Please!  I’ve waited so long for you.”  He falls onto his knees to beg.

Fuck, his eyes are so pretty when he pleads.  You don’t want to risk angering whatever God he’s mistaking you with, though, “Venti….”  

The blue-green sky of his eyes turns to the color of the ocean as tears well up in his waterline.  His whole body shivers when you utter his chosen name.  “I can keep it a secret from the public.  Surely only Archons and those blessed with a Vision will be able to sense you.  We can keep it quiet, please, Divine One, I beg of you.”

“I’m not this Divine One you speak of,” you kneel and place a hand on his hat.  Venti’s eyes search yours with confusion. As he lifts his head, your hand presses into the curve of his skull, making him lean harder into your touch.

“Th-That’s okay, please just stay in Mondstadt for a night, that’s all I wish.”  He doesn’t believe you, that’s clear, but he seems so eager to appease you.

You pause, looking away from the pathetically begging archon.  His hands clench on your pant fabric.

“Okay.  Just for the night.”  You hope no one else from Mondsat is as strange as Venti is…

“I don’t have any way to pay for this,” you smile at Diluc, placing a hand on the side of the glass to push it back across the counter.

“I wouldn’t dream of making you pay, please drink all you wish.  Let me know if it isn’t to your taste.”

“Does that apply to their guide as well, Master Diluc?”

“No.”

“A shame,” Venti sighs, taking a deep drink from his glass.

You have to hand it to Venti, he is a good guide.  He’s quick to shut down any vision holder you come across with a quick whisper in their ear, and he truly knows Mondstadt in and out.

The bell above the door jingles as it swings open, and you glance behind you in time to see Rosaria come strolling in with a timid Barbara clutching the back of her cathedral robes.  She must not visit the Angel’s Share much, seeing as the hydro-user looks around with quick, nervous eyes.  When her eyes land on you they widen comically, her small hand darting out to steady herself on Rosaria’s forearm.

—

“Farewell, my Divinity,” “Safe travels, Divine One,” and “May the wind bless your travels, Your Grace,” follow your retreating form as you make the hike to Dragonspine.  

Honestly you aren’t certain where you’re heading.  If the other nations treat you the same as Mondstadt, that's a no-go.  You won’t know unless you go, though.  Maybe you should head the same route the Traveler would.  That would mean Dragonspine is your next destination.  

Who will you meet there?  Albedo…?  He’s the only one you can think of that stays there.

As you begin the trek you realize; he’s a research-type dude, you hesitate to say scientist, but he does experiments and such.  Perhaps, you can make use of yourself by giving your body up to him to work on.  Surely an undying body would greatly interest the research of life?

After a surprisingly simple search you find him and present your proposition.

“Absolutely not,” Albedo dismisses you without thought.  He doesn’t even bother to spare you a look.  “That is blasphemy of the highest order, I’d suggest giving that attitude up sooner rather than later.”

You flinch back at the words, taking a step back into the chill of Dragonspine.

“I can offer you sanctuary here if you seek it, but I will not harm you.”  

“That’s…” not at all what you want.  “That’s very kind of you to offer, but I must decline.”

His haunting blue eyes follow you down the snowy path to Liyue.  Once you are far too away to hear, he states calmly, “safe travels.”

As you walk down the icy paths lining the gravel streets you think… Albedo had rejected you just like that.  What’s the next step?

You might as well stop by Liyue Harbor, maybe meet some characters before… before maybe heading to Sumeru?  

Ahhah! It hits you then, the harbinger introduced in Sumeru: Il Dottore.  If Albedo had reservations, then Dottore would have none.

Even still, Liyue is a harbor.  You’re sure to find a way to Snezhnaya from there.

You almost get to the docks without drawing any attention to yourself.  Almost.

Your mistake laid in the fact that you passed the Golden House, the weekly Childe Boss fight.  In your defense you didn’t actually think he’d be in there.  And it’s not like you even went in, only going up the steps and around for a detour.  

And it was a quick route until a strangled gasp came from behind you, making you spin around in alarm.  There, Tartaglia stood, with pupils nearly the size of his gray-blue eyes, staring, completely enraptured by your visage.  Your knees buckle and you make to sprint, but your body is no match for a Fatui Harbinger.

In retrospect you’re not entirely sure what drove you to run, perhaps some fight or flight instinct buried inside of you.

His long hand wraps around your forearm, tugging you to a stop, you face him, and your face must portray your panic clearly because Tartaglia’s twists into sorrowful sympathy.

“My Divinity… it is an honor to meet you in the flesh.”

“Let go.”  He does, promptly so. 

“I’m sorry, I got ahead of myself.  May I ask where you are headed, and if you are in need of company?”

“No.  Thank you, Childe.” 

His face shifts into a serious look, nodding.  “Do you need an escort to Liyue then?  Is that where you’re heading?” 

“No.  I know where I’m going, and I much prefer to go alone.” It’s not entirely false, you know where you’re headed, just not how.

“Well… be safe, okay?  I hope to see you again.”

“I will.”  The lie comes out and you cringe, because its delivery falls flat and its so obviously untrue.

“Does Mr Zhongli know you’re here?  Surely you’re here to see Morax?” He strolls to your other side, offering a hand to lead you to the city.  You ignore the hand.

“Goodbye, Tartaglia.”

“I can’t let you leave alone in good conscience…. You don’t seem well.  Let me lead you to the harbor at least.”

Since he is as unmoving as stone, you let him take you to the main city, managing to ditch him before more people can know about your presence.

The boats docked at Liyue Harbor are hopeful.  “Where is this ship headed?” you ask one of the dock workers.  They look up at your voice before glancing at the ship they’re loading up with lumber.

“Snezhnaya.” They say glancing up at the grand vessel.  “Why?  Where’re you tryna go, friend?”  

“Snezhnaya.  How much does the fare cost, one way?”

—

“News of your travels have reached Snezhnaya, Divine One.”  Dottore starts, fixing his posture from a lean on a surgical table to something more proper.  You shake your head, the weariness you’ve accumulated on your journey weighing down on you.  You’re finally where you deserve to be.

“I’m not the Divine One you speak of, Dottore.”

“Hm?  Do you think so little of my intelligence?  Your presence is unmistakable.”

“No, it’s not that.  But I’m not.  I’m just a regular person.  And I came to you for a reason.”

“Oh?  The Creator themself, seeking me out?  It’s an honor,” the doctor bows to you, smirking at you from beneath his beaklike mask.

“I need you to hurt me.”

“What?”  He pulls himself up with a startled question.  “I’m afraid I misheard you, Divine One.”

“I can’t die, Dottore.  I’m giving myself to you, you…” you heave a sigh as you explain your reasoning.  “You could make use of me.  I’m not whoever you think I am, please just take me.  I don’t care what you do to me.”

“You’re… giving yourself to me?”  

“Yes.”

“Do you know what happens to my… patients?”

“Yes, that's why I’m here.  I can’t die, I imagine I would make a good test subject.”

“Is this a test?”  Dottore seems to be speaking to himself more than anything.  He pushes away from the table and paces to the back room of the lab, muttering madly to himself as he does so.  The door swings open with a loud screeching and you catch sight of multiple mops of blue hair and masks.  

His Segments.

You can hear a conversation ongoing between all of the parts of Zandik, it seems he doesn’t want to be rash and take you in too hastily.  You can understand his (their?) hesitancy; if a god offered themselves up to you, you would surely think it was a trap.  But you aren’t a god, so it should be a no brainer for him.  How often does he get consenting test subjects?

It seems this absurd idea of you being a higher power has infiltrated Snezhnaya as well, which is… not good. Everyone is saying you’re more than what you are, you can’t be a god, you barely consider yourself a human.

An older, completely unmasked Segment sticks his head out of the door, frowning once he makes eye contact with you.  There’s gray leaking from his roots into the teal of Dottore’s hair, and visible aging lines on his face; crows feet and tension on his cheekbones.  Glowing red eyes narrow upon meeting your own, mouth pulling into a tight line.

A younger segment, smaller in size and stature, with a nearly full face mask, only showing part of his mouth.  You think that is the one that the Fandom surrounding him dubbed Webttore.  You usually see pictures of him with a wide, jagged-tooth smile, but, like his older part, he looks solemn.

You wonder just how many Segments Il Dottore has, because you can still hear an entire conversation going on without the two.

The conversation seems to be dying down, not ending without a few red eyes peeking out from behind the door at you.  It’s surreal seeing so many versions of the same person at once; the youthful ones, eyes wide, and the older ones with wrinkles built with time and age, all at the same moment in time.

Eventually though, they do seem to come to a verdict: the Omega segment, the one you met upon walking into his lab, exits, closing the door behind him with a click that resonates through the room.

His answer is a simple word.  “No.”

Your heart drops and stomach sinks at the rejection, and based on il Dottore’s reaction it must show.  “Why?” your voice is small and sounds foreign to your own ears.

“I cannot forsake the true god in such a way, whether you acknowledge it or not, you have that power.”

All the turmoil and hardships it took to get here come crashing down, the light at the end of the tunnel is rejecting you.  You hadn’t known this was something that could happen, your… your savior, the one you were looking for is telling you no.  He won’t lay a finger on you, and it’s tearing you apart.  This was the only thing that kept you from burying yourself in the deep forest of Sumeru and letting yourself rot.

“Oh.” It’s shaky and you nod, trying to take it maturely.  “I see.”  Your voice is warbling like you're on the verge of tears.  Blinking rapidly to dispel the water from your eyes, you lower your head and make to scamper out of the lab.

Dottore lets out a heavy sigh, and his leather gloves wrap around your wrist.

“Wait.”  You nervously glance up at his mask.

“You said you would ‘give yourself to me,’ no?”

Your heart pounds heavily in your chest, “yes.”  Has he suddenly changed his mind? You shouldn't get your hopes up.

“I will take you.  I doubt you will appreciate my intentions, but if I were to own you, you wouldn’t be able to complain.  After all, you will have done it to yourself.”

You don’t know what those words mean, but the stinging rejection welling up in your eyes turns to relief. “Thank you,” he doesn’t stop you from dashing to his side and wrapping your arms around his waist.  You press your face into his abdomen, letting his clothes soak up your tears.  A hesitant hand rubs over your spine, an effort to soothe you.

You pull yourself together, sucking in a deep breath of the sterile lab air.  

“Alright,” Dottore says after he deems you put together enough.  “Come.”  His hand covers your wrist, gently tugging you behind him.  You aren’t sure where he is leading you, as he takes you out of the lab.  The halls are tall and gorgeously crafted, intermittent with intricate moldings on the wall.  

It’s a small room you find yourself in, but it is infinitely better than the wilderness.  The size is comparable to an average hotel room.  Dottore instructs you to sit and stay on the bed, which you do obediently.  Nerves swirl inside of you, as to where he has gone and what he will bring back with - when he will return, if at all.

Il Dottore knows.  While he is not well versed on human, much less godly, psychology, he can tell you’re depressed when you first stumbled your way into his workstation. Besides, he’d be hard pressed to deny the rumors from various agents that had been located in places you’d traveled through.

With a small caddy in his hands Dottore kneels next to the nightstand and places a hand on your shoulder to force you to lay down.  “Arm.”  Is what he prompts for you to let him maneuver your arm to lay open and flat over the edge of the bed. 

The scent of alcohol alerts you to the sanitary wipe before you feel the chill of it.  You keep your eyes trained on the ceiling as you feel the slight pinch of a needle  and a clicking as an IV is deposited into your arm.  Out of the corner of your eye you see Dottore set up a drip, but you don’t bother to ask what it is, the excitement of the day catching up with you.

Il Dottore eventually leaves the room in silence after pushing an odd vial of liquid into the drip, not bothering to look behind him as he closes the door and leaves with confident strides.

Although it’s entirely possible it’s simply the Placebo Effect, as the drip spreads throughout your veins you can feel your eyes getting heavier and heavier.  Before long you can no longer keep them open and slip into a dreamless sleep.

You wake up to a Mirror Maiden tidying up the nightstand next to you.  You observe her work, wondering how she can manage to navigate with the blind pulled over her eyes.  She startles when she catches your eyes on her, though returns back to work, quietly disposing of the used needles from earlier.  You wonder what The Doctor has injected you with; wonder if he added more of whatever it is while you were unconscious.

There’s a brisk, impatient knock on the door and the Maiden straightens up, taking hold of everything to discard and striding over to change positions with Tartaglia behind the door.

You stay flat on your back, looking at the ginger in mild surprise.  Last you saw him he was in Liyue and set to stay for quite a while.  Had he heard you gave yourself away to Il Dottore?   Is he here to plead for you to change your mind?

But to your bemusement he stays quiet, walking over to and kneeling next to your bed.  Instead of speaking he merely rests his head on the nightstand, dull blue eyes gazing at you sadly, yet reverently.

You’re unsure of how long you look up at the ceiling, doing your best to ignore Tartaglia’s eyes on you.  His gaze is unwavering, and eventually, you turn your head to the side, meeting his eyes.

“I’m sorry for my behavior in Liyue.  I was too excited to see you, and my manners deserted me.”

“It’s okay.” You croak, throat dry from sleep.  “I was dismissive as well.”

Dottore doesn’t bother to knock when he comes in.

“I see you’re awake and seem to have found a stray harbinger.”

Tartaglia doesn’t react to his entrance, merely moving to the far end of the bed, laying his head on the covers near your feet.  You realize someone has drapped a plain, solid color duvet over your body when you slept. 

“Are you feeling anything out of the ordinary?” Dottore asks, checking the emptied IV bag.  He unclips it and pulls a fresh one from his lab coat pocket.

You take the moment to assess (how do you spell it) your body.  In all honesty you’re feeling much better, the hydration from the drip really made a difference.

“I feel hydrated.”

Dottore hums, he sounds disinterested.  “How’s your appetite? Can you stomach anything for me?”  He clips a new bag onto the pole, screwing it into your IV’s tube. “Stand if you can.” 

Dottore’s eyes watch you intensely behind his mask, observing how you tremble when you put a leg onto the floor.  “Childe, help them and follow me.”

Tartaglia scrambles to steady your arm as you fully get out of the bed, wrapping the one without the needle in it around his shoulder to support you.  You stiffen, but aren’t in any position to be able to get around without him, not with the emptiness of your stomach and the way black fades into your vision when you stand.  “Get them to the restroom, take care of their needs.  I will return with what they will eat.”

“Come on, I got you,” Tartaglia assures as he leads you to the ensuite restroom. It’s nothing too fancy; simply a sink, shower, and toilet.

You eye the toilet, realizing how long it’s been since you’ve relieved yourself.  A shower would also be nice…

“Allow me to assist you, Divine One,” Tartaglia remains stoic and respectful as he shimmies your pants and underwear down your legs, letting you support yourself on his broad shoulders as you step out of the pant holes.  After making sure you get to the toilet safely he turns around and starts the shower faucet.

The sound of the water helps you get over your pee shyness and by the time Tartaglia finishes soaking and preparing a cloth for you, you’ve finished and are ready to bathe.

With weak arms you gather the hem of your shirt in your hands and remove the remainder of your clothes.

Tartaglia helps you get clean with warm, respectful touches, passing you the cloth for you to clean more intimate areas, before helping you out of the shower and wrapping a large, soft towel around your body.  It’s huge, covering the top of your bust to well past mid-calf, looping around your body almost twice.  He tucks the towel tightly with practiced precision. 

“Il Dottore will be back soon, I’ll help you get dressed before he returns.  Do you have any material preferences?”

—

You sit up in bed, feeling marginally better than the day before.  The day after that, and the day after that all proceed in a similar fashion; each time you feel just a little bit better.  More clear headed, a better appetite, less like a corpse walking.

Only after Dottore deems you well enough to remove the IV do you get your suspicions that it was more than just the proper nutrition making you feel better.  He still stops by your room twice a day for some shots; he encouraged you to choose where he would deposit them (when you said into your brain or through your chest, it did not amuse him).  It feels suspiciously like the antidepressants you’ve been on before.  

It only further confuses you, though.  Does he want you in a proper state of mind for something?  He has no reason other than unfounded faith to help you, you don’t like it.  It’s … uncomfortable receiving this type of care, knowing it’s only because they think you're better than who you really are.

The food they feed you, the clothes they dress you in, it's all much more than you deserve.

“What are you doing to me?”

“Pardon?” Dottore sets the syringe down with a metallic click.  Through his mask you can feel his gaze on you.

“You’re… you’re trying to— to…” the words fail you.

“Mitigate your depressive symptoms?  Yes, I am.  What of it?”  Il Dottore picks the syringe back up, pushing the knob back before stabbing it into the vial in his hand. He pulls the liquid up with ease before removing the needle and pushing to remove the excess air in the syringe.

“Why?”

“Hm?  Why would I not?”  He flicks the syringe and some liquid flies from the point of the needle.

“If I were anyone else you wouldn’t be doing this.”

“Indeed.”

“Haven’t you realized by now that I’m not who you think I am?  That I’m just a normal human in a horrible situation of being unable to die?”

“That is not so.  Your skin cultures and biopsy results do not share that conclusion.  Even if you continue to deny your god-hood, it changes nothing. I know for certain who you are, and you will remain in my care until you utilize your divine right to revoke such.”

Biopsy? When on Earth — Teyvat? — did that happen?  But there’s more important things to discuss with him for now, not that you care how or when it happened.  You’re more surprised you never noticed, that’s all.

“You’re wrong!”  You wail, tears finally coming for the first time in a while.  You had thrown your head back to speak, but now you collapse in on yourself with your head between your arms and legs.  It’s humid, but saves you from having to look at the doctor and his unreadable bird mask.

“Oh my,” you hear Dottore murmur, then he sets his medical supplies to the side and places a hand on your shoulder. He remains there while you sob, when finally the lack of speech seems to reach the boiling point, he heaves a sigh.  “If it is of any consolation, if it were to come to my attention that you are not in any way godly or divine, I would treat you the same.  I’ve put far too much care into you to just toss you aside..”

That consoles you, if only a little, damn the drugs making you want to continue life to see the future.   But you broke the dam of tears, and it’ll take a while for them to stop; you need to cry out everything that led you here….

Your… attempt that put you in Teyvat, the one you tried right after arrival, the false death, all the eyes and praise that aren’t meant for you.  It’s dysphoric.  

The lurches of your body with your cries, stitches your sides and you sniffle harder into the crevice your body makes, the moisture of the confined body space blending in with your tears.

“There now,” Dottore says, quieter as you get so as well.  “Perhaps some more rest will do you good.  I’ll be at the ready whenever you wake.”

#verified hyperfixat post #genshin impact x reader #sagau #genshin comfort #genshin x reader #genshin x you #dottore x reader #dottore #dottore fanfic #il dottore x reader #childe sagau #venti #genshin isekai #sagau isekai #genshin impact isekai #hurt comfort #heed the warnings

[apricia]

For ever by your side / Aemond Targaryen x reader // Part I

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Author's Notes:

I never expected such a response and I'm still a bit speechless. I just wanted to write down my thoughts without any expectations. This is my very first fanfic, so don't expect too much. And forgive spelling mistakes, because English is not my first language. I'm not even sure where this story is going, I just know I have to write it. So stay tuned.

** Warning: blood, attempted murder, the word whore (although that's pretty normal in the GoT universe), sooner or later incest

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Chapter 1 - In need of a dragon 

"Do it."

Alyssa stared at the bowl on the table in front of her. A red-brown paste lay in it. She looked at the spoon, back at the paste, and gritted her teeth.

"You first," she demanded of her cousin.

She wasn't stupid. If Aegon wanted her to try this stuff, he had to go first. Alyssa didn't know exactly what the paste was, but she smelled the sweet spice and it smelled pungent. Probably too spicy for her taste.

Aegon shook his head. "Don't you dare, cousin?"

"Says the right one. Who is arguing here? Either we both do it, or we don't do it at all."

She felt Aemond shift restlessly in the chair next to her. Aegon had first tried to get his younger brother into a bet, but Aemond had backed down.

Coward, Aegon had called him. That's when Alyssa stepped in. She hated it when Aegon, Jace or Luke made fun of Aemond. Whenever she found out they said something mean, she made the boys regret their actions with her own hands.

More than ten years have passed since the day Alyssa became a princess and was adopted into the family of King Viserys.

Some things have changed for her, and Alyssa knew some things with absolute certainty.

First, she was a Targaryen. Daughter of Prince Daemon. Although she had never spoken to him, she benefited from his reputation. Many feared the prince, his vengefulness and ferocity, so few dared to disrespect the princess. Even if her father lived far away from her in a different land. With his new family.

Second, she was the daughter of a whore. Though Alyssa wasn't sure what that meant, or who her mother was, she knew the unnamed woman hadn't belonged to a noble house. She was no lady, no woman of honor. She heard the whispers in the palace corridors, the chatter of the servants, even the voices of her own family.

Third, she wasn't a dragon rider. Syrax's first throw had been unsuccessful. The eggs she and her cousin Aemond were given at birth had never hatched. She would never have a dragon, at least not if she didn't claim one that already existed. And Alyssa didn't believe that anymore.

Fourth, she was a green. Even if Alyssa couldn't understand what that meant when she was younger. She wasn't stupid. She saw the behavior of Queen Alicent and Princess Rheanyra. They were on different sides, even if the king didn't want to see it. Alyssa wasn't blind to the arguments, however. Her side was only certain: she belonged to the Greens, because Alicent Hightower had taken her in like a daughter. The Queen didn't get along very well with her own daughter Heleana, because Heleana was mostly in her own world. But Alyssa and Alicent shared a closer bond. So Alyssa's loyalty was unquestionable.

And fifth, her best friend, her companion and possibly the love of her life was Aemond Targaryen. He was only five months younger than Alyssa, but she had given him her heart the moment he was born, or he had stolen it from her. What exactly happened didn't matter. He was her better half. They shared the same interests, reading and studying together, spending almost every free moment together, and sharing the same fate due to their lack of a dragon. Aemond understood Alyssa without having to say anything. Just as she understood him. He was her best friend and nothing would ever change that.

Syt mirre ondoso aōha paktot. For ever by your side, that had been her vow and Alyssa would never forget those words. Carried her in her heart like the greatest treasure in all of Westeros.

Alyssa looked at Aemond, who was staring at her with wide eyes. He seemed nervous, but Aegon looked from her to the strange spice that had just been brought to the palace in the morning. It came from Bravos and no one knew exactly what it was.

"I'm a Targaryen, dear cousin. I fear nothing and I'm no coward, but you seem to be." She pulled the bowl towards her, took the spoon and dipped it in the spice until the spoon was full. She gave Aegon a challenging look, then took it into her mouth.

Her cousin's eyes widened and he jumped out of his chair.

"Alyssa..", Aemond said next to her and looked at her worried.

Alyssa swallowed and grinned triumphantly at Aegon. She felt the flames in her mouth, felt them running down her throat. Her whole mouth burned. Alyssa was sure if she opened her mouth she would spit fire. And probably turn Aegon to ashes with it.

But she wasn't about to admit how hot this stuff really was. She felt the tears in her eyes, but didn't let them roll down her cheeks.

Instead, she bit the inside of her cheek and stood up.

"As you can see, my dear cousin. I am a true dragon, you apparently are not." She grinned at him proudly and then left the room. Footsteps were heard behind her and she knew instantly that it was Aemond following her.

"Alyssa, are you alright?"

She nodded haltingly. "I think my mouth is on fire, I need water."

Aemond looked at her confused, then burst out laughing. "I knew that stuff burned like fire."

"You were smarter than me. But I couldn't watch Aegon win again."

"Anyway, the look on his face was worth it. Come on, we'll get you some milk and bread so you can taste something again sometime."

Alyssa nodded and fanned herself to get the heat off her face. Aemond took her hand and walked her down to the kitchen. While she tried to get the sting out of her mouth with bread and milk, Aemond sat across from her.

"Shall we go to the library together later? New books arrived yesterday, about the history of Aegon the Conqueror." The joy on Aemond's face made Alyssa's heart beat faster and a warmth spread inside her. She loved seeing him so carefree and happy.

Alyssa made a face. "We'll have to put that off until tomorrow. I promised the Queen I'd spend time with Helaena today."

"You're my best friend, not my sister's."

"I'm both, yours and her friend, Aemond. Except that Helaena doesn't have any friends except me."

Aemond scowled at her. "She has her bugs."

"They hardly count as friends, Aemond. Why don't you just come with me?"

He shook his head. Although he loved his sister, and Alyssa was aware of it, he didn't like the crawling insects that Helaena loved so dearly. Alyssa didn't blame him. She often sat in the mud with Helaena and inspected worms, larvae or spiders. Listened to her cousin as she told her all the facts about the little animals. Helaena was... unique, as Alyssa always said. She was no ordinary girl and mostly kept to herself. However, the princess had accepted Alyssa by her side and that had led to Alicent asking Alyssa to spend time with her daughter so that she wouldn't be so lonely. What Alicent didn't know was that Helaena wasn't lonely at all. She was alone but not lonely. But the queen saw no difference.

Alyssa was fine with spending time with Helaena, after all she was like a sister to her. And she had learned that she did care what the princess had to say. At least when it came to scorpions, they were really exciting. However, she could safely do without worms and spiders.

"No thanks," Aemond grumbled. "Feel free to spend time with my sister. I'll accompany Aegon to the dragon pit."

Alyssa put down the milk jug and narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are you doing this to yourself, Aemond?" They shared the same fate. They were both dragonless, but unlike her cousin, Alyssa was not obsessed with the creatures. She didn't try to attend the Dragon Keeper's lessons, join Luke, Jace or Aegon while they trained with their dragons. She went for a walk with Helaena and Dreamfyre from time to time, but nothing more. She read about dragons, but she would not get any closer to the flying creatures.

Aemond avoided her gaze. "I'll have a dragon eventually, Alyssa. And I need to be prepared for that."

She grabbed his hand. "I know that one day you will be a dragon rider, but why are you putting yourself under so much pressure?"

Aemond glared at her, but his anger wasn't directed at her. "I can no longer take the humiliations of Aegon and my nephews. They tease me."

"They wouldn't if you stopped going into the dragon pit." If he would stop giving them the opportunity for their mean jokes. But it fell on deaf ears. Aemond just didn't listen to her.

"Someday they'll regret their jokes. When I have my own dragon. And then I'll take you flying, I promise. Syt mirre ondoso aōha paktot," he said softly and grabbed Alyssa's hand again.

She squeezed and gave him a smile. "Pāsan isse ao," she whispered. She had always believed in him, even when no one else did.

"Dracarys, Varmax," Jace roared and they watched as the dragon set the goat on fire. Aemond watched his nephew with envy and disgust. He didn't understand. How come his egg wasn't hatched but Luke and Jace's were? They weren't true Targaryens. At least if he believed his brother's and mother’s words. They didn't look like they had old Valyrion's blood running in them.

They were unassuming. Brown boring hair and eyes of the same color. They didn't look like him and his siblings, or like Alyssa. Aemond knew tat Alyssa’s Mother wasn't a Targaryen either. Still, his best friend looked like him. Silver-white hair, violet eyes. They both deserved dragons. Jace and Luke didn't.

He hated the fact that his nephews owned dragons, but he didn't.

"Aemond, we have a surprise for you," came his older brother's voice and Aemond turned to Aegon.

"What is it?"

"Something very special." Luke joined them and grinned at Aemond. But there was something sly in his grin. Then he disappeared inside the pit.

"You're the only one of us without a dragon. You and Alyssa. While she doesn't seem to care that she doesn't own one, I know how much you want one, brother."

"Indeed," Aemond said, not knowing what this was all leading to.

"And we felt badly about it," Aegon continued. "Precisely because without a dragon you won't have a chance to marry her."

"What are you talking about?"

"Alyssa, of course," Aegon laughed. "She's a Targaryen, well, halfway. She looks like one, at least, and as a princess, she'll only marry a true dragon rider. You understand that, don't you?"

Aemond narrowed his eyes at his brother, but felt himself tighten. He wasn't a dragon rider, neither was Alyssa. But she was his! They were bound together by an oath. He had never thought that one day Alyssa would get married, but it made sense that she would. But if she had to marry someone, it would be him!  They belonged together. Not that Aemond had already thought of marrying her. It was much more that he always saw Alyssa by his side, no matter how he imagined his life to be. She was always a part of it.

And now he shouldn't be allowed to have her just because he didn't own a dragon? Could the gods really be that cruel to him? First they refused him a dragon and now they want to take Alyssa from him... Aemond wouldn't allow that!

"So we found one for you," his older brother continued. "We wouldn't want you to loose Alyssa, would we, brother?" Aegon put a hand on his back and led him towards the tunnels that led down into the pit. There was a rumble and the earth shook beneath their feet.

"A Dragon? How?"

"The gods provide," was his brother's only explanation.

Out of the tunnel came Luke, a pig at his side. Aemond looked at the animal with hate-filled eyes. Wings were attached to its back and the pig trailed an improvised tail. Aemond clenched his fists.

"Behold - the pink dread!" said his brother and nephews in unison and then burst out laughing. Each laugh pierced Aemond's heart like a knife.

"Be sure to mount her carfully. First flight's always rough," laughed his brother. "Perhaps with her help you will be able to make Alyssa yours."

Aegon grunted in Aemond's ear and his nephews did the same before leaving Aemond alone. Humiliated and angry.

His father wouldn't let Alyssa marry anyone else, would he? His mother knew how important Alyssa was to him and she herself had taken the princess to her heart. They wouldn't let Alyssa be taken from you, would they?

But if only a dragon rider was allowed to marry Alyssa, then Aemond would become a dragon rider. He stared into the darkness of the tunnel and clenched his jaws. He would have a dragon! For Alyssa!

Meanwhile, Alyssa sat alone with her cousin in their chambers. Also coming by ship from Bravos were two scorpions, which Helaena proudly presented to Alyssa.

"Like spiders, scorpions also have eight legs. They also have two tentacles with claws, like a crab," Helaena said, holding the little creature in front of Alyssa's nose.

"With the claws and the poisonous sting, the animals defend themselves in case of danger or kill their prey."

Alyssa looked from the scorpions to her cousin. "How can you be sure that he won't stab you with it and you die? I imagine death by poisoning to be extremely painful." She had respect for the little creature and avoided getting too close to the stinger, let alone picking up the scorpion like Helaena did.

However, Helaena looked at him with a tenderness on her face that Alyssa found incomprehensible. She looked at Aemond like that, maybe sometimes at Alicent, but not an animal that could kill her in seconds.

"He won't harm me."

"If you say that."

Alyssa was about to ask a question when the door opened without knocking. Into the room came a man in a black robe that Alyssa didn't recognize. He didn't look like the king's guard who had been at the door when they'd arrived.

"Who are you?" Alyssa wanted to know and looked at the man curiously.

The man approached her and pulled a knife from his belt. Alyssa's eyes widened in horror and next to her, Helaena, who seemed to be in her right mind, began to scream.

"Death to the Targaryens," the man hissed, lunging at the girls. Alyssa pushed Helaena aside and started calling for help as well. Someone had to hear her and come and rescue them both.

She was just a girl, just eleven years old. What could she do against a grown man who was armed? Nothing at all. But Alyssa refused to die today. She wouldn't let this man hurt Helaena.

