#????? made the volunteer pull me aside to tell me she might stop volunteering there entirely because of the coworker
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Show Me [Part 1/2]
Summary: Spencer finds out his girlfriend’s a virgin. But she wants him to change that.
A/N: This is an anon request that I loved writing. This is Part 1 and I’m working on Part 2 right now! If you like this and wanna read some more of my stuff check out my Masterlist, or my series, I’m On Fire.
Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader
Category: Mostly smut, and a lil fluff
Warnings/Includes: smut, graphic descriptions of sexual acts, oral (male receiving), fingering, slight hair pulling, please let me know if there’s anything I’ve missed!
Word count: 3k
Request: “Omg I’ve just found your account, you’re an amazing writer! If you’re taking requests, could you write something with virgin!reader and like season 13/14 Spencer?”
Read Part 2 Here
They’ve never had sex.
They’ve kissed though. They’ve kissed so much it made Spencer feel like a teenager, well what he assumed it was like to be a regular teenager.
They’d kiss everywhere they could, in his bed, in her bed, in his kitchen, in the car, in hotel rooms, one time in a supply closet at the BAU. But mostly they ended up on Spencer’s couch. The first time they did anything more than just kissing was on Spencer’s couch, it wasn’t exactly planned it just, happened.
They were making out and she was lying beneath him, there was a sort of comfort in the feeling of his weight on top of her, keeping her fixed beneath him. She’d worn a pretty short dress for their date earlier, one she knew Spencer liked, but after all of the squirming and moving it just sort of rode up.
She didn’t feel it happening but when Spencer came up for air and looked down at her, all he could see was the skirt of her dress, bunched up around her waist, and the little pink panties she had on underneath, absolutely soaking wet.
He let out a small chuckle, looking back up at her, “Have you been wet this entire time?” he smirked.
She doesn’t think too hard about it. She’s so turned on by the way he looks right now, his hooded eyes and his softly parted pink lips are so distracting that she forgets he’s never seen her like this before and she nods.
“Mmhmm” she hums, and bites her lip in anticipation of his next move.
“Can I touch you?” he asks, soft and gentle and she nods again, a little too shy to do much else.
He starts by touching her above her underwear, pushing against the cotton, moving it around between her folds with one finger. She was already moaning and writhing beneath him with that simple touch.
When he tucked a finger inside of her panties he shouldn’t have been shocked but he was. She was so wet, almost screaming in pleasure below him and he’d only grazed her clit once or twice. He thought she might combust when he sunk just one finger into her and she was so tight and clenched around the digit. Squirming even when he was motionless inside of her.
It wouldn’t have taken long to actually make her cum, that was obvious. But he was having so much fun with it that he decided to drag this out for as long as he could. Bringing her to the edge over and over until she was literally begging him for release. By the end of it she was completely spent, her arousal coating her thighs, his hands, and a little of the couch. He took off her panties and stashed them in his pocket and she really wished she didn’t find that quite as hot as she did.
He doesn’t want to test her limits again right away, he wants her to come to him when she's ready. But it doesn’t happen again for a while. They go back to their usual dance, making out like teenagers, sometimes for hours until the point when one of them has to leave, or sleep, or they’re both called away on a case.
It’s not until a whole month has passed that things change again.
Y/N sneaks into Spencer’s room one night while they’re out on a case. He’s a little shocked to see her but he’s happy none the less. What’s shocking him more than anything is the skimpy little nightdress she’s got on, and how more notably it seems like she’s not wearing a bra underneath it.
“What are you doing?” he asks when he opens the door to her, and what he wants to say is ‘you can’t be out in the halls looking like this’, and what he really means by that is, ‘you can’t be in my room looking like this because I’ll never recover’.
“Can I come in?” she asks softly, and almost a little worried, so he steps aside to let her in.
They sit on the edge of his bed, her posture is rigid as she sits, and she takes in a deep breath before she speaks again.
“Do you like the way that I look?” she asks, tentative, and his heart just about breaks. Of course he did. He had since the second he laid eyes on her.
“Yes, oh my god. You’re the prettiest girl I think I’ve ever seen?” he rushes out, his hand reaching out to touch her bare shoulder in a comforting gesture. But she doesn’t look relieved or satisfied by the admission.
“But do you—” she braces herself, “do you think I'm sexy?”
He’s got no idea what’s happening, if she didn’t look so serious he’d think this was some kind of joke. “Are you serious?” he gasps, “Are you kidding me?” he hops off the bed and sinks to his knees in front of her.
“I don’t know how I got so lucky. You’re the prettiest, sexiest, woman I’ve ever laid eyes on.” he tries to reassure, placing his hands on her knees and looking up at her.
“Then why don’t we—” she’s not even sure what she’s trying to ask, “Why do we only kiss? Don’t you want to...” she trails off, and there’s something endearing about the way she can’t even seem to bring herself to say any explicit words out loud.
“Don’t I want to sleep with you?” he guesses, knowing it’s the right answer, “Y/N, I want to sleep with you so, so badly. I think about it all the time.” he confesses and her eyes blow wide.
“You do?”
He nods eagerly, “All. The. Time.” he emphasizes, “When you play with your hair in work, when you fall asleep on my lap while we’re watching a movie, when you kiss me for hours, when you bite your lip while you’re concentrating, when you wear that little navy pencil skirt, when you show up to my hotel room dressed like this” he gestures to her nightdress, “or when I think about your little pink panties in the top drawer of my nightstand” he whispers the last part.
“I just thought…” she searches for the end of the sentence, “I thought you didn’t want to?” she pouts.
“I thought you weren’t ready” he says it so earnest, and he means it. He’d never want to make her feel like it wasn’t her choice.
“I haven’t— I’ve never— I’m a virgin Spencer.” she confesses, and she doesn’t look at him while she does, too shy from the admission.
“That’s okay” he moves his hands up to grab hers gently, gazing up at her with nothing but adoration in his eyes, “I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do”
“But I want to, with you” she looks at him now and her gaze is so soft that he melts.
“I want to as well. But not here.” he sits back up on the bed next to her, “It shouldn’t be in some cheap motel with our co-workers down the hall. We can do it at my place, or yours, or we could book an actual nice hotel room in the city somewhere? Whatever you want.” she nods at him and smiles.
“I’d like that a lot” she looks happy now, content and relieved, “but could we maybe still do something now?”
He’s taken aback completely, “Did you have something in mind?”
She looks shy again, and he has to coax it out of her, squeezing her hands in his and giving her an encouraging kiss on the cheek.
“When you touched me on your couch that time. I wanted to do something for you, but I wasn’t sure— I didn’t want to get it wrong so I just chickened out” she admits.
“What did you want to do?” he pries gently.
“I wanted to use my mouth” she breaks eye contact when she speaks. He can’t take it anymore so he tilts her head softly with one of his hands so she has to look directly at him again.
“You wanted to use your mouth on what?” he’s doing it on purpose to get her out of her shell.
“On your— on your cock” she whispers out like she's embarrassed to even say it at full volume.
“You wanted to suck my cock?” he asks and she can feel the heat rising in her cheeks as she nods.
“Please?” she asks, and he never thought he'd have a girl this beautiful asking him if she could ‘please’ suck his cock. How did he get this lucky?
“Only if you want to”
“I really do” she volunteers, “but I need you to tell me… how?”
“So you’ve never done it before?” he asks, he’s been aware she was a virgin but he’s got no idea what she had or hadn’t done before. She shakes her head.
“When you, touched me, that was the first time anyone other than me had well…”
“And you’ve never touched anyone else?” he asks, soft and sweet, rubbing his thumb over and back on the top of her hand.
“I have.” she says, “With other boys when I was younger but never anything more”
“Okay” he says encouraging.
“How do we start?” she looks less nervous now that it’s all out in the open.
“Like we always do” he breaks out in a smile as he leans in to kiss her. Her lips are so soft against his, perfect as always.
He pulls her toward him and parts their lips long enough to tell her to sit on his lap. She obliges, she loves to sit like this while they kiss, he knows that too. Sitting this way she can feel him as he starts to grow hard beneath her, only the thin fabric of his boxers keeping him from her.
His hands hold onto her thighs, digging his fingernails into the sides of them as she moans into his mouth. He chances moving one of his hands up her side, and as he hovers it above her chest he breaks apart from her for just a moment. “Can I?” he asks, and she nods before he places a hand on her breast over the fabric of her nightdress. And he knew she wasn’t wearing a bra.
He couldn't stop himself from bringing the other hand up so he could cup both breasts. Massaging and kneading them, feeling her nipples begin to harden and stand out from the satin fabric.
She grinds down against him momentarily and her eyes grow wide. “Are you?” she looks down between them, clearly feeling him.
“I’m hard Y/N” he says softly, and she looks almost giddy.
“I’m ready” she breathes out and swings off his lap, taking charge now that she’d worked up some confidence. It’s not like she had no idea what to do. She’s watched porn, she’s read a few things about it, but she also knew there was no way to really know what it was like without actually doing it.
She kneels down in front of him, pulling apart his knees so that she can nestle down in between them. She’s the one that pulls down the waistband of his boxers, just far enough so that she can pull his cock out.
She feels stupid in a way. She hadn’t given much thought to how it would look but it was different to what she’d anticipated. It was flushed pink, and leaking from the tip. And it was bigger, or thicker maybe, than she’d been expecting. She had a vibrator at home and it didn’t look like this. For one thing it was purple, but it was also smaller than this. For a moment she's nervous before she realizes that this is Spencer. And she could never feel nervous with him.
“Is everything alright? If you’ve changed your mind—” he starts and she shakes her head probably a bit too vigorously.
“No! It’s just— bigger, than I was expecting” she says holding it loosely in her hand.
“Oh” he says, unable to his his surprise, “thank you?” She giggles at him, unaware she’d actually been paying him a compliment.
“What do you like?” She asks, peering up at him and fluttering her eyelashes like she’d done this a million times before.
“Well, um,” he’s the one with the shaky breath now, and he’s not sure when he got so nervous, “I guess if you lick it first, that always feels good” he’s barely got the sentence out and she’s on him. Licking a long stripe up the underside of his cock, right along the vein, reaching the tip and swiping up the pre-cum leaking from the slit there. He’s got to struggle not to throw his head back in pleasure instantly, he wants to see it, wants to watch all of it.
She takes her mouth off of him and looks up with those doe eyes again, and now that he’s looking he can see down her nightdress. He’s got a perfect view of her perky nipples, turned on beneath the fabric and his dick twitches at the sight.
“Like that?” she pulls off him to ask, and he can barely breathe.
“Fuck Y/N! Exactly like that” he groans, chest heaving, his hands clawing at the duvet.
She smiles up at him, “and then what?”
“Uh, take it in your mouth, you don't have to take it the whole way down, just as far as you feel comfortable with” he assures her, trying to steady out his breathing. He doesn’t want her to gag or anything. “then just use your hands for the rest.”
She nods, thinking for a moment before bringing her mouth back down to him. This time she licks him again, all the way up and around the tip, just a little slower than before. Then she wraps her plush lips around the head of his cock. He moans louder than he meant to as she starts to sink down on him, further and further, taking him in inch by inch.
She didn't quite get the whole way down but she got way further than he thought she would. Taking in as much of him as she could she began to rise up again. It took a little adjusting to make sure she was breathing in and out through her nose, but once she got the hang of it she began to pick up the pace.
Sliding up and down against him, the feeling of her warm, wet mouth was almost too much. He’d gotten himself off to thoughts of her for months now and it just didn’t compare. Not by a long shot, he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer.
She stopped after another minute and looked up at him, “Is it okay? Does it feel good?” she asks, unsure.
“Jesus, fuck. Y/N, it feels so good. You feel so good” he gasps and she looks delighted.
“Would you, maybe, put your hands in my hair?” she asks, a little nervous, and he’s shocked for what feels like the 100th time this evening, “I like how it feels” she says, shy and unsure. So he sits forward, leaning down a little so he can take her face in his hands.
“How did I get so lucky?” he plants a kiss on her lips and moves his hands from the side of her face into her hair. Gathering it up into a ponytail and gripping it firmly. She lowers down again, wrapping her lips around the head once more and sinking down. Bolstered by his compliments and ignoring her nerves she forces herself to sink further down on him this time. Taking him as deep as she possibly can until she can feel him hit the back of her throat for the briefest moment before she has to pull back.
But the strangled moan that he lets out when she’s got him that far down is so gorgeous that it might be the only noise she ever wants to hear again.
He pulls at her hair roughly as she starts to move faster and faster, and she moans at the feeling. The vibrations she creates around his cock just make him pull even harder, letting out some of the pent up tension.
“Fuck, Y/N, I’m so close. You can stop.” he forces out with shallow breaths, but she doesn’t budge. He tries to pull her off him using his grip on her hair but she resists, and she just keeps on moving. Up and down his length, taking down as much of him as possible on each stroke.