She heard shouts and hasty footsteps, and Alyssa knew they wouldn't have to last long before help would arrive. So she fought. She snatched the scorpion from Helaena's hand and threw it at her attacker. He screamed, but threw the venomous beast away before the deadly sting could hit him.

Then the blade came into Alyssa's field of vision. She didn't think about it any further, but threw up her arms.

Her hands gripped the weapon and she felt the pain a split second later as the blade dug into her flesh. She gripped the knife with both hands and pushed the man away as best she could.

"Princesses," came the familiar voice of Ser Harrold Westerling.

Alyssa screamed as the man was pulled away from her and the knife fell to the ground. Her knees buckled under her and she sank onto the cool marble floor beneath her. She was shaking, trembling all over and barely aware of what was happening around her. She heard Helaena screaming and crying through a veil. She heard more guards storm the room, someone calling for the king and queen. And then she saw two pairs of boots come into view.

Ser Harrold knelt beside her. "Let me see, Princess."

Alyssa stared at him through a veil of tears. It hurt, it really hurt. Her palms were soaked in blood. Two deep cuts adorned her skin and the blood continued to flow incessantly. She whimpered as the commander pulled her into his arms. "You were very brave, princess, like a true Targaryen. A maester will look into this, but I'm sure it's only a flesh wound."

Alyssa nodded haltingly. The adrenaline had left her body, she felt the exhaustion, felt the fear and began to sob.

"Everything will be fine, Princess, I promise you."

Some time later, Alyssa was sitting in the Queen's chamber with Helaena. Alicent was beside them with anger. The man who attacked the girls was in the dungeon and was being questioned. The queen had calmed her daughter while Maester Orwyle examined Alyssa's wounds and sewed them up. Alyssa hated every second of it. She watched as the thread and needle pushed through her skin, over and over again. At first she had flinched at every bite, but now she sat motionless.

"It'll heal, won't it?" Alicent asked while rubbing Helaena's back soothingly.

"It will. The scars will remain, but will fade over time. However, the princess will not be able to use her hands for the next few days. She will need help."

"Thank you Maester."

Alyssa hated being dependent on help from others. But she watched silently as the maester bound her hands so that she could not even move her fingers. As if instead of two hands she only had two lumps, as if she were a cripple.

Alicent knelt in front of Alyssa and smiled at her. "Thank you, Alyssa. You protected Helaena and made your family proud. I am so glad und thankful that you are alright."

Alyssa nodded. She would always protect her family, no matter the cost.

A knock sounded and a guard entered the room.

"Your Grace," the guard said, dragging Aemond with him.

Alicent, Alyssa and Helaena whirled on the two at the same time.

"Aemond," said the Queen, leaving Alyssa's side. She herself looked at her friend with wide eyes and wanted to get up from the chair she was sitting on, but the maester prevented her.

"What have you done?" the queen wanted to know angrily. The princesses had been attacked and now she had to take care of the prince, who broke the rules again.

"He did it again," Helaena murmured and looked at her brother blankly.

"After how many times you've been warned, must I have you confined to your chambers? After everything that happened today, I don't want to have to deal with such nonsense anymore!" The anger was clearly audible in the queen's voice.

Aemond wasn't looking at his mother, his eyes were fixed on the floor. However, Alyssa knew him too well. He had been humiliated and he was ashamed. What had Aegon, Luke and Jace done this time? Alyssa wanted to clench her fists, but couldn't. Her hands were so bandaged that she could barely use them.

"They made me do it," Aemond yelled, jerking his head up.

"As if you needed encouragement. Your obsession with those beasts goes beyond understanding."

Alyssa narrowed her eyes. She didn't know how many more times Alicent wanted to have this discussion with Aemond. Her son wouldn't listen to her. If he didn't listen to Alyssa, he didn't listen to anyone.

"They gave me a pig," Aemond then roared, and a hiss escaped Alyssa.

It was only then that he noticed that she was there too. He looked at her, blush gracing his cheeks, his eyes full of tears, tears of anger. Aemond looked away from Alyssa. He didn't know why she was in his mother's chambers, but his own feelings controlled him so that he couldn't think about it.

"A what?" Alicent asked blankly.

"They say they found a dragon for me. So I can claim.." Aemond fell silent, but his gaze slid to Alyssa, who looked at him in horror.

What had he wanted to claim? The dragon? His rightful place in this family? She didn't know what he was talking about, but she understand his anger.

Alicent also followed her son's gaze, but she knew immediately what Aemond was getting at and what it all had to do with Alyssa. She knew her youngest son's feelings for his cousin. She even supported them.

Ignoring the Maester's protesting words, Alyssa got up and started to leave the room.

"Princess", the maester called afterwards. "Where do you want to go? Your hands.."

"I'll find Aegon, Luke and Jace and give them the treatment they deserve." She was filled with anger. She hated it when someone treated Aemond badly. No one was allowed to treat him like that, not even his brother or nephews.

Alicent stopped Alyssa and pulled her back. "You will do no such thing. You must rest, Alyssa. You and your hands need rest."

Alyssa just snorted and tucked her bandaged hands behind her back when she felt the blank look from Aemond on her, who didn't seem to know what had happened in the princess' chambers a few moments ago. Alyssa didn't want to show him her injuries, didn't want him to worry about her. As she worried about him.

When the queen was satisfied that Alyssa would not leave the room, she turned back to her son and placed both hands on his shoulders.

"You will have a dragon one day," she tried to encourage Aemond and calm him down.

"He'll have to close an eye," Helaena said quietly and Alyssa frowned at her cousins words. Sometimes Helaena said strange things. And sometimes these strange things came true.

"I know it," the Queen continued.

"They all laughed," Aemond said quietly, staring at the floor.

Alyssa would love to run to him and hug him, but she knew he didn't want that at the moment. He didn't want her pity. He didn't want to show weakness in front of her, so she stayed where she was. But her anger towards Aegon, Luke and Jace only increased. If she could use her hands, she would beat up the three boys herself.

Alicent pulled Aemond into her arms and held him tight. Over the queen's shoulder, Alyssa and Aemond exchanged a look. She gave him a hesitant smile and nodded, as if she too was sure that one day he would have a dragon. Aemond tried to return the smile, but his eyes drifted to her hands and he frowned in confusion. He looked questioningly at Alyssa.

She just shook her head and hid her hands behind her back. Everything was fine, she was fine. Heleana was fine. And the man who did this to her was already behind bars.

Alyssa was safe. Although she could still see and feel the man and his blade as soon as she closed her eyes. 

_________

Tagg-List:

@girl-with-an-orange-cat​ @itsjustmyopinionf1​ @xcharlottemikaelsonx​ @immyowndefender​ @kohsongbird​ @curiouser-an-curiouser​

#aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen imagine #house of dragon fanfiction #aemond targaryen fanfic #for ever by your side

[potatotrash0]

can you dissolve calcium pills in water and take them that way without like. them being rendered useless

#i sincerely doubt my tiny mouth’s ability to swallow some of these pills without choking #your honor i’m too much of a Coward to attempt it #sigh. oh to be like my dad and be able to take 7 pills in one gulp #em rants #pills #pills cw

[asciendo]

Your Eyes Tell

You break up with Zuko when Ozai threatens his life if you continue with your relationship. But when you find out Ozai sends an assassin to kill him when he leaves to join team Avatar, you leave the Fire Nation to save him despite knowing how much you hurt him. 

It's been two months since you broke up with Zuko and now he's gone.

You heard from your father that Zuko switched sides and joined the Avatar. You tried to hide your concern at the dinner table as your father broke the news to your family. Your mother gave you a worried look as she always had suspicions about your relationship with the Prince.

"Ozai is furious. I don't think he's going to give Zuko another chance after this." Your father stated as you continued to fiddle with your hands. "That's his son. I don't think...do you think he'd go that far?" Your mother questioned. "I don't know...you saw what he did to Zuko after he questioned him..." Your father sighed. You tried to remain calm but you felt like your heart was beating out of your chest.

Your father was a high ranking general and was a close confidant of Ozai. Although, lately you could tell he's been questioning Ozai's methods after seeing the destruction and death he's been laying upon the other nations. Your father was loyal to the Fire Nation would do anything to protect its people, but you'd overhear him and your mother talking about how he was worried about Ozai's methods.

"He's sending an assassin after Zuko." Your gaze shot up, "WHAT?!" You blurted out. "A-are you sure?" Your mother asked and your dad nodded. "He's sending the combustion mad." You froze. He was known to be one of the most ruthless assassins in the Fire Nation. He was known to master a rare style of fire bending that allows him to trigger explosions from a tattoo on his forehead. "I'm not feeling well...can I go to my room?" You asked and your father nodded leaving your mother with a concerned look in her eyes as you left.

As soon as you entered your room you fell to the floor and cried. You hated this. You hated yourself for breaking up with Zuko but you had no choice.

It was two months ago and you were walking around the palace. Thanks to your father's close relationship with the Fire Lord, you spent your whole life within the palace walls. You grew up with Azula and Zuko and your families were close as well. It wasn't until Zuko returned from his banishment that the both of you began your relationship but decided to keep it a secret as he still had a lot to prove to his father. Zuko wanted to prove he was focused and determined and if Ozai found out he was seeing you, Zuko would be right back where he started before leaving to capture the Avatar.

Unfortunately, your fears came true and Ozai discovered your secret relationship. You were on your way home after sneaking into Zuko's room and as you made your way to the throne room until you heard voices. You recognized one to be Ozai's and the other Azula's.

"Your brother appears to be distracted these days." Ozai's voice boomed throughout the room. " Well it's because he's with his little girlfriend most of the time." Azula replied

"Girlfriend?!" Ozai fires back and you gulp. "Yes, your favorite general's daughter." There was a hint of disgust in Azula's voice which made your blood boil. Despite being "friends" with Azula, it was obvious she looked down on you along with Mai and Tai Lee.

"First, Zuko questions me, now he's frolicking with that girl instead of focusing on his duties as Fire Prince." Ozai growls and you heard his footsteps walk back and forth as he paced around his throne. "He has to be taught a lesson that boy."

"I couldn't agree more, father." You could almost see the smirk on Azula's face at the tone of her voice. "I wonder...does Zuko really need his other eye?" Your heart dropped. His father was about to punish Zuko again...because of you. Your memory shot back to the moment Ozai burned Zuko's face in their Agni Kai. You remember burying your face in your hands while trying to shut out Zuko's screams. .

"Bring him here." Ozai commanded. You don't know what came over you, but you found yourself running into the throne room.

Azula and Ozai both stared at you and Azula chuckled. "Don't hurt him." You were surprised at your own voice coming out. "And why shouldn't I? He's being careless and has to be taught a lesson."

"I'll end it." Your voice shook as you were being stared down by the two of them. "Would that even do anything?" Azula rolled her eyes as she lazily observed her fingers.

"It will. You'll see...it was my idea to start a relationship. Not his. If you're going to punish someone...punish me." Azula raised an eyebrow at your suggestion and looked towards Ozai who began to think.

"Not necessary." Ozai stated and Azula frowned. "Your father is an important ally of mine, wouldn't want to upset him."

The room fell silent as the three of you stared at one another. "I suppose...if you end your relationship with my son...that will do for now." Your shoulders dropped in relief.

"But, I don't care if you're together or not, if he upsets me in any way again I won't hold back." Ozai turned his back and left the room. Azula smirked at you and followed him out.

You were lying in bed that night and couldn't sleep. Your mind was racing with thoughts of Zuko and how you were going to end it. You heard the window open and the sound of familiar footsteps making its way to your bed.

Before Zuko could slip in next to you, you immediately turned away from him.

"Hey, what's wrong?" he chuckled but you refused to answer.

"I don't need you anymore." You spat out and he stammered back. "What do you mean you don't need me anymore?!"

You buried your head in your covers, trying not to look at him. "I mean, I don't need you anymore, Zuko. I'm done."

"Done?! W-what do you mean done—did something happen?" you heard his footsteps come over to your side of the bed and you huffed.

He lifted the covers over your face and you had no choice but to look at him.

Zuko's eyes were a mixture of sadness and confusion and you chocked out a sob. He slowly brought his hands to your face, but you swatted it. Knowing exactly what to say to get him to leave, to leave you for good. "I can't be with a coward." Zuko stumbled back after this. You knew about his never-ending torment about betraying Iroh out of fear of his father. How he barely slept every night thinking about his uncle sitting in his cell, about how he was scared to do the right thing because he would lose his honor in his family again. "W-what?" Zuko was farther from you now, sad eyes staring into your like daggers. You were fighting the urge to break right there, tell him everything you knew about his father's warning, but you had to protect him. "You left Iroh to rot in a cell. You can't even stand up against your father and you're a disgrace to the Fire Nation. What kind of future is that?" You said coldly, biting your tongue to fight back the tears that were fighting to come out. "

"Do you really mean it?" His voice broke and you were dying to apologize to him, to tell him you thought he was so much more than what he thought of himself, that he was one of the few genuinely good people here, but you had to do this to protect him.

"Yes. I hate you, Zuko...I didn't realize it till now but...I'm embarrassed of you. Being with you...makes me hate myself too." You stated, face blank. Zuko's face dropped. You've never seen him like this, so empty, like he lost all the hope he had in the world. You wanted to reach out to him, you did...but he was gone before you could.

You'd see him in State events but never spoke, and the one time he had to greet you out of courtesy it was like he was talking to a stranger.

Now, here you are somewhere in the forest, looking for him. You heard from one of the guards who was loyal to you that combustion man was able to track Team Avatar near the mountains next to the refugee camps. He told you that he got his scent and was close by.

You heard voices and crouched by the bush. You saw a figure by the river and crawled closer to see who it was. It was a girl, probably your age dressed in blue who was doing laundry. This must be the water bender you thought. Mai and Ty Lee would tell you stories about their time chasing the Avatar and reuniting with Zuko.

Deciding to confront her and ask where Zuko was you began to walk towards her. Her shoulders tensed at the sound of footsteps behind. The girl whipped her head around and her eyes grew wide. Before you could speak, she was shooting water in your direction. "HEY!" You dodged, but she kept going. Grunting in frustration, you began shooting fire back at her.

You were fighting for a while now until suddenly, a boomerang was flying next to your head which caused you to duck.

There was a boy in blue running towards you with a smaller girl in green running next to him.

The girl stomped her foot on the ground and rocks in the shape of bars began to form around you but you were able to roll out of the way. The water bender was about to attack once more but then you heard your name being called behind you.

"Y/N?" You froze and your heart dropped. You haven't heard Zuko's voice in so long and you swore you almost crumbled right there. Slowly, you turned around and faced him for the first time in months. "W-what are you doing here?" he asked, and you couldn't answer. The Avatar arrived and the whole group was staring at you.

You couldn't speak. You didn't know what to say to him and time just stopped. Your eyes never left Zuko and he was staring right back at you.

"Who is she?!" The water bender asked as you and Zuko continued to look at each other.

"Y/N." Was all Zuko said which caused everyone to look at one another in confusion except the guy with the boomerang. "Oh...is she the one you were telling me about?" Zuko blushed in embarrassment but walked towards you.

"I'm sorry, I'm lost...who is she?" The Avatar asked.

"Zuko's ex-girlfriend." Boomerang guy attempted to whisper but failed as everyone heard him. The water bender stared at you curiously while the earth bender huffed and stuck up her nose.

"What are you doing here, Y/N?" Zuko was in front of you now and your heartbeat was rising. You missed him. All you wanted was to kiss him right then and there, but you knew whatever you two had was over. Before you could reply, you saw a figure suddenly appear behind Zuko. The rest of the team was too busy waiting what would happen that they didn't notice combustion man's arrival.

Combustion man's eyes turned red and he smirked, the eye in the middle of his head started to glow and you knew he was about to attack.

"LOOK OUT!" You shouted and shoved Zuko to the side before Combustion man could strike.

The rest of the group were on the floor from the explosion except the Avatar who was on a tree.

"WHO IS THAT?!" Boomerang guy yelled above the explosion.

Looking down, you realized you fell on top of Zuko. Your eyes met his and you noticed his expression change to somewhat of realization. He looked like he was putting the pieces of a puzzle together while looking at you and he was frozen. Combustion Man tried to attack Zuko again but you pulled him away.

"WHAT IS HAPPENING?!" Boomerang guy yelled once more. Spotting the boomerang attached to his waist, you created a plan.

"AVATAR!" You yelled and he looked down at you from the tree. "Distract him!" He looked at you with confusion. You realized they didn't trust you yet, still being in your Fire Nation clothes, they still weren't sure what side you were on. "Come on! Do it!" You yelled and he nodded.

"BOOMERANG GUY!" You shouted once more and he looked at you in fear. "When the Avatar has him distracted, throw your boomerang at the eye on his forehead, it will block his chi."

"Why should I listen to you?! You were just attacking my sister!" he yelled back. "GOSH SOKKA JUST DO IT! THIS IS NOT THE TIME!" The earth bender yelled and Sokka jumped back in shock. "ALRIGHT, ALRIGHT!"

The Avatar shot an air ball at Combustion Man which caused him to stumble. While he was caught off guard, Sokka threw his boomerang hitting him directly on the eye.

Combustion Man grunted in pain but suddenly lost control and shot an explosion to the nearby mountain. Suddenly the rocks began to shake and immediately rolled down the mountain and crushed him.

The whole group sighed but Zuko was still looking at you. Suddenly, you felt rock squeeze around your wrists. Looking down, your wrists were bound in handcuffs made of rocks.

"Seriously?! I just saved your lives!" You yelled but the group continued to stare at you. "Yeah, but you were attacking Katara when we got here." The earth bender stated.

"SHE ATTACKED ME FIRST!" But they weren't having it. You looked at Zuko and his expression changed. He looked deep in thought as he stared back at you.

"Come on...just let me go and I'll be out of here." You whispered still looking at him. "We still don't know why you're here. You could be a spy." You rolled your eyes at the small girl.

"If I as a spy I would have let you all be killed by Combustion Man." You stated.

"That makes sense..." Katara nodded slowly but earth bender was still not having it.

"Still. It's risky to let you go, you're coming with us." She announced and began to walk away. Sokka grabbed your elbow and began to lead you behind her.

Zuko wasn't moving for a moment, watching the scene unfold like it was a movie. "Zuko...are you coming?" The Avatar asked. Zuko nodded slowly began to follow.

The earth bender, who you learned was called Toph made you a makeshift cell in their campsite. Rolling your eyes as you watched them enter their tents to go to bed, you sunk down and sat on the ground.

You started to drift off to sleep until you heard the door of your cell open. Slowly opening your eyes, you look up to see Zuko.

Your lips part in surprise as you slowly stand up to stare at him.

"What do you want?" You finally gained the courage to speak to him.

The Zuko in front of you is a different one than the one you left. The broken Zuko. The Zuko you hurt. Now, all you see are his golden eyes pouring into yours, mixed with anger and determination.

"Why are you here?" he asked, his tone was serious.

"Your friends put me in here! I don't wanna stay in this dumb cell—"

"No. Why are you here?!" He almost yelled at you, but he kept his voice low enough so he wouldn't wake the others.

"I don't know what you mean—"

"Bull Shit." Zuko interrupted but moved closer to you. "I don't know what you want me to say—"

"Do you still hate me?" His question caught you off guard. Unlike last time, there was no sadness in his voice, now, it felt like he was challenging you.

"Zuko—"

"Did you come here to protect me? I know you knew about Combustion Man." You looked away, refusing to meet his eyes. You didn't know why you were being so difficult. It wasn't like Ozai or Azula were here. But you felt immense guilt for what you said to him, you didn't deserve him.

"When you broke up with me...there was something else right? You were just saying all of those things to protect me?!" Zuko was angry. He had every right to be, for you to just show up here, and not even telling him the real reason why you came.

"I'm not stupid, alright? I know combustion man is an assassin under my father! I know he was here to kill me...and after everything, you show up out of nowhere...I know you were here for me!" He was yelling now but you refused to budge.

"You made me think all this time you hated me! I thought the person I loved the most in this world hated me! For months I couldn't get you out of my head and it was torture seeing you around the palace looking like you didn't care! And you won't even tell me the real reason why you're here?" You looked at him in shock but still refused to speak and he shouted in frustration.

"Y/N...tell me right now why you're here—"

"Yes. I still hate you." Was all you said. You didn't though. You loved him. You were so proud of him for finally standing up to his father and carving his own destiny, but you didn't want to cause him anymore pain. You wanted him to continue being the man he was meant to be...even without you. You felt like you would bring him down, that you didn't deserve Zuko. You wanted to leave, to finally leave him, for good.

"No you don't." His voice was hard and his eyes didn't leave yours. "Zuko, what do you want from me?" You asked and he sighed.

"Do you really hate me?" He asked once more but he took a step closer to you and you backed away.

"YES! God, Zuko I don't know how many times I have to tell you! I hate—"

Before you could finish, Zuko's lips were on yours. Your eyes widened in surprise but as soon as his arms snaked around your waist, you melted around him.

You missed this. The feeling of his lips on yours. His touch. The way he clung to you like his life depended on it.

"No you don't." Was all he said when he pulled away. You were out of breath, and you looked up at him. The hard expression he had was replaced with tender eyes and you felt tears forming.

"H-how'd you know?" Your voice cracked as Zuko began to gently wipe the tears on your face.

"Your eyes tell." Was all he said and before you could speak, his lips were on yours again.

#avatar #last bender #avatar the last bender #atla #zuko #prince zuko #zuko x reader #zuko drabble #zuko x you #fluff #angst #katara #aang #sokka #toph #momo #ozai #azula #ty lee #mai #nickelodeon #drabble #prince zuko x you #prince zuko x reader

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Jamil, Sebek: How the Other Half Lives

I’m going to attempt to write a short fic about each birthday boy and their interviewer for the second set of birthday cards. These fics won’t necessarily be set on a birthday, but could be leading up to it or set after the party (since the Union birthday cards already tell a complete story from start to end). We’ll just have to see how things pan out!

First up, Jamil and Sebek! Two servants with two very different views on their masters...

Unrelated side note: it’s funny how Jamil says he would want to be in Ignihyde, but he’s celebrating his birthday kidnapped and being held in a dark room until Idia pulls up to experiment on him--

***Mild Happy Beans Day! Lyreless Brawl, Camp Vargas, and Scalding Sands Fireworks events spoilers! + Jamil Union Birthday card spoilers!***

Imagine this...

Kalim pressed a warm, wet washcloth against Jamil’s cheek. Moving in a circular motion, Kalim gently swept away the clouds of whipped cream dotting the grimacing birthday boy’s face--casualties of an annual tradition. Afterwards, he wrung the dirtied cloth over a bucket, coloring the water within a milky white.

Plip, plop. Drops rippled in its surface, the disturbed face of a mirror, before the contents of the bucket stilled once more.

Jamil caught a glimpse of his reflection. His face had slightly slimmed over the course of the past year. His eyes, sharper, and his hair, longer--now reaching the small of his back. It was still him in every sense.

Older, wiser.

More crafty.

“Sebek got you good, huh?” Kalim laughed, clapping his friend on the back. “And it looks like you got Sebek good too!”

“He got what was coming to him,” Jamil said flatly. His eyes briefly passed over to the aforementioned first year, who was busy cleaning himself up from the aftermath of retaliation. Jamil allowed himself a small smirk, relishing in his victory.

“Gahahah! Well, as long as you’re enjoying yourself, then I’m happy.” Kalim hung his washcloth on the rim of the bucket and straightened. “You haven’t had the chance to eat anything yet, right? Since you just got pied, how about some pie?”

“Pie is the last thing I want to see right now.”

“Okay, so a slice of cake instead! I’ll grab you one, just wait right here!”

“That’s kind of you, but I’m capable of fetching my own... aaand he’s gone.” Jamil held his head in his hands and sighed. Kalim had dashed off halfway through his sentence, making a beeline toward a table filled with food and crowded with party guests.

Best to not interfere... Not that interfering would stop him.

“Ohoh! I’m jealous of you, Jamil-senpai!”

His eyes cut to the owner of the booming voice--Sebek. “... Really, now? Jealous of me? I can’t imagine why.”

“Is it not clear?” Sebek clenched a hand into a fist. “To have your master fret for your wellbeing...! Being personally wiped up and hand-delivered food from one’s master...!! Are you not overjoyed?! THERE CAN BE NO GREATER HONOR!!”

Jamil winced at his spiking volume, his mouth pursing into a frown. “I’m absolutely overflowing with happiness. Can’t you tell that I’m ecstatic?”

He paused, just to let the sarcasm-soaked words sink into his junior’s mind. Then Jamil spat, “Those are normal, everyday things. I do not see what is considered to be an ‘honor’ there.”

“Tsk! You are ungrateful for your blessings!” Sebek scoffed, eyebrows angrily knitting together. “Or is it that you have become so accustomed to Kalim-senpai’s kindness that it no longer fazes you?! Oh, what I would give to have been childhood friends with the Young Master... Yet here you are, taking it for granted!! FOR SHAME!!”

“You seem to be misunderstanding a great number of things.” Jamil groaned, shaking his head. “To begin with, we did not choose to be ‘friends’. It was a fate already determined for us from the moment we came into this world. Secondly, that kindness of Kalim’s that you speak of is more of a hinderance than a help. And lastly...”

His eyes shone darkly.

“My position is certainly no blessing.”

Sebek looked aghast. “You don’t mean that!! There is nothing more grand than protecting and serving one’s master!”

“For you, perhaps. But consider that not everyone possesses the same mindset as yourself.” Jamil folded his arms, his gaze turning steely. “You chose your life of knighthood. My fate is already laid out for me. The same one as my ancestors, and surely the same as future incarnations of the Viper clan. Forever bound to the Asims... Servants in the shadows. Surely you can see why I would have my reservations.”

“Hmph! If you are unhappy, then you do not deserve to serve as you currently do. Simply resign, and allow Kalim-senpai to find a more fitting candidate!”

“If that were possible, I would have done so long ago.” A barely discernable bitterness had seeped into Jamil’s voice. The slight, metallic tang of poison slipped into one’s drink. “Kalim can only live as carefreely as he does because he is ignorant. He will never truly understand me.”

Through clear skies and rain, the sun ultimately cares not for the shadows it casts. It shines superficially, its golden light gilded.

“... That’s not true.”

“What?”

“I said,” Sebek bellowed, “THAT’S NOT TRUE AT ALL, JAMIL-SENPAI!!”

He jolted back, startled by the loud declaration. “You... What would you know? You barely understand my predicament yourself.”

“It’s true that the Young Master and I lack the same history that you and Kalim-senpai do. Even so...!! That is all the more reason for you to be open with one another!!!”

“Open with one another? You must be joking. As if Kalim could possibly--”

“How do you know?” Sebek demanded, cutting him off. “How do you know if you’ve never tried?!”

“That’s...” Jamil faltered with his words.

The first year continued. “Though I have devoted my life to the Young Master, I do not claim to know him in his entirety. There is so much more I have yet to learn. So much more I want to learn. With every new detail gleaned, I find myself respecting the Young Master more and more. That’s why... you should make the effort as well, Jamil-senpai!”

“I can already name Kalim’s likes, dislikes, fears, and faults off the top of my head.”

“Surface level details!” Sebek slammed a hand against his chest--over his heart. “I doubt you have ever had a true heart-to-heart. Expressing your genuine, most raw emotions to one another... Then, and only then, can you ‘understand’.”

This coming from the person who cried because he was not on the same team as Malleus-senpai... And threw a fit when he had to leave for camping and leave his Dorm Leader unattended to... And cried again because the cookie he was gifted from Malleus-senpai was crushed...

“... Why does it matter to you that I do this? Worry about yourself and your ‘Young Master’.”

“Hmph! Is it so wrong of me to wish the birthday boy happiness?”

“You think I will find happiness in understanding Kalim? And in him understanding me?” Challenge rose in Jamil’s tone. “Is that right?”

“You won’t know until you try. Admitting defeat before even attempting... that is a COWARD’S way out!”

“Are you calling me a coward?”

“I’m calling on you to change. It is a new year, full of new possibilities. There is no better time to improve oneself--so you can look back on your next birthday, and be proud!”

“Sebek... ” Jamil closed his eyes. For a moment, he looked thoughtful. Contemplating something he alone could fathom. When his eyes flared open again, they glittered with mischief. “I appreciate the advice. Let me thank you for it with another free pie to the face.”

“Wha--”

SPLAT!!

Fast as a viper lashing out, Jamil grabbed a whipped cream pie from a nearby table and chucked it at Sebek. It was a direct hit on the unsuspecting first year, who stumbled back from the impact, his back slamming into the wall. Cream clung to Sebek’s eyebrows, cheeks, and chin, giving the appearance of bushy white brows and a beard.

“YOU COWARD, GOING FOR A SNEAK ATTACK!!” he roared. “YOU SHALL RECEIVE YOUR COMEUPPANCE--”

“Sorry for taking so long, Jamil!” Kalim cried, skidding inbetween the two boys. He balanced a large slice of cake in his hands, a fork piercing it. “I saw some friends at the food table and got caught up in talking to them!”

“... Eh? Am I interrupting something?” The Scarabia Dorm Leader paused, glancing back and forth between Jamil and Sebek. Then, Kalim broke out into a wide smile. “Ohhhh, I get it! You’re making a new friend! Gahahah! That’s great, Jamil!!”

“Right... Friend.”

More like another headache and a half.

#Jamil Viper #Sebek Zigvolt #twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland imagines #twisted wonderland scenarios #twst #disney twisted wonderland #Kalim Al-Asim #imagine this #something no one asked for #Jamil birthday takeover #spoilers

[silkling]

Could you please write a crossover of Rescue Bots and TFP? Rather than dying on the Nemesis, a critically injured Dreadwing fleas and crash lands on Griffin Rock. The Rescue Bots find him and nurse him back to health, not realizing he’s a Decepticon because his markings got scratched up in the fight. Dreadwing wakes up while the Rescue Bots are trying to contact Team Prime, but can’t since, unbeknownst to them, they’re all on Cybertron, fighting the Cons for the Omega Keys and Omega Lock.

So, this one turned out to be much, much longer than I thought. So long, in fact, that I had to divide it into three posts. The second post will be linked at the bottom of this one, and the third will be linked at the bottom of the second. Dear god, apparently I had a lot of more thoughts about Rescue Bots than even I was aware of. Oh well. Either way, I hope everyone enjoys! (FYI: most prompt fills will not be this long. This one was just so long cause I have many emotions and ideas about this scenario.)

———————————————————————————————————

Dreadwing felt the betrayal of Lord Megatron as surely as if it were just as physical a wound as the hole blown through his chest. He had heard the weapon powering up, and his war-forged battle instincts had had him diving to the side just as the fusion canon had fired. It has still torn though his chest, but rather than destroy his spark chamber the blast had torn a hole straight through the right side of his chest near his shoulder. He lived yet, but if he could not escape the Nemesis that would not be the case for much longer.

He had served Lord Megatron with loyalty and honor for millennia, ever since he and his brother had joined the Decepticons after Vos had fallen. Dreadwing had sold his very spark to the Unmaker to act on the wishes and orders of his leader, and this is what his loyalty had earned him? Megatron attempting to offline him, and protecting the mech who had desecrated his brother? The same mech who had, countless times before, betrayed Megatron himself? Dreadwing could scarcely understand it. Why would Megatron spare Starscream, who had given the warlord no true loyalty, when Dreadwing himself had been nothing but loyal? Is this what his loyalty bought him, among the Decepticons? Dishonorably killed solely for attempting to avenge his brother by killing a traitorous coward?

If so, he wanted nothing to do with it.

He dragged himself down the halls, finally making it to the flight deck, and looked down to see the ship flying above the ocean. Rather than attempt a proper take off, he simply pitched his body forward off the edge and allowed himself to fall. As he neared the water, he forced a transformation, ignoring the agony of the action, and his engine roared to life. Lucid thought slipped away, then, as baser survival coding took over and guided him away from the warship, away from danger, away from what would have been his death.

Only one thing was certain, now.

In attacking Dreadwing to protect Starscream, Megatron had lost the loyalty of his most devoted frontline warrior.

Dreadwing simply refused to follow a mech who would protect the one who desecrated his brother.

And so, survival protocols overriding every other thought or higher system, the large Seeker allowed his higher processor functions to shut off. His mind quieted to blissful silence. Instinct alone drove him forward, flying towards a destination even he did not know. He could only hope it would be somewhere safe.

——————————

Blades didn’t know what he was expecting when he went on a walk along the beach, but it most certainly wasn’t a large Cybertronian lying in in the sand, looking like he’d crashed landed and resting lifeless on patch of sand soaked with energon. Technically, the copter wasn’t even supposed to be out here, as Sigma-17 had to maintain their cover, but everything at the firehouse had just been several kinds of too much that morning, so he had, for once, flown off on his own and landed on a beach he knew no humans ever really came to, intent to just take a walk and clear his head.

Except, upon coming around a bend, he’d found the aforementioned Cybertronian. For a moment, he’d simply frozen, but then the instinct ingrained by his training kicked in and he sprung into action. See, Blades was a trained and licensed triage medic. He couldn’t perform complex surgeries or anything on the level of a proper medic, but in the Rescue Academy on Cybertron he’d taken the courses for field level medical aid so that, if he’d ever run into someone during a rescue who’d been hurt, he could treat them and keep them alive until they could get to a medical facility. The training g had been fun, especially when he’d studied with-

He shook his head roughly before that thought could complete itself. He didn’t want to think about the time….Before. It hurt, remembering what and who he’d lost during his millennia of stasis. Before he could fall back into grief, training snapped back into place and his processor quieted. He knelt next to the fallen Cybertronian, noting that they were a Seeker frame, and carefully turned the bot over. His next thought was an observation that the bot was a mech, and that the energon soaking into the sand under his frame was spilling from a large hole torn straight through his chest. That meant the first thing he needed to do was seal the leaking lines to keep him from losing more energon. After that, he could call Heatwave. He didn’t have the skills to patch this wound up fully. Once he’d made sure this mech wouldn’t die here and now, he would need to get him to proper care. One of the stasis pods would certainly help, though if they wanted the wound healed fully he’d need to be in the pod for a while. The other alternative was contacting Optimus. Blades knew the Prime had a proper medic on his team, which might be the better option.

As his processor raced, trying to think of a plan, his hands worked on autopilot. He slipped the tools he needed from his subspace, cleaning and removing grime where it was needed to prevent infection, removing bits of sand and stone from the wound, and using a small welder to seal off the free-flowing energon lines. He covered loose, sparking wires and circuits, , rerouting a few of them in places where it was needed. Finally, after many long minutes, he finished and sat back on his heels.

It was then the helicopter realized his comm. was pinging with an alert for an incoming message, and had been for quite some time. In fact, it seemed he’d missed several messages. From Heatwave, Chase, Boulder, Dani, the Chief, Cody…Pit, even Graham had sent him a message. Embarrassment and guilt settled heavy in his chest, and he lifted his hand to his audial to accept the current call. As soon as his comm. clicked to life, Dani’s voice was coming through it.

“Blades! Finally! Where are you? We’ve all been worried sick, you know.” his partner scolded. Blades couldn’t help the small smile that twisted his lips upwards. It was nice knowing she cared. He loved Dani dearly. She was family, after all. “You know you’re not supposed to even be out of the firehouse on your own, you idiot bot!” she continued, her voice holding an undercurrent of worry despite the insult. Blades didn’t take it personally. “What if someone had seen you? You need to-“

And now that was enough. “Dani.” he interrupted her, his voice uncharacteristically serious. “I’m sorry for ignoring you and everyone else, but right now there’s a bigger emergency than me risking our cover. I found an inured bot on that small beach behind the mountain. You know, the one no one likes to go to because the hike is too long? He’s in a really bad way. I have triage training, and I’ve patched him up, but he needs either a stasis pod or a proper medic, as close to immediately as possible.”

There was silence on the other end, before-

“Alright. I’ll tell everyone to come to your location. I’m with Dad and Chase right now. We all split up to look for you, but we’ll meet you there. Don’t move, and keep the bot alive.” Dani instructed. Despite himself, Blades was smiling again. Yes, he really did love Dani. She knew when it was time to get serious. He had a feeling he’d be forgiven for his blunder today, given the circumstances.

“Will do. I’ll see you soon.”

“Just hang tight, partner. And stay out of trouble.”

“You too.” he chirped, hands still working over the bot to patch up his more minor wounds now that the life-threatening one was dealt with. “And Dani?”

“Yeah, Blades?”

“I’m sorry for worrying you.”

There was a beat of silence, and then her voice came though, softer and fonder.

“Don’t worry about it. You did the right thing.”

Then the comm. line cut off, and Blades was left alone to in the silence. He let his processor drift, kneeling in the energon soaked sand as he worked on saving the life of a bot whose name he didn’t even know.

——————————

Chase was worried. He knew Blades was more capable than the others thought he was, but that didn’t stop him from worrying. He hadn’t been surprised when the copter bot had left the firehouse that morning. He’d seen the way he had held his rotors tight to his spinal strut, seen the way he’d fidgeted around the others, seen the way his optics had slipped and gone dull and distant. He knew today was not a good day for Blades, so his disappearance had not been a surprise. He’d been mildly concerned, simply because he did not know if Blades would be able to avoid being seen in his more distracted state, but he hadn’t been too worried. Still, when Heatwave had insisted on going to track down their rogue teammate, he hadn’t protested. He’d even offered to let Dani ride with him and the Chief to make things simpler.

But then Blades had finally picked up Dani’s comm. and that was when he started to worry. A strange bot, found injured on Griffin Rock? It raised many questions. Where had they come from? Who where they? How had they been injured? Chase wasn’t worried that the bot would die. He knew Blades had triage training, so he was confident his teammate would be able to keep his unexpected patient alive. Even so, this new development raised many questions that Chase did not have the answers to, and that was what worried him. There were not many Cybertronians on Earth, he knew. Aside from Sigma-17, there was Team Prime, and….the Decepticons. As far as Chase was aware, and he admittedly did not know as much as he would like, there were no unaligned bots on the planet.

Which meant this newcomer was either one of Prime’s team, a Decepticon, or he had crash landed on the island from space and wasn’t attached to either faction. It would be easy enough to confirm; they simply had to contact Prime and ask if he was missing a teammate, and if not ask if he recognized the bot in question. If this stranger was a neutral party or an Autobot, Chase knew there would be nothing to worry about. But if they were a Decepticon…well, that was the root of the police bot’s concerns. Sigma-17 was a rescue team. They knew rudimentary combat skills, enough to defend themselves or those they were rescuing in an emergency, but they were non-combatants. By the standards of the War, his team would be classified as civilians. If this new Cybertronian was a Decepticon…Chase wasn’t sure they’d be able to protect Griffin Rock, this time. He wasn’t sure they’d even be able to protect themselves.

Before he could slip even further into his own processor, they arrived at the coordinates Blades had sent. His snapped into focus, his doors popping open to allow his passengers out, and then he was transforming and walking over to where he could see Blades. As he approached his friend, he heard Boulder and Heatwave pull up behind him and transform. Blades looked up from his work when his three teammates stopped next to him, and Chase was mildly disconcerted to see the amount of energon soaking the sand and coating the copter’s hands.

“Blades, what happened?” Heatwave demanded, voice rough.

“I don’t know.” he shrugged helplessly. “I came out here for some space and to take a walk, cause I know this beach is practically abandoned, and I just found him like this.”

Indeed, this close, Chase could see that the mystery bot was in fact a mech. That answered one question, but none of the others. How irritating. It was also making him very nervous and queasy to see just how badly injured the very, very large bot was. Boulder too, seemed to feel ill at the sight of such horrible wounds and so much energon. Distantly, Chase noted that the bot might be even bigger than High Tide. He had no idea how they were supposed to get him back to the firehouse.

Heatave made a frustrated noise, clearly displeased with the lack of information though he knew Blades was not to blame. “Well can you tell how he got so injured?”

“A weapon of some sort, though not one I’ve ever seen the damage of before.” Blades said, frowning. His processor was clearly working hard, trying to turn over the facts he knew to figure out the bigger picture. “There’s also signs of older damage. I can’t be 100% sure, but I think this bot is, or maybe was, involved in the War.”

Heatwave paused, seeming more wary with this new information. “…can you tell which side?”

“No. Any faction identifier or badge has been destroyed or scraped off like most of his paint. I can only just figure out what his colors are supposed to be, and even them only barely.”

Chase could tell that Heatwave was annoyed, but the fire truck only grumbled his curses under his breath before sighing. “Alright. What do we need to do?”

Blades startled, looking surprised. “You’re asking me?”

“Of course.” Chase cut in before Heatwave could snap something rude and further stress the already clearly frazzled helicopter. “You are the triage medic here. Protocol dictates that, in the absence of a full medic, any medical decisions would fall to the next available medical expert. In this case, that would be you.”

Blades blinked a few times, before shaking himself and sitting up straighter. “Like I said earlier, he needs a stasis pod. Badly. I don’t have the ability to fix him completely, my training only covered keeping patients alive until they could get to someone who could repair them fully. The only one on planet I know who might be able to help is Optimus’s medic. He can also heal completely in one of our stasis pods, but it would take longer than just asking Optimus for help.”

Heatwave grunted. “Got it. He needs a stasis pod now, and a medic later. We can do that.”

That seemed to be enough to startle Boulder into awareness, and the bulldozer jumped before nodding and turning to Heatwave. “Graham and I can figure out a way to transport him safely. Though we’ll need your help, Blades. You have a better understanding of his condition than us.”

The copter nodded, and Chase let that be his que to retreat to back to where the humans were waiting. Apparently, they didn’t want to get too close in case their presence caused an issue with the unknown bot’s care.

“Well?” Chief asked. “How’s our newest guest?

“Unwell.” Chase said succinctly. “He is severely injured and appears to be involved in the War in some fashion, though it is impossible to tell for which side. We are going to transport him to the firehouse in order to put him into a stasis pod so that he may heal. Graham, I believe Boulder requires your assistance in that respect.” he said, directing the last part to the engineer.

Graham nodded, making no protest as he jogged forward towards his partner, Boulder already turning and crouching to begin discussing plans. Dani followed him quickly, though she split from his path to join Blades, clambering up onto his leg and patting his canopy as she shot him a reassuring smile.

It was here that Kade made his own opinion known. “Hey hey hey, let’s slow down!” he protested. “You just said you don’t know what side this guy’s on, and you want to bring him back home? We can’t do that! Why can’t Blades just fix him here and we can send him on his way?”

Chase tilted his head. “Blades is a licensed triage medic. He does not have the training necessary to fully repair him. Besides, even if he did, I do not believe it would be wise to simply ‘send him on his way’, and you said. If he truly is a Decepticon, then doing so would risk leading the entirety of the Decepticon army right here to Griffin Rock.”

Kade froze, seeming suddenly queasy. “Oh.”

Chief sighed. “Fair point, partner. I agree we can’t just leave him or let him die. It wouldn’t be right, even if he isn’t on our side. But for safety’s sake, would it be possible to keep him unconscious until we can confirm his identity with Optimus?”

Chase nodded. “Indeed, Chief. I believe that is the current plan. As soon as he is safely in a stasis pod, we will attempt to contact Optimus. With luck, we can have this matter sorted by the end of today.”

“Good.” Chief smiled. “Then let’s get to work.”

“Agreed.”

Chase returned to his team, Chief and Kade following at his heel, to find they had come up with a plan to transport the unknown Cybertronian. Working together, the rescue team was able to get the large flight-frame settled into a make-shift trailer the engineer duo had thrown together, and after hitching it to Boulder’s vehicle mode the whole group made their way to the firehouse using the tunnels in order to avoid being seen. Barring Blades, of course, who instead flew straight to base with Dani in order to prepare a stasis pod.

By the time Chase and the others arrived, the pod was set up and open to admit the unknown mech. It took all four of Sigma-17 working together to lift him into it, but then the glass door was sliding shut and frost soon hid the bot from view as the stasis function of the pod took affect. Now, all that was left was for Blades to clean himself up, and for Heatwave to contact Optimus about their guest.

Chase just hoped this development didn’t come back to bite them.

——————————

Dreadwing woke to the hiss of an unfamiliar system disengaging and onlined his optics to see icy mist billowing to the floor as a glass door slid up from in front of him. A stasis pod? That was odd. The Nemesis had no stasis pods and he knew the Autobots did not have the means to maintain or build one either. He was also not aware there were any other Cybertronians on the planet. So where was he, and how had he gotten into a stasis pod? The last thing he remembered was fleeing the Nemesis, although….he did have very vague, hazy memories of a crash. Had he been discovered and saved before he could offline? If so, he would have to thank his unexpected savior. Unless, of course, it was an Autobot and he had only been saved so he could be locked away. If that was the case, a bot was going to die here today and it would not be him.

The stasis pod fully disengaged from him, and he was able to step out and onto the floor. He glanced down at himself, humming idly. It seemed that he had been fully repaired either before or while in the pod. That was good for him. He looked around, frowning at his odd surroundings. The location he was in had medical supplies, but was clearly no full medical bay. Perhaps it was only set up for emergencies, then? His wings twitched when he picked up the sound of pede steps beyond the doorway, and his gaze turned towards the sound. After a moment, he realized whoever it was wasn’t coming towards him, but rather they seemed to be…pacing? Yes, that is what it sounded like. Curiosity piqued, Dreadwing strode towards the door, making sure his own steps were quiet so as not to alert the other to his presence. He stepped though, looking around…and his optics blew wide.

It was a youngling. A small, orange and white helicopter bot was pacing back and forth in tight circles in the center of the room. Dreadwing was willing to bet that this little flyer was even younger than the Autobot scout. As the mechling turned to pace in another circle, the Seeker caught sight of the emblem on his chest. At first, he saw only a badge similar to the Autobot brand and his frame began to stiffen. Then the rest of the badge processed in his mind and his vents froze.

The Rescue Bot insignia.

This tiny little flying mechling was a Rescue Bot. But how? Megatron had seen to the destruction of the Rescue Bot headquarters in the early days of the war, and had sent his soldiers to systematically hunt down and offline any who had survived the initial attack or had not been present during it. Dreadwing and his brother had joined the Decepticons after massacre, but it was one the only acts the Decepticons had committed that they had wholly disapproved off. The Rescue Bots had been unaffiliated with any faction. They took an oath of neutrality, a vow to save any and every life they could regardless who who or what that life was. Megatron had wanted them gone because he’d wanted to make a statement, but also because he wanted to deny the Autobots any potential allies or any aid that the Rescue Bots would have given them.

It had been a great loss, and had been one of the reasons Dreadwing had initially wished to avoid choosing one side or the other. The Decepticons, in his mind, took things too far. The Autobots, while more restrained, had initially risen from the regime in which he and his brother had suffered under. But then….Vos had fallen, and word had spread that his city’s destruction had been the doing of the Autobots. He and Skyquake had been forced to pick a side, then. He’d gotten over his hesitance at the Decepticon methods and given Lord Megatron his undying loyalty. And now…he was here, betrayed by the one who he as sworn himself to, watching a youngling Rescue Bot pace in nervous circles. It was something that should have been impossible.

Suddenly, the mechling froze, and wide amber optics turned to him. Idly, Dreadwing realized he must have made some noise, and then the little copter was yelping and scrabbling back. He paused, then hurried forward, his hands fluttering as if unsure what to do. Before the little one got too close, Dreadwing locked his own sharp, red optics onto him, and the bot froze in place with a startled yip.

For a long moment, there was only silent staring.

——————————

Blades was pacing. There wasn’t much else he could do. The day they had brought back the large Seeker, Heatwave had contacted Optimus. Only, the Prime had very quickly shut him down, explaining they were busy with an issue of “upmost importance” and that he would return their contact when he was able to. That had been three weeks ago, and he hadn’t called back. The Seeker was still in stasis, and Heatwave was once against attempting to make contact, for the 15th day in a row. Chase and the Chief were on patrol, and Boulder and the other humans were at Blossom Vale, having a picnic. Blades had opted to remain behind, wanting to keep an eye on the Seeker.

In the time since finding the large mech, Blades had done some research. He’d had to dig around the Sigma’s files, and dig through the files of the computer that connected them to Optimus, as well as dig through the various data-pads that had been left to them by High Tide and Optimus. It wasn’t much, but it was enough that he’d been able to piece together information about the War that the Prime hadn’t been telling them. Now, Blades understood why the War had started. The civil unrest had been a thing even before Sigma-17 had been formed, when he was still in the early days of training, it had been mild, then, but it had been there. So he wasn’t surprised that it had grown worse, especially if the root causes of the unrest hadn’t ever been addressed.

He also knew, from the information he’d dug up in his search, that after the fall of Vos, most Seekers had joined the Decepticons. Which meant that his patient was, in all likelihood, a Decepticon himself. He wasn’t sure how to feel about that. But he hadn’t told the others his suspicions. Mostly because…something about the situation was odd. Optimus didn’t strike him as the type of mech who would inflict or approve of that type of wound being inflicted on a mech. So unless he had someone on his team who was excessively violent and he couldn’t control, Blades didn’t see that wound coming from the Autobots. Which meant it had come from the Decepticons. Of course, that only raised more questions. Namely, why would they do that to one of their own, if the mech really was a ‘Con? He wanted to get answers before he shared his suspicions. He didn’t want to condemn the Seeker to anything bad if he was wrong.

Unfortunately, that hadn’t been all he had learned, in the past few weeks. In one of the data pads High Tide had left about the early days of the war, there had been a mention of the “end of the Rescue Force”. It had just been a mention, a reference to an event that was probably detailed in a separate data pad. But he hadn’t ever found that separate data pad. And when he remembered What Optimus had said, when he’d first found them..”

“I was not aware Rescue Teams were…still active.”

He’d said it slowly, haltingly, as if choosing the words carefully. He’d paused before saying the last part too. At the time, Blades hadn’t thought much of it. But with the information about the War Optimus had allowed them to have, and the mention of the “end of the Rescue Force” in that one data pad, well…Blades was starting to think that “active” had not been the word that the Prime had actually meant. Something had happened, something he didn’t have enough information to figure out yet, but the faint picture he was starting to get from the pieces of information he did have wasn’t one he liked. It was another reason he was hesitant to share what he suspected about the Seeker. Optimus was keeping vital information from Sigma-17. He didn’t care if the Prime didn’t want them fighting in the War. He agreed that it was a bad idea. But he was withholding information that Blades suspected his team would very much want, and they didn’t even know it.

So here he was, pacing restlessly as his processor turned over the information he got, unsure how or even if he should share it. Would his team even believe him? He doubted they would. He knew they thought he was silly and couldn’t understand complex ideas, but that was far from the truth. After all, of all the Rescue Bots he had the greatest understanding of human nature and culture. His understanding wasn’t always 100% accurate, and just because he understand the what didn’t mean he understand the why, but he still understood more than any of the others. And sure, he applied most of his ability to learn new information to pop culture rather than the things the others might consider more “worthwhile”, but that was only because pop culture was more fun. Plus, pop culture was where humanity really displayed they way they ticked. Did it really make him that much of an idiot if all that was the case?

He was startled from his spiraling thoughts by a sound from the direction of the make-shift medical bay. The copter glanced in that direction, thinking it was one of his teammates, only to yelp and leap back upon seeing the Seeker. He’d known the other bot was large, but seeing him awake and up just confirmed how large. The red optics too, made discomfort curl in Blade’s tanks. The data-pads had suggested that red optics were typical of Decepticons, though they shouldn’t be used as an identifier of such. Even so, it was another tick in favor of his theory. Then the scene caught up to him, and medical training overrode his temporary moment of panic.

This bot wasn’t supposed to be up yet. In fact, even if he had been fully healed by the pods it was supposed to keep him under until Optimus could arrive. Except….Blades must have put in the settings wrong. He was so used to setting the stasis pods to release once the healing process was complete that he must have input that setting without realizing it. Which…presented a problem. Is this mech was hostile, he didn’t think his team could handle it. Those thoughts circled in the back of his processor as he directed the bulk of his worry towards making sure his patient was alright. His hands flapped awkwardly as he approached the larger flyer, ready to skim over his frame to check out his condition, when piercing red optics locked onto him. He froze with a high pitched squeak, his own optics blown wide as that gaze pinned him in place.

For a long moment, the two Cybertronians merely stared at each other.

Then Blades, getting increasingly nervous, broke the silence. “Are you okay?” he asked, curling and tucking his hands against his canopy. “The stasis pod should have healed you completely, but you were hurt pretty bad. Even most of your paint was gone, though it looks like your color nanintes were able to fix that while you were healing.”

Indeed, the mech standing in front of him was now in full color, his purple and yellow paint bold and bright on his frame. It did seem, however, that he was still missing a faction brand. If he’d ever had one, of course, though the copter strongly suspected he did.

The Seeker seemed put off for a moment, as if he didn’t know why Blades was worried. “I am well.” he said carefully. “Are you the one who repaired me?”

“Well, sort of?” Blades’s rotors fluttered against his back. “I’m a triage medic, so I couldn’t fix you completely, but I kept you online until my team and I could get you into a pod.”

The Seeker narrowed his eyes. “Team?” he repeated, obviously suspicious.

Blades squeaked again, shoulders hunching. “We’re Rescue Bots.” he gestured at his insignia before his hands tucked back against his canopy. “Team Sigma-17. I’m Blades.”

The Seeker was silent for a long moment. “You may call me Dreadwing.” he said slowly. His gaze was still piercing.

Blades nodded, then took a few steps forward, and when Dreadwing made no move to stop him, he closed the gap between them. “Do you mind if I scan you over one last time? I just want to be sure all your systems are in order.”

The Seeker bowed his helm, and Blades lifted his hands to skim over plating, using his built in scanning systems he’d gotten in his triage training to check his patient over. Everything was coming back fine, but with a wound as serious as his had been Blades away taking no chances.

“You are a Rescue Bot.” Dreadwing spoke. His voice was low, and there was an odd note to it.

“Yep. Me, Boulder, Chase, and Heatwave. We crashed here a while ago and Prime stationed us on this island to act as a rescue team for the locals.” he explained distractedly.

Dreadwing made a soft hum. “Prime knows you are here? Are you Autobots, then?”

Blades frowned. “He knows. He visits, sometimes, but not often. We haven’t been able to contact him lately though.” He was too focused on his task to think about whether he should actually,be answering so freely. The second question gave him pause, though. “No? At least, not really? We’re a Rescue Team. Rescue Bots take oaths off non-affiliation. We can’t side with any particular group or individual since our job is to help any bot or being that needs it.” He was reading over the results of his scans, mouth turned down. “We’re more closely tied to the Autobots right now, but that mostly because we don’t know much of what happened with the war. We were in stasis until we crashed.” He let the readings flicker away, and froze when he realized how much he’d shared. “Uhhh….”

Dreadwing only snorted, actually looking fairly amused. “Yes, I think it is quite clear now that you are no warrior, little youngling.” he rumbled. His expression darkened. “I understand why Prime stationed you here, out of sight. Megatron would see you hunted and slaughtered if he knew a Rescue Team still functioned.”

This made Blades freeze, and as he recalled Optimus’s first words to them, and that data pad, dread began to build in his spark. “What?” he asked weakly.

Dreadwing stared. “You were not told?” he sounded…angry. “That is foolish. It is not a pleasant tale, but you should have been told if only to ensure you understand the importance of your existence remaining secret.”

Blades swallowed. “Optimus doesn’t really tell us much of anything about the War, and the data pads he leaves only really cover the basic and important bits, not the details.” he whispered. “Does…does Megatron wanting my team offlined have anything to do with the “end of the Rescue Force”? I read about it in one of the data pads, but it was just a mention. I couldn’t find any details other than that one phrase.”

Dreadwing’s gaze was solemn as the little bot lifted his optics to meet it. “Yes.” he said bluntly. “In the early days of the War, Megatron grew angry that the Rescue Bots aligned with no faction, and he wanted to deprive the Autobots of any who might aid or help them. He ordered the destruction of the Rescue Force. The Headquarters was destroyed, and all Rescue Bots present were massacred. Any who survived, and any who had not been present in the initial attack, were systematically hunted and slain.”

Blades’s knees felt weak. He pressed his hands to Dreadwing’s chest to steady himself, grateful that the larger flyer didn’t protest it. His rotors rattled madly against his back with his distress, and his optics were blown wide.

“But that would mean…”

“You and your team are the last Rescue Bots in existence. All the others are offline and have been for many, many millennia.”

The copter’s knees gave out, and Dreadwing was quick to grasp his frame to keep him from hitting the ground. A sharp keen left Blades’s vocalizer, and the Seeker blessedly said nothing and made no moves to push as the youngling processed the new information.

It was, of course, that moment that the others chose to return.

——————————

Part 2

#silkling request fics #request fic #rescue bots #tfp #Dreadwing #tfp Dreadwing #rescue bots Blades #rescue bots heatwave #rescue bots chase #rescue bots Boulder #Sigma 17 #Dani Burns #Cody Burns #Charlie Burns #Graham Burns #Kade Burns #Dreadwing lives #Dreadwing crashes on griffin Rock #he basically adopts the rescue bots #Dreadwing becomes a dad #Dreadwing and Blades bond #spolier alert: Blades is a Protectobot #transformers prime #aligned continuity #maccadam #of moments in life au

[legends-of-apex]

Close Encounters of the Departed Kind - Part V

Bi-Han /Sub-Zero x GN!Reader (angst)

Word Count: 2,300

Rating: M for mentions of death, blood and the reader being a servant of Shang Tsung

Summary: Bi-Han left to finish what he started. You gain your freedom and journey to the Lin Kuei temple to break the news to Bi-Han’s brother, Kuai.

A/N: You guys I can’t believe this is it!! The last chapter! Thank you all so much for all your love and support for this series. Really hope you all had as much fun reading it as I did writing it! I’m considering writing a epilogue featuring Noob but I’m not sure if that’s something you guys would like to see? As always, please feel free to let me know your thoughts! Hope you enjoy :D

Part Four, Epilogue

He was done for. He was finished.

Bi-Han could barely breathe from the beating he was taking. The open door to the fighting cage caught his eye and he made for it. His body ached. He had lost far too much blood for him to win this fight but he might, just might have enough energy to escape from it. But a thought crossed his mind, what would happen if he was unsuccessful in his mission? He worked with Shang Tsung, yes but the Lin Kuei were his reasons for ending Hanzo’s bloodline. Should they ever find out he failed his mission so many hundreds of years ago then his life would surely end regardless. One way or another he was done for and he would much rather die in battle, serving his clan with honor than run away like a coward. He had never left a mission unfinished before and he certainly wasn’t about to start now. He just couldn’t believe that he was about to be bested in combat. If Hanzo hadn’t returned then he surely never would have been.

And so he turned around to face the two men, although his entire body ached and trembled.

He tore off his cowl in an attempt to let more air pass into his sinking lungs but blood was already filling them. There was no way he could win this and he knew that. He knew that when he left you this morning. Part of him wished he had just stayed with you, not even left the warmth and safety of your embrace, but he could never live with himself for even contemplating deserting his clan.

The events of the next few minutes flew by without him registering much, he was there in body of course but his mind was somewhere else entirely. He mostly thought of you, of your sweetness and your solace. He found comfort in knowing he’d secured your release from Shang Tsung that same day, that he’d done at least one certainly good thing. He relished in the peace that had come with having felt the warm embrace of another, of you. You were more than he deserved and then some and just having been in your presence humbled him greatly. And he knew you would be alright, you were more than capable of taking care of yourself. He just had to hope that you would live a good life, a full life.

Bi-Han hadn’t the time to process Hanzo’s return to the land of the living nor did his mind really register that these were his final moments, that he was dying. Flames soon surrounded him, licking harshly at his skin.

The very last thing he saw was fire. He could have almost mistaken its brightness for that of the sun.

When you stepped through Shang’s portal you recognised the place instantly from your visions. The light reflecting and refracting through the ice was almost blinding. The one thing that changed from your vision now was the group of Earthrealm’s champions who stood huddled around one another off to the side. They look threatened by your presence and that of Shane Tsung, but you paid them no mind.

Your eyes scanned the room frantically, hoping, just praying that maybe Bi-Han had turned around and left the fight. A charred body in the centre of the fighting cage caught your eye and you felt your entire body deflate. You ran to him and sank down to your knees at his side.

“Bi-Han,” You called out to him, your voice barely a whisper as you spoke, your voice barely a whisper as you looked him over for any sign of life. But he was already dead. There wasn’t a single flicker of light left behind his bright eyes. Tears threatened to spill from your eyes as you took in just how awfully he was hurt. Charred flesh peeled away from his body and blood hung from his lip.

You took his hand on your own and squeezed it as if holding it would somehow bring him back. But his body stayed still apart from the breeze that rustled his hair and the flaking matter that covered him. Shang Tsung approached you and Bi-Han’s body turned to smoke, slipping through your fingers and fading into the air.

That was it, he was gone.

“Should his life end whilst he served me, he made me promise to grant you your freedom. So now you have it.” Shang started speaking with his usual grandeur, no regard for the loss of his most lethal ally evident in his voice, “I am sorry to say it will be short lived for I cannot grant our enemy such an advantage by potentially having you on their side.”

With one swift, upwards motion you drove the ice dagger into the underside of his chin. You used the force of springing your body up by the balls of your feet, Bi-Han’s gifted dagger in hand since the man approached you.

He spluttered. Blood began to ooze from his mouth as you released the dagger and allowed him to drop to the floor at your feet. He wasn’t dead, you didn’t even know if he truly could die but it didn’t matter. Watching him suffer, however brief, for all the pain he’d caused you and others would have to be payment enough for his crimes.

“Where can I find the Lin Kuei?” You stood with your boot on his neck, lifting the pressure only when he was going to speak.

“China!” He gasped, “They have a temple in Manchuria! In the mountains-“ that would do. With one last stomp on your foot you walked away from him, sparing one last glance to the darkened patch of snow where Bi-Han’s body had laid. Shang’s blood on your boot left crimson footprints in the crisp white snow.

“Hey, you need a ride to wherever you’re going?” You turned to see the group of Earthrealm’s champions staring at you. Cole was the one who spoke to you. He looked guilty, like he was sorry he did what he had done to Bi-Han. But his daughter clung to his side, her hair still stiff with ice from when she was frozen. You really couldn’t blame him. You weren’t sure who to blame really.