“Fuckkkk” he moans out as he releases, and he can feel it pumping into her throat as she swallows around him.
When she pulls off, and she’s looking up to him for approval, her eyes wide, her lips and chin coated in spit and cum as it drips down, he knows without a doubt that she’s the sexiest thing he’s ever laid eyes on.
“Was that okay?” she asks hopeful.
“Was that okay?” he rushes out in disbelief, “Get up here.” he helps her off her knees and pulls her onto his lap again, holding her close. “I can’t believe you.” he shakes his head and pulls her in for a sloppy kiss, he can taste himself on her tongue as they mold together.
“That was perfect, beyond perfect, fuck” he wipes her chin with his thumb, it doesn’t do much but it’s a gesture.
“Are you okay?” he asks softly, brushing her hair back with his hands, and she’s just looking at him, beaming.
“I liked it” she says, like she can’t really believe just how much she enjoyed herself, “I can’t wait to learn more.”
Read Part 2 Here
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More Than Meets The Eye - Steve Rogers x reader
a/n - hey lovely people!! this one is for @s1utforfictionalcharacters, who asked for a Steve x reader enemies to lovers a while ago. thank you so much for bearing with me and being patient, and i hope you enjoy!!<3
Summary: Between figuring out what was the Tesseract doing at a Hydra base and if it even is the Tesseract, you need to navigate your relationaship with one annoying, broody Captain. Honestly, you might prefer the Hydra thing.
this isn’t set in the mcu timeline, but takes inspiration from a few mcu movies. it’s not canon compliant and everyone’s alive:)
Word Count: 7k
Warnings: lowkey angst and some tension, maybe a curse word or two? tell me if i missed anything!
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"Rogers!" you heard Tony's voice over the comms, "Where the hell are you?"
"Babysitting," you heard Steve's irritated voice, not only over the comms but also behind you, right before you saw him dashing past you to punch the Hydra agent you were fighting square in the jaw.
"Well, get America's ass over here, now," Tony grunted, clearly mid-fight himself, "we need backup."
"Go!" you yelled at him, spinning to take out another agent that was coming up behind Steve, "I got this!"
"You sure?" he asked, his tone sarcastically degrading, jumping while kicking two agents simultaneously. Showoff.
"Yes," you resisted the urge to roll your eyes, "I can handle them, go help the others!"
"Alright," he grunted as he pushed off another agent before running back in the direction he came from, towards the rest of the team.
"Cap, you coming or what?" Natasha spoke on the comms, calmer than Tony, but it was obvious she's just as in need of backup as he was.
"Coming!" Steve replied, before it went relatively quiet.
You finished up disarming the rest of the agents in your wing of the building. No one was calling for you on the comms yet, so you decided to make another round in the perimeter, make sure you didn't miss anything.
God knows captain know-it-all is gonna be on your ass about it if that's the case. And honestly, you have more than enough of that as is.
As you were walking down the hallway, you noticed a strange, glowing light coming from under the doors. Upon finding it was unlocked, you opened it to reveal a room that was entirely filled with the same blueish light you had seen, and it was all coming from a desk in the middle of it.
Approaching slowly and letting your eyes time to adjust, you got closer and closer, realizing the shiny object was a peculiar blue cube. A cube you knew well, perhaps even too well.
"Guys, if you're done over there, you might wanna come to my wing. There's something you're gonna want to see."
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"Okay, we have to keep looking, maybe they left some blueprints or anything that can indicate how they were planning on using it," Steve commanded, "or already have."
"Wait," you said before everyone split up to follow his orders, "as important as the why they got it is, I think the first question we should be asking is how the hell they got it. I thought it was locked away in the Asgard safe?" you looked at Bruce, who out of all of you had the most contact with Thor.
"It was, the last time I checked," he frowned. "I'll see if I can contact Thor, see if he knows anything."
"You do that," Tony interjected, "the rest of you, follow Cap's order while he and I have a little chat. Shall we Rogers?" he pulled a frowning Steve aside, while you all split up to try and find any information you could salvage.
In your search, you ran into Natasha. As you were both scouring the same desk for clues, working together like a well-oiled machine, you asked, "what did Tony want from Cap?"
"Probably to ask him where the hell was he when we needed his backup," she said matter-of-factly. "Or, you know, where the heck he was. We all know Steve's proper like that," she smiled, and you let out a chuckle at her words.
"Well, that’s good," you remarked, "since he really should've been there for you guys. I don't know what was that all about," you scrunched up your nose. "Nothing here," you added, closing the drawer you were looking through.
"Yeah, here too," Natasha closed her own drawer, "let's go."
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Later that day, you were all having dinner together as you went over some papers the others found at the Hydra base. Since you were already in the same place, you split the takeout, taking caution not to spill any of it.
"Cap," you asked, seeing the saltshaker was too far for you to reach, "Can you pass me th-" your words were abruptly cut by him planting it in your hand, going back to whatever it is he was reading.
"Thanks," you muttered, going back to your paperwork as well.
This might be the place to mention that pretty much ever since you joined the team, Steve exhibited a certain… coldness to you. Arrogance, indifference, call it what you want – from day one, Steve Rogers made sure you knew he was better than you.
And considering he was literally Captain America, it's not like you thought you were ever better than him in the first place.
You blended in with the rest of the team seamlessly, fighting and training among them. I mean sure, there were jokes about you being "the new kid", but it was just that – jokes. No one, or at least no one but Steve, seemed to view you as inferior.
You still fought well together, it was your job. Hell, he just passed you the salt before you even finished asking for it. Being attuned to each other's actions and attitude in that way made it all the more obvious how much he seemed to covet his leadership position, his place of dominance.
It got on your nerves. So. Much.
You see, if he were like that to everyone else on the team, so be it. But the absolute majority of it was directed towards you – the new girl. And it was clear that's all he ever saw you as. A girl.
Even that salt thing – he handed it over so impatiently, so suddenly, like one would handle an irritating child.
You had hoped he'd get over it at some point, but so far, that didn't seem to be the case. Well, you're not planning on going anywhere, so you'll both have to get over yourselves at some point.
"Hey!" Steve snapped his fingers in front of your eyes, shaking you from your reverie. "C'mon, listen up. Tony found something."
Oh well, that "some point" is probably not today.
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"So, Hydra wanted to use this," Natasha gestured at the Tesseract, "To power up a weapon they've designed?"
"That's the gist of it," Tony confirmed. "But from the looks of it, this thing is a lot more powerful than it seems. They planned on powering up a whole armored aircraft, plus all of their rifles using this cube. If that's possible, and by the looks of it, it very well might be, it's a lot stronger than you'd think."
"Wait, what do you mean their rifles as well?" you asked, your brows furrowing, "like, split this thing into pieces?"
"No, it looks like they were planning to project its power somehow, like…" Tony trailed off, struggling to explain.
"Like… Bluetooth?" you suggested.
"Yeah," tony snickered, "pretty much."
"Okay, but they didn't do that yet, right? We stopped them?" you looked around to the rest of your teammates before looking back at Tony.
"Seems like we did," Steve answered instead. "Bruce, any update on how they managed to get it?"
"Didn't hear anything back yet," the man in question shook his head, "I'll try again."
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When Bruce ended up getting an answer from Thor, telling him to come to Asgard, you immediately volunteered to go with him. It was partially because you've never actually been there, and you were very curious as to why Thor would ask Bruce to come.
But also, you could use a break from a certain Captain.
You tried to ask Bucky and Sam what his deal with you was, several times, but they just shrugged and gave you vague, unhelpful answers. You even considered trying to convince Wanda to just tell you what he thinks about you, but you didn't want to give him the satisfaction of bothering you so much that you'd stoop that low.
So lately, you've been just trying to avoid him, which usually worked just fine, since it's not like he was that adamant about being around you either. That is, until you said you'd go with Bruce.
"No way," he immediately objected.
"Why?" you asked, "Bruce might need some backup, and I'd like to visit Asgard. Win-win."
"We need you here, going over the papers."
"C'mon Cap, I think we both know I do better out there in the field than I do with all the blueprints. Tony's way better with that, he's the only one who does it anyway."
"So what, you're just gonna go on a field trip?" he sneered.
"No, I'm going to look out for my friend and teammate." It took everything in you to keep your voice level.
"That's nice. Cause it would be a shame if Banner had to watch your back while you went on vacation."
You scoffed. "Where did you even get that idea? I said I was gonna give Banner backup. That's the first thing I said, cause that's the most important thing. End of story."
"Fine." Steve shrugged.
"Fine?"
"Yeah, if Banner's willing to take you with him, go."
"Good," you nodded.
"Great."
Somewhat awkwardly, you shuffled out of the room to tell Bruce to count you in.
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Natasha was the one to send both you and Bruce off to Asgard, the rest being otherwise occupied.
"Be safe," she told the both of you, holding each of your shoulders with one of her hands, before stepping away.
"We will," Bruce promised and you nodded, and just in time the Bifrost came down, taking the both of you where you needed to get.
Thor was the one to greet you, taking you both in for a warm hug before his face became serious.
"I didn't call you all the way here for nothing," he said, "come with me to the palace."
As you were on your way, he explained. "When you told me you encountered the Tesseract in Midgard, I immediately checked in our vault. Sure enough, there's still a Tesseract there."
"A Tesseract? I thought there was just the one," you frowned.
"We did too," Thor replied, "which is why I wanted you both to come see it for yourselves. Maybe you'd be able to point out some differences."
Getting to the palace, you wasted no time going down to the vault. And there it was – the Tesseract.
"How…" you trailed off. It looked completely identical to the one you had found on earth, the same blue tinted glint lighting up its surroundings.
"That's what I was hoping you might have an answer for," Thor sighed, his brows furrowing. "You said the one you encountered was previously in the possession of a group called… Chimera?"
"Hydra," Bruce corrected him. "And yes, we found it in one of their bases."
"Is it possible that the one we found was a fake?" you asked, lifting your eyes from the Tesseract. "Or maybe this one is the fake? Is there a way to know?"
"The only way to know is to try and use them," Bruce sighed, "but trying to wield the power of an infinity stone can be dangerous and destructive to the one who tries. It's something we should try and avoid."
"Okay," you thought, "can't we try and take this one to earth? See if maybe Tony could run some tests on them both, find us a lead as to which one's the real one?"
"That sounds like a good idea," Bruce agreed, "or at least the best one we've got. Can we take it?"
"Of course. I trust you to guard it," he looked at Bruce fondly.
"Thank you," Bruce's eyes and smile are sincere as he shakes Thor's hand.
You pick up the Tesseract tentatively, putting it in your bag and looking back up at Bruce, whose handshake with Thor was still lingering. You hated to interrupt, but you two needed to go back to earth to fill your friends in if you wanted to solve this mystery.
"Shall we?" you asked, somewhat softly.
"Yeah," Bruce shook his head slightly, "Let's go."
You trailed behind Bruce and Thor as you made your way back to the Bifrost, thinking it over.
If the Tesseract you found on earth was the fake, then why would Hydra have a fake? And if the one that was currently in your bag was the fake, then why would they just leave the real one lying around while the Avengers stormed their base? And at any case, how did they manage to make such an accurate replica?
"Thank you, Thor," you said sincerely once you reached the end of the Bifrost. "We're going to figure this out."
"I know you will," he said, and touched your shoulder affectionately.
You said your goodbyes, and then, you and Bruce started to make the journey home, until suddenly you felt a force push you out of the Bifrost, and before you knew it you landed on dirt, rolling a few times, Bruce landing a few feet away from you.
Hurriedly getting up, you helped Bruce to his feet as well, before the two of you looked around to find yourself in the middle of what seemed to be a desert, but it was like nothing you've seen before.
The sand was orange, red, much darker than it was in deserts you've been to. You and Bruce landed in some sort of valley, surrounded by large dunes of the dark sand, creating a perfect circle around you.
"Have any idea where we are?" you asked, trying to keep your cool, "Or how we got here?"
"I-"
His words were cut off by the sound of a gun cocking behind you. Instinctively, you crouched down and spun around, sending your leg out, taking the man down with a kick to his ankles.
But it wasn't enough. Before you could fully get back up, you and Bruce were already surrounded by agents, and the fight quickly escalated into a hand-to-hand one, having to take on multiple agents at a time. At some point, Bruce hulked out, but even then, you were still fighting them all simultaneously.
You barely managed to take in the glint of a knife from the corner of your eye before the felt the sharp sting of it on your ribs, your hand automatically going to hold the wound. The man started running in the other direction, which was when you realized you weren't the objective of this attack.
Your bag was.
"Bruce!" you yelled, trying to get his attention, as you started trying to run after the agent.