“Don’t suppose you’re heading to Manchuria?”

Raiden already knew where the Lin Kuei temple lay and he brought you there without the need for favours or thanks. Liu Kang was the one who suggested they offer you aid. He took pity on you, he recognised the look of loss on your face as the one that struck his own with the loss of Kung Lao that very same day.

The way to the temple coiled up the mountain like a spring. The wind didn’t much help your cause. Ice bit at your flesh and snow covered your clothes until you were thoroughly soaked through and freezing. The cold only reminded you of him, of the reason you were here. You couldn’t help but sigh at the knowledge that every time you felt the cold now you would be reminded of him.

Two guards stood at the gates of the palace, you were surprised there wasn’t more.

They looked so delighted to see something other than snow and ice but that didn’t mean they were welcoming. Their masks were frighteningly similar to Bi-Han’s but theirs were simple, much less ornate, made with much less craftsmanship.

“Turn back and return from whence you came!” One of the men shouted.

“I must speak with Kuai Liang!”

“It matters not, you are not welcome here!”

“I come with news of Sub-Zero, of Bi-Han!” You too shouted over the howl of the wind.

They weren’t long letting you in after that. They almost trembled at the mere mention of his name. They led you to the largest building in the compound, a building of stone with curling roofs that stood tall and towering. Lanterns long snuffed out by the storm swung off it’s corners in the wind.

When they brought you inside it wasn’t much warmer than the snowstorm outside. But you were grateful for the blanket one of the men brought to wrap around your shivering shoulders. One of the guards returned with an unmasked man. His face was scarred on one side but you recognised him unmistakably as Bi-Han’s brother. Their brow held the same weight and their jaw was set in such a taught manner that they seemed to strain with every word they spoke. There were many, many differences between the two of them but they certainly wouldn’t be able to deny one another should anyone question if they were of the same blood.

“They said you have news of my brother.” He waved off the guards so you were alone, “So he is dead then?” You noticed his eyes were brown and didn’t hold the same icy blue that Bi-Han’s did, although try as you might to avoid his gaze as he paced.

“He is. I’m sorry for the intrusion but I thought you ought to know.”

Kuai stopped for a moment and wrinkled his nose before nodding his head as if in acceptance. He didn’t seem all too shocked at the news of his brother's death but you could see the pain in his eyes. He did an awful job of hiding it.

“I thank you. You must have traveled far….. what were you to him?” You looked at him alarmed but figured he was only curious about the kind of company his brother kept.

“A friend.” You lied.

“He didn’t keep the company of friends.”

“An acquaintance then.”

“A mere acquaintance wouldn’t travel from Outworld to bring me news of his death.” When you looked to the side almost nervously he understood, “Ah, you were lovers.”

You nodded. However brief, you couldn’t deny that’s what you were.

“I’m sorry then, for your loss. Know that I have never known him to call anyone by such a title. And I can say with absolute certainty that you must have meant a lot to Bi-Han for him to speak of me by name.”

“He spoke highly of you.”

“Now that would be a first and something I wish greatly to have witnessed… any ‘friend’ of Bi-Han is a friend of mine and the Lin Kuei. You are welcome to stay as long or as little as you like but I would strongly advise that you at least wait until the storm has passed.” You were about to protest for fear of overstaying your welcome but he softly raised a hand to silence your humility, “You might be used to the cold but the snow storms here are decidedly more ferocious than even my brother was.”

Kuai had you escorted to Bi-Han’s old room to rest for the night but you didn’t feel like sleeping. Seeing Bi-Han’s old room felt strange but it looked exactly as you thought it would. It was neat, terribly so. Each leather-bound book on his shelves aligned perfectly and his bed looked like it was never slept in. He was a soldier, you supposed, discipline and being neat must have been something ingrained in him since he was brought here. You were careful not to disturb anything, not even a speck of dust could be out of place as you walked to his bed. You stared at it for a long while. It was small, cramped and entirely unfit for a man of his height or build. You could imagine him curled up like a child beneath the thick blue sheets. Would he sleep the moment his head hit the pillow after a long day of training or would he lie awake for hours just staring into space? You wished you’d known him enough to find out.

With a hesitant sigh you took a seat at the edge of his bed. The weight off your feet finally exposed how truly exhausted you were and you couldn’t help but lay down on your side. A scent filled your nostrils as you buried your face into the sheets. It was rich and deep and so undeniably him. Despite how long it had been since he’d last been here, his scent was unmistakable, it almost overwhelmed your senses to the point of tears. But you wouldn’t cry, not here. This was his space, you knew he wouldn’t want you to cry over his death, least of all in his old room. Part of you felt strange for wanting to cry over a man you’d only known a matter of days but those days were sweet, you felt whole and free when you were with him despite being caged up in that palace.

When you awoke, you decided that you couldn't stay in that room a moment longer but you heeded Kuai’s advice and stayed until the storm passed, until the sky was clear and the stars shone above you. The air was so still now that the storm had subsided. Every surface of the temple from the drooping rooftops to the walls were blanketed in a thick layer of fresh snow.

Despite how hard you tried not to let Bi-Han’s memory invade your mind as it had done since the very moment you met him, he still did. You just had to try and keep the image of his charred form from replacing the other moments you shared with him. Those moments though few were sweet and as true as the sun would rise.

You understood then as you stared up at the sky that some people were like the stars that only touch the earth for a season. For you, Bi-Han was one such star. You only had him for a small moment, a mere drop in the ocean in a life as long as his. But oh, what a bittersweet drop it was.

Epilogue

Tagging: @dragon-chica a @nyxdjarin @bihansthot t @cherry-blossom90 @scuzmunkie @whore-for-anime @miss-nori85 @missroro @icy-spicy @lillikue (if you’d like to be tagged in any future fics, please feel free to let me know :D)

#bi-han #bi han x reader #sub zero x reader #mortal kombat #mortal kombat 2021 #mk 2021 #sub zero #close encounters #my writing #mine #k.exe

[starilicious]

der lagi lekin (hunter x force-user!gn! reader + ep. 8 fix-it)

》 summary: tbb episode 8 fix-it featuring a force-user reader who used to be a jedi. reader is a part of tbb and in a relationship with hunter, but the squad–nor hunter–knows that reader is a force-user. (disclaimer: all of this was written before episode 9 was released! see a/n for an explanation ^_^) (another disclaimer: if you want just the hunter x reader comfort, please let me know and i'll finish it up and post it!)

》 word count: ~8k (yeah, it's a lot LOL)

click here to read on AO3

》 warnings: in-universe swearing, mental breakdown, some slight sensory overloads, pretty mild panic attack, light canon-typical violence, angst + some comfort, survivor's guilt from surviving order 66, no use of y/n, slightly plot heavy because i got way too carried away in writing (whoops?) [if i should add more warnings, please let me know!]

》 spoilers: major ones for tbb episode 8 "reunion"

》 a/n: okay look, i gotta confess: this wasn’t supposed to be an episode 8 fix-it. really. i’m actually glad cad bane won because we get to see that the clones don’t always win every fight... i think it makes for a better and more complex story. anyway, i started out writing just reader and hunter comfort after episode 8 ended. but i’m weak for omega because she reminds me so much of my younger siblings and i ended up writing a wholeass fix-it to save her (even tho cad bane is a downright badass). i kind of liked what i did with building up the plot so much that i might continue this story of force-user!reader with tbb. but that’s a tangent we can deal with later. if you would like a part two with the hunter x reader comfort this was originally intended to be, let me know!

as i said in the summary, i wrote all of this before episode 9 came out–just be aware of that. because it’s so long, it took me a while to edit, which is why i’m posting after ep. 9 was released. but without further ado, i hope you like it! <33

》 misc. notes:

• title of the fic is from the hindi song "der lagi lekin" from the film zindagi na milegi dobara. i linked the song in blue and linked the english translations in green in case you're curious! it's not necessary to listen or understand the song, but i thought it went well with the fic :)

“Everybody get down!” Wrecker yells. You and the squad immediately do as he instructs, diving towards the ground and covering your head. Stars, I hope this works.

The charges the six of you placed around the gigantic cone that surrounds the core cylinder explodes in a deafening blast. You curl into the tightest ball you can manage, breathing so hard that the HUD inside your helmet temporarily fogs up. Metal shards of the explosion rain down on you hard.

For a moment, it seems like nothing happened. But then you hear the telltale, ear-grinding creak of the durasteel and the squad is roughly catapulted forward from the force of the cone beginning to fall down.

You struggle to stand up as you lurch this way and that, trying to regain your balance and stabilize as Tech calls out, “Hold on!”

You quickly glance at the rest of the Bad Batch, trying to see if any of them were hurt. Other than the absolutely terrified look on Omega’s face, all is well considering the circumstances. The metal groans and begins its descent, taking your feeling of being grounded with it. The weightlessness is uncomfortably familiar to say the least, but you ignore it as the six of you scramble to hold on to the side of the cone. You certainly did your fair share of acrobatics back in the war, but feeling it hum around you...it’s too much. It’s too much. You elect to push it back into the depths of your brain. But it doesn’t leave.

It never really does.

Omega’s anxious whimpers come in faintly through your thick helmet and you whip around, frantically trying to find where she is. But before you can find her, the cone lands vertically on its head and the force is so violent that your stable hold on the durasteel is broken. Panicked, you quickly fire a grappling hook towards the ledge where you were previously hanging on. The hook catches and you stop abruptly, the jerky movement almost wrenching your arm out of its socket.

You look down to see Omega falling from someone’s grip and into Hunter’s arms. You can barely tell where anyone is thanks to the lack of light and the incessant motion.

The cone begins to topple onto its side and suddenly, your wire snaps from the tension. You let out a scream of surprise as you plummet downwards, wind rushing past your helmet. ForceIdon’twanttodieohmyMakerohno–

But you never hit the ground, instead being flung sideways as the cone tears into two. On trained instinct, you tuck yourself into a ball to try and roll in order to break your fall instead of using it. That time is long gone.

You land with a sickening thud and hiss in pain as your back hits the metal hard. You hear something crack, but whether it is your armor or something internal, you have absolutely no idea, and don’t have time to check before you black out.

✧✦✧

You jolt awake, a sound making its way into your consciousness. Finally, the damn place stopped moving. You take a few minutes to try and relieve the painful pressure in your chest, reaching up to rip your helmet off because you can’t breathe, you can’t breathe.

You tilt your head back as you struggle to take in air and let the adrenaline subside. You hear voices in the distance and you strain your ears to pick up on the sound as you quickly check yourself over. As far as you can tell, nothing major is broken, and at this point, that is all that matters. Though, your head is pounding, and for more reasons than one

“–nter.. port side... what… status?”

You can’t tell who is speaking, the message too far away for you to hear. But the bits and pieces are enough for you to know that it’s someone from the Bad Batch and that you weren’t unconscious for long. You stand up and dust yourself off before slowly walking to where you believe the origin of the sound is.

“–engine… got company.” A blaster sound and then an explosion rings through the quiet.

Your eyes widen and you quickly pick up the pace, getting your blaster ready as you pick your way through the sharp metal that is jutting out from the ground.

You click on your wrist comm. “Echo, you there?” A faint crackle before his voice comes through, but the signal is scratchy. You frown in frustration.

“–are you? Hunter is... port side,” Echo says and you smack your commlink to try and get the electronics to work, but it’s no use. The device is broken, most likely from the fall, you deduce.

“Meet… Marauder.”

You don’t bother to answer, knowing Echo would probably not even be able to hear what you had to say anyway. Without a signal booster or repeater, there’s no way you can get your transmission across the channel frequency.

It takes a few minutes, but you eventually find the night sky of Bracca blinking down at you at the end of the ripped off cone. You run out to find that you’re in the middle of where the cone broke in half. Okay, new plan. I need to find Hunter. Hunter will know what to do.

You scan your surroundings. The HUD isn’t picking up on any lifeforms near you, and you realize with sinking dread that you have no more options. Whichever piece you climbed through to get to your squadmates, it would take too long for you to search for them since you don’t know their coordinates and your comm isn’t working. Frankly, the Empire–Crosshair–would find you first. You have to use it.

You have to use the Force.

A wave of nausea overcomes you at the mere thought of it and you sway. In an attempt to ground yourself, you tear off your helmet to breathe some fresh air and end up keeling over as the bile rises in your throat. Nothing comes out. You can’t tell if that’s a positive or not.

You could have saved them. Someone. Anyone.

It itches at you in the back of your head, wishing to be let out of its cage. But you can’t. You can’t do it. What’s the use anyway? All you would be doing is saving yourself. The choice of surviving it all has haunted you ever since. Your head pounds in agony.

You saw it happen. You could have helped them. And you ran like a coward. Only ever concerned about yourself.

You inhale sharply as the scene flashes before your eyes, clones shooting at you and the other Jedi. The blaster fire. The confusion. The screams.

How pathetic.

The last statement, an echo of Crosshair’s words, bounces around in your brain. You clutch your head as you let out a heartbroken sob, knee deep in the dirt and metal and grief. Tears create clean tracks down your face as you finally break down, the flood of emotions bursting the dam open. At this point, you don’t know if the emotions are yours or the ones you previously felt through the Force, all of them swirling and blending into one. The bottled up anguish merged together when you attempted to cut yourself off from the Force after the clones–your friends–attacked.

The pain of their death is perhaps the worst of all. Horror courses through you as you finally process your friends and mentors dying around the galaxy, their deaths, their distress, their fear reverberating heavily throughout the Force. Each one cripples you further as you once again struggle to breathe.

It feels like light years pass when you finally calm down to a practically numb state of being. The scenes stop replaying behind your closed eyelids and the echoing shrieks die down to a faint, hollow whisper. You’re suddenly exhausted, limbs heavy and energy sapped. It was almost relieving to finally let the Force once again flow through your body, your nerves lightly tingling with potential despite how tired you feel. You collapse onto the ground and try to recenter yourself.

But despite finally acknowledging the loss, it doesn’t feel right. You didn’t get to say goodbye. You hadn’t been able to even think about them, much less honor them, too focused on going on the run to concentrate on anything beyond the next day’s survival. Even once you joined the Bad Batch, you were paranoid about their chips, about your friends turning on you at any moment. You were always extremely reluctant to engage in the Force, even at the worst of times.

With a start, you realize that you don’t need to worry about your squadmates. Their inhibitor chips are now gone. You… you are safe.

You let out a shocked laugh as it sinks in. A glimmer of hope, of peace. I’m safe.

You sit up then, criss-crossing your legs as you survey the broken landscape of Bracca. Despite the planet being a graveyard, you feel lucidly alive. Perhaps something died in you, that wretched day. But something else, slowly but surely, began growing in its place. It’s meek, but it’s there.

You let out a breath and close your eyes, reaching for the Force like it’s an old friend. It accepts your invitation with hesitation, joining hands with you as if you did not try beating it to death for days on end. You sink into the gentle lapping waves of the Force, extending into it and widening your scope.

There’s something that lurks beneath the surface, in the deep. Dark and sinister and so utterly painful. It calls to you, quiet and low. Enticing. Tempting. And something in you knows that it’s the reason for your previous life’s demise.

But you can feel Hunter’s–and Omega’s, you realize–presence near you in the Force. Even with your relatively damaged connection to the Force after Order 66, the Bad Batch’s Force auras were something you could always hone in on. You let yourself direct your focus to the duo, letting their emotions be your beacon to the acceptance of the Light side of the Force.

In a split second, you decide to not dive deeper into the Force. This isn’t the place nor the time to discover what is prowling in the endless yawning of the Force, to discover why everything happened. So you direct your concentration to the beings on the planet, feeling and breathing your way through the Life Force.

You freeze. There’s something here. No… someone. Your eyebrows furrow as you divert your attention away from your friends and other organisms to the peculiar source. Something about this person strikes you as familiar.

Your eyes snap open and you gasp. I’m not alone. A Force-sensitive. Someone survived. Giddy beyond belief, you snatch up your helmet and begin trekking your way across the wreckage in the opposite direction of Hunter and Omega before pausing. Whoever this person is doesn’t know about your presence on the planet.

And despite the fear you felt emanating off of them in the Force, you somehow knew they were safe, at least for now. And they would remain so if you have anything to say about it. Maker forbid anything that jeopardizes this person’s fragile safety. After all, you know best what it’s like to constantly flee scene after scene.

Staying away is the best thing to do. I’ll come back for you, whoever you are.

You double back and make quick work of getting across the debris as you focus your concentration on Hunter’s and Omega’s Force signatures. As you get closer to the port side, you hear Omega’s high voice. Through your HUD, you can see her small form. You grin. She disappears then, and on closer inspection, you figure she jumped through some broken cargo doors.

The entrance she and Hunter took is too high for you to jump up to, even with the aid of the Force. Combined with your wariness of probe droids, you decide to take a different route from the right side, climbing up the broken ship. The slick oil mixed with the water still present on the metal makes for a difficult trek, and you slip more times than you would like to admit.

Hunter’s gruff voice floats up towards you and you scramble the last few meters to the edge of a hole in the ceiling before pausing. The Force is itching at the back of your head. Something’s wrong.

You peek over the edge of the giant slab of durasteel that created the hole to see bodies in white armor littered everywhere–clones, you realize. Your heart pangs in sadness at the sight.

Slightly to your right, a blue figure and a techno-service droid stand in front of a ship and a frightened Omega stands behind a defensive Hunter. Your mouth drops open. Kriff.

Cad Bane.

A memory from near the beginning of the war hits you in full force. You and Anakin had taken some time on Coruscant to catch up with each other after you passed your trials and were promoted to Jedi Knight. He told you about a mission where he had to stop a bounty hunter who successfully stole a Jedi holocron. You remember how surprised you were when you heard the bitter disgust in Anakin’s voice. The ruthlessly cunning bounty hunter not only threatened to kill Ahsoka, but he murdered Master Ropal.

Judging by the looks of it, Hunter doesn’t know who he is. If the Anakin Skywalker had a difficult time with Cad Bane, there is no way in sithhell Hunter can take him on, even with his enhanced senses. Frankly, you seriously doubt you can either, especially with how rusty your Force skills are now. And that means this isn’t going to end well.

You watch carefully as you tune into the conversation.

“Ain’t you smart?” Bane smirks. “The kid’s got it all figured it out.”

“You’re in trouble now!” the droid exclaims, pointing at Hunter and Omega. You grit your teeth in annoyance.

“Who hired you?” Hunter asks. Stalling. Not a bad move, Hunter.

“Son,” Bane sighs, already done with the brief conversation. “That’s confidential information. Now hand her over.”

Omega stays behind Hunter, taking a knee as Hunter walks forward protectively. You bristle. How am I supposed to help from up here?

“She’s not going anywhere.”

Your eyes drift over the scene in a panic and you take in the fallen clones again. An idea pops into your head. It is desperate, but at this point, you don’t have much of a choice.

Bane mimics Hunter’s movement, walking forward and putting a hand near his belt. The tension is as thick as duracrete.

“That’s unfortunate… for you.”

You grab the long barrel piece from your belt, fitting it over your blaster hurriedly as the showdown begins. Out of the corner of your eye, you see them staring each other down and you can’t help but roll your eyes. Men.

During the war, Crosshair helped you re-engineer your weapon so you could put together various pieces in the field to make a blaster gun that loosely resembled his own sniper. Seeing the clones reminded you of him. A wave of sadness washes over you, but you shake your head. Now is not the time.

You screw on the telescopic sight and set up your makeshift sniper. You peer through the viewfinder and find Bane’s chest. Your finger tenses over the trigger.

You let yourself sink deep into the Force, let it guide your actions. Inhale. Exhale. I can do this. As you relax, the mellow warmth you missed so dearly washes over you, gently eroding the torment in your mind and heart, guiding your focus to the here and now. Trust in the Force.

Wait.

Wait.

Now.

You fire two bolts straight into your target the same exact moment Bane and Hunter shoot each other. Hunter’s shot hits the droid, breaking off its leg. Bane’s shot hits directly in Hunter’s chest, as yours did Bane. Both men immediately fall backwards and slam into the ground.

“My booster!” Oh. So not a leg. Got it.

“Hunter!”

Kriff kriff kriff. You jump down nimbly from your hiding spot in the ceiling and immediately sprint towards the duo. Is he dead? You would unapologetically release sithhell on Bane if he killed the man you love.

Omega panics as she tries to wake Hunter up, continuously calling his name before taking a glimpse of her surroundings. Before you can react, she grabs her bow and pulls it taut, aiming at you. She looks petrified.

“Whoa! Omega, it’s me!” you exclaim, holding your hands up in surrender. She takes a moment to actually look at you before sagging in relief. Suddenly, the droid comes speeding out of nowhere and Omega shoots, the energy bolt whizzing past your waist and straight into the droid before it can attack you from behind.

The shot rings true and the grumpy robot falls. You turn around to grab at its exposed parts under its head and yank them out to make sure it can’t power on again.

“Thanks, Omega. I owe you one,” you say and Omega gives you a proud smile.

You place a comforting hand on her shoulder before kneeling down to shake Hunter awake, but it doesn’t work. You take a moment to analyse Hunter’s Life Force. It’s a bit dimmer, but it’s constant, meaning he’s out cold and doesn’t have the life draining out of him. You let out a sigh of relief. He’s alive. You glance back to see Bane still not moving. Good.

“What’re we gonna do?” Omega whispers as you both peer down at Hunter. His armor is smoking from Bane’s blaster shot and you exhale through your teeth, trying to come up with a plan. You slip off a glove to check Hunter’s pulse–it’s strong. You don’t want to leave Omega alone, even if Bane is unconscious, but you aren’t sure you have a choice.

“Well we can’t carry him to safety, neither of us are strong enough for that,” you think aloud, gears churning in your head. You would have to wait for help, even if you were sitting ducks.

Briefly, you entertain the thought of taking Bane’s ship. The only problem is you don’t know what trackers or other gadgets are in there–it’s too costly of a risk and a price you weren’t willing to pay. You sigh, resigned.

“Omega, you try to comm the others and see if you can wake Hunter up. I’m going to go inside this guy’s ship and see if I can find something that can help us. We have to get out of here before the bounty hunter wakes up,” you instruct and Omega nods, youthful determination flooding back into her eyes.

You leave her to it, walking cautiously towards Bane’s ship. You look down at him. His armor is smoking in two places from the shots you fired. Based on what you see, he’s still unconscious, and his Life Force reflects the same conclusion. How long that would remain, you don’t know. Which means you need to work fast.

You board the ship while you remove the sniper attachments from your blaster and clip them back onto your belt. You keep your guard up as you look around. No droids. Guess that techno-service droid is his one and only.

In an effort to slowly re-familiarize yourself with the Force, you send out a quick pulse through it to see if there are any lifeforms aboard the ship, relaxing when you find none. You rummage through all the cabinets that you discover, looking high and low as you try to locate something of use. The secret compartment in the cockpit proves to be the fruitful reward to your search. With a wave of your hand, you unlock it with ease. Bingo.

Credits. Bags of them. And they’re unmarked creds, which make your score even better. Hopefully, it would be enough to pay off your debt to Cid and give the Havoc Marauder some much-needed upgrades.

Usually, you would feel bad about stealing from someone, but considering this was a bounty hunter – Cad Bane, no less – you figure you can risk treading the grey area of your moral code.

You grab as many bags as you’re able, stuffing them inside your backpack and clipping the rest onto your belt. At this moment, you’re incredibly grateful to Tech and Echo for designing a sturdy utility belt that fits you well. The standard ones were for clones and you definitely were not a clone.

You exit the cockpit and head to the second level of the ship to see if there’s anything else you can find. A stack of crates sits in the corner across from what you assume to be a prison. You scrunch your nose in disgust as you open one to find medical supplies. Bacta patches and gel, vitapaste, rations, water, gloves, sanitary napkins–it was all there. Delighted, you close the crate and click the repulsor to make it levitate. Oh how you love technology.

You turn around and walk back up the stairs to leave the ship. You freeze at the exit ramp. You have got to be karking kidding me.

“Sorry lil’ lady.”

Cad Bane stuns Omega in front of your eyes before rounding on you and immediately fires. In a desperate attempt to save yourself, you throw your hands up and the honeyed power of the Force rushes through every fibre of your being. The blaster bolts slow down to a snail-like crawl and your eyes widen. How did I…?

Never mind how you argue with yourself. Time to get out of here!

You tiptoe around each bolt, the effort of keeping them in stasis becoming more difficult with each passing moment. You grit your teeth as your arms shake, but you keep going until you are finally off the ramp. You lower your arms and the energy hits the inside of the ship, spazzing out the blinking controls inside.

Bane turns to you in surprise, astonished at how you’re suddenly in front of him. You don’t give him the luxury of processing the event and immediately punch him in the face with as much strength as you can muster. Bane pitches backwards and collapses onto the ground, just as he did the first time. You grab your stun blaster and shoot him as extra assurance. You really did not want this to repeat again. Hopefully he never wakes up with a memory of what I just did...

“Now stay down,” you mutter to a knocked out Bane, cradling your now injured hand. You have no idea how Wrecker ever does this because wow your hand is killing you.

You have to say, you’re pretty proud of yourself for being able to render him unconscious not once, but two times. You wish you could tell Anakin–the thought saddens you. He’s probably dead too.

With that vividly cheery thought, you stagger back from the ramp in exhaustion, weary from the sudden surge of the Force still ebbing and coursing through your body.

None of the Bad Batch knew you used to be a Jedi–not even Hunter. It was something only a few of your closest Jedi friends and the Jedi Council knew about.

But after what happened today, with Rex helping your squadmates get their inhibitor chips out, with you finally letting the Force in… maybe it is time to tell them. The secrecy wouldn’t be needed anymore now that you were sure you were safe around your friends. But clearly, the universe wanted to throw a nasty vibroblade in your plans by knocking Hunter and Omega unconscious and having the best kriffing bounty hunter in the galaxy be hot on your heels.

You take a few seconds to get your breath back and regain your mental energy. You aren’t out of the woods yet. You run inside Bane’s ship to grab the crate of medical supplies before sprinting back out towards Hunter and Omega.

You lean down and pat Omega’s cheek gently, trying to wake her up, but she’s out cold. Why is everyone around me unconscious? Frankly, you’re equally amused and terrified by the situation laid out in front of you.

You sigh, looking around to see if you can find some cover. There’s a giant sheet of durasteel to your left, big enough to act as a barrier in case trouble comes knocking. You bend down and pick Omega up before placing her down cautiously, leaning her small body against the metal. You repeat the action with the crate you found.

The third time proves to be much more difficult. Hunter certainly isn’t as muscular as Wrecker, but he sure as sithhell isn’t as light as Omega. You tap your foot nervously, trying to figure out a way for you to lift him. Yes, you could use the Force, but you don’t want to alert the other Force-sensitive on the planet. If they knew about your existence, it could put them in danger, and that was the last thing you wanted.

Giving up, you place your hands underneath Hunter’s armpits and effectively drag him all the way over, propping him up as you did Omega. You cringe at the sound of his armor grating the floor. There are sure to be dirty scuff marks on it now. Sorry Hunter.

Just as you’re about to sit down next to him, heaving deep breaths from the exertion, you pause. A warning is practically blaring in the Force and you tense, urgently trying to figure out the cause.

“Not again,” you mumble under your breath. You can’t handle any more action today. With Hunter and Omega both down, and your extreme fatigue from engaging in the Force, you don’t know how much of a fight you can put up. Not to mention you never trained as a soldier. There was a reason why you left the military planning strategies to the Bad Batch.

You hold your blaster close to your chest as you scan the environment. Bane is immobile and so is the dismantled techno-service droid. So what’s wrong?

Ten nerve-wracking seconds pass before you get your answer. Clone voices waft up to your hiding spot and you bite your cheek in frustration as your head continues to pound. Your headache still hasn’t stopped.

There is no way you can fight them all off, especially if Crosshair is with them. They are too far away for you to get a read on how many there are, and frankly, you’re much too scared to even peek around the durasteel to count.

One of Tech’s previous statements floats through your mind. About three attack shuttles worth.

You can feel your heart thumping wildly in your chest, blood rushing through your ears as anxiety ties your stomach into knots. I can’t do this, I can’t do this, Ican’tdothis.

You take deep breaths, doing your best to clear your mind and focus. You had to do this. There is no other option other than surrendering or dying. No, damnit, you would go down fighting until the Life Force left you.

You peer just past the edge of the metal to see at least twenty clones heading your way. Certainly not ideal, but you bide your time. If you started shooting now, you couldn’t use the element of surprise to your advantage and they would easily overwhelm you. But once they’re close enough, you hope you can at least take a couple out before having to resort to using the Force. It isn’t ideal, but it’s all you have.

Honestly, you don’t know if you could get out of this one alive, much less protect Hunter and Omega too. Maker help me.

It throws you off when they finally come into sight–you see how plain the clones’ armor looked without paint. You never really noticed it before since you were always running for your life in those circumstances. But now that you think about it, you are so used to seeing bright blue or green or yellow that the alabaster white just seems so… odd.

“Looks like a big fight happened here.”

“Yeah, tell me about it. All these men are dead.”

Now.

You whip your body around the metal and immediately begin shooting as fast as you can pull the trigger, trying to make every shot count. The troopers hesitate for just a moment, most likely due to their surprise of you being there. But that second is all you need.

You take out the three men closest to you before jumping back behind the metal as their barrage of fire rains down on you. You do your best to shoot back and manage to take out one more clone, but they’re beginning to gain too much ground too fast. I can do this. I have to do this.

As far as you can tell, Crosshair isn’t with the clones attacking you, but that doesn’t mean he hasn’t set up shop somewhere nearby, waiting to shoot you.

You shudder. It’s a chilling thought.

You grab one of your last detonators from your belt and hurl it as far as you can. The rapid beeping rises quickly in pitch before the charge explodes. Anguished cries reverberate throughout the area, and you briefly feel sorry for having to take such drastic measures as you feel their Force signatures dim swiftly. But you don’t have a choice.

Peeking around the corner, you count around eight to ten clones down. Not bad considering the circumstances.

You continue shooting as much as you can but now the troopers are much too close for comfort and you’re feeling overwhelmed. The durasteel you are using for cover isn’t meant to take this kind of damage, and the integrity of your shield is quickly waning as told by the constant creaks and groans. You don’t know what to do. Will we make it?

In your haste of shooting first and panicking later, you don’t notice Hunter groaning, finally waking up. And before you have time to even glance at him, the familiar hum of the Havoc Marauder and its lights shine down on you. Your sag in relief. Looks like Omega was able to comm them after all. Never before have you been so glad to see the beat-up hunk of junk. (You would never say that to Tech though–the Marauder is his baby, his pride and joy.)

Echo, Wrecker, and Tech all race off the ship, guns ablazing. Wrecker and Tech stand guard, serving as cover fire while Echo bends down to help you out.

“Hunter, wake up!” Echo hisses and smacks his helmet lightly. Hunter mumbles in pain as he starts to move, trying to look around as his HUD boots back up. Seriously? Now you wake up? you think sarcastically. But you’re much more relieved at the fact that he has actually woken up.

“What happened? Where’s Omega?” Wrecker bellows, worried.

“She’s right here, I’ve got her!” you shout back at the same time Echo says, “He was shot in the chest plate.”