But before Bruce could even notice you, a deep rumble sounded through the air, the prominent crackling of thunder. You turned around just in time to see Thor coming down from the sky, Mjolnir clad tightly in his fist, sending bolts of lightning at your enemies.
You turned back and tried to keep running, but you couldn't do it fast enough, the wound in your ribcage still bleeding, and soon, the agent disappeared from sight.
You were panting when the battle died down, a mere few minutes after Thor's arrival. You didn't turn around, even as you sensed Bruce and Thor approaching you from behind.
"I lost it," you said, still unable to meet their eyes.
"They took it," Bruce said gently. "Now, let me take a look at that wound."
Well, you thought, that's not how Steve's going to see it.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"You lost it?" Steve asked, his disbelief clear. His eyes were trained on you, a frown on his face.
"She got hurt trying to protect it, Steve," Bruce answered before you could. "We'll get it back."
Steve's eyes didn't waver from yours, even as Bruce spoke.
"I'm sorry," you said, your voice coming out smaller than you wanted to. You cleared your throat, continuing stronger, "I did everything I could."
"I told you, you shouldn't have gone out there," he sighed, frustrated.
"Really, Cap?" you asked, "is this the time for 'I told you so's? for a hundred-year-old that's really fucking childish," you said through your teeth.
"Watch it," he snapped, "next time, maybe if you listen to me you won't get hurt."
"If I'm that bad of a soldier, Captain," you spat out, "am I not dispensable to you? Why do you even care if I get hurt? I bet it would've been just the same to you if I died but you still had the Tesseract."
Your words rendered him speechless, and you turned to walk towards the med bay. Bruce offered you his arm, but the look you sent him made it very obvious you weren't interested in company.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The wound healed well. You and Steve were… civil, to say the best.
You'd admit your words that day you were back from Asgard were harsh. You'd even admit that to his face, if he'd change his attitude towards you. Which he didn't, so really, maybe he deserved to hear them.
Anyways, a few days after the Asgard thing, the wound was fine, and you had an idea.
"Hey," you asked Tony, who happened to be next to you at the moment, "what if we go ask Strange?"
"What?" he looked up from the robot he was currently tinkering with.
"What if we went to Strange to ask him about the Tesseract?" you repeated, "he'd probably know more than us about this stuff."
Tony wasted no time in calling a team meeting, in which you told the others your idea about reaching out to Strange.
"That's a really good idea," Steve said.
Taken aback, you opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, he continued, "I'm coming with you."
Yep, it was way too good to be true.
"Why?" you asked, frowning. "I thought Tony would come, since he's already had a run-in with him before."
"Yes, but I think we can agree he's not the most diplomatic person out there," Steve smirked.
"I'm right here," Tony remarked dryly.
Steve paid him no mind and continued, "And besides, he's pretty much the only one except Bruce that knows enough to figure out Hydra's blueprints, and we still need all hands on deck in that front. So, I'm coming with you," he finished in a tone that left no room for argument.
You considered objecting anyways, but knew whatever you'd say would sound childish and tactless, so you simply nodded at him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Since the Sanctum Dr. Strange usually resided in was in New York, there was no need for Steve and you to take the Quinjet, but you did take a car from Tony's collection, which Steve drove. The car ride was filled with quite the uncomfortable silence, but at least it was better than arguing, right?
Small victories.
When Steve parked the car about a block away from the Sanctum, you both got out swiftly, blending right in with your civilian clothes, and making your way to the doorstep.
There, Steve knocked on the door hesitantly. You both listened, but there was no answer. You held onto the handle and managed to open the unlocked door easily. You exchanged a look with Steve, both of you on high alert, and entered through the door, Steve closing it behind you.
You both silently stood in the threshold, contemplating your next move. Eventually, you took a tentative step forward, and just then a red object whipped right in front of your eyes, making you stumble backwards, right into Steve. You quickly turned around to apologize, but before you noticed it the red fabric was wrapped tightly around your arms, holding them tight against your torso. Steve was in a similar predicament, and since the cape wasn’t that long, you two were left tied face to face and extremely close to each other.
You tried to wiggle out of the fabric's hold, but it was almost like it tightened with your every move, adjusting itself accordingly. You struggled against it, trying to move even the slightest bit, but it wouldn't budge. You sighed, looking up at Steve.
Oh my god, he was way closer than you'd realized. His wide frame towering over you, you swallowed dryly before you whispered, "What now?"
Before he could answer, the sound of footsteps carried through the halls, and soon enough, Dr. Stephen Strange was descending down the stairs of the New York Sanctum to greet you.
"Hello," he said, his face indifferent, "I wasn't expecting you."
"Well, we weren't expected to get so… tied up, so that makes three of us," Steve remarked, prompting you to chuckle.
"Hello, Dr. Strange," you introduced yourself to him, "the Captain and I were wondering if you could help us with some… Tesseract trouble."
"Sounds awful," he smirked slightly. "Follow me," he started going up the stairs again and you exchanged a look with Steve. "Oh right," he gestured with his hand, and the red fabric detangled itself from the two of you, and turned out to be a cloak as it wrapped around Strange's shoulders. "I almost forgot," the man chuckled, "Now come on."
You and Steve exchanged another look as you rubbed your arm where the cloak dug into it a little, before following Strange up the stairs and into the library, where he offered you two chairs to sit in before sitting down in front of you. In the air. He was sitting down while floating.
Still less weird than the cloak, in your opinion.
"So," he started, "what, uh, Tesseract trouble are you having, exactly?"
Steve and you took turns explaining the situation to him, from finding a Tesseract in a Hydra base to losing the one that was previously in Asgard. Steve, to your relief and wonder, said nothing about it being your fault, but just said it wasn't in your possession anymore.
"So," you summed up, "we were wondering if you knew how anyone could manage to replicate the Tesseract this well, and how can we tell which one's the fake one. Without using them, of course."
"Well, those are great questions. I don't know of another way to determine if an infinity stone is indeed real besides taking the risk and trying to use it, so I can't help you with that. But as for the fake, I believe opening the Tesseracts will provide a good enough answer. You see, the Tesseract isn't that hard to fake. Might be a little expensive, sure, but some lights and plastic and you're set, and from what I understand Hydra isn't exactly struggling financially. But," he sighed, "you can’t fake an infinity stone. For most people, once you'll come in direct contact with it, you'll feel its power, and also its destructive properties."
"So the only way to know if an infinity stone is real is to risk touching it?" Steve asked.
"As far as I know of, yes," Strange nodded.
"Thank you," you said, "for your help. We sure get back to the compound, but we'll let you know if there are any big developments."
When Steve and you got back to the compound, everyone was already waiting for you, and you told them what Strange told you. Together, you all went to open the tesseract you had found in the Hydra base.
"Be careful not to touch what's inside," you warned, and Tony put of his Iron Man arm before breaking the side of the glowing cube, opening it to find…
A bunch of wires and lightbulbs. They didn't even try to make it look like an infinity stone.
"Well, the one in Asgard could've also been a fake," Natasha shrugged. "This doesn't really tell us anything. C'mon guys, we'll continue the search tomorrow," she touched your shoulder comfortingly before slipping away.
You were about to do the same when you saw Steve fidgeting with his sleeve, around where the cloak was wrapped around him. You walked up to him.
"You okay?" you asked, expecting him to brush you off.
"Yeah, I just think this cape held on a little too strong," he chuckled, removing his hand to reveal a stain on the fabric of his right suit sleeve, on you knew all too well was blood.
"Oh my god," you frowned. "C'mon, I'll help you clean it up," you gestured towards the med bay.
The walk there was brief and silent, and when you got there, you told Steve to sit down before ripping his sleeve enough to see the shallow wound.
"You don't have to do this," Steve said, as you looked for some gauze pad and wet it with water.
"I know," you said, "but since I'm the reason we needed to go there in the first place, I am doing this."
"You know it's not your fault, right? You couldn’t have known he'd have a magical cape that ties up people."
"That's not what I was talking about," you mumbled, before cleaning the wound gently.
Steve sighed. "I guess I do owe you an apology for the Asgard thing. I acted like a jerk. I'm sorry."
"No, you were right," you chuckled bitterly, "it's my fault we lost what might've been the real space stone to Hydra. You were just the only one willing to admit that."
"Well, I hope you know what you said about me then wasn't true. I care. You know, if you get hurt. And I wouldn't want anyone to die so I can have anything."
"I know," you said dryly, "you're too perfect for that."
You finished cleaning the wound and started bandaging it.
"That's not- god, I really do have a way with words, don't I? you probably hate me by now."
"I don't hate you, Steve," you looked up from his arm to his eyes, and he smiled at you. "Relax, it doesn't mean I like you all that much either," you smirked, prompting him to laugh.
"Yeah, that's fair, I guess. Thank you," he gestured to his now bandaged arm.
"Sure," you sent a small smile his way before walking away.
Maybe Steve Rogers wasn't that bad after all.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Okay, scratch that, Steve Rogers was the worst.
The conversation actually started out civil. Nice, even.
"Hey, Cap," you started, "do you know if Bruce found anything on the wiring in the fake Tesseract yet?"
"Nope," he turned to face you.
"Oh. Well, thanks," you smiled, "I'll just…" you gestured at the exit, but he stopped you.
"Wait. Actually, I wanted to talk to you. Can you…" he gestured at the empty chair in front of him, and you sat down.
"About the whole Tesseract thing," he started, "I think you should consider sitting this one out."
"What?" you frowned.
"I just…" he sighed, "I think it might be better if you sat this one out."
"Steve, I found the Tesseract in the first place," you said, getting angrier by the second, "I'm not backing down from this."
"You found the fake Tesseract," he corrected, "and lost what might have been the real one."
"I thought you said it wasn't on me."
"It's not, but still."
"I don't get it, a few days ago you were telling me it wasn't my fault and now you're benching me because of it?"
"I just… you're clearly very invested in this-"
"Which is why I deserve to stay on this mission," you cut him off, fighting to keep your voice level.
"Which is why I think you should sit it out," he ignored you, "because you don't need to get yourself hurt for this."
"I'm an Avenger just like you," you snapped, "you might get hurt as well. So might everyone else. I don't get why I'm any different."
"I told you, because you're too emotionally invested," he insisted, his tone rising.
"Oh, you're benching me cause I'm 'emotional'? really? That's your excuse?"
"That's not an excuse, I-"
"No, tell me, Steve, what's your problem with me? Just spit it out, clearly you have one. What have I done to you to make you hate me?" you were yelling now, exasperated at his flawed logic.
"I don't hate you."
"That's all you have to say?" you scoffed. "You know what? If you're letting whatever your problem is with me to get in the way of the mission, maybe you're the emotional one."
The charged atmosphere was interrupted by Natasha's frame showing up in the doorway.
"Hey guys," she started, before looking between the two of you. "Is this a bad time?" she waited a second before shrugging, "Doesn't matter. There are sightings of suspicious activity midtown, we think it can be Hydra. We gotta move, be down in five," she stated, before walking down the hallway, leaving Steve and you alone once more.
"I-" he started.
"Let's go," you said at the same time, before simply turning away to go and suit up. You had a battle to win, no matter what he thought.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"So," Tony started once you were all on the Quinjet, "Here's what we know – Hydra is probably in the possession of the real Tesseract, since we just got word of people seeing a big aircraft over midtown. My guess, they wanted to test the new weapons out before using them on a larger scale," he said, "which is why it would be the best thing to stop them now."
You split up into groups, Tony, Wanda and Sam going after the aircraft, Bucky and Steve go one way on the ground, you and Natasha the other. Thanking every god you knew you weren't paired up with Steve, you and Natasha ran and turned into a large square, starting to point people away from the steady stream of Hydra agents that was coming your way.
You and Natasha were both fighting off the agents together, most of the civilians already cleared from the area, when suddenly, they just… stopped, all in unison.
"Avengers," a voice with a heavy accent boomed through the air, presumably from the aircraft, magnified by speakers, "I know what you're here for," the voice chuckled. "Come and get it."
All at once, the Hydra agents in front of you pulled out something from their bags, or the pockets of their jackets, and it took you a second to realize what it is – exact replicas of the Tesseract. Dozens of them, maybe even hundreds.
You looked over at Natasha, who was just as exasperated as you were. "We gotta break these things," she said, and you nodded in understanding, charging at the men and women with renewed energy.
Because this was your chance to fix what you broke, to make things right. To show Steve you're better than your mistakes.
That was the mantra that was going in your head, as you smashed Tesseract after Tesseract, even as you found nothing but wires, you kept repeating it – fix what you broke.
Slowly but surely, you and Natasha tackled and defeated more and more agents, moving closer towards where they were coming from – the aircraft, that was lowering more and more, sending out more agents, in a wave that seemed never ending.
Expect when you got closer, you noticed that there was a staircase going down from it. A staircase that at the top of stood a small an in old fashioned army clothes, holding, how not, a small, glowing cube in his hand.
Your vision zeroed in on him. You had a target.
Barely stopping to disarm the other agents, you quickly made your way through the crowd of agents surrounding you, until you were right at the bottom of the staircase. You looked up to see the man still standing on top, smiling at the chaos unraveling at his feet.
You decided to take advantage of the fact he hasn't seen you yet, and climbed the staircase from the bottom side, hanging on to creases and bumps, to keep the advantage. When you got to the top, you tried to swing yourself over the rails. You would've fallen down if a hand wouldn't have reached out, catching your arm and throwing you back on the staircase, right side up.
"Ah, the new kid," the man snickered above you, "I've heard about you. Were you really the one they sent here?"
"No one sent me," you hissed as you got up. "Now hand over the stone and it'll be much more pleasant for you."
"So much spite," he laughed, "but alas, I don't think I will, sweetheart."
"Whatever you say," you delivered a poignant kick to his knee, "sweetheart."
You tried to punch him, but this time he was quicker, avoiding your blow and landing one of his own on your shoulder. You shrugged it off and continued to try and pry the stone from his hands. The struggle was drawing attention, and Natasha yelled at you to watch out just in time before a Hydra agent from down there shot at you, only missing narrowly.
You continued to fight the man, who was stronger than he let on, considering he was fending you off with only one hand, but you also had getting shot to worry about, which was in his favor.
At last, you managed to knock the Tesseract out of his hand, and it fell to the ground in a shattering sound. Out of the broken pieces, there were no wires to be seen, only a stone.
Bingo.
You heard Steve shout something at you from far down, but you weren't paying attention, instead diving for the stone, grasping it in your hand, along with some shards of glass that cut you, but you couldn't care less, because this was it.
Fix what you broke.
You concentrated with all your might of the stone, its power almost physically throbbing in your hand, along with the excruciating pain, but you didn't care.
Fix what you broke.
Your breathing became labored, the pain near insufferable when you finally did it – opened a portal. You didn't know where it led, but the important thing is, it wasn't here. You threw the stone away with all the power you had left in you, praying it would reach so far you'd never see it again.
Fix. What. You. Broke.
Just in time, the portal closed, and you sighed gratefully. The pain was starting to take over now, your mind dancing on the edge of consciousness when you heard voices coming towards you. You wanted to tell them you were fine, but you found yourself falling to the ground, registering the pain of the fall before everything went black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
When you woke up, your first thought was that the light's too bright. It felt almost like a hangover, but way worse, and
"I didn't even drink anything," you said, before breaking into a dry cough.
In a second, Steve was there by your side with a glass of water, holding it to your mouth. You took some small sips until you calmed down enough to remember that while no, you didn't drink anything, you did wield the power of an infinity stone, which means it's a miracle you're even alive.
So really, you should be thankful all you ended up with is an awful hangover. Of sorts. A magical hangover.
"Are you okay?" Steve asked, breaking you from your reverie, and making you meet his gaze with yours.
"As much as I can be," you replied, your gaze falling to the blanket that was laid on you. "how long was I out?"
"About 18 hours," he said solemnly, "we didn't… we weren't sure if you'd wake up," he admitted, his voice dropping below a whisper by the end.
"Can't get rid of me that easily," you joked. Despite everything Steve put you through, for some reason you couldn't stand to see him this devastated.
"No, don't-" he sighed, "no one wants to get rid of you. Least of all me. Hell, thinking I'd lost you and it was my fault… hurt more than I could imagine."
"It wouldn't have been your fault, if I, you know," you shrugged, "that was my choice. I had to fix what I broke."
"No, you didn't," he insisted, his eyes snapping up to meet yours once more, "because you didn't break anything. None of this was your fault, and yet you fixed it, alone. You risked wielding the power of an infinity stone to keep earth safe, alone. You shouldn't have been alone."
"It worked out just fine. Besides, what difference would it have made, one more injured person?"
"If I was quick enough… I don't believe the stone could've taken both of us down."
"Us?" you smirked, "I didn't know we were an 'us'. But it's fine, I can deal with that, I guess," you shrugged, and Steve chuckled. You couldn't tell if you were imagining it, but it looked like the slightest of blushes was sprinkled on his cheeks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
As a part of getting you back to normal, you started training again, moderately at first. But as you regained your strength, your training was almost as intense as it was before. Or maybe, even more intense.
You see, before that, you weren't training with Steve.
Since you didn't really get off to a good start, you'd always train with the others – Nat, Wanda, Sam… other non-super-soldier humans with a very human self-discipline, meaning that you could take breaks and chat in between reps.
Alas, those days were far behind you. I mean, not that far, that's just kind of dramatic, but you get it; you trained with Steve way more often and it was a nightmare.
You didn't know what standards Steve held for his other friends, but if he's like that with everyone then maybe it was better off not being his friend.
"What was that?" Steve asked, his eyes not moving from the timer, which looked comically small in his large hands.
"I said," you repeated between labored breaths and fast push-ups, "if you're like this with all your friends maybe I was better off not being one."
"Who said you are?" he shot back with a smirk, "and… time!"
You collapsed on the training room mattress, letting out a deep breath. "how much was that?"
"98 pushups in one minute," he stated, "not bad."
"Okay, Mr. captain super soldier," you breathed. "You know, maybe I should go back to doing these with Sam. A human being with normal people achievements," you sighed, faux-dreamily.
"I thought you wanted to get better?" Steve chuckled, extending his hand out to help you off the mattress.
"I'll tell him you said that," you smirked and took his hand, letting him help you up. Your touch lingered for the briefest of moments before you let go of his hand.
"Be my guest," Steve shot back, before taking a couple of sparring staffs off the wall, handing you one. An unusual technique in battle, but you found that practicing them with Steve provided a decent challenge to you both, since you were better with it than he was.
With both of you getting into a fighting stance, you started the match by dashing forward, trying to land one on his shoulder, but he quickly spun to the side, accompanied by a move of his staff that, fortunately for you, was a bit poorly aimed, thus only hit you in the arm.
You continued this back and forth for the next few minutes, one graceful move answered by a steady block from the other side, almost like a delicate dance. After a while, you felt yourself getting a little tired, and knew if you didn't end it now, he'd win.
And well, you just can't give him that kind of satisfaction.
You quickly planted your staff on the ground, using the momentum to jump up and wrap your legs around his neck, using your weight to push him down onto the mattress. You'll have to thank Natasha for that move.
His staff fell from his hand as he hit the floor, and you used your advantage to pin his arms above his head, making sure to lean enough of your weight on his torso so he couldn't move. You were both panting from the exertion of the fight, and you could feel a bead of sweat traveling down your back.
He smirked up at you. "Did Nat teach you that one?"
"Maybe," you raised your eyebrow in amusement. "But I executed it to perfection."
"You sure?" he asked, and before you could answer he broke free from your grasp, flipping the both of you so your torso was pinned below him, catching your arms the same way you did to him moments ago.
Breathing heavily, your tongue darted out to wet your lips. "Well, maybe not perfection," you murmured, "but I'd say I did pretty well. You're in nice shape for a hundred-year-old," you slowly grinned up at him.
"Just nice?" he mock pouted, not moving from his position above you.
"Yeah," you smirked, "from what I've seen."
"Well, maybe you've seen nothing yet," he suggested with a quirk of his eyebrow, his head lowering even closer to yours.
"Maybe," you said softly, standing your ground. His eyes were boring into yours, you could hear the shallow sound of his breath, feel it even.
Closing the distance between you was almost more impulse than an actual aware decision. Your lips met his soft ones, his momentum pushing you back against the mattress, your head hitting it with a soft thud you paid no mind to. One of his hands left yours, coming to cup your cheek as his tongue hesitantly entered your mouth, continuing eagerly when you let out a hum of approval, one of your hand sneaking around his neck and tangling in the hair on the nape of his neck, pulling slightly.
When you finally parted, your breaths were once again labored, but for an entirely different reason now.
"Okay, maybe you are in good shape," you rasped, shrugging as well as you could.
He chuckled before his eyes met yours. "You don't hate me," he stated incredulously.
"I already told you I didn't. I take it back, maybe old age is getting to you," you giggled.
He groaned lightly, making your laughter grow stronger.
Okay, so Steve Rogers wasn't the worst. Final verdict.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
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Compliance
another fic inspired by the opening scene of a horror movie. This time it’s Feitan being awful
Warnings: torture, graphic depictions of violence, graphic imagery, blood, slight smut, Feitan makes the reader do awful shit
“Stop screaming. We've barely gotten started.”
Feitan's words went unnoticed by the man strapped to the table beneath him, who yelled and struggled at his bonds as he tried to escape the hot poker Feitan was pressing against his side. You weren't sure who the man was; Feitan hadn't told you anything other than to get downstairs, and you'd done so without question. It was a scenario you were used to by now, and experience had taught you that if you just went along with it you were more likely to get out of this particular instance unscathed.
So when Feitan had kicked the struggling man into that torture room, the most you did was flinch at the noise. Trying to help the man would be a wasted effort and would just make Feitan upset with you, and you had no desire to give him any excuse to add to the scars that littered your skin.
You sat quietly in the corner as Feitan roughed the man up, stripping him from the waist up before he was strapped to the familiar metal table that sat in the center of the room.
It was sad that you were used to such things now. That he had shown you so much violence, so much darkness that resided within one man's soul, that you had become numb to it. It hadn't been like that at the beginning. Originally he needed to strap you to that chair to make you watch, and you cried and screamed at the things you saw. There had even been times where you had begged for the lives of those being tortured, and the results of doing so had been disastrous for both you and his victim as Feitan interpreted that as you having feelings for them. Those unfortunates were forced to linger on for days before they were granted the mercy of death, while the scars, bites and bruises he left on your skin increased in number.
Just don't say anything and get through it as best you can.
And that had worked for a time. You stayed as a silent observer in your corner while Feitan worked, only getting up when he had given you permission to do so. Do as he says and you won't get hurt.
But this time was going to be different.
Only a week ago he had confronted you, telling you that he wanted you to do more. When you'd asked him what that meant, he had rolled his eyes and answered “I'm not content with you just watching while I work anymore. I want you to assist me.”
It took a few seconds to realize that he was telling you to help torture people, and your throat seized up as you stared at him dumbly. Feitan just ignored your reaction, continuing by telling you that he'd let you choose what you wanted to do, that it could be as simple as taking out an eyeball or breaking a finger.
“I could even mark where you should cut,” he said mockingly, “would you like that? I paint the man, you cut the lines?”
You wouldn't be able to stomach doing the things that he did to people. But there was no way you would be able to talk your way out of this; there was nothing you could do once Feitan had made up his mind.
His musings on the tortures you would be able to perform got gradually more gruesome the longer he continued, and you needed to say something before he became upset with your lack of response and just chose for you. And with him, he would choose the worst thing he could think of.
Then your suggestion had spilled from your lips before you could really think about it, interrupting him. He paused and asked you to repeat yourself. You did so, and though it was hard to tell with the bandanna he wore, his facial expression didn't change, but you caught the slight glint in his eyes.
“..... Interesting.”
Feitan turned to leave the room, stopping only once to look back over at you while you tried not to have a panic attack as you second-guessed yourself and what you had volunteered yourself for.
“Teeth, huh?”
The hammer was heavy on your lap. The chisel was as well, but the hammer was a solid weight on your legs that you had to constantly readjust to try and feel comfortable, the gravity making it weigh like an anchor as you waited for Feitan to call you to his side.
By now Feitan had tossed the poker aside in favor of a new torture device, one that resembled a pair of pliers that he used to start the removal of the man's fingernails. The man screamed every time they were pulled out with a sickening rip, his struggles beginning anew when Feitan turned to deposit the nails into a small metal bowl to the side of him.
Feitan had barely looked at you this whole time and you hadn't been called up yet. A small, naive part of you hoped that you wouldn't have to. After all, you rationalized, the thing he wanted from you wouldn't help in interrogating the man – if anything, it would hinder it. Sometimes, when his victims were stubborn enough, they would hold out against the pain for as long as humanly possible, and that stubbornness would drive Feitan into such a rage that he would prolong their suffering long into the night, not being satisfied until he had put them through everything they were physically capable of and getting the satisfaction of watching the light in their eyes fade. It enraged him for anyone to defy him like that, and he wanted the pleasure of bringing them pain to belong to him and him alone. Maybe this man would be like that. It would mean immense pain for him, and you would need to sit there the entire time, but that way you wouldn't need to play any further part in this. But even as you silently begged the man to stay strong, you had a sinking feeling that you wouldn't be getting out of this. The man was a wreck, voice hoarse with tears and saliva streaming down the sides of his face as he begged for the torture to end.