You pocket your blaster and gather the young girl in your arms with every last bit of strength you have left. You aren’t strong enough to hold her in one arm and shoot with the other. That is much more up Wrecker’s alley.

“We have to get him on board!” Tech exclaims as he helps Echo support Hunter. You pick Omega up in both arms and bolt for the ship as fast as you can while yelling at Tech to grab the crate of supplies.

“Incoming!” Wrecker calls out as a fresh wave of troopers advance towards the six of you. You grunt as you deposit Omega in a chair near the controls before pulling out your blaster and helping Wrecker shoot down the men racing towards you.

“Got him. Tech, fly us out of here!” Echo commands while Wrecker makes a gesture for them to get on the ship faster. Hunter stumbles as he does his best to upright himself.

“Go go go!” Wrecker exclaims. Tech shoves the crate next to Omega’s seat and makes a beeline for the cockpit as you continue shooting, moving to the side to make space for Echo and Hunter to come on board. Wrecker quickly climbs in right after them and the ramp closes shut.

Tech immediately pilots the Havoc Marauder up and away from the scene. You vaguely hear the sound of blaster fire hitting the bottom of the ship while you drop your blaster on the ground and wrench Hunter’s helmet off in a panic. You take his face in your hands as you scan him quickly, trying to figure out if he’s hurt or not.

Hunter bats your hands away. “He... he took Omega,” he says and you shake your head. Wrecker pipes up from behind you to respond.

“Who? Crosshair?”

“The bounty hunter,” Hunter mutters as he rubs a hand over his face. Before Wrecker can answer again, you step in.

“No, he didn’t. I took him down. And no, he’s not dead,” you tack on quickly when you see Echo open his mouth. Echo shakes his head fondly and you just grin at him.

“She’s right here,” Echo says instead, pointing to Omega’s sleeping figure. Hunter turns in surprise to see that his brother is indeed telling the truth.

“How...?” Hunter’s voice trails off. Echo and Wrecker look at you expectantly, and Hunter follows suit. You sigh and take off your helmet, setting it down on the ledge next to the controls. You don’t look at them.

“It’s a long story.”

You don’t have a chance to elaborate any further because Tech walks in, interrupting the conversation.

“I’ve made the jump to hyperspace. There was a cruiser in the atmosphere, but I was able to quietly go past them by disguising our ship as a bounty hunter’s. They didn’t interfere. I put in the coordinates for Ord Mantell. I estimate our time of arrival to be five hours and thirty two minutes,” Tech reports and Hunter nods while you voice your thanks.

“Looks like we got time!” Wrecker says cheerily, pulling out an extra chair. Tech looks to you in confusion.

“Did I miss something significant?” Tech asks, concerned about the information he did not receive as he adjusts his goggles. You shake your head but now, all eyes are back on you.

“She was just about to tell us how she saved Omega,” Hunter supplies helpfully and Tech nods in understanding. He grabs a chair as well and sits down, interested in hearing what you have to say.

You look around the room, realizing you can’t get out of it. You are exhausted and just want to sleep but based on the looks you are getting from the boys, there is no way you can leave without giving a sufficient answer.

You sit down on a chair in between Omega and Echo and begin explaining.

“When the cone fell, it separated. I got knocked out when I hit the ground, but I don’t think I broke anything,” you quickly reassure as Tech grabs a datapad to scan your vitals.

“After I came to, I tried comming Echo, but my commlink was broken – I could only hear bits and pieces of what he said. There were some voices near me so I just followed them and–” you pause, not sure if you should tell them what happened. What you experienced, what you found out. “–I saw Hunter and Omega. The ledge I found was way too high for me to jump to, so I climbed up the side of the wreckage to see them and the bounty hunter facing off,” you say, choosing to leave the detail out. It was too personal. You still needed time.

All of them are listening intently, hanging on to every word you’re saying. Hunter’s gaze on you is heavy and loaded with questions. Tech is still tapping away on the datapad, but you know you have his full attention. Multitasking may not be possible for regular humans, but it definitely was for Tech.

“When I saw the bounty hunter, I knew Hunter wasn’t going to win,” you mumble sheepishly, rubbing the back of your neck. Hunter winces at your statement and you rush to explain why.

“Hunter, you have to trust that I genuinely don’t doubt your abilities. You are much more of a soldier than I will ever be. But this bounty hunter is one of the best, if not the best in the entire galaxy. He’s gone against the Jedi, and won. Based on what Anakin told me at the beginning of the war, Cad Bane is ruthless. He tortured Master Ropal and killed him. Believe it or not, I think he tried to abduct Chancellor Palpatine. Even Anakin had a difficult time fighting him.”

A tense quiet settles over you all as you mentally revisit your conversation with Anakin, and later with Ahsoka. She told you how it was one of the first times she was genuinely afraid that she was going to die, or at least get hurt very severely.

Echo’s rough voice shakes you out of your reverie. “How do–did you know General Skywalker?” he asks, clearly confused at how you referred to him on a first-name basis. You mentally facepalm yourself. How did I forget he served as part of the 501st? You feel incredibly stupid.

You could make up a lie, of course, but it wouldn’t be worth it. Hunter’s enhanced senses and Tech’s vitals scan could probably pick up on your biological signs, not to mention you would feel terribly guilty about not being honest. I promised myself I would tell them…

You blow out a nervous breath, deciding to at least give them something. They deserved that much.

“I’m–well, I was a Jedi,” you admit, staring down at your feet. You can’t bring yourself to look at them, feeling almost… ashamed.

The boys are shocked into silence and you cringe. There was probably a much better way for you to say that, but now it was out there. Yet the pressure that had been weighing down on you since you let the Force back in didn’t lessen.

“What?” Wrecker questions, thrown completely for a loop. “You’re a Jedi?”

Before you can answer, Tech pipes up. “When I reviewed your medical data, there was no note about an elevated midi-chlorian count or any sort of connection to the Force. Additionally, there is no documentation of you serving as a General or a Commander during the war in the Republic military records. How were you a Jedi? And why aren’t you one now? You used past tense in your sentence,” Tech adjusts his goggles as he attempts to register this new information that conflicted with his previous knowledge.

You sigh, drumming your fingers on your thigh. “I left the Jedi Order before the war ended. I promise I’ll explain everything in detail later, but for now, you have to understand that I’m just a Force-user. I trained as a Jedi, but I’m not a Jedi, not anymore,” you clarify, lifting your head up to make eye contact with each of them.

“Aw man, that’s so cool. You have to show us your cool mind tricks sometime!” Wrecker smiles and you agree to his request. It warms your heart to see him so excited.

“It makes sense. You must have seen the regs turn on the Jedi but didn’t know why. When you started traveling with us, you didn’t know if we would turn on you too, even though we’re not regs,” Hunter realizes, and you nod in affirmation. You’re secretly relieved by the fact that he doesn’t seem angry, just… just thoughtful.

“And then when I saw what happened to Crosshair, I knew I couldn’t risk ever telling any of you. But when Rex told us about the chips…” you trail off.

Echo picks up your sentence quickly. “You figured out you would be safe with us if we got our chips removed. No wonder you were so insistent on following what Rex said.”

You smile at the last part, a bit embarrassed. He wasn’t wrong. You were probably even more insistent than Rex was on telling them to get their inhibitor chips out. Better to be safe than sorry you told them. Though at the time, you hadn’t even thought about how removing their chips would impact you and your abilities. You were too focused on keeping the Force out of your body to entertain that thought.

Wrecker suddenly gets up and gathers you in a bone-crushing hug. “Well you don’t have to worry now! We got those stupid chips out of our heads, which means I promise we won’t kill you!” he says cheerfully and you can’t help but laugh as you hug him back, the knot in your chest beginning to unravel. You could always count on Wrecker’s wonderfully big heart to raise your spirits.

“You’re right, big guy. It’s honestly a relief. One less thing I have to worry about.”

Wrecker lets go of you and you pick up where you left off. “As I was saying, Cad Bane isn’t a bounty hunter we can take lightly. Crosshair helped me re-engineer my blaster to turn it into a pseudo sniper with attachable parts during the war. Because I was so high up, I could get a clear shot of Bane. From that vantage point, I shot him at the same time Hunter and Bane shot each other.”

Echo’s mouth drops open. “Damn.”

“What I didn’t expect was for Hunter to be rendered completely unconscious. So I told Omega to try to comm you guys while I went on Bane’s ship to see if I could find anything. And I did.” You pull off your backpack and dump out the contents. Bags of credits come tumbling out. You unhook the few bags on your belt and toss them into the pile.

“Bane had a secret compartment with a lot of credits. So I took them and that crate I yelled at Tech to get,” you explain as you reach into the bag to show off the Imperial credits.

Tech’s eyes widen as he lifts up a bag to inspect it. “I will have to calculate how much you took and mark it in the inventory, but based on my initial deduction, this may be enough for us to upgrade the Marauder and provide sustenance for at least a few months.”

“Nice one!” Wrecker compliments and you grin in response. “What’s in the crate?” he asks, walking over to lift up the top.

“Medical supplies. We barely had any left so I figured I might as well take that too,” you shrug as Hunter gets up to join Wrecker to peer at the contents.

“What happened after that? You said you told Omega to comm the others, which means she was awake. Did she get hurt while I was out? Is that why you look so exhausted?” Hunter inquires, astute as ever.

You bite your lower lip. “When I was getting off his ship with the goods, he had woken up again. Before I could do anything, he stunned Omega and then immediately shot at me,” you pause, wondering if you should elaborate on how you got out of the situation. You decide to come clean on this part.

“I… I don’t know how, but I was able to stop the blaster bolts and keep them – and Bane – in stasis with the Force. The problem was that it took a lot out of me. After not really using the Force for so long, my energy reserves were pretty much gone,” you sigh, absentmindedly rubbing your arms. Your muscles are still sore from the event.

“After that, I punched him and knocked him out again. I dragged you and Omega away from the ship so that I could protect you, and I ended up using that giant piece of durasteel as cover to fight off those clones. Then you guys came and rescued us and that’s that,” you finish, suddenly fatigued from the conversation. You slump back into your chair, perfect posture be damned.

“Wow,” is all Echo says, surprised by your strength. It took some serious stamina to be able to withstand so much for so long. Echo remembered seeing Commander Tano and General Skywalker be exhausted after some especially intense missions where they constantly had to use the Force.

“Yeah,” you mutter, massaging your dominant hand. It is still throbbing from the mean hook you threw at Bane. You don’t have any regrets. You glance at Omega’s sleeping figure and soften. The things I would do for this girl.

“Looks like I taught you well!” Wrecker laughs and you smile. When you first met the Bad Batch, Wrecker took it upon himself to teach you basic self-defense and how to overtake an opponent intelligently. Even though you already learned how to fight as part of your Jedi and military training, you couldn’t say no to him when he looked so excited. But it paid off because he’s right. Wrecker did teach you well.

“You did. You basically saved my ass out there with your amazing teaching skills,” you chuckle, glancing down at your hand. You think you’ll probably have to cover it in bacta gel to speed up the healing process before having yet another realization. (You seem to be having a lot of those today.)

I can just Force-heal. Before, you couldn’t Force-heal because it would look suspicious if something healed too fast. But now that they know, you don’t have to solely depend on medical supplies anymore.

Tech, as always, is right on cue. “Is your hand alright? For you to render Bane unconscious must have been no easy feat. Not to mention that according to the medscan I just took, you have a mild concussion, most likely due to your fall. I can run a medical diagnostic test to start and then run more specific tests to combat your pain...” Tech mutters the last part to himself, brain running light years faster than his mouth as his fingers fly over the datapad.

You debate it for a moment before nodding. “That would be great, Tech–thanks. But right now, I’m exhausted, so I’m going to go and crash in my bunk. Wake me up if I need to punch someone again,” you joke before shuffling away from your squadmates. You ruffle Omega’s hair affectionately as you pass by her and pick up your blaster from the ground before climbing down the ladder. You don’t notice Hunter’s troubled gaze or how his Force signature sours a bit as you leave.

You quickly clean up and throw on some bacta patches on a few nasty bruises. You sit down on your bed and pull the privacy curtain before deciding to open up your secret compartment next to your mattress. You stare down at the objects, the only things you have left as a reminder of the past. You reach down for one of them, about to touch it when you stop.

You shake your head and shut the drawer. Deciding to finally, finally hit the hay, you’re out like a light as soon as your head hits the pillow. Dealing with the Force and healing yourself could be done later. Not even your constant pain and crippling worry about your family friends could keep you up any longer.

please consider reblogging! it really helps me and is super encouraging ^_^

#the bad batch #bad batch #the bad batch x reader #the bad batch x you #star wars tbb #tbb #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb wrecker #tbb tech #tbb crosshair #star wars fic #starwars x reader #clone x you #clone x reader #hunter x reader #echo #omega #crosshair #hunter #tech #wrecker #im sorry for the amount of times i said please let me know in the beginning notes LOL #i hope u guys liked it #i spent way too much time on this hehe...whoops #i can't decide if i should continue the hunter x reader comfort wip so if u want it... #say it with me kids... #please let me know!

[theclockworkmonk]

Out of the Mouths of Babes — Chapter 2

Read on AO3

Read on FanFiction.net

Chapter 1 on Tumblr

Prompt: “Uncle Ron said something about Harry knocking Ginny up, but I don’t know what he means,” Teddy said.

************

"They can't be serious…." Harry muttered in disbelief as he stared down at the very official-looking letter.

"Who's serious about what?" asked Ginny, stepping into their living room.

Harry jumped and quickly tried to hide the letter behind his back. "Nothing!" he squeaked.

He should have known better. Ginny got a mischievous glint in her eye and darted around him, trying to get at the letter. They spent a minute chasing around each other, but eventually Ginny faked him out into tripping over the coffee table, and she quickly snatched the letter out of his hand with a triumphant laugh, making Harry once again wonder if she wouldn't be even better at Seeker.

"Ooooo," Ginny sang dramatically as she saw the emblem at the top of the parchment, "an official statement from the Wizengamot! Have they come up with a new award to bestow on you?"

"No, it's even worse," mumbled Harry.

"Oh, well now I'm very interested," Ginny teased, "am I worthy to take a peek at such official correspondence between such important people?"

"Well, it actually concerns you too, Missy," said Harry, crossing his arms, "so go ahead."

"Hold on, let's see if I can get the right tone." Ginny cleared her throat, pointed her nose in the air, and continued in her haughtiest tone,

"To the esteemed Harry James Potter,

After consideration of your actions to serve and protect the Wizarding World of Great Britain, as well as the recent discovery of your lineage to the Ancient and Noble House of Peverell, previously thought to be lost, it is with great honor and pleasure that we offer to restore your line to its former status by bestowing upon you one of the vacant Lordships!?"

Ginny dropped her character and her mouth gaped open in disbelief. "Along with the accompanying seat on the Wizengamot!" she finished quickly.

She looked up at him with wide eyes, and her face split into a wicked grin and Harry knew he would never hear the end of this.

Harry snatched the parchment back.

"Yeah, so in other words," he began before she could start getting her jokes in, "they're embarrassed by how many of their seats are still empty after half their members were thrown in prison or fled the country for being Death Eater collaborators, so they're once again trying to use me as their poster boy so they can look like they've turned over a new leaf. Except they clearly haven't, since they only deemed me 'worthy' after they found out which dead pure-bloods I'm descended from, so they're still the same navel-gazing, inbred aristocrats they've always been!"

By the time he was finished, he was shouting and he panted to catch his breath.

Ginny, however, still found the whole thing hilarious.

"Oh, it breaks my heart to see Lord Potter so displeased," she bowed low to him with a flourish of her hand. "Let me know if there's anything a lowly peasant like me can do to serve you."

"Yeah, yuck it up, Weasley," said Harry dryly, "Like I said, this affects you too."

She looked back up at him with a sardonic look. "How does your having to sit through long parliamentary bullshit have to do with me?"

"Well," said Harry, stepping toward her, "if I'm a Lord, that means that, if I ever get married one day—"

"Hypothetically speaking," said Ginny.

"Yes, then that hypothetical girl — whoever she might be — would become a Lady."

"Hmmm," hummed Ginny thoughtfully. She wrapped her hands around his neck and he snaked his arms around her waist. "So you think this is relevant to me because you're hoping to make me your Lady? That's mighty presumptive of you, Lord Potter."

"Well, I wouldn't say hoping," lied Harry. "It's just a logical possibility to consider, strictly because you're pure-blood, of course. But I'm still keeping my options open. After all, you know how much of a ladies man I am."

"Yes, of course. But you know…" said Ginny thoughtfully, tracing circles over Harry's chest with her finger, "'Lady Ginevra Potter….does have kind of a nice ring to it."

"Oh, but things would be expected of you, m'Lady," said Harry, "and you would definitely have to stop all that Quidditch nonsense. Such a vulgar and violent activity is beneath a woman of your standing."

"Oh, well, I guess that's settled, we have to break up," Ginny sighed, "We're just a part of two different worlds."

"I'll always remember you," said Harry romantically, "but alas, I must kiss you goodbye."

He bent down and gave her a kiss, then they broke apart as they cracked up into laughter.

"Come on, I'm not going to let anyone call me a Lord," said Harry, rolling his eyes, "and obviously I'm not actually going to sit on the bloody Wizengamot. Those seats are transferable, so I can give it to someone who will actually know what they're doing. My first instinct is your dad, but he probably won't want it either, and they'll do anything to get him off again. Andromeda would probably feel at home there, but could do some good. Or maybe McGonagall."

Ginny groaned. "You can be so boring sometimes, you know that? You have a chance to put Luna in a position of power, that would drive them insane! Oh, or how about Aberforth, that would be hilarious!"

Harry laughed. "We're not all agents of chaos like you, Gin. I swear, sometimes I think you're Eris in disguise."

"Oh, you think I'm a goddess?" Ginny flirted, "then I guess you better worship me."

"Hmmm," Harry kissed her again, but then sighed and pulled back. "Sadly, there's no time for that, we're already running late for dinner at the Burrow."

"Alright, should we go together or do you want to keep up the pretense that we're actually living in different flats?" she asked him pointedly.

He gave a weak, embarrassed smile. "I know it's ridiculous, and I might be a coward, I've just managed to escape your mother's disapproving stare so far in my life, I'd like to keep it that way as long as possible."

Ginny rolled her eyes but led him by the hand out the door of their flat, past the wards they had put up. Harry wrapped an arm around her waist, and turned on the spot, feeling the squeeze of Disapparition.

*********************

"Come on!" urged Ron, "I'm hungry!"

"What else is new?" laughed Hermione, as she finished a letter she needed to send and tied it to Pig. After she sent the little owl on his way, she turned around to see her fiance standing by the fireplace, bouncing on his feet like a child on Christmas morning.

"Honestly Ron," said Hermione, shaking her head, "one would think you haven't eaten in a week, and there's no way that your mother even has dinner ready yet."

"Yes, but her pre-dinner scones should be coming out of the oven right now!" said Ron cleverly, "And I might as well have not eaten in a week, don't pretend like I'm the only one who's sick of our sad attempts at cooking."

"Alright, alright!" said Hermione. She joined him by the fireplace, threw some floo powder into the grate, and together they stepped into the green flames.

"THE BURROW!" Ron shouted clearly, and after the spinning sensation and flashes of various fireplaces, they stumbled into the sitting room of Ron's childhood home.

Ron's excited smile faltered when they saw the sitting room completely empty, with no one there to greet them. He recognized the overlapping voices of his family instead coming from the kitchen, and with a rush of horror he feared that his precious scones were already being eaten by an army of Weasleys. He led Hermione by the hand across the room towards the kitchen, and he started to make out individual voices.

"I just don't understand why they haven't told us!" said his mother.

"He probably knows what we're likely to do to him," grumbled Charlie.

"You've been away too long, brother mine," chuckled George, "I guarantee you she's the one keeping it under wraps."

"In any case, we know that pushing the issue will do nothing but make things worse," said Ron's dad gently, "We just have to—"

"Scones ready?" asked Ron loudly as he and Hermione entered the kitchen, and Hermione had to resist the urge to swat him. The conversation he had interrupted seemed interesting, and her suspicions were confirmed (and her curiosity inflamed) when all talk instantly ceased the moment they walked into the room. Six heads snapped towards the arriving couple as Molly, Arthur, Bill, Charlie, Percy, and George widened their eyes in surprise and fear, like they were caught discussing something covert. Hermione also noticed how a few of them (mainly Ron's two oldest brothers) then narrowed their eyes venomously at her and her boyfriend.

While the kitchen of the Burrow was usually one of the warmest, most welcoming rooms in the world to Hermione, she noticed a distinctly cool, tense atmosphere this time. She looked sideways and saw that even Ron had clearly noticed, his eager smile slipping from his face.

There were several seconds of silence as the older family members' eyes all flittered between each other, holding a silent conversation that Ron and Hermione didn't know how to join. Then the loud ding of the kitchen timer made them all jerk suddenly.

"Wow, do I have great timing or what?" said Ron proudly, trying to ease some of the tension in the room, but some of his laughter died in his throat. His stomach didn't let him dwell on it, however, as Molly bent down to take the scones out of the oven, and the sweet, fresh smell filled the kitchen.

After she put the plate of scones on the table, Ron casually flicked a cooling charm over them before grabbing one greedily. The other Weasley men took their own, but they looked more like it was just something to do with their hands. While Ron hummed as he took a big bite, they chewed theirs thoughtfully.

"I should check on the washing," said Molly quietly, without looking at anyone. She grabbed a laundry basket and headed outside towards the clothesline.

"I'll help!" said Hermione cheerfully. She was always happy to help with the chores at the Burrow, but she also wanted to get one of the Weasleys alone to figure out what they had been talking about.

Molly didn't answer and continued outside with Hermione behind her.

"How have you and Arthur been?" asked Hermione pleasantly.

"Well, my days are still dreary, with no children left in the house," Molly sighed. "I knew that children don't stay children forever, but I certainly wasn't expecting my younger ones to hit so many milestones so quickly….and in the wrong order." She finished more quietly

Hermione frowned. Did Molly think she and Ron were getting married too soon? She had never expressed that before, she was overjoyed when they had announced their engagement.

"Er….well, Ron recently got promoted from Junior Auror," said Hermione uncertainly as she began helping Molly take garments off the clothesline and put them in the basket. "He'll be taking more serious cases now." So his career is well on track, if that's what you're worried about.

"I'm touched that you and Ron are willing to indulge that to me!" said Molly sharply

Hermione pursed her lips. Her patience was running out.

She stepped towards her soon-to-be mother-in-law and gently placed a hand on her shoulder. "Molly…"

For the first time, Molly turned to look at Hermione and the younger woman flinched back at the cold distrust and disapproval she saw in her eyes. Hermione felt a rush of deja vu, and after a short moment she realized where she had seen that look before: it was the same look she had received from Molly her fourth year, when the older witch had believed Rita Skeeter and was under the impression that Hermione was Harry's manipulative girlfriend, breaking his heart by messing around with Viktor.

"Mrs. Weasley...have I done something wrong?" asked Hermione weakly.

Seeing the hurt on Hermione's face, Molly's own harsh expression softened and was replaced with a wave of guilt. Her eyes got watery and her lip trembled, and before Hermione could say anything else she suddenly found herself being hugged tightly.

"No dear, you haven't done anything wrong," said Molly in a choked voice, as Hermione awkwardly patted her back, thoroughly confused. "I'm just being silly. I understand you're not choosing sides, you're just being a good friend."

Molly pulled back, and was smiling weakly at Hermione.

"Er...thank you," said Hermione, more bewildered than ever. "I don't mean to be rude, Molly, but I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."

"Oh no, of course not," Molly winked dramatically, "There's nothing to tell, I'll drop it. Come on, dinner is just about ready."

Before Hermione could insist more strongly that Molly explain what the hell was going on, Molly picked up the now-full laundry basket and returned to the house, leaving Hermione blinking dumbly behind her.

******************************

As Hermione followed his mother outside, Ron continued to chew into the warm, buttery scone, barely looking at his surrounding family members, the earlier tension all but forgotten to him.

"So….little Ronnie doesn't come around for dinner as much as he used to," Bill pointed out.

"He and Harry have been burning the candle at both ends at the Ministry," said Percy.

"Hmm-hmm," Ron nodded, engrossed in his scone, not looking up to see the stern looks on his brothers' faces. "More than we need to be, honestly. But because of Harry's saving-people-thing, he's always sure that the next case will end in disaster if the dark wizard isn't caught right now, and of course he would be lost without me, so whenever he's working overtime I am too." He shrugged.

"Oh yes, I think we're all well aware how loyal you are to Harry," Charlie said darkly, "Even over other, older loyalties, as a matter of fact."

"Charlie…." began their dad warningly.

Ron looked back up, and grew uncomfortable again when he saw that all of his family members were looking directly at him. Earlier, he had assumed that the awkward tension in the room was because he and Hermione had interrupted an important conversation, but it seemed to go beyond that, like they were pissed directly at him for something he had done.

"What's going—"

He was interrupted by his mother re-entering the house, holding the laundry with one hand and wiping tears from her eyes with the other. Hermione followed in shortly behind her, and Ron looked pointedly at his mother and gave his fiance a quizzical look, but Hermione just returned a confused, helpless shrug.

"The roast should be almost done now," said Molly happily, and waved her want to send a flurry of plates and cutlery flying to settle in front of where each of the Weasley men were sitting.

"And I'm such a terrible mother, I neglected something," chuckled Molly, and bent down to kiss the crown of Ron's head. "We all missed you, dear."

"Mum…" Ron grumbled awkwardly, but he saw his brothers look at each other with slightly guilty expressions, and as they followed their mother's lead, the atmosphere of the room became friendlier.

Charlie drew in a deep breath and sighed. "I need a drink."

"Excellent idea!" pipped George. He waved his wand and summoned a large bottle of firewhiskey from the cabinet along with several glasses, which zoomed right past Molly's face, causing her to jump and shriek.

"For the last time, only the cook can summon in the kitchen!" Molly scolded him, "I won't have this room devolve in complete chaos of flying objects until someone gets a concussion!"

"And I know you don't always act like it, but you are all of age," said Arthur, raising his eyebrows at George pouring several glasses of whiskey, "so I see no reason why you can't bring your own drinking supplies instead of raiding mine."

Molly huffed. "Well maybe it will be best if we stopped keeping that poison in the house—"

She stopped abruptly as they heard a faint pop from outside, coming from down the pathway, and Ron knew that Harry and Ginny must have arrived. Instead of beaming and rushing out into the garden to greet her two favorite children, however, Ron saw his mother gasp and a bit of the color drain from her face. His family members all looked at each other with that same expression he first saw when he came into the room.

Charlie gave a low growl and picked up a glass. "Yup. Definitely need a drink."

#hinny ficfest #hinny fanfiction #hinny fluff #romione #hinny #hinny fanfic #ron x hermione #ron and hermione #harry and ginny #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #romione fanfic #harry x ginny #fanfic #fanfiction #ao3 link #ao3 fanfic

[gojoscloset]

Damaged goods

Suna Rintarou x Fem!Reader Pt. 1

Suna confesses to reader who still dwells on their trauma

WARNINGS:

Brief mentions of Sexual trauma

Bad words

Not edited

Mayhaps really out of character

Self indulgent

Angst

Word count: 3k+

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

“Her?!”

“Yeah, her.” Suna confirmed, sharp eyes watching your expressions change as you interacted with your friends quite a few lunch tables away.

“Ha! Yeah, good luck Rin. I heard She’s prude as fuck” his friend patted Suna’s shoulder in a rough yet playful way. “I‘ve been school mates with her since intermediate, no good. She’s never dated anyone, rejects any confessions thrown her way, and immediately rejects people’s advances. You’re booking a room at the Heartbreak hotel if you’d ask me.”

“I didn’t ask, but thanks for looking out.” He didn’t expect his friend to react so negatively, immediately he changed the topic, no longer wanting to speak of you if it wasn't praise. Either way,Suna couldn't care less about who you rejected and why they got rejected. At the end of the day, they weren't him, and they didn’t know you.

___

You unknowingly planted a ‘parasite’ in Suna’s mind, as he likes to call it. He recalls the exact moment in which you were no longer blurred in the background, but right in his face the whole time; a small act of kindness that rotted his brain away with how much he thought about it.

He started noticing how frequent you two run into each other after the first ‘encounter’, now he quietly and stealthily looks your way in hopes of possibly catching you doing another kind act. Much to Suna’s surprise, he had the privilege of witnessing your integrity on multiple occasions which only made him want to be closer to you.

Of course he never initiated anything, nor did he make the effort to speak to you. He felt there really was no proper way to approach you without it being awkward in his eyes. What was he supposed to say? How was he supposed to initiate conversation?

“Hey, I have seen you do kind things for others and now I want to get to know you?”

“Hello, I saw you pay for someone’s items one time and now i can’t stop thinking about you, i’m Suna Rintaro”

Thoughts that kept him up sometimes. Thoughts that took up the free space in his mind until they started to affect his little day to day routines. It scared him to see himself willingly want to do things for you that were completely out of character. You. A person he only got to see a glimpse of, maybe that's what kept his infatuation burning. To think that the light that radiated from you was just what seeped through the cracks, a sample of who you really were, he only got a little taste and he was feening for more.

Suna was a quiet man, but he could only keep his head in the clouds for so long before someone noticed.

“So, what’s been on your mind?” Kita pulled him to the side after practice one day and that’s when he spilled everything to Kita. Kita himself was surprised yet honored to see this vulnerable side of Suna.

With a little encouragement from his teammate, he decided to tell you how he felt. He of course asked Kita and Aran for assistance,as they were the most level-headed members of the team and his friend group. They suggested the letter method opposed to the DM method Suna insisted would ‘be a lot easier’ to do. But they weren’t going to let him be a coward. “Things such as romance shouldn’t be done half-assed.” Kita damn near scolded him and reluctantly Suna obliged.

Somehow the twins caught wind of the plan, and decided they would be there while he confessed, in hiding of course. And after dragging Kita and Aran along, despite their protests and mentions of violating Suna’s privacy, the gang was somehow all there.

——

He practiced this very moment countless times in his head even preparing for rejection.

“Suna-San..'' you looked up from the envelope he handed you, you stared directly into his eyes, various forms of negative emotions displayed on your own face causing his anxiety to shoot through the roof, but the smile you gave him afterwards alleviated it just a tad.

‘Heartbreak Hotel…’ His friend's words repeated in his mind and Suna wondered if maybe he made a mistake, even if he barely said anything, did his actions come off too strong?

“...I am flattered, I really am…” You chuckled a bit, hiding the lower half of your face with the letter, slightly embarrassed but really flattered.

Oh how He wished you hadn’t done that. He wanted to see how you beamed because of him, even if the rejection would follow afterwards, he wished that smile reached him.

“But please don’t waste your time on me.” You laughed, examining the envelope, not looking at him while your fingers traced the large red heart sticker that sealed the confession.

He took the hit like a man, understanding that not everyone was going to like him in that way and rejection in life was inevitable, but he wasn’t going to let this go so easily, not when it came to you. Not when you called it a waste of time.

You were grateful that Suna didn’t do this in front of everyone, like all the others, Blissfully unaware that the devils were in the details and said devils were actually listening in and cheering for Suna silently on the other side of the lockers.