Feitan reached the thumb of the man's left hand when he couldn't take it any more.
“I'll talk!” the man screeched, “I'll tell you whatever you want to know, but for the love of God, stop please!”
“Then talk,” Feitan answered, calmly setting down the pliers and leaning back while the man gasped for breath.
“Lie, and it'll be much worse,” he added.
The man nodded desperately, eager to please for the sake of his life. Meanwhile you sat with a pit forming in your stomach. Your eyes went back to the tools sitting in your lap and you would have let out a small sigh if you weren't worried that Feitan might notice.
“Th-the info was given to me by a-a woman! Her n-name was Marceline, I think!” the man yelled.
“You 'think'?” Feitan asked, his eyes narrowing.
“I-I know it was! That was her name!” the man insisted as his eyes grew wide on realizing his mistake.
“She's an older woman! Red hair, with a scar on her neck. She told me to feed that information to the troupe!” he continued.
“And you gave us that rotten info knowing it was a lie?”
“I-I just-!”
“You were hoping we'd fall for that trap, right? That none of us would come after you because we'd be dead,” Feitan's cold voice cut through.
“Too bad you're unlucky.”
The man flinched when Feitan picked the pliers back up.
“Please! I've told you everything!” he begged.
“I know.”
There was confusion in that man's eyes when Feitan turned his back on him, walking over to a shelf to place the bloody pliers. The man looked to you as he had done several times since the interrogation had started, confusion in his eyes as he tried to get some clue as to what was going to happen to him.
When Feitan spoke again, his words were directed at you.
“Get over here.”
The hammer and chisel hung at your sides as you stood, the hammer's weight pulling down on your dominant arm and making it hang slightly lower as you approached the table. Feitan walked towards it as well, a new device in hand while the man's protests began again, begging to be let go.
“I've told you everything!” he repeated.
“You said that,” Feitan answered, clearly annoyed.
“Then let me go! I'll do whatever you say, whatever the troupe wants, but don't hurt me anymore!”
Feitan tsked.
“Pathetic. So much bravado earlier, and now this.”
He wrenched the man's jaw open and slipped in a metal piece that fitted itself to either side of his mouth, forcing his mouth to stay open when Feitan's hands pulled away.
“What happens now isn't for the troupe. It's for my own pleasure,” he said.
His hands went into his pockets, and he glanced to you across the table.
“Your turn.”
They were words that you had been dreading, and your palms felt sweaty as you gripped the hammer to your chest, taking in deep breaths to try and calm yourself. The man was looking up at you, his eyes practically bulging out of his skull as he pleaded for you to stop, though the words weren't easy to understand with the way his lips had been forced open.
Feitan spoke your name in a warning tone and you bit your lip – if he needed to say anything else it would mean punishment for you.
Slowly, you lifted the chisel and placed the edge against the top of his central incisors. You couldn't stop the trembling in your hand and the chisel rattled against his teeth; to you it seemed like it echoed through the room.
When you lifted the hammer the man was red in the face, screaming at you to stop. You wished you could apologize to him, just let out a quick “I'm sorry” for what little it was worth. But Feitan wouldn't like that. And if you took any longer to get this started he would do something unspeakable to you.
You lifted the hammer over your head.
'Gravity does most of the work,' you told yourself. Like that helped.
You swung it down.
The crack that sounded reverberated in your ears as you stood petrified, watching the man beneath you writhe in pain after three of his teeth managed to fly out of his mouth, blood gushing from the open wounds. With the angle you had hit it them, some of the teeth behind the ones you had knocked out looked slightly askew and you looked back to the hammer, noting just how substantial its weight was.
“Do it again.”
Feitan's voice cut through your confused thoughts, and you rushed to comply, adjusting the chisel again without looking at him. He still sounded annoyed.
It sounded like the man was trying to beg you to stop again, but you ignored him as you swung your hammer again, taking out a canine and some of his premolars. They managed to fly out of his mouth again and hit the metal table sounding like pieces of hail on a car. You took less time to compose yourself after that, switching to the other side of his mouth and swinging again.
Even though he was practically out of his mind with pain, there was a hatred in the man's eyes as he looked up at you. It was hard to blame him for that, and you wished you had an excuse to stop, but fear of Feitan kept you in check as it usually did.
With the top gum having been turned into a mess of missing and broken teeth, you switched to the lower set. You were halfway done, you told yourself. Just a few more swings and then this would be over.
It wouldn't be, but hopefully your part in it would be ended.
You hit one of his bottom canines and a few drops of blood had somehow managed to spatter onto your cheek. Instinctively you set the hammer down, wiping at your face with a shaky hand. At least that gave you an reason for taking a break.
Feitan had been quiet since his last order, and throughout this you had been too scared to even look at him, fearing that might trigger him into some sort of action against you. But as the man gasped in pain, against your better judgment you looked over across the table.
Maybe it was because of your victim's screams, or just the way your heart pounded in your ears, but you didn't realize how heavily he was breathing until you looked at him. He had changed positions when you weren't looking, gripping the edge of the table so hard his knuckles were turning white, his figure completely rigid and his eyes practically burning a hole in you, excitement dancing in that normally cold gaze.
Was he.... Aroused by this?
You snapped your head back to the man, whose protests had become weaker, only able to let out strained noises that vaguely resembled the word “no”. Picking up the hammer, you raised it once again. Just a little bit more, and then it'd be over. You could go back to your corner and let the numbness carry you through the rest of this scene.
Feitan's breathing was still audible.
The man's tongue was still moving, trying to form words to appeal to you.
The blood from the holes in his gums dripped down to the back of his throat, making him choke and cough up onto the now bloody edge of the chisel.
The amount of blood in that man's mouth.
And you were the one who did this to him.
“I'm going to throw up.”
The words barely escape your lips before you practically drop the hammer and chisel and rush out of the room, sprinting up the concrete steps to try and make it to the bathroom in time.
It was one of the few small mercies Feitan granted you, that you could leave if you felt like you were going to be sick. Turns out, for a man who tortures people for a living, Feitan had no tolerance for vomit.
But it was a small mercy with a stipulation: you needed to come right back after you were finished. And he would typically wait for your return before he continued, intent on you witnessing everything.
As you threw up the meal you had eaten earlier, the bile already a clear taste in your mouth, your mind went back to the image of that man, and how you could count that Feitan would make you finish what you had started. All you could hope for at this moment was that he wouldn't be too upset with you leaving in the middle of it.
Surprisingly, he was waiting for you outside of the bathroom. Though he seemed calmer now, you looked down to the floor immediately after your eyes met.
“I'm sorry,” you whispered, fiddling with your fingers, “I just needed a break. I'll go back down.”
“Don't bother,” he said, stopping you just as you made a move to walk past him.
“You did well enough. I'll let you off the hook for the rest of it.”
You nodded in response, but said nothing: whatever small mercy this is, there's going to be a catch somewhere.
“Go back to the bedroom. Undress, and wait for me.”
And there it is.
You looked back up at him, and while his posture was relaxed, that excitement you had seen earlier is still present in his gaze. So you were right that he was aroused, though perhaps at this point you shouldn't be too surprised about it.
“Okay.”
Feitan was already walking back to the basement stairway, and you wondered if he was going to kill that man downstairs, or set something up so that he was suffering even while Feitan had his way with you. For the sake of that soul down there, you hoped it was the former.
“Make sure you brush your teeth before I come back up,” he ordered.
He didn't take long to come back to the bedroom, spatters of blood visible on his dark clothes as he stalked towards your form while you sat still on the bed. His clothing was quickly removed and thrown to the floor, forgotten as Feitan used two blood-stained fingers to lift up your jaw and bring you into a chaste kiss.
The goosebumps that had formed on your arms while you had waited in the cold quickly vanished as he pushed you to your back, crawling over you to let his bloody hands trail over your body, tracing your healed scars while marking your skin with smears of that unfortunate man's blood. He kissed you again; this time it was more demanding and you opened your mouth in submission, the taste of cleansing mint still present as he dove his tongue in.
His hard length entered you shortly after and he started at a rough pace that had you grasping at the sheets, letting out small shrieks when he would lean down to bite you.
You would be hurting in the morning, but it was better to just go along with what he wanted.
He could do far worse than this.
#feitan portor#hxh feitan#yandere x reader#yandere hxh#yandere#yandere hunter x hunter#yandere feitan#reader insert#feitan x reader#if anyone caught the amnesia reference I'm proud of you
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I hate that I love you p. 11
11. Stupid Tsukishima
Series Masterlist
Previous Chapter // Next Chapter
Warnings: mentions of an annoyingly persistent dude (he’s not in it too much tbh lol), probably some swearing too, and a first time writer’s SMAU so might be awful lol
Pairing: Tsukishima Kei x Fem!Reader
A/N: I love a chaotic wingman Bokuto xD so just a warning: I wrote out a lot of this chapter just cause it didn’t really make sense to have the plot of this part over text haha. I hope you guys like it (i’m sorry if it’s sad!! I promise there’s a happy ending!!!!) but also the team loves y/n so much lol i love these characters ugh. let me know what you guys think :)
You watched as people slowly left the gym, Yamaguchi waving a quick goodbye before you or Tsukishima could beg him to join your awkward ice cream “date”. You hated how awkward it felt, how tense everything was between you two. Normally you would feel at home with him, not putting on a face or some kind of front, just being you. And now it felt like everything you had known was crumbling.
“Here,” you held out the jacket that had been on your shoulders for the past few minutes, standing in front of Tsukishima as he knelt on the ground, packing his things.
He raised an eyebrow, shifting his bag on his shoulders as he stood up, “It’s cold out and you didn’t bring another sweater,” he pointed out flatly. “What, don’t want to wear something Bokuto didn’t give you?”
You felt yourself roll your eyes, huffing a little, “I just figured you gave it to me to be a little shit towards him. He’s gone now so you can take it back.”
“I gave it to you to wear. So wear it, dumbass,” he shrugged, starting to walk out the door. “Let’s go then.”
You stood there for a second, still holding his jacket in your hands.
“You know, I don’t think I’ve ever seen Tsukishima so eager to go somewhere with anyone,” Daichi spoke up, standing behind you. You glanced behind your shoulder, smiling shyly as you looked at his jacket in your hands.
“Is that supposed to be eager?” you laughed, smiling up at him. “Honestly? I think he’s just softer inside than everyone expects. But one day, when he finds that special someone, I’m sure you’ll see it more in him.”
Daichi looks at you, kinda confused. As if there was something he thought both of you knew. “Well.. have fun!” He told you, rubbing the back of his neck with an awkward sort of smile.
You nodded and pulled the jacket on slowly before heading out the doors.
If you had lingered a little longer, maybe you would’ve heard Daichi asking the third years about you.
“Isn’t... isn’t she the one that Tsukishima keeps talking about?” Daichi asked, still a bit confused.
“Ya, the one that he spiked a ball at Tanaka ‘by accident’ for talking about?” Asahi asked, chuckling a little at how angry Tanaka got. Coach Ukai had to practically hold him back himself while Tsukishima just smirked like an ass.
“Hmm. Come to think of it, I think she was his phone’s wallpaper for a day too. But that was before Noya pointed it out and then he changed it then and there. Seemed a bit embarrassed about it,” Suga laughed.
But even though the third years were talking about it, they wondered how long it would take for you to notice too.
“Took your time, I’m starting to think you don’t care about ice cream,” Tsukishima muttered as you made your way over to his side, scrolling through his phone absent-mindedly.
“Sorry, I was talking to your captain,” you shrugged, starting to walk ahead. “But I’m ready now! Come on, it’s time for you to buy me ice cream!”
Tsukishima scoffed, catching up to you in a few moments, “As if I’d buy you ice cream.”
“And why wouldn’t you? The best way to apology is through ice cream. Or words, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard you say the words ‘I’m sorry’,” you smirked, smiling up at him. Even though you knew you weren’t fully ready to forgive him yet, and even though his past words still hurt… you really hated this battle between you two.
Tsukishima just clicked his tongue in annoyance, shoving his hands in his pockets. The two of you walked into town in silence, the sounds of cars passing and nearby conversations soon filling the awkward air between you two. You expected him to pull on his headphones and just ignore your existence the whole way but instead he kept them off, looking like he had something to say the whole time. After a while, Tsukishima stopped.
“Hm?” You turned back to face him, stopping in your tracks. “What’s wrong?”
“I need to know,” was all he stated with the same grumpy tone he had on earlier. “What’s going on with you and Bokuto?”
You wanted to roll your eyes, of course there was nothing going on between you and Bokuto. Your lips parted to tell him he was being stupid for thinking you two were anything more than friends, but instead, you heard yourself say, “What does it matter to you?”
Tsukishima scowled some more, standing up straighter and glaring down at you, “It doesn’t.”