There were a million things Suna wanted to say but he couldn’t choose what to say in time before things went awkwardly silent. You couldn’t look at him for long before you shyly turned away, once again covering your face as you laughed.

“Thank you though.. but yeah… I’ll see you tomorrow in class?” You took a step to the side to walk past him, but before you managed to get away he took a step in front of you, stopping you in your tracks.

He gave you a serious look once he finally grasped onto something to say , there wasn’t any hidden anger in his gaze, much to your relief.

“Pursuing you isn't a waste of my time.” He said plainly, his cool demeanor never wavered but internally his heart was doing flips. You were not expecting this kind of reaction honestly. Everyone else you had rejected always took it like a bitch, utterly offended and of course left you hurt with the slew of insults they used to mask their pain and to get back at you on their way out.

But not Suna, he had patience and was understanding. It hurt you that you had to reject him, but you couldn’t do that to him, not when you were still… fucked.

“That’s ‘cause you don’t even know me.” Your laugh was a pained one, and your fight or flight senses kicked in, he was stretching the moment as much as possible and it made you nervous.

“I know enough to know I want more.” he replied.

“And that’s a mistake on your end.” You snapped but you didn’t mean to. Your hands began to shake and your voice was beginning to crack under the pressure. You knew he meant no harm in prying, but you wished he would have reacted the way all the others have since It would have been easier to escape the situation.

His heart was heavy, but obviously not as heavy as yours.

“Look, Suna” you began, exhaling deeply. Your eyes finally met his. “I’m what they call damaged goods, okay? I won’t be able to give you what you want. Relationships require things that are difficult for me to give, and I think it’s best you trash the idea.” Your voice was small but the meaning behind your words was not.

“What is it that's required?” His hand rubbed the back of his neck, the nerves finally hitting him breaking his chill character. “Y-you never know..M..maybe you don’t have to give it to me...”

Your brows were knit together, confused at how oblivious he was. Did he really not get it? Or was this all an elaborate prank?

You opened up your mouth to speak but before you could mutter anything out, Kita came from around the corner, immediately you shoved the letter into your back pocket. Little did you know the letter was their doing. Well, Mainly Aran and Kita.

“Oh, there you are Rin. I hope I’m not intruding in anything, but we can’t start practice without you.”

Kita gave you a nod and a small smile, you returned the nod, and attempted with the smile, but it didn’t reach your eyes as it normally would.

Suna had a confused look on his face, but he played along. “Right…. “ He muttered, turning to look at you. You stared back at him but you were the first one to break eye contact

“Do your best at practice..I’ll see you around.” You whispered and quickly saw yourself out.

——

Atsumu, Osamu, and Aran stepped from the other side once Kita gave them the cue.

They rushed to Suna’s side, immediately bombarding him with praise and encouragement, and Suna hated it. He didn’t mean to feel this way, but Suna knew the praise came from a place of pity, it was etched on their sad smiles. It left a bitter taste in his mouth, even if he knew they were just trying to help.

Practice went on as it normally would, Suna was quieter though, as expected. He let his mind wander, the scene replaying in his head, trying to ping the exact moment where he messed up.

Kita pulled him to the side once again after practice.

“You are no coward.” Kita gave him a reassuring smile, Suna couldn’t return it though.

“It feels like I am.” He took a seat on the steps outside, Kita following suit.

“It’s understandable why you feel that way, romance is nothing easy. But you did what you could out there, you should be proud of yourself.” Kita threw in another one of his smiles but Suna wasn’t even looking his way, his mind everywhere but here.

Kita continued, knowing Suna was probably not going to say much to him. “ But the reason I pulled you aside today was to explain why I intervened. It seems that what she said went way over your head and I couldn’t continue to listen to you unknowingly pry.”

With those words Suna was thrown back to planet earth. He snapped his head in Kita’a direction, visible uncertainty in his eyes.

“It was when l/n talked about being ‘damaged goods’ and about what she couldn’t give you in a relationship.” Kita looked at Suna, searching his eyes to see in case the lightbulb finally flicked on. But it didn’t so he continued.

“I’m in a place I don’t belong, but Rin, I’m pretty sure she was referring to trauma...whether it be sexual or not, I suggest you refrain from prying.”

The cogs in Suna’s mind finally began to spin. He was able to put the pieces together and see the entire image for what it was. It made him sad to think that you referred to yourself as ‘damaged goods’ because of your past. He wanted to doubt the possibility, but the pieces to the puzzle fit all too well for it to be anything else.

Not only that- Kita, being as intuitive as he was, was usually never wrong about these kinds of things, nor would he lie to Suna. Especially about something like that.

He then remembered the ‘warning’ his friend gave him that one day. A wave of disappointment rushed through him knowing that his ‘friend’ made assumptions about you whilst being completely oblivious to the truth.

All of these things ran through his mind at a million miles per second. “Are you okay?” Kita snapped him out of his trance, he didn’t realize he hadn’t moved or said anything since he put it all together.

“Yeah.” He stood up and walked down the remainder of the concrete steps, Kita following his lead. “I’m heading home. Uhh...thanks for looking out, even if things didn’t go as planned” Suna rubbed the back of his neck and turned to watch Kita walk down the remainder of the steps

“And thank you for confiding in me, even though somehow the twins caught wind of it all.” They both chuckled at the last part.

“I’ll see you tomorrow, and chin up. You did your best” Kita waved him goodbye and headed home. Suna gave him a wave and headed home himself. Even though he got his feelings for you off his chest, he still felt like he couldn’t breathe. Like somehow the weight on his shoulders had increased.

—-

Reading the letter fucked you up. Of course it made your heart skip a beat, but it also made you hate yourself for familiar reasons.

Paragraph after paragraph of nothing but praise. You hated how you couldn’t see any of the things he said in yourself.

You fucking hated how being touched by someone without consent changed your entire life. You hated how much influence your past had on your future.

Moments like these and confessions like this made you question if you would ever live the life you wanted.

The concepts of marriage, children, sex, and almost all forms of physical intimacy made you cringe and shiver in disgust.

Things you once desired became things you hated, all because someone else fucked them up for you.

—

“Are you okay?...” your best friend, Hanako, asked as she looked up from the envelope you opened cautiously so as to not mess up the sticker.

You nodded, no longer having the energy to speak after all the crying. You didn’t even look at her while she asked, you just sat on your bed, staring at the wall mindlessly playing with the fur of one of your blankets.

“Your feelings are valid, I hope you know.” She rubbed soothing circles on your back and again you nodded, wiping your eyes again.

“It just sucks ya know? Because I want this so bad, but who the fuck is going to want to wait around for me? Imagine getting in a relationship with someone you can’t be intimate with because they’re scared. Like great, what a waste of their time.” You shook your head and went back to playing with the fur.

“None of those things are true, and the real world is wayyyy different. There are people out there who are patient and understanding and there is more to love than what you know. Trust me, take it from someone who’s graduated and has a little taste of real life .” She placed a hand on your shoulder and shook it playfully, trying to get you out of your funk.

“It doesn’t feel that way.” You muttered under your breath

“You feel this way only because you haven’t fully healed. And I don’t blame you y/n… the things you underwent require a lot of healing so please take as much time as you need and go easy on yourself.....” she grabbed your hand and gave it a gentle squeeze.

There wasn’t much left you had to say, but Hanako stayed by your side a while longer, watching a movie she knew was your fave to try and ease the pain. She had been here with you many times before and she would do it again and again because she loved you and wanted you to love yourself.

Hanako left long after the sun had set, she would’ve spent the night but she knew you had class the following morning.

But you couldn’t go to sleep, instead you reread the letter. Reading the paragraphs that made you feel like you were actually worth someone’s time over and over again.

‘There hasn’t been a day since that you don’t cross my mind. What started off as curiosity became something more. Your kind heart connected with that smile, that laugh, that face, It became too much for me to bear, I couldn’t go another day without telling you.’

Tears fell onto the paper, and you were quick to use your shirt to dab away the tears, not wanting to mess up the effort he put into it. After rereading the letter for what seemed to be the thousandth time, you decided it was time for bed.

After doing your routine you headed for bed, but as soon as your head hit the pillows your phone buzzed multiple times.

‘@2501Suna Sent you a message request’

‘Hey I know it’s late but’

‘It didn’t register to me what u meant by damaged goods until way after’

‘I’m sorry I’m kind of a dummy’

‘I didn’t mean to pry’

‘or make u uncomfortable’

‘And forgive me if I’m speaking in a place I’m not welcome’

‘But if what I think happened, happened’

‘I still stand by what I said in the letter’

‘And u are still deserving of love’

‘Have a Goodnight and see u tomorrow (^:’

He seemed to press enter with every Sentence causing your phone to buzz continuously.

You read the messages as they came in real time and just when you thought you’d stopped crying, fresh tears seeped out again.

You didn’t have much to say so all you did was double tap the messages, little hearts appearing at the bottom of each one, your way of showing your appreciation without having to say anything.

It was crazy to think that you had plagued someone's mind like Suna claimed you did. Even in the late night he still thought of you and considered your feelings, and even if you did reject him, Suna didn’t look for ways to kill the ‘parasite’ in his brain. If anything it fed it more.

You couldn’t help but smile at the messages, even if the horrendous self doubt clouded your mind, it was his efforts and his own kind heart that parted the clouds for you, you basked in the feeling, even if it was just for the moment.

A/N:

Trauma does not define you

Trauma does not get to influence your choices

Love is real

& Love is out there for you

☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆ ☆

#haikyuu!! x reader #haikyuu!! #haikyuu suna #suna rintaro fluff #suna x you #suna x y/n #suna x reader #hq imagines #haikyuu imagines #suna rintaro headcanons #hq!! x reader #hq headcanons #suna rintaro angst #rintarou x reader

[handwrittenhello]

sweet little lies

Rating: M Warnings: Assassination attempts, poisoning, bombing Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer Word Count: 6.2k Summary: “He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed. "Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man. “Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.” -- When Yennefer of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North, receives Jaskier as tribute, she doesn't trust him—the rumor is that assassins and spies are trying to infiltrate her court. And despite being sent unwillingly, Jaskier seems perfectly happy—too happy—to be there. As tensions with the bordering country of Rivia grow stronger, she must beware, and figure out who she can truly trust.

or, yet another warlord au (but with warlord yennefer this time), inspired by @inexplicifics! read here on ao3.

“He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed.

“Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man.

“Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.”

He did indeed try, judging by how heavily his face was made up and by the numerous precious metals and jewels that adorned his ears and fingers and even one nostril. Yennefer didn’t think she’d ever seen more piercings in her life. The wealth the stranger wore on his body was simply astounding. Besides the more conventional jewelry, he also wore a shirt—if one could call it that—of fine gold chains interlaced, studded intermittently with shimmering gems. He wore no trousers, only a sheer wrap accentuated by a belt, made of yet more fine chains entwined. Finishing the ensemble were golden cuffs around his wrists—the entire outfit seemed to subtly shout prisoner, in fact, when she looked for it.

“And who sent you?” she asked, her voice ringing clear through the hall.

“I come to you as a gift, courtesy of King Vizimir of Redania,” the man replied, sinking into another low bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Master Bard, and Esteemed Courtesan, at your service, my lady.” He made no mention of his own involvement in the matter, Yennefer noted darkly. She would not take slaves, expensive tribute or not.

But to publicly refuse such a gift would show blatant disfavor, and may spark an unwanted war. “You may tell King Vizimir I accept his gift,” she told the messenger who had accompanied Master Pankratz. “And you,” she turned to Pankratz, “may come with me.” She turned and left the hall, trusting him and Geralt both to follow her.

Whispers rose up in her wake, titters at what she might do with the new esteemed courtesan, but she ignored them. One did not become Warlord of the North by caring what courtly gossip featured oneself.

She pushed open the doors to her room, Pankratz just behind her, and Geralt, silent, bringing up the rear. He was good at that sort of thing—protecting her, always, and always with the taciturn seriousness most knew him for.

Only few knew what truly lurked beneath the surface. She was privy to more than most—as her right-hand man, bodyguard, and occasional lover, he let her see more than most. She could see a hint of it peeking out through his stony exterior now—he was disturbed, unsettled, though she couldn’t tell the cause.

She sat herself in her customary armchair by the hearth, Geralt taking a place looming behind her, and after Pankratz hesitated, she directed him to the armchair across from her. He sank into it quickly, giving the ridiculous impression of a puppy aiming to please its master. She rolled her eyes.

“We can drop the bullshit,” she stated plainly, and his eyes widened. “Do you truly wish to be here? Speak truly.”

He swallowed. “My lady, it is truly the greatest honor to be in your presence—” he began, but Yennefer cut him off with a look.

“I said no more pretty lies. I have enough of those in my court—I don’t need you adding to that pile of shit.” There was little more she despised than venomous intentions disguised. The best attack was one that could be anticipated.

“Very well, my lady. Though it is true I did not come here willingly—” Geralt stiffened at that, his hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword, though Yennefer gave no outward indication of her disgust. “—I did not come here willingly, but, having found myself in your court, I find that there is little else I could wish for. In truth, I would much prefer here to whence I came.” He said the last bit in a black tone, hinting at some strife Yennefer knew not of.

“Well, I would give you the option, then,” Yennefer replied. “You may leave, if you so wish—I will supply you with enough to get by until you can establish yourself, wherever you may choose to go. I hear Toussaint is nice this time of year.” Pankratz smiled. “Or you may remain in my court, but know this—I tolerate no treachery, no spies, of any sort.” She leaned in close; the smile dropped from his face. “If I discover that you’ve been sent as some foreign agent to engineer my demise—” she locked eyes with him “—your demise will not be swift.” She spoke the last words softly, so softly, but plenty intelligible in the absolute silence of the room. “But you’ll wish it would be.”

Pankratz gulped.

“Have I made myself clear?” she asked, leaning back, releasing him from the uncomfortable closeness.

“Crystal, my lady,” he answered, smiling shakily. “And, if it’s all the same to you, I would rather not try my luck out there. Much easier to earn my keep at the luxury of the court.”

Yennefer wasn’t surprised by the attitude; clearly this was a man well accustomed to luxury. “Very well. And how do you plan to earn your keep?”

“Well, my lady,” he began, voice dropping into a sultry register. “You’ll find that I’m quite good with my fingers and tongue, as it were.” He slid from his chair, somehow managing to make it look effortlessly elegant, and shuffled closer to her on his knees. Geralt stiffened; Yennefer waited for Pankratz to dare touch her. But no touch was forthcoming, despite the strange flutter of arousal in her stomach that spoke to how she almost wanted him to try.

“Presumptuous of King Vizimir,” was all she replied. “And what if I have no need of a bedwarmer?”

Pankratz sat back on his heels. “Well, I have other talents. I studied at Oxenfurt—you may also hear me called Jaskier the Bard, at your service,” he said, giving a little half-bow, all he could manage in a kneeling position. “I would sing of your victories for all to hear and be warned, lest the—the Raven Storm come to batter down their doors!” He punctuated his sentence with a grand gesture, one that nearly knocked him off balance.

“No.”

“N-no, my lady?” Jaskier questioned, his arms dropping. “I can come up with something else, if you don’t like the name—"

“It’s not the name,” Yennefer said dismissively. “It’s the exaggeration. I’ve already told you, I value honesty alone. I won’t have any pretty ballads hiding bastard truths.”

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely held his tongue. To soften the disappointment, Geralt came around and offered him a hand up. Jaskier took it, and also took a moment to stare appreciatively at Geralt. He was lucky she wasn’t the jealous type—she could have his head for it.

“You may stay,” she declared. “You need not pay for it in my bed, though if you do truly mean what you say, then we can discuss your… talents, as it were. For now, Geralt will find you rooms of your own and show you around the palace. You may have the rest of the day to acclimate, though I expect you in the dining hall tonight at sundown.”

It was a clear dismissal. “Thank you, my lady, you’re too kind,” Jaskier said as Geralt led him out of the room.

“No flattery,” she reminded him, but they were already gone.

Jaskier settled into life at her court like a duck to water. He did indeed have a talented tongue and fingers—which he proved the first time he sang for them, with a lute to accompany it. He bounced around the room, capturing the attention of all he met—he was impossible to ignore, loud and bright as he was, bedecked in jewelry.

Geralt had tried to offer him clothes when he first settled into his rooms, but Jaskier seemed more than content to prance around nearly naked. Geralt hated it—he complained to her, one night, that Jaskier was too distracting, pulling Geralt’s attention away. He took his duties very seriously—formerly a knight of Rivia, he now devoted himself to her with the same near-religious fervor, taking her protection upon himself.

It was sweet, if a little misguided. She could protect herself just as well, but it was nice knowing that he was there behind her, always ready to support her if she faltered.

“I don’t like it, Yen,” he said to her, late one night, as the fire burned down to embers in the hearth. They were curled side by side in her bed, sweat cooling on their damp bodies, Geralt occupying himself by playing with strands of her hair. “Unrest in Rivia is growing stronger—we could have a revolt on our hands before the harvest.”

“I’m not worried about Rivia,” Yennefer replied, waving a hand lazily. “Little more than whispers on the wind. King Reginald, gods spit on his soul, has too few supporters left to be any real threat. The rest either died with him in the coup or fled like the cowards they were.”

“I’m serious, Yen. Word on the street is that there’ll be an attempt on your life before the year is out.” A furrow creased his brow, his fingers growing tense in her hair. Gently, she disentangled them before lacing their fingers together.

“Is that not what I have you for?” she asked, a smile quirking her lips. He worried too much—his consternation was almost cute. “Relax. If any assault comes, we’ll be well prepared for it.”

“It won’t be anything as obvious as an attack on the city. Rivian forces are smart—they’ll send spies, or assassins, or both. You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“If it will make you feel better, then you may begin vetting those in the court you find suspicious,” Yennefer relented.

Geralt hummed, his eyes slipping closed in satisfaction. She too closed her eyes, but the thought nagged at her—did she trust everyone in the palace? Most of them she’d known for decades—they’d worked under King Demavend with her, and had helped her overthrow him when he became too cruel to stand. She’d rewarded their loyalty with a place at her side, and they’d remained trustworthy through the years.

There had been few new arrivals since then—Geralt himself was among them, having joined her during the Coup of Rivia. And of course there was their newest arrival, Jaskier.

He seemed perfectly content in his new role. She had to admit it suited him well—he loved attention, and got it in spades when singing or when draped seductively next to her throne. He made good decoration, though she had yet to negotiate a more intimate role with him. She never held back from staring, though—and though he often caught her, he seemed pleased more than anything else.

Was he too comfortable here? It was true, he had settled in remarkably quickly—did he have a hidden purpose? But what use would King Vizimir have for a spy in her court, especially one as useless as Jaskier? He wasn’t present at any strategy meetings, or even privy to her company more than most. Perhaps he was an assassin biding his time?

Yennefer huffed. This was how paranoia set in—whispers and rumors crept in and set the mind aflame with possibilities until it drove itself mad. She resolutely cleared all thoughts of betrayal from her mind and tried to sleep.

Geralt commenced his investigation as soon as he was able, but Yennefer heard little else from him about it. She assumed that meant the search for traitors was proving unfruitful.

She interrupted him one day with a task at the southern border—there were reports of skirmishes breaking out, most likely bandit attacks. He departed with a promise to return by the month’s end, and she watched him leave with a pit in her stomach.

It wasn’t the first time they’d parted—so why was her stomach twisting so? Why were her instincts screaming that it would all go wrong?

There was nothing to worry about. She needed to take her mind off it, that was all. She went back into the palace and headed for the southern wing—where Jaskier’s rooms were.

“My lady Yennefer!” he greeted her happily, springing from his writing desk upon her entrance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then he paused, frowned. “Where’s your shadow? I can’t hardly think of a time I haven’t seen him hovering menacingly over your shoulder.”

“He’s away for the time being.” She motioned him closer, and he went as if reeled in by a fishing line.

“Luckily you still have me,” he replied, biting his lip. He was yet unsure of his advances—good. She would keep him on his toes.

“And would you give yourself to me?” she asked, stepping even closer, until there were scant few inches between them. “Let me have you?”

“In a heartbeat, if my lady so wished,” he breathed, leaning in. She didn’t wait for his lips to brush hers; she surged forward at once, attacking with brutal efficiency. The kiss was more a clash of wills than anything tender. To her delight, he didn’t simply let her plunder his mouth, but gave as good as he got, hands coming up to clutch at her dress. She pushed him away, and his face split with confusion until she pushed him again, back onto the bed. His hands fisted in the covers as she climbed on top of him, finding the clasps that would free him from the confines of the chains that draped over his body.

Soon she had stripped the gold and gems from his body, and at some point her own clothes had disappeared as well, and finally she was free to take him how she wished. He was a good lover, enthusiastic and skilled—his talents truly were as good as he’d made them out to be.

Her only point of contention came near the end, when he began to murmur sweet nothings into her hair, praising her and begging in turn. Even after, when they lay panting atop the sheets, he continued to weave pretty lies, complimenting her prowess and beauty until she rolled over and pinned him down.

“What have I said about lying?” she bit, but there was no real heat to it.

“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, I speak nothing but the truth,” he replied, “but if you wish my silence, well—I suppose you’ll have to find a way to shut me up.” He grinned.

She was gratified to see that he was no longer the deferential pretty thing that had been gifted to her, but had instead grown into his role here and thus felt comfortable enough to tease and prod.

In fact, as the days passed and they spent more time together, he turned downright annoying, at times, whining about how cruel silver was to his skin—did she know that he was one sixty-fourth fae? How it itched so—but gold didn’t go as well with his complexion, and really, he should be wearing sapphires, not rubies, since they brought out the blue of his eyes better…

Yennefer tolerated it with confused amusement for all of one day before she took his suggestion and found ways to occupy his mouth, just so that the inane chatter would stop.

She was almost disappointed when the day that Geralt would return drew near. She looked forward to his triumphant return, of course, but she was apprehensive of how he would react to her getting so close to Jaskier in his absence. She was lucky that she didn’t have to contend with jealousy from him—he simply wasn’t the type—but nor did she want him to distance himself from her, afraid of intruding on something new.

And though she’d succeeded, for the most part, at distracting herself from his absence, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that still came over her at odd times when she thought of him. He was plenty capable; there was nothing to worry about, she knew, and yet that didn’t stop her traitorous heart.

As the days passed, however, with no sign of his imminent return—not even a letter—she knew her worry was well-founded. On the second day of the new month—two weeks since she’d last seen him—she resolved to ride to the border with all the forces she could gather.

Jaskier worried at her departure—“My lady, you would leave the palace so defenseless?”—but she would not be swayed.

“You’ll be fine. The city can protect itself; you need not worry about a thing.”

“It’s not myself I worry for,” he replied flatly, a moue of displeasure overtaking his face. He didn’t grace her bed that night, and she resolutely told herself she wasn’t bothered.

The sun rose early, and she with it, saddling her horse and donning her armor. The air held a chill, heralding the coming of autumn, though it was unusual so early in the season. As the morning mists in the fields began to burn off, she and her forces rode out, heading south.

They were scarcely a mile away from the palace when she spotted something on the horizon. She called them to a halt, sending ahead scouts to report on what the disturbance was. They returned in short order, shouting joyously—Knight Geralt was returned, unharmed, though he’d lost his men in the interim.

“Yen,” he greeted her warmly, pulling short his ill-tempered mare as he approached. She seemed especially ornery today, hardly responding to his commands, but Yennefer supposed that after weeks on the road, she would be ornery too. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You should be,” she answered, but couldn’t maintain her anger for long, not upon seeing him safe and whole. “What took so long? And where are the men who accompanied you?”

He frowned. “They’re not back yet? I’d thought they’d arrive first.”

“No, we’ve heard nothing since you left. What happened?” It was unlike Geralt to leave his men behind—his sense of chivalry demanded otherwise.

“It wasn’t bandits at the border—it was Rivian insurgents making trouble. Easy enough to mop up, but in the fight, I got separated. Ended up having to lay low for a few days in Spalla. I gave the men instructions to return to Vengerberg if anything went wrong.”

“Do you think they’re still out looking for you?” Damned loyalty. While she valued it, it often proved to be quite the pain in difficult situations.

“Could be. We ought to send another team out, round them up.” She was grateful that he didn’t suggest going back to look for them himself—she would have expected that from him, stubborn as he was, but she wasn’t ready to lose him again so soon.

She motioned over the captain of her guard, Ivenka. “Take your best fighters and track down our poor wayward soldiers.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ivenka replied. The party split; Yennefer and Geralt led the rest of the forces back to Vengerberg.

Upon their return, Jaskier launched into a rousing song of victory—if he was surprised to see them back so soon, he didn’t show it. Geralt bore the attention as he always did, with an uncomfortable grimace. Once the commotion settled, Yennefer pulled Geralt into her rooms for a full report on what he’d found at the Rivian border.

“The talk of insurgence was right. A resistance has formed, with more support than we thought. King Reginald had more friends than we knew.” Geralt delivered the bad news with no inflection, which was how Yennefer knew it was a grave matter indeed.

“A resistance? How strong would you say? Have they any support from the commonfolk?” That was how battles were won, Yennefer knew—it all depended on the attitude of the peasantry. If their favor had shifted against her, they could expect full-blown war within the year.

“Not yet, though they’ve changed the minds of a few. More than anything they’ve sown dissent—talk of crop shortages, of trade disturbed. Trying to make you out to be just as bad as Reginald.”

Yennefer cursed. “We need to head this off before it grows any worse.”

“Parley? They might be open to discussion—this incursion may have been a way to get our attention.”

Yennefer nodded. “Send a messenger at once,” she instructed.

Geralt inclined his head in acquiescence and left her to her thoughts.

He had been right about the coming rebellion—was he also to be believed about the rumored attempts on her life? She would have to keep her guard up.

They received the Rivians a few nights hence at a banquet, meant as both a display of wealth and numbers. The entire court was assembled, and the visiting party arrived wide-eyed and trying to hide it.

Yennefer herself was seated upon her throne in full gilded plate armor—everything but a helmet. Geralt stood beside her, arms crossed, a scowl writ upon his face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And on her other side, draped across the arm of the throne, was Jaskier, in his finest jewels and with a full face of makeup, not looking even a bit vulnerable though he wore almost nothing.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” the man leading the visiting party said, inclining his head in lieu of a bow. Beside her, Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “I am Gudros of Scala, and accompanying me are Velah of Hawksburne and Ozrias of Scala.” He gestured to the two behind him, who had so far stood silent and still, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets.

“Vengerberg welcomes you,” Yennefer announced. “You may partake of food and rest from your journey. Once you’ve had your fill we may retire for more formal talk.” Gudros bowed his head again, and the feast resumed.

“I don’t like this,” Geralt murmured, barely audible over the voices and instruments overlapping in the hall. Yennefer glanced up at him—he looked torn, lips pursed and hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Keep an eye on them for me?” she replied. He nodded and slipped away—Yennefer looked forward to his report on what they were saying.

She was so intent on watching the Rivians that she hardly noticed it when an attendant approached with a tray carrying goblets of wine. “Milady,” he greeted, offering her a glass. She reached out to take it, but was beaten there by Jaskier, who snatched it out of the attendant’s hands before she could.

He grinned cheekily at her—this was almost too bold. She’d have to put him in his place later tonight. But she let him have it and reached for her own goblet, just as Jaskier took a sip of the wine.

The smell hit her nose as soon as she raised the glass to her lips. It was hardly detectable, but she’d learned a thousand and one ways under King Demavend’s reign to brew poisons—she recognized instantly the characteristic sour odor it held, the way it slid, oily, down one’s throat, the way it burned from the inside out.

She threw the goblet to the floor, heedless of the way that it shattered into a million pieces. “Geralt!” she screamed, wrenching Jaskier’s goblet from him—though it was already falling from his stiff fingers, his eyes bulging and his face reddening in mere moments.

Geralt appeared at her side instantly, as if he’d never left. Seeing Jaskier in trouble, he threw the consort over his broad shoulders and followed Yennefer as she fled to her old workshop—Goddess willing, she would still have enough ingredients to prepare an antidote, though it had been years since she’d set foot there.

The doors flew open under her hands, dust swirling about the room and cobwebs shuddering in the sudden breeze. Yennefer drew on the spark of chaos buried deep inside her, hardly used, but called forth in full force now. The torches flared to life at once, jars and pots flying off the shelves into her hands.

Geralt laid Jaskier down on the worktable in the middle of the room, now wheezing and coughing, spittle flecking his lips. “Yen,” he tried to wheeze, but she paid him no mind. She needed every ounce of concentration to prepare the antidote, something she hadn’t done in years.

“Mistletoe… wartweed… ground lichen…” she muttered, adding each ingredient in turn. The potion began to bubble, a haze descending on the workshop as it released puffs of smoke.

“Yen, he's not breathing,” Geralt called, and she cursed, stirring faster. Finally, finally, the sickly shade of green gave way to a deep turquoise, and then a solid blue. She rushed to Jaskier’s side, forcing his mouth open with one hand and pouring the antidote down his throat.

He convulsed, and, sensing that he was about to spit it up, she clamped his mouth and nose shut, putting her full weight into holding him down as his limbs juddered and jerked. But with no other choice, he eventually swallowed, his throat spasming under her harsh grip, and then he went abruptly lax.

She took her hands away, letting him breathe—it was a long, tense moment of waiting before he took an easy breath, no wheeze present. Yennefer breathed too, the tension lifting from her shoulders.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze flitted around the room for a moment, landing first on Geralt and then on herself. “Yen,” he said urgently, struggling to sit up. “You’re alright?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “I’m not the idiot that drank poison.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he sighed. “I mean, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t want to die for nothing—”

Yennefer froze. “You had a suspicion?”

“Well, yes,” he answered, frowning. “I highly doubted the Rivians were here under good intentions, and as Geralt has been saying, an attempt on your life was bound to come sooner or later, so—”

“You knew it would be poisoned, and yet you drank anyway? Why the fuck would you do that, Jaskier?” She dug her nails into the tabletop, itching to wring them around his neck.

What sort of fool would knowingly drink poison? Only the braindead or suicidal, and while Yennefer did hold his sanity in question at times, it still didn’t make sense.

He blinked. “Do you really have to ask? It’s as I’ve told you a thousand times in a thousand ways.”

No. No, he couldn’t mean—

“I love you, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I would, in fact, die for you, as we’ve proven.” He grinned. “Don’t say I never live up to my promises.”

While, yes, he’d said as much before, it still stunned Yennefer to hear it said so blatantly, and with such tangible commitment. She’d thought them pretty lies, the fanciful words of a jester that wanted only to flatter his lord.

Unable to come up with a response, she turned and fled. If she stayed in that room, she might end up saying or doing something she would later regret—whether that was wring his fool neck or have him right there on the table, she would never know.

So caught up was she in whirling thoughts of truth and lies, she didn’t notice Geralt was following her until she was nearly to her rooms. “I don’t want company right now, Geralt,” she said tersely, whirling around.

“We need to talk,” Geralt replied, stepping closer. “The Rivians—”

“Leave me alone!” she snarled, which was enough to make him pause, giving her time to dart into her rooms and slam the door behind her. She locked them with a fierce finality, relishing the heavy click that signified she was alone with her thoughts. She pressed her back to the door and her hands to her eyes, seeing the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the pressure.

If she could have but a moment to think, to sort out the mess of thoughts churning in her mind—but no, even now, she could hear raised voices, shouting, the clang of steel on steel. What kind of leader was she, cowering in her rooms like a confused animal, simply because of an ill-timed, unexpected confession of love?

She straightened her armor and drew her swords before opening the door and heading out to face whatever chaos lay in wait. As she grew closer, the voices grew more panicked, and she hurried her steps along until she was nearly running.

Jaskier came stumbling out of her workroom, looking worse for the wear and confused, searching for the source of the commotion the same as she was. “Go lie down,” she snapped. “I just saved your life. I don’t need you undoing all my hard work.”

“But what’s happening? Where’s Geralt?” he asked, craning his head. Then he spotted the swords she carried. “What do you need those for?”

She started to reply, and then—

An explosion. All-consuming, fiery hot, ripping her eardrums apart. She flew backwards and hit the wall, stunned. Through blurry vision, she saw Jaskier tossed like a ragdoll, slumped opposite her, bleeding from the temple.

Her ears were ringing; she blinked. Chunks of stone rained down on her like hailstones, a fine white powder covering everything in a thin layer of dust.

Slowly, slowly, her vision stabilized and her hearing began to return—the first thing she heard were screams.

Her people—she had to help her people. She tried to struggle to her feet, but it was as if her limbs were encased in plaster. She looked down and saw that a large chunk of stone was pinning her legs to the ground—with monumental effort, she lifted it off herself, grunting. She closed her eyes and breathed, in, out, and then staggered upwards.

She checked on Jaskier first—he had a head wound, bleeding profusely, but nothing more serious than that. She clumsily slapped his cheeks a few times until he roused, groaning, eyes squinting shut.

“Are you alright?” she shouted, her own voice hardly reaching her ears. He nodded, eyes still closed, and she left him to recover. Staggering into the hall, she took in the sight before her—it was as if a bomb had gone off, and maybe it had.

The entire hall was bathed in sepia-toned light, the torches guttering in and out in the wake of the blast. Chunks of stone and broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, which had fallen through to the dungeons below. To her surprise and immense thankfulness, there were few bodies—perhaps they’d had advance warning and had fled, screaming.

Four people stood in the middle of it all—she recognized Gudros, flanked by Ozrias and Velah. The fourth had hair as white as bone—“Geralt?” she called, and he slowly turned around. Wrong, wrong, wrong, all her senses screamed.

“Not quite.” He laughed, a chilling sound, unlike Geralt’s own rare laugh in every way. She knew then—this wasn’t Geralt. This hadn’t been Geralt for a good while.

“When?” she asked, though she knew exactly when. It had been that damned trip to the border. “Who are you? Really?”

“We are the rightful leaders of a free Rivia, and we would see her prosper once more, no longer under your bloody banner!” Gudros cried. “You have bewitched Rivia’s citizens. We’ll not see you reign any longer!”

“I’ve bewitched no one,” Yennefer snapped. “If you speak of your loyal knights turning against you—that was your king’s own doing, with his wicked deeds and cruel heart.”

“No! Geralt of Rivia was a good man—we’ll break whatever spell you’ve placed on him, right after we parade your desecrated body through the streets!”

Not-Geralt smiled, all teeth, and dropped the illusion—suddenly, he had changed forms, and now appeared as Yennefer herself. “You’re a doppler,” she said, teeth gritted. “What stake have you in this fight?”

“I’ve lived a long life, you know. To tell you the truth, I’ve grown rather bored with it—and what better game to play than this?”

“You’re sick,” Yennefer spat. “You’ve aligned yourself with murderers and oathbreakers.”

“Would you have me align myself with you, Kingslayer?” the doppler purred. “I see it all, you know—I’m in your head. I see how you kill, and lie, even to yourself.”

With a wordless yell of rage, Yennefer threw herself at the doppler, who met her swords with a sword of its own. It was an even match—perfectly even, with all her skill as a fighter reflected back at her. And with the other three Rivians advancing, it looked to be a quick end for her.

Her people would die, and Jaskier would be captured and most likely enslaved, and Geralt would remain captive to those who believed him brainwashed, subject to tortures as they attempted to break whatever enchantment they believed lay over him. And she would be brought up as an example, her dead body held up to the world to say: this is what happens to those who fight back.

She dodged the first swipe of Gudros’ sword, but it left her open for the doppler to press her back, putting her off-balance. Her foot caught on a chunk of rubble and she teetered backwards, falling to the ground, the doppler pouncing on her at once.

“Here lies the Raven Storm; blustered herself out, little stronger than a gust of wind at the end,” the doppler cackled. Yennefer looked into its eyes—her eyes—and braced herself for the end.

And then a chain looped around the doppler’s neck, choking, burning. The skin beneath the silver links smoked and cracked, blackening, the doppler’s hands scrabbling uselessly at the chain and burning too.

Yennefer looked up to see Jaskier standing tall behind the doppler, one of his many decorative body chains in his hands, his face creased in furious fierceness. Yennefer pushed the doppler off of her, rolling to the side just in time to avoid yet another blow from Gudros. She yelled inarticulately and stabbed upwards, piercing his gut through. Without bothering to check if he was dead, Yennefer turned to Velah and Ozrias, both of whom were advancing on Jaskier, swords drawn.

“Behind you,” she shouted, and he ducked a swipe meant to behead him. She darted over and shoved Velah away with a kick to the side, and in the same motion brought her sword up to parry Ozrias’ next strike. Behind her, she heard the doppler let out a guttural noise and collapse—hopefully dead—and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jaskier trying to avoid Velah’s wildly swinging sword. He barely dodged the last one, and earned himself a neat score along his cheek, blood pouring forth from the small wound.

Luckily, Ozrias proved to be a rather weak swordfighter, and she killed him with a swift dodge and counterattack, cutting off his head in one swift motion. She threw herself in between Jaskier and Velah just in time, handily disarming her while Jaskier cowered and yelped behind her.

Pointing her sword straight at Velah’s throat, Yennefer demanded, “Where is he?”

Velah threw her hands up. “He’s in Spalla. Please, don’t kill me.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “You hurt what’s mine.”

“Please, mercy—” She didn’t finish; she was dead before her body hit the floor. Mercy granted her a quick death, but nothing more. Not after kidnapping her right-hand man, her lover, not after bombing her palace and killing her people, not after hurting Jaskier.

Jaskier took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Whoo. That’s enough excitement for me, I think. I need to sit down,” he said, and sat down right there in the middle of the wreckage.

Yennefer busied herself with cleaning her sword. “So you don’t want to come to Spalla with me?” she asked casually, and he sprang back up to his feet—albeit shakily.

“No, no, I’m in! Someone has to write sweeping songs of your victories there.” He paused. “Just, maybe, a moment to catch my breath? I’ve never really—ah—never had to fight for my life before. Never killed anyone, either. I think my body might be shutting down?” he squeaked, sinking to his knees. “My—my heart is beating so fast, gods, and my hands feel all tingly, and I’m shaking—”

“That’s the adrenaline,” Yennefer answered, kneeling down as well. “It will pass.”

“Good. Because this—well, is this what you feel all the time?” He looked up at her, a dawning sort of respect in his gaze.

She shrugged. “You get used to it eventually. But yes, more or less.”

“Color me impressed, then.” As they spoke, the color began to return to his cheeks, and his frantic breathing slowed, and his shaking died down. “Alright. I’m feeling better, I think.”

“Good,” she echoed, sheathing her sword and helping him up. “Because now we ride for Rivia.”

“To Rivia,” he repeated. “Hey, do you think Geralt will be impressed? Bet he’s never killed a doppler before.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she replied, but couldn’t hide the small smile that graced her face.

Her palace was in ruins, and Geralt had been kidnapped, and they were about to go to war with Rivia for the second time, but somehow she knew—it would be alright.

#the witcher #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yenralt #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #warlord au #accidental warlord au #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #in the rare event that i write more ask to be tagged

[enha-woodzies]

➸ CHAPTER 9 | " THE SPACE BETWEEN US "

starring: enhypen ft. i-land daniel

pairing: jungwon x fem!reader x sunghoon

genres: royal au, romance, angst, slowburn, 18th century setting

warnings: very mild swearing; brief arguments

word count: 2.5k

taglist: @serendipitysung (betareader) @en-sun @affectionaterainoflove @renkiv @softforjungwoo @jislix @gyeraniee @fluffi @stxrryemxlys @jungwon-luv-bot-pt3 @lost-lepord-beanie @hyunsunge @hooniecore @thenoceurgirl @thonkingdeepo

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START OF PARK SUNGHOON'S POV

I stood there at the side, leaning against the arched entrance. I never meant to eavesdrop in the conversation you were having with the firstborn of the Yang family. It piqued my interest upon hearing your troubles and impulsively decided to help you. To pass time, I guess… or to stall my father into giving me his magnificent title of a duke and have me marry some lady I don’t even desire to have.

Without any significant bargain in the offer, I suggested anyway with the thought that maybe this could help me look at myself the way everyone did before I made history with your brother. The physical bruises and scars we both afflicted on each other faded with time, but the torturous memory continues to haunt us. I may look fine around his presence, but he never had the slightest idea of how I curse myself every single night knowing I not only ruined him and his tender affections with Yena, but our budding and steadfast friendship as well.

I was heinous then. But I swear with my whole heart, I don’t ever intend to hurt you now the way I did with your brother. The moment I let myself drown in your alluring gaze under that brightly lit moonlight, I told myself I won’t take another girl for granted. Not just because I owe it to Niki, but because you were the first person who looked at me without judgment despite knowing your brothers detest me with the entirety of their souls.

I’ve been courting you for over a month now and I’m completely aware of the things we’ve agreed upon about the ruse; needless to say, one might catch feelings in the aftermath. I know this was all a show to give Jungwon a headstart for his own game, but why am I gravely pained every time his name slips out of your lips? Why do I keep myself up on most nights thinking about this lingering question of who do you love? Why do I want to hold you even closer to my side every time he looks at us in dismay?

I’ve come to know that I had myself caught in the middle of whatever this is between you and him; that I’m just the fuel to the fire that’s already been there, left neglected within time. But I can’t help but feel like I need to protect you from him; from whatever hurt he might cause you over time. Although I know my place in all of this and where I stand, it still stings thinking that it isn’t in your heart.

Why would it be, anyway? I’m only just a page you couldn’t keep; a filler in your romantic novel who had the part of the villain origin story but couldn’t fight your hopeless hero. Sadly, Jungwon’s five steps ahead of me. So much for telling the ton there was us in the making, but you weren’t even mine to begin with.

Your mother invited me and the Yang family for dinner a sennight ago. She said it was to properly introduce me as your husband-to-be to your family, that includes your lover’s sitting across the table discussing the recent blow from the Daily Tattle, which was, of course, us.

“Jungwon, dear, have you wished your friend, Y/n, luck on her future wedding with the duke-to-be? Need I remind you that she’s going to need some of it from her best friends.” Lady Yang gently nudged her son who was busy tapping his spoon and fork upon the table. “Jungwon here is finally courting someone, have you heard of that, dear? Lady Choi, daughter of the-”

“The ever famous cheese merchant of our city, Viscount Choi, whom without, we wouldn’t be eating this opulent cheese on the table right this very moment.” I finished, which made the two mothers impressively smile in my direction. Realizing how uncomfortable you become at the very slightest mention of Jungwon’s new lover, I figured butting in could end your agony; seeing that your man is stupid enough to not read the situation in front of him. He seemed more occupied with the utensils than your disheartened state.

As predicted, you excused yourself, and it went without saying that Jungwon followed after you as you rushed out the dining hall and out to your garden. Your brothers and his soon left the hall and went with their casual discourse on the parlor, leaving his and your mother exchanging wedding plans with the company of champagne bottles and cheese. I held my head up high as I walked into the library to reflect on matters that kept me wondering at night. Until Niki strode in, with a pocket watch in hand.

“Riki, I’m-”

“Save your breath, Your Grace. You’re going to need it in case you piss the hell out of Jungwon and he lands his knuckles on your pretty face again.”

“Why don’t you do it then? Can’t get your hands dirty for your sister yet you can for Yena?”

“Do not fucking tempt me, Sunghoon.”

“Too bad. I’d love to see you try, though.”

“And I’d love to see your little mouth shut, Your Grace. You’re impressive, but I’m sure you’ve always been told that. For a moment there you really had me thinking you were about to apologize to my brother. Turns out you’re still the coward that you’ve always been.” Jay walked in unannounced, slightly scaring me. He’s like a lion ready to hunt for prey, even though he’d just sit there looking unbothered. I’ve always deemed your eldest brother with veneration. All I did was drop my head low when he threw me those harsh words, though I completely agree as they embody me in so many ways possible. I hate it.

“A wedding, huh? Don’t you think you’re going too far, already? This ruse is nothing but a shame to both our families. Heed me while I’m asking you nicely to end this foolishness you’ve invoked on our sister.”

“Forgive me… but I’m afraid I can’t.”

Fortunately, Niki was quick enough to grab a hold of Jay when he was about to come at me. I must say this now before it’s too late, and better be in front of your brothers than your lover.

“I will take full responsibility for Y/n. I will be a man of worth to her and a word of honor, I will end any future causes of grievances upon us both. I will protect her from it, just as I’m doing now.”

“You’re doing nothing but stall her from her fate with Jungwon!”

“And how do you know she still cares for him? Haven’t you seen the look on your dear sister’s face whenever Jungwon’s name is brought up? Haven’t you seen that man strolling around the town with a fancy girl in hand a week after breaking your sister’s heart? I thought so. But you just want things to go your way. I’ll respect that. For now.”

I dashed out of the library after giving them a piece of my mind. Though I had planned to apologize to Niki, Jay’s words got the best of me. I headed towards the garden to look for you, but before I could have your attention, Jungwon already did.

END OF PARK SUNGHOON’S POV

 Jungwon rushed to the garden, following Y/n’s quick pace in an attempt to block out any possible thoughts about her lover. Basking under the bright moonlight, Jungwon grabbed her by the wrist, making her turn and crash against his jabot-clad chest.

“Y/n, please-”

“Really, Jung? God! You totally had me fooled that day when I thought we were having a moment!”

“We did! But-”

“But what? You can’t hold yourself accountable for the things you left me with so you squander your way with another lady? Tough blow, don’t you think?”

“Please, Y/n, I just need you to listen to me and-”

“I’m tired, Jung. All these years, you let me wait for you for five years just to have you run back and hurt me again. I’m tired of you making a fool out of me, and I’m dumb enough to always let you. Because I love you. I love you so much, it fucking hurts. I have so much love for you yet here you are, always welcoming me with fleeting bliss and leaving me with endless torment. But the damage has been done and I’m out. I love you, but I guess I’m going to have to leave it like this.”

“You still do?”

“God! I poured out my heart for you and all you could say was that? Jung, how can you be so dense?! I wouldn’t have let you hold me that day in the forest if I don’t love you! I asked you for a new start but you ran off and a week later you’re traipsing around Northumberland with Lady Choi! Right in front of me!”

“You were with that man that day too, in front of me! You look at him with so much admiration with your hand hanging on his arm. How do you think that made me feel?!”

“More than the damage you did to me? What a load of nonsense, Jung! And here I thought you already knew that Sunghoon and I were just fooling around to get to you.”

“Well, I’m here now, Y/n! I’m all yours now!”

“No, you’re not. You just can’t bear the truth that you lost me to him. At the end of the day, it will always be your pride. It always has been. I’m sorry. I don’t even know why I’m apologizing but I still will. This ends here, Jung. I wish you well.”

The entire time that Y/n and the young lord were arguing out the garden, Jay and Niki were carefully listening from the library’s window; Niki figured it was finally time to spill the truth to his sister.

Niki followed Y/n to her room, taking note of the soft sobs and sniffles she emitted. She turned around when she felt her brother’s footsteps trailing after her.

“Riki…” Niki was suddenly enclosed by Y/n’s tight embrace, dampening his jabot shirt with her tears. He returned the warm hug as he gently rubs her corseted back, feeling the constant huffs from her crying.

“I’m sorry about Jungwon.”

“He doesn’t deserve me.” The lady muffled against her brother’s chest.

“Maybe you’re right. And neither does Sunghoon. Listen, Sister. There’s something I need to get off my chest. Come.” The two entered the lady’s room and Niki carefully shut the door tight, locking it in the process. He sat atop the neatly arranged bed while patting the space next to him, gesturing Y/n to sit closer to his side.

“Jay isn’t happy with the sudden announcement of your engagement, and neither am I. But always know that I will always have your back, just like how you always have mine. I’ve seen how Sunghoon made you smile and laugh like how you used to with Jungwon back in the day. This day feared me but we’re here now, and I must tell you the reason why we’re all against him courting you in the first place.”

“Remember Yena? The girl I told you about in the letters? Sunghoon… he deceived her. He made her cheat against me, fed her with lies, and tricked her into thinking our love was nothing but a hoax. I saw them one day in his father’s garden, I followed them, curious enough to see how he made her happier than when she was with me. Until he kissed her. He took her first kiss when I thought we’d be sharing it with each other. And she kissed him back... like I wasn’t even someone to reckon with. Needless to say, I attacked him. The boys went against him afterward. Jungwon was there too. With all the lies he wired into her brain, Yena never looked at me the same after that day. And the many days that followed. She and Sunghoon just suddenly stopped seeing after the fight that erupted between us.”

“The thing was, sister, Sunghoon never loved her. He was young and didn’t want to let the opportunity pass, that’s what he told us when I had his collar by my clutch. That was the only excuse he could ever give us. The asshole that he is.” Niki clicks his tongue while dropping his head low, gaze fixed on the carpeted area on the floor across them. “Fuck. I would still have Yena if he didn’t try to treat things like we were playing a game of who could get the girl first. Thinking about the time he wasted on nothing genuine, Yena could have spent it on me instead and I would have had her here, introduced to Mother and the ton.”

Y/n placed a hand on her brother’s closed, shaky fists. Niki let out soft sniffles, trying his best to keep himself from cracking. “I’m sorry, Riki, I didn’t know. He told me it was all in the past and that he desires to make amends now.” Niki jerks up, eyes fixed on his sister’s eyes. “You’ve only heard his point of view, you never heard mine. Sunghoon’s made a whole record in university, Y/n. He goes around the grounds breaking hearts like he owns them. Girls would swoon over him and he would gladly oblige. What an ambitious, cunning little prick. And now he has you wrapped around his fingers, the same way he did to Yena.”

“I’m sure he means no harm now, brother. He’s been nothing but kind and gentle to me. He makes me utterly happy; the part of my romantic story where I used to want Jungwon to be consistent of.”

“You know, I’ve always been considerate of your choices and aspirations, sister. But I will not lose you to Sunghoon like this. I’m afraid Jay and I will have to be very uptight with you seeing him from now on. I’m sure by now you’ve come to understand why Jungwon’s scared of surrendering you to him. He means well, sis, Jungwon…”

“I will not settle for someone whom I have to spend a lifetime second-guessing whether he wants me in his life or not.”

“But he’s been missing you a lot lately, hasn’t he?”

“I’m afraid him missing me is far too different from him wanting to marry me.”

Niki only sighs before planting a soft kiss on his sister’s temple and fixing his fit to present himself back to the lobby. Y/n was left in her room, fidgeting with her fingers while anxiously biting her bottom lip in deep contemplation.

Sunghoon may have stolen her attention from Jungwon, but she had to admit, she never regretted it. She has felt safe with Sunghoon the past months they’ve been together. Jungwon did nothing but torture her constantly with every chance he got. Although they hadn’t been sticking around their ruse’s ground rules lately, she feared the time between her and Sunghoon would be up soon and she wouldn’t feel his comforting presence around her anymore.

Sunghoon may have gotten her used to their dilly-dallying that time apart from each other could make her feel miserable. Not to mention the embarrassment that would come with it considering she is foretold to be Northumberland’s next duchess after all.

*send me an ask or a message if you wish to be added on this series' taglist!

ㅡ © ENHA-WOODZIES, 2021

#kpopscape #enhypenwriters #enhypennetwork #neothestars #of lords & mischiefs #enhypen angst #enhypen fluff #enhypen imagines #enhypen fics #enhypen series #enhypen jungwon #enhypen heeseung #enhypen jay #enhypen jake #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunoo #enhypen niki #iland daniel

[vanillann]

aphrodite and her son cupid (spencer reid x f.reader)

thank you for the request!!

word count: 2.1k

“What do you mean you broke down?”

JJ ran around the corner from her office, her stride larger than normal as she stepped to the center of the bullpen.

“Okay, I’ll see what I can do.”

JJ hung up the phone, a sigh falling past her lips as she tilted her head back to watch the ceiling closely.

“What’s wrong?”

Spencer and Emily had now walked up to standing on either side of the blonde, Emily placing a gentle hand on her friend's shoulder.

“Will was going to pick up Henry when his truck broke down, I would get him but I have so much paperwork that I have to have done by 6.”

“I’ll go get them.”

Spencer slowly raised his hand, almost like he was a shy kid in the back of the class.

“I don't want you-”

“I finished all my paperwork 1 hour and 6 minutes ago.”

JJ smiled, running back to her office quickly before returning with her keys held tightly in her hand.

“Thank you Spence”

Spencer smiled as he jogged out the glass doors of the BAU.

*

“Thank you for doing this again.”

A thick Southern accent filled the car as they pulled up to the last available parking spot at the school. Both adults stepped from the car, making sure to stand tall enough for Henry to spot them.

“I’m happy to help, plus it's part of my job as god-father.”

Will smiled, clapping a hand on Spencer's shoulder that caused him to fall forward slightly.

The sound of loud footsteps and yelling suddenly filled the field before them, kids running to their car or sitting in the grand waiting for their own.

Suddenly a small tuft of blonde hair emerged from the coward of kids, a woman holding his hand walking beside him.

The long skirt and multi-color headband reminded Spencer of a picture he had once seen of his mom from when she was a teen.

“Ms. (L/N),” Will pushed off the car and moved to the woman, giving her a bear hug.

“Will.”

Both pulled back from each other, Ms. (L/N) looking over Will shoulder to wave at Spencer.

“You must be Uncle Spencer.”

Spencer would never say it out loud, he was a humble guy, but he was proud that Henry's teacher knew who he was because that meant Henry talked about him a lot.

“Yes, I’m Doctor Spencer Reid.”

“(Y/N) (L/N), but try to use Ms. (L/N) around Henry. The entire first week of school he called me Agent (L/N).”

A giggle fell past Spencer's lips, causing him to look between the two with knowing eyes.

He might not be a profiler but he sure wasn't stupid.

“Sorry, he probably got a little too used to that.”

Henry stood beside Ms. (L/N) jumping off the balls of his feet.

“Uncle Spencer, did you know I have the highest reading level in class?”

There was that pride from earlier bubbling in his stomach, but it quickly left when he realized that Henry was still standing beside his teacher.

Henry always ran to Spencer to give him a hug.

“Uncle Spencer, today was national hug day.”

Will smirk to himself, he knew he raised his kid right.

“Really?”

Of course Spencer knew it was national hug day but he wasn't going to spoil the kids day.

“Ms. (L/N) said she was going to get as many hugs as possible, would you like to help her?”

“Henry,” Ms. (L/N) pulled on Henry slightly with a stern look.

God, it almost could beat Hotch.

“No it’s fine, I can never say no to him anyways.”

Without another word Henry was dragging Ms. (L/N) closer to Spencer, standing beside the two with eyes of awe.

Spencer looked back at Ms. (L/N), slowly raising his arm like he was about to waltz and arm stiff.

“You look scared, come here.”

Ms. (L/N) grabbed the arm of his blazer, slowly dragging him closer to her before he was closer enough to wrap her arms around his middle.

Spencer felt his body light on fire, the feeling of her fingers laid across his back had his mind racing at rapid speed.

Will stood against the car, the smirk gracing his lips as Spencer hand fell onto her shoulders softly.

Will squatted next to his son, holding his fist out.

Henry bumped his own fist against his dad’s, jumping up and down as he watched his Uncle Spencer smile.

Henry liked it when Uncle Spencer smiled because of something he did.

*

“I’m so sorry about today,” JJ sat next to Will on her brown leather couch, a glass of wine in her hand.

“Oh don't worry doll, it was good talking to Reid anyways.”

Will attempted to hide the smirk behind his beer bottle, looking at his wife with raised eyebrows.

“Spencer enjoyed meeting Ms. (L/N).”

JJ coughed the wine she was drinking back into her glass.

“No way, Ms. (L/N) doesn't seem like his type.”

Will shrugged, taking the last bit of beer and placing the drink on the coaster.

“He hugged her.”

JJ turned her head, watching her husband with wild eyes.

“He hugged her? Did he have a gun to his head!”

“Nope, your son was playing cupid.”

JJ smirk to herself this time, that sounded like Henry.

“Ms. (L/N) is way too adventurous for Spence, she jumped off a cliff once just so she could tell people she was the friend that jumps off the bridge.”

Will rolled his eyes, a smile on his lips as he watched the fireplace burn with passion.

“He could use the adventure in his life, the most excited thing that happens to that kid is getting PhDs and getting shot.”

JJ didn't mean to, she really didn't, but she snorted.

“That’s not funny.”

“Then why'd you laugh doll.”

*

JJ circled the corner from her office, walking into the bullpen with her nose in her phone.

“JJ!”

She looked up at the call of her name, the text from her mom would have to wait a minute.

“Spence?”

Spencer jogged from his desk, his long legs bringing him over to her quickly.

“I saw you had more files on your desk and I was wondering if you needed me to pick Henry up again. Sunday you mention Will works on Wednesday so,”

Spencer trailed off, suddenly breaking eye contact with JJ.

Oh my, he broke eye contact!

“Um- that's really sweet-”

“I'll leave now.”

Without another thought Spencer grabbed a set of keys from his desk, running out the glass doors of the bullpen.

JJ turned around, the shock written across her face as she watched Spencer back walk into the elevator.

“What’s going on?��

Emily's strong voice echoed beside JJ, the mug of coffee could be seen out the side of her eye.

“I think Spence has a crush on Henry teacher.”

*

“Afternoon Doc.”

(Y/N) leaned on the open window of Spencer beetle, a smile on her lips. Spencer heard the back door of his car open but didn't pay much mind to it.

“Ms. (L/N).”

“The past month you've been picking Henry up, did JJ and Will die?”

Spencer let out a giggle, now that had Henry falling into a fit in the backseat.

“No just Will has been having more work than normal and JJ is helping our tech analyst with finding cases.”

Ok so maybe at this very moment Will was definitely at home and JJ was laughing with Emily at her desk, but that definitely wasn't the point.

“Well I’m glad to see your back from the last case, Henry did not enjoy taking the bus Monday,” Ms. (L/N) tapped the side of the car and stood up to her full height.

“Ms. (L/N)!)

She slowly leaned back down, looking back at Henry who was jumping in their seat.

“For Parent Day, can I bring mommy friends!”

Shit, I’m one of mommy’s friends.

“If they can all make it there they are welcome, I’ll set them up a booth and every Henry.”

Henry was jumping up and down in his seat, a wicked smile across his face showing off his missing front tooth.

“Thank you Ms. (L/N), you're the best.”

She smiled and stood back up her full height, watching as Spencer quickly back out his parking spot and jumped on the bypass.

“Uncle Spencer, can I call mommy from your phone?”

“Of course Henry, look in the side pocket of my bag.”

Henry grabbed the bag that sat beside him, pulling out his godfather phone and finding his mom's contact.

He rang a few times before his mother's soft voice echoed through.

“Spence?”

“Hi mommy!”

He heard her laugh to herself, in the background sounded a lot like Aunt Emily, but there were much more important things right now.

“I did it mommy, I did!”

“That’s my boy.”

*

“Hotch, we need to be home this Friday.”

JJ stood in the middle of Hotch office, pleading eyes as she begged him to stay here and come to the school.

“I can't promise-”

“It’s just an hour or two, I really need this.”

Hotch looked up at the blonde through his eyelashes, looking at the stack of papers in front of him.

“I’ll see what I can do, but if it's serious we have to go.”

JJ smiled, blowing a kiss to Hotch as she left his office. Rossi stood outside the door, a smile large across his face.

“So-”

“Get ready for Operation Schoolyard.”

*

“Wow, do you have a gun?”

Hotch let a smile grace his lips, smiling at the kid who was asking Hotch a new question ever second.

“I do.”

“Come on guys, my family is over here.”

The team looked up to see little Henry dragging four kids over to the booth, pointing at the members of the team with a wiggling finger.

“Meet my mommy and my aunts and my uncles,” Henry said as he pulled on the skirt Ms. (L/N) wore.

“I know JJ and Doc-”

Doc?

So they had nicknames, this was more serious than they planned.

“- but it's wonderful to meet the rest of you.”

“You too, Pretty Boy here talks about you so much I knew we had to meet,” Morgan slapped a hand on Reid's shoulder, pushing him slightly from the spot he stood in.

“Awh, I’m honored to be a topic of conversation.”

JJ looked over her shoulder, Rossi giving a big thumbs up before looking at the kids.

“Wanna learn how to profile?”

Each kid nodded their head, Henry crossing his arm and looking up at his Uncle Rossi.

“I already know how Uncle Rossi.”

“I know kid, but we gotta teach your friends.”

Rossi turned back to the group of small children, each looking at each member with wide eyes.

“How about we use my friends Doctor Spencer Reid as an example.”

Spencer's eyes bugged out his head, turning to his co-worker with an expression of horror.

“Doctor Reid posture was the slightest bit hunched before Ms. (L/N) came over here, which means he feels the need to hold a nice image around her.”

Loud coughing came tumbling out of Spencer's mouth and Rossi would have felt horrible if he wasn't doing this for the greater good.

“Also Doctor Reid was talking louder before as well but now he is peeking quieter which shows he is nervous.”

Emily stood beside Rossi watching Ms. (L/N), she was shuffling her feet and wasn't making eye contact anymore.

“Wow, that's so cool,” one kid spoke before his eyes started wandering.

“Look it’s a dog.”

The fire department dog was bought through the doors of the gym, all five keys jumping from their spot and running as fast as they could.

Spencer's eyes stayed on his Ms. (L/N) as her hands dropped into one of her pockets.

“I’m sorry about that, first graders love dogs.”

“I was more a cat person,” Emily spoke before turning to look at the sweet teacher before her.

“I don't think I could keep something like that alive, maybe a fish?”

“I have a fish!”

Spencer's voice was high and his teammates tried to hide the smile, but that was something they had a hard time with at these times.

“Really?”

Spencer just nodded his head, his eyes blew and his shoe tapped against the gym floor.

“Well I’ve been looking into getting one-”

Her hand reached over, grabbing Spencers and placing a piece of paper in the middle of his hand.

“and maybe you could set it up.”

Spencer swallowed hard, his Adam's apple bouncing as he nodded his head. She smiled at him and began walking to the group of kids who have surrounded the dog.

“Spencer, you don't have a fish,” Penelope spoke out for the first time in a while, standing in the back with a huge smirk.