“So why are you asking?”
“Curiosity. That’s all.” Tsukishima started to walk again, passing by you with a cold air. You stayed there for a moment, waiting for him to turn back and say something but he didn’t.
“Tsukishima Kei, why do you have to be so obnoxious?” You yelled after him before you could stop yourself. People passing by glanced in your direction but you were too annoyed to care.
Tsukshima paused, turning slowly to face you. Even from the distance you two were apart from each other, you could still feel his glare on you, “I’m the obnoxious one? Says the one who constantly needs my help. In school, in life, with your dumbass admirer.”
“Your help?” You laugh bitterly, glaring right back at him, “You were the one who volunteered for the fake boyfriend position, I never asked you to do any of it. In fact, I told you you didn’t have to but you just love torturing people don’t you?”
Suddenly he was looming over you, moving faster than you’ve seen him do up close before, “Torturing? Says you. You’re the one bringing some other guy to my volleyball game and wearing his stupid jacket, making me look like an idiot to the team.”
“Oh I’m so sorry to have ruined your reputation,” you mock him with your insincere apology, though you can feel yourself stepping back from his looming figure. “And maybe I wouldn’t have needed his stupid jacket if my stupid fake boyfriend had given me his instead! That gym was freezing!”
“Maybe if you hadn’t have brought some no-brain idiot to the match, I would have!”
You scoff and roll your eyes again, “As if. You’d gain nothing from giving me your jacket then anyways. You’d actually have to be nice to do that.”
“Oh I’m sorry was I not nice enough bringing you to school these past few days? Was I not a good enough friend to you?” Tsukishima felt the words leave his lips harsher than he wanted them too. He watched as your eyes displayed just how hurt you were and he wanted to apologize right away but... would it mean anything? Would you even care? An apology felt so foreign in his mouth, what would he even say?
"Don’t you remember? You told me I could ‘believe whatever I wanted to’ when I asked if we were friends... And our friendship, or whatever the hell you want to call this arrangement between us, has always felt one-sided. Honestly? Most of the time it just feels like you hate me.”
Tsukishima’s eyes widened slightly, watching as you lay all of your emotions right there in front of him. Somewhere inside of him wanted to brush your tears away - he always hated seeing you cry. Why did it always feel like it physically hurt him?
But he did remember. He remembered angrily typing out that message when you had asked if you two were friends. He remembered throwing his phone across the room because he didn’t want to see if you would reply. He remembered Yamaguchi calling him that night saying that you were really upset and that maybe he should call you. He remembered wishing he could call you and tell you just how he was feeling. He remembered wishing Bokuto never came to see you and that he didn’t make you laugh so much. He remembered it all.
Did you really think he hated you? Had it really always come across that way? He frowned as he thought about all the times he tried to be nice and it just came out as witty comments, all the times he had offered to do something nice for you but there was always a teasing point to it. You had always laughed at it… hadn’t you?
“Am I wrong?” You squeaked softly, and Tsukishima realized he hadn’t said anything yet. You had been waiting for him to say something while he was searching his brain for all the answers.
“I-” he started but found himself at a lost for words. It was like the entire dictionary of words he knew had been thrown out the window and he couldn’t figure out how to string a sentence together. How was he supposed to tell you that he didn’t hate you, he lov-
“You know what, just forget it,” you cut his thoughts off, in a voice that was barely louder than a whisper. “I won’t bug you anymore.” You tear off his jacket and throw it at him and before he can realize what’s happening, your feet pick up speed and head towards your home.
You could’ve sworn you had heard him call after you… or was it just your imagination? He won’t chase after you anyways and you knew that as you ran your way home. That’s just not how Tsukishima is.
You finally let your tears flow freely when you get home, closing the door of your room behind you and throwing your phone aside to avoid any text messages anyone might be sending you. You knew that just in a few minutes, Yamaguchi would be calling you because there was no way that Tsukishima would keep this from him. What were you supposed to say? Tsukishima couldn’t deny that he hated having you around but there were so many conflicting arguments rolling around in your head.
Why would he spend hours with you studying if he hated having you around? Why would he offer to be your fake boyfriend? What about the jersey? Why did he care so much about Bokuto if he hated you?
You whine a little, your head hurting from both dehydration and confusion. Did he hate you? Potentially. But it’s not like there weren’t signs that he liked you back so... maybe he liked you?
“Stupid Tsukishima,” you mumble softly, curling up on your bed and hugging the nearest plushie you could find. Almost immediately upon realizing what you grabbed, you threw it on the floor, glaring at it like it was Tsukishima himself.
That plushie had been the cutest thing ever to you, just this morning. Tsukishima, Yamaguchi, and you had all gone to the arcade a few years back and Tsukishima had won it at some stupidly impossible claw machine game. He scoffed saying he was really aiming for the dinosaur plushie but Yamaguchi insisted that once he saw your eyes lay on the sweet bear, he just had to get it for you. And after numerous failed attempts, he did.
What kind of guy does that for someone he hates?
After a few hours of crying and eventually trying to find some sort of distraction, you picked up your phone off the ground. Unsurprised, there were a few missed calls and messages from Yamaguchi... but he wasn’t the only one.
You put on a fake voice for your messages, privately telling Yamaguchi and Bokuto that tonight had really solidified your fears. Tsukishima really didn’t care about you at all, or at least never in the way you would want him to. Any hope of him confessing to you was gone.
“Don’t give up hope yet, little sis,” Bokuto told you over the phone after insisting he wouldn’t go to bed until he heard your voice. “I know Four Eyes is awful with words and with people but you should see the way he looks at you.”
“With distain?” You half-joked, curled up in your bed and sniffling softly.
“I mean sometimes but that’s just his face I think,” Bokuto admitted and that made you laugh just a little. “It’ll be okay, Y/N, I promise. Even if that means I gotta come down there and beat him up.”
Or maybe I’ll just forget about him, you wished silently before saying goodnight to your new friend. Maybe I’ll forget these feelings. But part of you knew you never would. You could hate Tsukishima Kei all you wanted, but you would always love him so much more.
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added!)
@random-fandom-girl-24 @intergalactic-mango @celestair @lucyheartfilias-wife @owlnymph @lucyrocks86 @pinkhairedsapphic @mariachiii @aurumk @sana-li @mirikusashes @earphonekiyouka @why-000 @devilkittymusic @420-uwu @scphiredrafts @fantasycantasy @its-the-aerieljeane @laninasinnombre @trashy-simp @thisnoodlewritesao3 @darling-daydreaming @yourmajestythegreatest @so-lo-stuff @ibimyeon @satan-ruler-of-hells @ahiae @kpopandstarwarswhynot @imnisneedshercoffee @ramen-maker @chelly-ilysmiwdfy @animeanxiety @kaylig02 @upwardscomma @jeppiet @simplyyyy @ashtheticals @calumsfringe @kac-chowsballs @dreamsandregrets @flamingosis
#tsukishima kei#tsukishima x y/n#tsukkishima kei#tsukishima kei x reader#tsukishima x reader#tsukkishima x reader#haikyuu x y/n#haikyu x y/n#haikyuu#haikyuu!!#haikyu smau#haikyuu fake text#reader insert#haikyuu fluff#haikyu fluff#hq x reader#hq x you#hq x y/n#hq fics#tsukishima#tsukishima headcanons#tsukishima x you#tsukki
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Associates - Part 2 - ao3, pt 1
“What’s this I hear about you getting up in Nie Huaisang’s face?” Jiang Cheng demanded the instant Wei Wuxian reached the front door of the inn. The tone was so familiar, so usual for him – irritated yet fond despite himself – that it took a moment for Wei Wuxian to realize that the question wasn’t anything like what he was expecting.
Not least of all because he wasn’t expecting Jiang Cheng to be there in the first place.
“What?” he said blankly, and then – “Wait, did you not put it together yet? He’s the one that planned the whole thing with Jin Guangyao –”
“Yes, I know that,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently. “Still, don’t associate with evil? Who the fuck are you to say something like that to anyone, least of all to him?”
Wei Wuxian crossed his arms in front of himself, his shoulders going up to his ears. “You still think I’m evil, then?”
“No, I think you’re a fucking brat, but also that if you were schemed against then you certainly didn’t make it hard for them to do it,” Jiang Cheng said, crossing his own arms and glaring. “Or was all the arrogance and insulting people and throwing the first punch when they came at you at the Qiongqi Path and throwing arrows at people at the Nightless City and deliberately setting up cultivators to murder each other before jumping off a cliff all things that Jin Guangyao made you do, too?”
Wei Wuxian winced.
“I have other examples,” Jiang Cheng said pointedly. “Anyway, come inside, I’ll buy you some wine, if you call what this stupid inn serves wine.”
“I wasn’t planning on staying here,” Wei Wuxian lied.
“It’s the only inn in a half-day walk,” Jiang Cheng said impatiently. “It’s also about to rain, and you already gave the innkeeper’s son your donkey to take to the stable. Will you come inside already? I’m not going to bite.”
Wei Wuxian allowed himself to be convinced by this faultless logic. “You came about the water demons, too?”
“I don’t think they’re water demons,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “I checked the river, it’s fine, so it must be something similar leaving the same sort of traces…waiter! Service now, if it’s not too much to ask!”
The wine was passable, if barely, but the food served with it was filling in just the right way.
“This seems out of the way for you,” Wei Wuxian commented. He’d been traveling randomly as a rogue cultivator for months and months now, the way he always dreamed of doing, and he spent the entire time wondering why it felt empty; he suspected it was the same reason he turned sharply to look any time he saw white out of the corner of his eye, but he wasn’t quite willing to admit it out loud yet. If he did, he’d have to face up to the fact that there was nothing stopping him from turning his feet and Lil’ Apple’s hooves back towards Gusu and the Cloud Recesses and Lan Wangji, and if he did that he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be leaving again so quickly.
“I heard you were in the area,” Jiang Cheng said, which made Wei Wuxian feel warm inside. “I wanted to yell at you.”
Wei Wuxian burst out laughing.
Jiang Cheng really must have forgiven him, he thought, unable to resist smiling. Jiang Cheng yelled at those he loved and ignored those he hated – it was when Jiang Cheng didn’t look at you that you should worry, and when he looked at you and was silent…that was the worst of all.
“I did,” Jiang Cheng grumbled. “Seriously. Nie Huaisang. What were you thinking?”
“Are you saying that what he did wasn’t evil?” Wei Wuxian asked.
“I’m saying I would have done the same thing if it was you or jiejie,” Jiang Cheng said, looking down at his jar of wine. “Are you saying you wouldn’t?”
Wei Wuxian hesitated. If it had been Jiang Cheng that had been poisoned by his own anger, by someone he trusted – betrayed into dying in just the way he’d feared most – and it was possible, wasn’t it? Jiang Cheng had trusted Jin Guangyao - he’d raised Jin Ling alongside him, never suspecting…
“Don’t answer that,” Jiang Cheng said quickly, just as Wei Wuxian said, “I would have.”
Jiang Cheng looked at him, surprised.
“Probably not in the same way,” Wei Wuxian clarified. “I would have avenged you, but I wouldn’t have – he put so many people in danger, what he did, the way he did it. He put Jin Ling in danger.”
“Jin Ling put Jin Ling in danger,” Jiang Cheng said. “As he always does. You have no idea the trouble magnet that brat is. And as for Nie Huaisang…you’re being unfair.”
“Am I?”
“Yes. He’s not like you, the you that you used to be. He’s weak. He’s not good at doing things. He’s not powerful, he’s not a genius; he had to learn everything the hard way…anyway, not everyone’s you, willing to gamble everything on trying to do the ‘right thing’. He had a sect to take care of.”
Just like me, Jiang Cheng didn’t say, but Wei Wuxian heard it anyway. And in the end, all the bravado and recklessness of his last life – it had been the right thing to do, but all he’d won for the Wen sect was another year or so of living in fear before they’d walked willingly to their deaths into the hands of the Jin sect on his behalf. In the end, only A-Yuan had been truly saved, and even that was only because of Lan Wangji’s intervention.
Wei Wuxian didn’t regret his actions, but maybe if he could go back in time, he might’ve done things a little differently. He might’ve been more restrained in his actions, been more cautious, less willing to get into fights, less willing to allow his terrible reputation to spread without bothering to correct it – he might have been a little more thoughtful about all the obligations that so suddenly had settled on his shoulders.
Thought about the ones that had been there all along, invisible.
“And Mo Xuanyu?” Wei Wuxian asked, still unwilling to give up so easily. “Put aside leading us all on a wild goose chase, risking all our lives at the Burial Mounds –”
“Something which brought to light a hidden threat, or did you think Su She would just volunteer himself?”
“Putting that aside, Mo Xuanyu died to bring me back. Is that nothing?”
“Yes,” Jiang Cheng said flatly. “A man’s life is his own. Nie Huaisang might’ve paid someone to tell stories about you, but he didn’t take a knife to Mo Xuanyu’s bones; Mo Xuanyu did that. If you really want to start talking about the subject of indirect blame for other people’s death…”
“Fair point,” Wei Wuxian said begrudgingly. “Fine. Perhaps I was being harsh.”
“You were,” Jiang Cheng agreed. “Not to mention stupid and short-sighted, again. Do you know he’s taken to referring to you by name?”
Wei Wuxian frowned. “So what?”
Jiang Cheng glared at him, but he also put some extra meat in Wei Wuxian’s bowl. “So, he’s been calling you Wei-xiong since the Cloud Recesses, even after you got famous as the Yiling Patriarch, even after you were dead and your name black as coal, and now, now he calls you Wei Wuxian? Because he thinks you hate him? Even if you just wanted to be a jackass, is he really someone you want to make your enemy?”
Wei Wuxian did not want Nie Huaisang as his enemy.
He never really wanted anyone as his enemy, not really – excluding maybe Wen Chao, Wang Lingjiao, and Wen Zhuliu, who deserved it – but least of all did he want his enemy to be Nie Huaisang as he last saw him: blank-eyed and tired, older than he should be, the smile on his face as smooth and insincere as anything that Jin Guangyao had ever tried; the dagger in the dark finally brought out to the light.
Anyone who could smile like that after having pulled off a years-long plot that led the entire cultivation world around by the nose –
No, Wei Wuxian did not want Nie Huaisang as his enemy.
“Surely enemy is a strong word for a bit of formality,” he said, but Jiang Cheng gave him a look and he had to admit even to himself that he didn’t believe it. Nie Huaisang was overly intimate with everyone he could be, and he’d never heard of him stepping back after he’d established the closer level; he even called Jin Guangyao san-ge until the very moment of his death. Maybe he still did. “Well, shit.”
“Exactly,” Jiang Cheng said.
“How do you even know about that?” Wei Wuxian asked. It’d only been the three of them at that conversation – him and Lan Wangji and Nie Huaisang – and Lan Wangji wasn’t a gossip.
“Nie Huaisang,” Jiang Cheng said promptly, as he’d expected. “He wanted to let me know that there were no hard feelings if I decided to break treaty with him.”
“If you – what?” Wei Wuxian stared at him. “Break treaty? All the trade routes and boundary lines and – and everything, all the connections between the Nie sect and the Jiang sect…why in the world would you ever break treaty? Why would he even suggest that?”
“Because of you, obviously,” Jiang Cheng said. “He was there for the whole – you know – when we had it all out at the temple. He knows the whole story, he knows how much I owe you; if you decided to come tell me what you told him in Hanguang-jun’s presence, do not associate with evil –”
“I wouldn’t!” Wei Wuxian protested. He’d been ‘evil’ before, the one who was shunned and rejected by all; he’d never go around riling people up to exclude another the way he’d been excluded.
Jiang Cheng shrugged. “You wouldn’t do it deliberately, but you also said to his face that you wouldn’t associate with him. Do you know how that sounds? Association is association, even by proxy. He figured we’d make up eventually, and then that’s Yunmeng Jiang and Lanling Jin both against him, since Jin Ling tends to follow my lead and likes you, and of course there’s you and Lan Wangji…”
Leaving only Qinghe Nie out in the cold, alone and isolated.
Do not associate with evil.
Yeah, Wei Wuxian could see the problem. He wouldn’t even have to lead the charge himself the way Jin Guangshan had against him; he would just need to hint at his disapproval, and he had enough sway with enough of the right people that they might change their actions just to please him, and then where would Nie Huaisang be?
Offering not to take it personally when Jiang Cheng turned his back on him even though they’d been friends ever since their days at the Cloud Recesses, apparently.
Wei Wuxian had by this point teamed up enough with the junior troop to have heard the stories from Jin Ling and the others to piece together how the time when he’d been dead must had gone. Nie Huaisang might have relied heavily on his brother’s two sworn brothers to run his sect and keep his position, but he’d always been very friendly with Jiang Cheng, and it’d been his unstinting support (brainless support, the juniors had said on automatic before realizing that they had no idea if it was brainless or not) that had helped Jiang Cheng keep pace with the others, to not get left out.
Yeah, fine. Wei Wuxian was, perhaps, being something of a dick. He got that.
“Are we?” he asked instead of conceding, because ‘sorry’ had always been something he’d needed to build up to. “Going to make up eventually?”
“Of course we are,” Jiang Cheng said. “You literally came back from the dead, and then we got stuck in a temple with a villain that helpfully explained all of our problems to us in the process of nearly killing us. If that’s not a sign from the heavens that we’re going to get over this eventually, what is?”
Wei Wuxian had to give him that one. “All right,” he said. “Good.”
“Good,” Jiang Cheng said, shoulders relaxing a little when Wei Wuxian didn’t rebuff him. “Why are you here, anyway?”
“What do you mean? The water demons – or, well, not water demons –”
“No, I mean, why are you…you know, wandering around everywhere,” Jiang Cheng said. “I would’ve figured you’d be at the Cloud Recesses.”
“I probably will be, eventually,” Wei Wuxian said, admitting it for the first time to himself as well. “But I need some time to stretch my legs, get the wanderlust out. Be without burdens for a little while. And then, when I’m clear about – a lot of things, then I’ll go back to him.”
“I figured as much,” Jiang Cheng said. He looked a little uncomfortable, like he wanted to say something, but was thinking better of it. “Well, you’re always welcome to come by the Lotus Pier. Obviously.”
It wasn’t obvious at all, and Wei Wuxian was so glad to hear it that his heart hurt in his chest.
“I will,” he said, swallowing down his questions about what Jiang Cheng had been about to say. It couldn’t have been that important, anyway. “I will. Promise.”
“Good.”
“Want to tell me about the not-water demons you’ve been investigating?” Wei Wuxian suggested.
Jiang Cheng looked incredibly relieved to have the feelings part of the conversation over with. “Yes, of course,” he said. “I started by checking out the area where they’ve been reporting the disappearances –”
(Much later, Wei Wuxian will ask Jiang Cheng why didn’t you tell me that Lan Zhan was drowning! and Jiang Cheng will say I thought you knew! Wei Wuxian will shout of course I didn’t know and you let him get wrangled up by Nie Huaisang and Jiang Cheng will say sorry I thought you knew how to take a hint or did you leave your brain behind in the afterlife and Wei Wuxian will seriously consider punching him.
But that was later.)
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Political rivals ballroom scene? Where they have to pretend they actually like each other and dance together?
Idk :)
“Take your hand off of my waist.” The princess, Hirah, smiled, tongue against the roof of her mouth, as she walked down the steps beside her betrothed. She hated him, and she hated that she had to smile every time they stood side by side.
Giving a huff, and tucking his free arm behind his back, Prince Jasier said, “You should know as much as me that it is part of the act. Don’t ever think I enjoyed this moment in the future.” He tightened his grip on her hips a small bit, emphasizing that he wouldn’t be letting go. The princess was to be glued to his side; that was that.
“You don’t want this, and neither do I, so why are we?” She nearly, stupidly, ripped away from the prince, but his grip on her was firm. “I could hire a carriage,” she whispered. “Right now, I could disappear into the crowd and run to the carriage outside. I could return-”
“To your poor kingdom who is relying on this alliance with mine, which is only possible through your willing hand in marriage?” They came to the final step, and the blond prince turned in front of her, moving his hand at her waist to a white gloved hand of her own. He brought it to his lips and kissed it for all those dancing and pretending not to watch. “I knew you were a prude; I didn’t realize you were such a selfish one.”
Hirah giggled aloud, putting her free-hand on the side of the prince’s face, careful to avoid his cheekbone- one too sharp to be human. “You don’t care at all if I am pleased or not, do you?”
The prince touched a lock of her raven hair and pushed it behind her shoulders, chest inching closer to her own, head tilting down. “I might care a little more if you were not so stuck-up.”
She leaned forward, faulty smile tugging on the corners of her mouth as she looked at the devilish prince. “Is it really so wrong that I hate being forced into marriage?” Her lips met his as he stood a step beneath her. “I don’t even know you,” she said against his mouth, “yet here I am kissing you like my life depends on it. It’s disgusting.”
“Your life may not depend on it, but your peoples’ do.” He held onto her waist, lifting her near effortlessly and spinning her once, twice, until her feet finally touched the ballroom floor. Quiet giggles flittered around the two royals as they fell into a rhythmic dance, Jasier twirling Hirah, dipping her, and kissing her again and again.
Unfortunate for the princess, her rival-partner moved fast enough that she never had time to wipe her lips. He was on her, and she couldn’t clean him away. “I need a break,” she said over the music. Jasier didn’t hear her as they were stepping directly in front of the musicians. Hirah had a feeling the prince brought her over her on purpose. What the reason was, she didn’t know, but he seemed content not being able to hear her as he watched her lips move and only shrugged. Right, she was the prude.
As they passed the blaring music, Hirah tried again. “We need to stop. My legs are becoming sore.”
“The song is nearly over.”
“Well, I am sore now.”
When the prince didn’t stop the dancing, Hirah stopped her feet, letting them drag along the floor. She crashed into Jasier, which wasn’t the intention, but as they fell to the ground and he became the cushion, she didn’t mind so much.
Gasps filled the room, and it hardly took five seconds for the entire crowd to be shrouding the couple on the hard floor, tangled up in one another.
“Your Highnesses, are you okay?”
“Should we call for someone, a medic?”
“I think the princess might have broken her leg.”
“Oh, heavens. The poor dears.”
Hirah scoffed quietly and quickly pushed herself off the prince. “I didn’t break my stupid leg,” she grumbled, almost silently. As she stood, though, she announced, “Thank you all for your concern. I should like to take a break now.” She pushed and pushed through the crowd, watching the moonlit doorway as she went.
Almost there, almost there. Hirah pushed a man with a curly moustache- disgusting, she thought. Moustaches belonged on the poor men of her district, lumbermen, and fisherman, and all the nasty like- nasty because they were all the type of men to grab at her when she went for strolls in the markets of her kingdom. Hirah was grateful this one didn’t grab at her.
Continuing through the crowd, Hirah pushed a small woman with shoulder length hair, paying no attention to the colour. She pushed a servant- barely, as they actually had the sense to step aside. Finally, she made it to the open doorway, where she promptly sprinted with a lifted skirt and heels that were surely more dangerous than the tumble she had earlier. But she was out, and it didn’t matter that her heels were too tall. Hirah was out.
**Read below cut for some angst- and fluff, oops. 👀**
Where’s the carriage? It was no where to be seen beyond the enormous hedges. Hirah stopped, looking left and right. Where was she supposed to go? Wasn’t this supposed to be the front of the palace? Nothing was here but a stupid- albeit beautiful- garden that couldn’t be seen over from ground level.
“Wrong door.”
Hirah’s lip curled, and she dropped the skirt of her dress, shoulders sagging as she heard the prince’s voice, and a moment later, his footsteps.
“This is the back of the palace if you have not gathered that already. Thank you, by the way, for asking if my bones were okay. They are.”
“I didn’t care but thank you so much for volunteering the information. Maybe you can escort me to the front door?”
Jasier laughed. “If you would just let me be kind to you without scoffing in my face every time, maybe- just maybe- this wouldn’t be so bad. I don’t like it any better than you do, but this benefits both of our kingdoms. Why do you care so little for that?”
“If my kingdom only benefits from me sacrificing my free-will…”
“Then what?” Jasier asked. “It isn’t a death sentence to marry me, nor me to marry you. You are helping thousands upon thousands of people by sealing this alliance.”
The princess crossed her arms and turned her back to him. Hirah took a deep breath, closing her eyes. This was ridiculous. This dance, this betrothal, this lecture the prince was giving, all of it. It was all so ridiculous, and she just wanted to go home.
“You are heartless, and I am disappointed to have to marry you.” This was the coldest the prince’s voice had ever been since Hirah arrived.
It was odd to admit Jasier actually hurt her. Nevertheless, Hirah returned the malice. “So what if I am heartless! I am angry, and I have every right to be. I wasn’t told about this alliance until the day I was taken away.” Hirah spun on a heel, her right hand tugging on the glove of her left. She ripped it off and pointed to her wrist where bright bruises blossomed. “I was told a carriage awaited me and I was to get in without a word. I thought I was being kidnapped by an enemy kingdom- turns out I was.”
She pinned the prince with a glare. “And maybe I shouldn’t be angry with you for not knowing, but I am. I am angry with you and everyone and everything, and I don’t care that I am. I want to be mad; don’t you understand? I deserve to be infuriated. What I don’t deserve is you telling me I am awful for allowing this to happen. I might have been happy to be wedded, but never like this.” Hirah looked to her exposed wrist and gently ran a gloved finger over the most obvious bruise. “Never like this.”