“I’ll get one.”

cm tag list:

@itsarayofsunshine @m-n-m @aquarius-pisces-rose @victomizedbyreginageorge @avaxreid @erinxneil

#spencer reid/you #spencer reid/reader #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid #bau #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader

[has-gilgamesh-doneanythingwrong]

In regards to the high school Au, Gil meeting a shy yet pretty girl that he likes. What would he do to win her heart?

Hello, anon! I'm glad you enjoyed the high school AU. This will be an interesting continuation...TIME TO GO IN GUNS BLAZING!!

btw i made the reader insert character gender neutral so then it feels more like a dating sims game. :3

note: this is going to be a bit ooc (crackfic maybe)

Student Gilgamesh Developing a Crush (High School Au)

- Bored, Gilgamesh sips his wine on the school roof as usual; gorging himself in a specially-reserved bento box. He liked it up above, where he could just rest, instead of dominating the school so fiercely.

- When he hears the sound of pattering footsteps traipsing across his sacred grounds, anger thunders down on his face. "To think that such a foolish mongrel would have the nerve to entrench themselves upon my resting area...How dare you-" The words freeze in his throat, as he catches sight of you.

- From your posture, to the expression on your face...Gilgamesh was ensnared within the thorns of captivation!

- "E-err...sorry about that." You bow politely, as wind billows through your beautiful strands of hair, eyes blossoming like the finest of flowers. "You see, I just like to sit here too sometimes." Albeit being rather nervous, you bravely spoke up for yourself, which he liked. "I mean, I can leave if you'd like but I like this place too-" His brusque red eyes catch you off guard, as you duck your head in agony; twiddling your fingers.

- He was so scary!! As you fluctuated between wanting to leave and wanting to stay (because its not as if Gilgamesh owns the school roof or anything), his hands suddenly grip yours- as he pulls you towards him with all the force of a bull.

- "How adorable...how utterly enthralling you are! I never expected to witness such a fine beauty upon these school grounds." Gilgamesh has already latched into his hardcore flirting mode, leaning in awkwardly close to your face. "Mongrel. Tell me your name. NOW."

- Eyes wide with shock, you reluctantly tell him your name, only for him to proclaim that you shall have his interest from now on. "Although you are a beauty, you are naught but a mongrel. If you catch my eye from now on as well, so be it!" He tries to play it cool, but is actually much more interested than he wants to let on. "Take this land for yourself. I have no need for it anymore."

-As he leaves- face beaming with joy- an ominous pit of worry pools in your stomach. You knew the rumors all to well- of how Gilgamesh was pretty tough work, relentless once interested; and the tales of all the people who he had left broken and rejected. 'I'd better pick a god and pray...'

- However, you are greatly surprised by how tame his approach is at first (let's just say that he can be quite a nuisance at times). Besides from randomly slotting the occasional gift atop your desk, and winking whenever you passed him by; Gilgamesh was pacing himself for once.

- Once you nervously asked your friends about this, they reassured you that he wasn't always quite so hardcore as he seemed. "He only pops off once he's fully invested! All the best," Your stomach churned slightly at the idea of that. The amount of expert knowledge they had on his movements were insane. Everybody treated him like a local celebrity!!

- However, all things drastically change once he crosses paths with you during Sports Ed. Bunking off yet another class deemed too banal to entertain him, he strolls through school grounds- only to catch sight of your legs trembling as you parry the horrible sports ed teacher's serves; tears dropping from your eyes- as other students watch blankly on, hoping to avoid eye contact with the situation altogether.

- Once the teacher picks his next unfortunate target, Gilgamesh is surprised to see you rush to the back; only to be taken aback by the next sight lying before him.

- Helping take care of students injured by your demonic excuse for a Sports Ed teacher, you mouth words of encouragement to them, despite clearly shaking with fear yourself. Despite being extremely shy and scared, it seemed as if you were trying desperately to support others, as well.

- "Hoh..." Now he was certainly interested. Slinking back to his private zone, Gilgamesh vows to conduct a little more research on a certain asshole Sports Ed teacher...

- Luck seems to strike the pan, for another huge encounter occurs once he bumps into you at the shoe lockers. The sun slowly sinks across the horizon; dappling the world around you in a bright orange light.

- "You've been evading me so skillfully lately, mongrel. Have my divine offerings been to your liking?" Leaning against your locker, he grins mischievously at you; red irises dancing with amusement.

- "T-the chocolates were nice...but I'm fine without any gifts. So you don't have to bring them anymore." Hugging your plastered hands to your chest, you lower your head. Now just wasn't the time, you were already drained for the day. "I have to go, sorry..."

- Now that was a surprise. Usually people would be dying for his attention, not evading him like this! However, this was exactly to Gilgamesh's liking oh my god. Leaning forwards, he's just about to attempt to set your heart aflutter with some cheesy adages until...

- The Sports Ed teacher bursts in, eyes brimming with rage. "Y/N!!! WHY ARE YOU LATE? All that talk about 'i want to protect my friends', and then you can't even come to club on time, huh? You freaking coward!" By this time, the teacher is gripping you by the arms, as scared tears drop from your eyes, expression frightened.

- Eyes narrowing with disgust, Gilgamesh stares at the events unfurling before him. His research had uncovered a great deal of trash on this teacher, who was infamous for training students way past their limits; bullying them severely for not fitting his ridiculous standards.

- Grabbing the teacher by the scruff of his neck, Gilgamesh forcefully pulls him away from your quivering figure. "How pathetic a troglodyte you are, to be treating your fellow mongrels with such disdain. " Gilgamesh all but hisses into the teacher's ears. "You leave me no choice but to punish you."

- "Punish me? Who the hell do you think you are, you bastard?! I'll suspend you for touching me!" The teacher slaps Gilgamesh's palm away, as you watch them with terror. Things were getting ugly, and fast.

- "I'm Gilgamesh. Remember the name, mongrel- especially once I've casted your meagre buttocks out of this estate." Unveiling his golden-plated phone, a horrifying gleam lights in his eyes as he reveals a huge list of the teacher's misdemeanors. "I know what pathetic things you've been up to...and about your abuse of power. Not that I'd usually care, mind you." However, the teacher had the gall to threaten you. Which basically meant that he was now dead meat?! he was gonna destroy him XD

- Worried, you step in before Gilgamesh can unleash one of his terrifying bribes upon the teacher. "W-wait, Gilgamesh!" As he turns to you-shocked that you'd address him by name, you smile. "I-I think we should have him legally fired instead...but that's just me..." That way, he'd never be able to become a teacher again.

- "Hoh, how kind-hearted of you. Well, I shall honor your rather pitiable request once." Gilgamesh shoos off the bewildered teacher, who looks confusedly between you both. "Fate has bestowed you with generous luck today; you pathetic excuse for a teacher. Depart the premises at once!"

- However, the teacher is extremely prideful; and lunges to attack Gilgamesh- flying so wildly off the mark that he legitimately crashes into the teacher's office nearby. Which alerts all of the teachers of the ensuing scuffle. Which then results in you having to bravely explain the situation...which ends up with the teacher being MIRACULOUSLY FIRED ON THE SPOT?!!!!

- It was as if this chain of events was perfectly orchestrated. As you look towards him with both a mixture of awe and fear, he heartily laughs. "Fuhahaha! Let's just say that Lady Luck favors me quite greatly." That was a lie. Gilgamesh knew much more than he was letting on.

- "Thank you." For the first time, you truly smiled at him; sunlight beaming down on your face. "For a scary tyrant, you can be really helpful sometimes." Those were not the words he was expecting to hear at all! Coughing awkwardly, Gilgamesh puts on a mask of nonchalance to avoid his burgeoning feelings. You weren't meant to say that!!!

- "Fuhn, I wasn't doing it to help you, nor the other pathetic mongrels that troglodyte was bullying. Don't get cocky, lowlife." And with that he was gone, as you waved goodbye.

romancing bit (?!!)

- Seeing as Gilgamesh is now very interested in you, he will most likely make sure to cross paths with you as often as possible; saying all sorts of cheesy and flirty things. He sits with you during break, loudly sipping wine by your side as other students look on with amazement. He also leaves letters and gifts by your desk everyday. The letters are eerily direct, proclaiming ominous things such as 'we shall wed...'

- Overall, he is overzealous and extremely headstrong in his approach, not giving you enough time to breathe. However if you tell him that you feel overwhelmed by his actions, he reconsiders them briefly...only to go over-the-top in different ways instead; hoping that you'll be pleased by his advances. I think Gilgamesh needs to learn more about self-restraint here.

- He'll probably want to take you to many places as well, and try and bowl you over with limited edition experiences; things that are beyond your wildest dreams. He's probably also going to get very serious as well by increasing the time he spends by your side considerably. Expect to see him everyday from now on, too!

- Is he the type to do a shoujo-manga style entrance to sweep you off your feet? Yes. He does helicopter landings every now and then, thrusting a bouquet at you. He also hires people to serenade you at times, much like something out of a romantic novel; and loves seeing your surprised reactions.

- He will get quite pushy at times, so it's recommended to alert him if you're not enjoying it. In his eyes, the two of you are as good as close contemporaries now.

- Exasperated, he finally decides to ask "Mongrel. What is it that you desire? Anything you shall wish for will be in your hands." He's absolutely convinced that he can do anything to win you over. However when you reply with a simple, "...I'd like some help with my studies!" as your adorable cheeks flush with determination, he sighs. There was no winning over you with conventional means. Yet, he is also spurred on by the challenge.

- "Although your response is a terribly common one, I'll oblige you." He certainly will. "With my expertise, you'll be acing all of your classes from now on!" When a color-coded, detailed guide on all of your subjects lands on your desk the next day, as Gilgamesh smiles smugly at you.

- As you flick through the pages, you see detailed notes on all the things you don't understand, and are quite shocked by the quality level of this. "T-this is amazing!" You gasp. "How did you do this?!"

- "I have my sources." He really did. "Mongrel. From now on, I shall stand by your side. Do not hesitate to call upon my assistance if need be." And with that, his word is final.

- I have a feeling that once he likes someone, he'll hold onto them quite tightly, and will do as much as he can to impress them; going out of his way to win their heart.

#gilgamesh #fate series #gilgablog #my writing #fgo #ok this is high school au so its a little tame a little crackfic and a little ooc XD its a light hearted story ^^ #this is like an otome game now. it is isnt it. #asks #anon

[dilly-oh]

The Office War

    Kakashi had been stealing his pens again, Iruka was certain of it. His particular favorite was sitting right there out in the open on that bastard's desk, the orange one with the ugly troll cap that'd been a present from Naruto, as well as several others he'd bought at his own personal expense because the quality of pens the company provided for employees was a damn joke. Iruka had standards. 

    Those are my fucking pens, douche-bag, Iruka thought as he sat at his desk, seething with righteous fury. Get your own.

    He could see the smarmy asshole's hair poking up out of his cubicle, gray and spikey and in desperate need of brushing. As he watched, his computer chair tipped back and Kakashi came into view, lazy-eyed and tapping one of Iruka's own pens against his weird medical face-mask in thought.

    Just let it go, Iruka told himself before he could get truly riled up. He didn't need another talk with HR after the incident with Genma eating his lunches. That had gotten pretty out of hand - there had almost been a lawsuit involved. It's just a few pens, right? Nothing to start a fight over. It's not a big deal.

    And then Kakashi poked the pen under his mask and started chewing.

    That did it.

    Time to confront the bastard. With passive-aggressive guilt-tripping. 

    Iruka stood up from his cubicle and sauntered over as nonchalantly as possible.

    “Hey, Kakashi. What's up?” he greeted. Kakashi gave a distracted grunt in reply, eyes glued to his computer screen. “Sorry, can I borrow a pen?” Iruka went on, baring his teeth in challenge more than smiling. “Mine seem to be...missing.”

    “Uh-huh, yeah, sure,” Kakashi said, immediately handing him the one from his mouth, covered in teeth-marks and spit. Iruka recoiled in disgust.

    “Maybe...not that one. How about...that one?” He pointed to the orange one on his desk. Kakashi shrugged and handed it over. Iruka's eyes narrowed. Time to go in for the kill. “Wow. This pen is really nice. Where did you get it?”

    “Dunno.” Kakashi shrugged again. “Picked it up somewhere.”

    Okay, screw passive-aggressive. Time for full-on confrontational. 

    “Okay, cut the shit!”  Iruka burst out impatiently. “Those pens are mine! Give them back!” He reached over and quickly snatched them up, hugging them protectively to his chest. “And...” He paused, eyes raking over Kakashi's sloppy work station. “Is that my stapler?”

    “Oh, is it?” Kakashi said innocently. 

    “Yes it is!” Iruka snatched it away as well. “What else of mine do you have?”

    “Just some papers and binders and stuff. Oh, and I borrowed your pencil sharpener last week but it crapped out after sharpening my hundredth pencil-”

    “That was YOU?!”

    “I needed them for a seminar.” 

    “That thing cost like thirty bucks!”

    “I thought you wouldn't mind,” Kakashi said simply. 

    “Normally, no, I wouldn't, but YOU take things and KEEP them. That I mind. Plus you don't even have the common courtesy to ASK first.” Iruka turned away with a huff. “Don't touch my shit again.”

    And with that, he stomped back to his desk, arms full of his reclaimed supplies. 

    That'll teach him. 

---

    Apparently, it did not. 

    The next day, all of Iruka's paperclips were missing. He spotted them on Kakashi's desk, bent into abstract shapes. Mostly dicks. 

    That son of a bitch.

    This called for war. 

---

    After an entire weekend of planning, Iruka was ready. 

    On Monday, he took a screwdriver to Kakashi's computer chair, subtly loosening the screws at the base of the seat so it would break when tipped back at a lazy angle. He heard the crash from the break-room and almost choked on his granola bar laughing.

    On Tuesday, he drained half of Kakashi's pens of ink and rigged the other half to explode, splattering everywhere when used. All of Kakashi's reports that day were sent back and he had to stay an extra hour just to re-sign everything. 

    On Wednesday, he jammed the copy machine. Kakashi, the procrastinating prick, wasn't able to print out the dozen or so information pamphlets he needed five minutes before the important presentation. The meeting was rescheduled for the following day, much to everyone's irritation, most of all Kakashi's, who prided himself on his copying skills. 

    On Thursday, he stole every single staple in the office. Kakashi, who had finally managed to print the copies for the presentation, was forced to tape all of the papers together. The strange looks he got from the others as he passed them out was well worth the effort. 

    On Friday, he sabotaged Kakashi's coffee cup to spring a leak when he took a sip. Iruka heard him curse from across the room and looked up to see a satisfying amount of hot coffee had spilled all over Kakashi's shirt and face mask. Hissing in pain, he stood and stomped to the nearest bathroom. Iruka couldn't resist following the other man inside for a victory gloat. 

    “So...” Iruka said smugly, joining Kakashi at the sink where he was attempting to dab the stain away with wet paper-towels, “had enough?” 

    “Of what?” Kakashi asked distractedly. “Coffee?”

    “ME, you idiot! It was all me!” Iruka exploded. “Your chair, the copy machine, your coffee! All ME! Are you ready to admit defeat yet? Have you been thoroughly chastened?” 

    “Well, I'm mildly annoyed, if that counts,” Kakashi said, quirking an eyebrow. “I can't believe you went to all that trouble. You should put that effort into your work.” 

    “I should put more effort into my work?! You're the one sneaking naps in your cubicle!!” Iruka sputtered furiously, his face burning with rage, then cut off as Kakashi reached up and removed his mask and his face started burning for an entirely different reason. 

    Oh, shit. 

    Kakashi was hot. Kakashi was really hot. Kakashi was hot enough Iruka wanted to go to HR and lodge a complaint – He's too fucking hot. It's not fair. Fire his ass.

    This changes nothing, Iruka told himself as he broke into a sweat. He's still an asshole, he still deserved it all, the stupid son of a-

    “Damn. It's not coming out.” With an annoyed tsk, Kakashi smoothly removed his tie, unbuttoned his shirt, and stripped it off, his shoulders and chest rolling obscenely with the motion. Iruka's mouth went dry.

    ...This may have backfired, he thought, eyes glued to the slope of Kakashi's back as he bent over the sink, scrubbing at the stain. 

    “I...have to go,” Iruka said blankly. 

    “Well you came to the right place,” Kakashi replied, focused on his work. 

    “No. I mean. Leave. I have to leave. Like right now.” Iruka slowly backed up, hit the wall, then slithered along it til he found the door, desperately snatching at the handle, his eyes still riveted by Kakashi's sculpted chest. 

    “You're leaving early?” Kakashi glanced up at him. “Aren't you out of earned time?”

    “Just take it out of my paycheck gotta go bye,” Iruka blurted before finally wrestling the door open and tumbling out into the hallway, shoving past a confused intern as he bolted towards the exit. 

---

    The sight of Kakashi shirtless haunted Iruka all weekend long.

    He considered calling in sick on Monday, but didn't because Kakashi was indeed correct – he had no more sick leave left after Naruto gave him food poisoning for his birthday by being cheap and trying to bake a cake. 

    Also, he wasn't a coward. 

    So, come Monday morning, he marched right back into the office at 8 A.M on the dot, rode the elevator with his head down, pointedly ignoring everyone while also on the lookout for a certain silver-haired individual, and walked straight to his desk.

    Which was covered in a stunning array of brand-new office supplies. Pens, mechanical pencils, highlighters, large and small paperclips, all sitting there still wrapped in plastic with that new-store smell. Iruka almost burst into tears at the sight.

    “Whose dick did you suck to get all those?” Izumo whispered, his voice thick with jealousy.

    “No-one's!” Iruka snapped at him as he sat down, mystified. He tentatively picked up a box of pens, delighted to see they came in a variety of colors. 

    “Do you like them?” Kakashi asked, leaning in over his shoulder. “I was gonna get flowers, but I figured you'd appreciate these more.”

    “Kakashi!” Iruka bolted up out of his chair like he'd been shocked. Which, frankly, he had been. “Wait. You did this?” He gaped at the other man in disbelief, then his stomach dropped like a weight. Oh, God, of course this wasn't real. It was too good to be true. The supplies were probably all fake, rigged to break or explode or-

    “It was the least I could do to apologize.” 

    “...Apologize?” Iruka blinked. “Why?”

    “Some kid came by looking for you on Friday, after you left,” Kakashi went on, scratching at his face mask in an almost nervous gesture. “Seemed real upset about an orange pen missing from your desk. Said it was a present from him. And, well...I connected the dots.” He nodded towards Iruka's desk, where Naruto's gag “Worst Big Brother Ever” mug sat in its place of honor beside his monitor. “I'm sorry. I didn't know that pen meant so much to you.” He dropped his gaze in shame. “I shouldn't have taken it. Or any of your other stuff, for that matter.” 

    “It...it's alright, Kakashi,” Iruka said quietly, looking at him in a whole new light. Perhaps he should reevaluate his opinion of the other man. Sure, he was a lazy, procrastinating jerk sometimes, but he seemed to have a good heart. Maybe he wasn't so bad after all. “And...thank you for the supplies, they're very appreciated, but honestly, there was no need to trouble yourself-”

    “Want me to take my shirt off again?”

    And maybe he was just an asshole.

    Kakashi smirked down at him, and Iruka could imagine how, under the mask, it pulled at the stupid beauty mark on the side of his mouth.

    ...A really, really hot asshole.

    “...Yeah alright.”

(Written for @kakairu-fest Kakairu Month 2021, Day Six Prompt: Office AU)

#kakairu #KakaIru Month 2021 #hatake kakashi #umino iruka #naruto #office au #don't fuck with Iruka's office supplies #he will cut a bitch

[akampana]

Prompt n.24 sounds very interesting. Arturia is a king, but also a knight. And the one thing a knight has by their side, is their trusted weapon...

But we know that sometimes, a weapon is not just a weapon. Sometimes its much more...

Right, Cu Alter?

24. “You will never lose me. I will always be right here beside you.”

Cu Alter x Arturia

One-shot, set in a world where Cú Chulainn and King Arthur exist in the same time period. Enjoy! Thanks for the ask!

___

A loud clang resounded within the stone confines of the throne room, and yet it was quiet compared to the storm raging hell outside, and quieter still to the turmoil that wracked King Arthur’s mind.

Tristan’s desertion was followed by those of a number of knights. The first crack in the glass foundation that kept Camelot’s flag flying high. The exposure of Lancelot’s affair, however, was the hammer that finally smashed it to smithereens. Now here she was left amongst the rubble, with an aggrieved Gawain, a conflicted Bedivere and the cold, dead body of poor Agravain, who fell victim to her excommunicated First Knight. Arturia did not know where Merlin was. Kay had left months ago with all his fortune. She needn’t be a genius to know he wasn’t coming back.

What the people demanded was revenge for King Arthur’s cuckolding: the hunt and execution of the treacherous French knight that fled to his homeland, to whom Arturia held no grudge. Her logic demanded she carry out the farce, but what remained of her sealed-up heart did not.

From this derived her conflict, which she wrestled in solitude, here at the glaringly empty Round Table that used to seat her comrades.

Pursue the man she’s forgiven or stay her hand? Give the people what they want or stand by her own beliefs?

Arturia flinched as cool metal brushed against her fingertips, her startled eyes climbing to meet orbs the color of the wine she just spilled.

“King—!” the glare he sent her stilled her tongue at once, his inhuman crimson eyes glowing in the dim candlelight.

“Cú,” she corrected herself, wrapping her cloak tighter around herself. Her thinner night garbs did little to hide the secret of her sex. In the dead of night, she wasn’t expecting any visitors. Especially not at the Round Table, which was devoid of all life at this hour.

“Has your fire gone out for the night?” she said, twisting her father’s silver ring around her thumb as she spoke, “I will arrange for a servant to assist you at once—”

“Forget it,” interrupted the brutal warrior, reclining himself into Lancelot’s former seat as he poured his own goblet. “Can’t sleep in all this racket.”

She knew instinctively he didn’t mean the storm. Regretful green eyes inspected the mess in the corner, wasted wine that was a victim to her ire. Briefly, she wondered how the foreign king could hear her from all the way in the east wing, but it was hardly important. Cú was already a man of few words. He wouldn’t waste any on small talk.

“Yer gonna chase the bastard, aren’t ya? It’s what yer subjects want,” came his raspy declaration, cutting in through the silence just before a crack of lightning illuminated the room. Their eyes clashed in the glaring white light, blood orbs against evergreen.

“I can...I cannot deny them the justice they expect of me,” she answered, grief lacing the small voice that barely carried itself through the thunder.

“So you deny yerself. Just like you’ve done all yer life. Ain’t that right, Arturia?”

It took King Arthur a moment to fully grasp what had come out of his lips. Her breath began to labor as she wracked her brain for an excuse. Panic settled into her bones faster than the snow outside seeped into the grass. Before she could formulate anything, however, she felt Cú’s fingers encircle her wrist.

“Relax. I ain’t telling no one. Weapons don’t talk, remember?” he soothed, as much as an emotionless killing machine could, anyway.

“You are not just a weapon. We have been over this.” Arturia shot back, momentarily forgetting the source of her stress.

As her frantic breaths began to still, she managed a small question. “How long have you known?”

His claws released their grip, lamenting the small indents they left on her skin. “Since ya wasted yer fourteenth seat on a foreign king that once would have torn yer land asunder.”

Cú reached past her arms, lifting the wool cloak from the short king’s chest. Sure enough, he now had his confirmation, a modest chest that was so cleverly hidden behind her armor plates.

“‘Tis of little consequence to me,” he voiced, replacing the garment she pulled so closely around herself. She watched him as he gave her another glass of wine, trying to discern if he spoke the truth.

“I don’t bloody care about what’s between yer legs, the same way you never cared for this fucking tail that trails behind me. All I need to hear are yer orders,” her allied king continued, flicking away a loose strand of hair with the scaly appendage.

“If ya wanna kill Lancelot, Arturia, I’m with ya. Point me in the way of France. But if not, then gimme some other fucking command. I don’t give a shit, as long as it’s what ya want.”

The King of Knights pursed her lip, still unaccustomed to hearing her real name from one who wasn’t supposed to know her secret. Especially when the one who used it was someone she did not expect: the displaced King of Connacht, who was more frequently an envoy serving at her court as an allied Warrior of the Round Table than the ruler of his late queen’s territory. The latter job, Cú had delegated to Fergus, as the “Mad” King had chosen to dedicate his freedom to the one that liberated him.

Arturia shook off his crass manner of speech. After nearly a decade of having him by her side, she’d grown accustomed to his language, even if he was frequently scoffed at by Agravain and Gaheris when the siblings still lived.

The reminder of her knights’ deaths led her gaze back to her table and its empty seats. There were so few that still belonged to the living. Some of them were never to be filled again. Arturia turned to her right, to where Lancelot once sat, meeting ruby eyes instead of onyx ones.

“Then how about this,” she suggested, imprinting the Irish King’s face into her memory the same way she’d done for the rest of her knights. Slowly, she slipped off the silver ring she’d been fiddling with and slid it onto his pinky.

“Return to your homeland with as much gold as you can carry and my eternal gratitude. Take a fourth of the cattle. Reward each of those in your service with one and keep the rest to enrich Connacht.”

Thunder raged on outside the castle walls, but it was the silence of the king before her that unnerved Arturia to a ridiculous extent. For while neither were as talkative as her remaining nephew, the quiet had never been quite so tense.

“The hell?” Cú finally asked, glaring at the Pendragon ring with disgust instead of honor. “You’d have me run? Do ya think me a coward—”

“—I think you are a king that should not die for the flag of a kingdom that is not his,” she cut him off, grasping his hand before he could tear her father’s ring off. “You asked for an order. This is it.”

Cú Chulainn’s claws dug into the collar of her cloak, as he pulled her to his face, a menacing look upon his countenance.

“An order?” he grunted harshly, “Or a feeble attempt at driving me away before I can leave you?”

Arturia’s struggles suddenly ceased, her limbs going limp before the foreign king finally let go of her clothes. The chairs screeched as each ruler fell back onto them, the older one far more irate than the younger.

“That’s what this is about, isn’t it?” Cú murmured, his voice soft as his fist thudded onto the circular table. “Ya’ve been an absolute tool since that depressing redhead turned in his rank, and some thoughtless fools followed. Then ya let Lancelot leave, don’t even bloody try to tell me he got away.”

Arturia turned her head, hiding her eyes behind her hay-colored hair. It mattered not how her charisma could sway crowds, her tongue knew not how to lie. Green eyes searched the empty room, counting the few chairs that would be occupied tomorrow. Her sister’s remaining sons’, Bedivere’s and...oh, how very few.

Arturia rested her hand on his fist, urging him to keep the heirloom as proof of the great service he gave Camelot.

“Go home, Cú. I cannot...I cannot lose you, too.” the British king sighed, getting used to the chill of solitude. She’d always known that a life as king was a life alone. At least with Cú, she could choose the day he left, instead of spending her time counting the days till he made his exit, just like her knights, her wizard, her brother.

“Don’t ask something so fucking stupid then go looking so damn pitiful,” he responded, flipping their hands and dragging her into his space till her lips touched his.

There was a reason Cú had stayed, pawning off Connacht to someone else that deserved it more and joining Camelot’s court instead. Not only had Arturia broken the geis that kept him tied to Medb, but she also gave him purpose.

Cú never spoke of it, but he remembered their first meeting like it was yesterday.

It was on the battlefield, back when he was still bound by geis to serve another mistress. Medb, the sly vixen, had tricked him into her service, forcing him into the frontlines till he’d slain every single one of his former comrades.

Bathed in the blood of his friends, the red clouding his vision, the man who was once Ulster’s proudest warrior was no more. His valiant face was replaced by a monstrous visage, his armaments were stained black. Upon his head sat a crown of thorns, forced onto his head by a queen who knew nothing but chaos.

Before long, the name he was proud to take up had been given new meaning. He was no longer Ulster’s guard dog, but Medb’s rabid hound, who sunk his teeth into anything and everything that so much as irked the devilish queen. Cú Alter, she called him, now that she’d bent him to her tastes. Cú Alter, a fitting name to a warrior forced to tarnish his own title.

As the bodies piled up around him, no rhyme nor reason for their slaughter, Cú began to see himself in a darker light, grasping at straws for some sort of purpose behind all the mindless killing.

He must have been a monster. A monster that massacred all that stood in his way regardless of honor and glory. Yes, that must have been it, he convinced himself, finally submitting to the dark cage that his hated loathsome queen had put him under.

As the black chains dragged him deeper and deeper into his own personal hell, he took up his spear once again. It lashed out whenever he touched it, staining itself dark till the vibrant red he used to wield was nowhere to be found. Once more, to the battlefield, said Medb. Once more, he tore across it with a godlike ease.

Then suddenly the cursed spear collided with its match, a sword of shining light that glowed as bright as its wielder. He remembered the moment so clearly, his breath hitching at his throat as his strikes were pushed back, the wind pressure whipping his hood out of his face. His heart pounded with adrenaline as his gaze fell down to his opponent: a tiny little thing, so small they should have fallen to his last strike, but there they still stood, defiant green eyes staring up at him with no fear.

Rage overtook his figure, fueling his strikes as he tried to cast the small warrior back, but all his efforts were met with equal force.

“My name is Arthur Pendragon, King of Camelot.” a small voice, too fragile to have been a man’s, rung out across the battlefield. Spear met sword once again, pausing in their dance.

“Your name, knight.”

Even though he stayed on his feet, it was like the king had pulled the rug from under him. Their eyes locked once more, and he saw himself within the green irises, staring mouth agape at his opponent.

His name? His name? How long had it been since he’d been asked for his name? How many foes had he slain since then? How many nameless faces had he sent to the grave? How could this person, this puny king, take one look at his monstrous form and face him like a knight regardless?

“Cú Chulainn,” came his raspy voice, which too often had been used to roar like a beast. It felt foreign on his lips, which had ‘til then spoke nothing but bitter resentment.

That day, Arturia saw more than the monster. More than the weapon he’d disillusioned himself into being. Cú followed the king after Medb’s defeat, intending to find some proof that it was all a fluke, but it never happened. Arturia never treated him or her knights like a weapon or a tool. Arturia treated him like an equal.

And now, years spent the line, she was robbing him of that feeling, sending him away with glory and riches. If he were younger, he’d have jumped at the prize of heroic fame, but that was no longer what he wanted. What he wanted was to be right here, right next to the person that made him feel human again.

As their lips parted, Cú sent a glare through the empty seats of each of the deserters. He’d never understand how they could leave their king behind. He’d met his fair share of monarchs— hell, he technically was one—and even as belligerent a person he was, he wouldn’t wield his spear for any other.

“You will never lose me,” Cú declared in between rough kisses. “I will always be right here beside you. Understand?”

The Irishman returned her ring as she nodded, breathless, into his shoulder. She had one. Even if the world were to turn on Arturia, she still had one. One that would stay forever beside her.

Beside her...

Beyond Cú, the shorter king saw the backrest of Lancelot’s former seat, and finally, she knew just what to do to settle the people and follow her heart at the same time.

“Disregard my previous orders. Heed this instead…”

As the words left his king’s lips, Cú Chulainn proudly grinned.

#and then the two of them make sure the battle of camlann never happens #the end #hahahaahh #akampana asks #love confession prompts #tysm for the ask! #cuturia #cu alter x arturia #cutoria #cu alter #arturia pendragon #artoria pendragon #arturia #artoria #saber #berserker #fgo #fate