For once, the prince didn’t know what to say. The marks on his bride’s wrist were clearly from a rope- maybe even a strong grip given how far it was spread. If he’d have known…No one told him it would be- or was- done like this. He knew he was to be married for months now, but no one told him it was…well, it was practically an invasion, wasn’t it? It was tyranny and…what else?
Who allowed for this- he touched Hirah’s arm. He didn’t remember taking those few steps closer, but here he was, squinting and holding the princess’ arm in his hands.
“I’m sorry,” he whispered, and he didn’t know what else to say. There was nothing else to say. “I had no idea. I-” Jasier shook his head. “It won’t happen again. I- I won’t allow it.”
Hirah pulled her hand away, gloving it again. She was told not to show her bruises to the prince, so she believed Jasier when he said he was unaware of her treatment. The princess blinked and took a deep breath. “I still have no remorse for the anger I have felt, but it would be cruel to say you deserved my harsh words. I’m scared is all. I’m scared you are like the rest.”
“It may be pointless to say, but I would have never allowed for that treatment if I had known. I would have made sure you had prior knowledge and that it was willing and- and I would have come myself. I-”
“Shh.” Hirah didn’t wish to talk about it any longer. “Will you take me to my room?”
The prince nodded. “I can do that.”
Both knew, at this point in the exchange, that her running away would only create more problems. She was in Jasier’s kingdom, and that was where she would have to remain. The prince hated it, and Hirah did, too, obviously, but nothing could be done, except to hope that with the marriage, she wouldn’t be treated so harshly again, and maybe she could even come to trust Jasier. They would be married, after all. Maybe they could make it work, no matter how crooked their kingdom would be.
At the very least, Jasier planned to find out who handled his betrothed as they did. Never before had the prince aspired for violence, but a man who dealt it so eagerly deserved to have it dealt back to him. Jasier would be happy to deliver the message himself.
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King of Traitors
Series: Brynhilda’s Saga
Pairing: Ivar x OFC
Warnings: None for this chapter
Tagging: @salt-is-a-terrible-currency
****
The Cliff of Cliffs had a cave system. As a child, Brynhilda had explored the systems to such an extent she still knew what paths lead to where. From the information she’d gathered, thanks to a recon mission gone very right, she knew that Boggvir’s men were situated right against the cliff, next to a crack that opened right in the middle of the camp.
She has a plan to sew some chaos into the camp, not much, just enough to put the men on edge. Brynhilda’s force is small, excluding herself, there were seven in total that followed her. Alf, Dorfi, and five of the bravest women in the whole camp. The men that would have volunteered to come had other jobs to do. She turns to her people, “Remember, you can take as much as you can carry, but destroy supplies. Keep as quiet as you can, for as long as you can. If you get caught, I won't be saving you.” Everyone nods in understanding. “Good, lets go.”
She sent other groups out that night that were going to help with creating chaos. One was setting up traps in the forest. In the early morning, they’d try to get a group of Boggvir’s men to follow them, and neutralize a small portion of the army. Another group was situated on top of the cliff, ready to fire arrows down at the enemy at a random time in the night. Yet another group was going to try and lead a small group of the enemy into a small skirmish to the south.
Brynhilda didn’t have the bulk Boggvir did, even now, at the height of her popularity. She had to resort to guerilla tactics for the next few hours in the hopes of weakening the enemy, tiring them out, depleting some of the massive army.
So many opportunities to go wrong...yet the reward was worth it.
Brynhilda leads her group through the caves with no problem, out the otherside with only the smallest of sounds. When she finally saw the last woman out of the cave, she hisses,“Find cover, quickly.” They do as told, following her behind a stack of food. She looks at them, “spread out, start destroying supplies. Food, weapons, shields. Throw things into the ravine, steal things, I don't care. Get going.” Everyone disperses at her orders. They had one hour to complete their tasks before the attacks began. Then, they either get caught in the fight, or they escape without a scratch.
For an entire hour, Brynhilda is on edge, anything could go wrong. Luck holds with her. She manages to find weapons just laying around the camp, just as she expected. It’s a pity that she has to give Boggvir this sorely needed reality check.
Her confidence is slowly returning. She can do this, they can do this. A soft caw from one of the crows that perpetually follows her tells her it's time to go. She rushed back to the hole in the cliff, seeing most of her group. “Where is Dorfi?” She asks. “We don't know,” Alf tells her, “lost I expect.” Brynhilda curses. “Go back to the camp, I'll find Dorfi.”
“What happened to you not saving us?” Alf says, smirking, “Clearly I lied.”
”I saw him go towards the edge of the camp, toward the log trap.” A woman tells her. “Thank you,” Brynhilda turns heading back towards the camp, stopping when her group moves with her. “Go back to the camp,”
“Not without you,” Alf says. “Look-” Brynhilda begins to argue, but Alf cuts her off, “Don't bother arguing. We aren't leaving without you.”
“Well, don't blame me when we're still stuck here when things go to shit.” Brynhilda mutters, moving herself and her group towards the edge of the camp. It occurs to her that Dorfi really might be working for Boggvir, thus leading her into a trap. She grips her sword tighter, she'd behead him if that were the case.
She doesn't have to wonder about it though, as she hears Dorfi's voice through a tent. “I don't know anything about Brynhilda.” he says defiantly. She smirks, she loves it when she's wrong. “Oh? She didn't send you here to curse us all?” Someone sneers. Their voice is gruff, someone she doesn't recognize. She motions of her people to surround the tent. “Do you really think Brynhilda is someone that believes in curses?”
“Yes.” There was an awkward pause, “Do you think Brynhilda is someone who would use curses?” Dorfi rephrased. “Look, we all know Brynhilda wants us dead,” she steps into the tent for dramatic effect, cutting off the man’s tirade. She’s angry when she sees Dorfi beaten and bloodied. For a moment, she has to wonder if he really kept her secrete despite the torture. “You're right, I want you dead,” she says. Before the man can even yell or draw his weapon, she runs him through with her sword, covering his mouth so he doesn't make much sound.
Dorfi looks at her, smiling. He gets off his knees and stumbles out of the tent. Sheathing her sword, she follows him, bringing out a dagger from its holster and cuts his restraints. “What happened to not coming to save our asses?” Dorfi asks, delighted. Brynhilda just pats his shoulder.
They were going to sneak back to the hole, but one of her ravens caw, loudly so everyone can hear it, a warning sign that her other plans are about to be set into motion. “Shit,” she mutters. Everyone readies their weapons, “There isnt enough time to escape,” Dorfi warns her, watching as people are now pouring from the tents, wondering why the fuck a raven is cawing in the middle of the night.
“Please tell me you disabled the trap.” Alf says. Dorfi snorts, “course I did!”
“Tight circle,” Brynhilda instructs, bringing her shield in front of her. They form a tight ring as shouts of intruders begin to go up, now alerted to their presence. Men surround them. “Brynhilda, I don't like this,” Alf mutters, “Oh really?” Brunhilda snaps, “What's not to like? We're trapped in the middle of an enemy camp, surrounded, with fucking no way out.”
“Someone's testy,” Alf mutters, “She needs a nap,” Dorfi explains, “she gets cranky without her beauty rest.”
“I hate you both.” She mutters, bracing herself for an attack. The dam of tension breaks as soon as a random enemy charges at her and hits her shield. Everyone begins to shout, fight, run. Its utter chaos.
Brynhilda wants to throw herself into the fight with wild abandon, her very being craves the blood shed, demands it, but she's divided. She has to get her people to safety. They have to survive. She defends them more than she fights.
The enemy, composed of men she's led in battle, are confused at the new tactic. She's a brute force fighter, she charges and her opponent dies. Now she's yelling coherent instructions, staying back and helping her people. It confuses the enemy, makes them hesitate.
Her new friends are just as adept at fighting as she is, a tall blond clears a path, striking so quickly anyone barely has time to react. Dorfi is clearly a distance fighter, throwing numerous little knives into the fray. The women dart in and out of small pockets of enemies, taking down two or three at a time. They work as a team and manage to get to the border, where fighting only grows heavier.
The group Brynhilda sent out that was supposed to charge the side of the camp she’s headed towards is doing its job beautifully. The shock of the trap working had given them the advantage, confusion was sown, everyone was divided. “Retreat!” She yells, her voice is heard clearly over the battle. A horn is sounded and her men begin to fall back. Brynhilda stays until she is sure the last man has gone. She is about to join them when the enemy crowd parts, and she sees Boggvir.
Her heart aches. A sick part of her wants to forgive him, to run into his arms and take comfort in his presence, most of her just wants to snap his neck then and there. He looks older than she remembered, he looks...terrified. “Enjoy your final moments,” Brynhilda calls to him, bowing, “Boggvir, King of Traitors” with that, she turns and runs.
*
Her camp is riotous when she gets back. Through snippets of excited congratulations, she finds that all men have made it back alive with no more than a few bumps and bruises. Someone had the wherewithal to break out the celebration food. She notes there wasn't a mead cup in sight, good, mead was after the battle was definitely won. “To Brynhilda the Deathless!” One of her men yells. The cheer goes up, her name reaching the heavens. She laughs as someone picks her up on their shoulders, it's hard not to get caught up in the celebration. “To my warriors!” She says, throwing a fist in the air. This elicits an even bigger cheer.
When she is put down, Alf approaches her, pulling her off to the side. “Sven tells me there's something that requires your full attention.” She follows him through the camp.
They come upon her tent, small and unassuming, except for the large boar stitched into the side. A group of men surround something, the air is charged, as she approaches, they part for her so she can see what it is they’ve captured. The Volva that started this mess. She's not so pretty now, covered in dirt, hair wild, half starved. “What did you do to her?” Brynhilda mutters, feeling bad for the woman...only slightly. She glares at the men in turn.
“Your men have done nothing,” the witch says, looking Brynhilda in the eyes, “they were perfectly behaved.”
“Leave,” Brynhilda tells them. “Jarl-” Sven, who’d been among the group, begins to argue, but at Brynhilda's look he stops. They all leave.
Brynhilda picks the witch up, and throws her into the tent, nearly gagging at the smell of her. “Are you cold?” Brynhilda asks, not bothering to wait for the answer. She throws a blanket around the woman.
“Enough with the niceties. I know nothing of Boggvir's plan. He cast me aside the moment he got word you lived.” Brynhilda had trouble keeping the smirk from her face. “A wise queen told me once that women seldom have choices in life. We must take what we’re given and deal with it, ours is a most tragic lot.” The volva merely grunts. “She was loved, hated, and killed because she was a witch.”
“What's your point?”
“My point is, right now, you have a choice to make.”
“I told you I know nothing of Boggvir's plans,” Brynhilda ignores her, “become mine, work for me, and live under my protection,”
“Be a slave? Ha! I'd rather die,” Brynhilda nods, pulling out a dagger. “Very well,” she gets up and grabs a fistfull of dirty hair, pulling the volva's head back. Before she can even put the blade to her neck, the witch changes her mind. “I'll do it! I'll work for you! Don't kill me please!” Brynhilda lets her go. Smiling, she puts the dagger down, “I'll send someone to come clean you up.”
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Spots Drawn in Marker Pt.1
Based on the AU by @miraculous-of-salt
(I promise this isn't full on bashing.)
Marinette sighed ever so softly as she tapped her pencil against her sketchbook. Today was not seeming to be an inspirational day and she had a portfolio to finish by the end of the month.
"And I just couldn't believe that Jagged's concert was almost cancelled. But he called me and I filled him with such inspiration and determination that he just couldn't help but rock out." Lila spoke in an airy, wistful tone that Marinette had no doubt she practiced to get just right. "He said I could even get VIP passes to his next show, thanks to what I did, as many as I want."
Well there goes any and all hope for any inspiration this morning. Lila just leeched any creativity out of any room she's in.
"Do you think I could get one?" Alya piped up, beaming over at Lila as she recorded the entire conversation. "I mean, since we're besties, I'd love an interview with Jagged. Lately he's been very tight lipped about a lot of things."
"Of course, Alya, anything for my second best friend!" Lila hugged the girl, beaming brightly as Alya began posting the recording on her blog.
Marinette merely rolled her eyes and settled back in her seat in the back of the class, going back to sketching her ideas for the morning. A beautiful scarf, maybe a nice warm sweater… Marinette was quickly lost in a world of design, a world she could have control of. It was something she had often turned to after Lila had caused her life to go spiralling into a pit where her friends brushed off her concerns for the lies of a shiny new toy.
Marinette was so caught up in her sketching, that she didn't notice when Miss Bustier came in, guiding along a girl who shared a wink with Lila. If only she had noticed.
"Class, we have a new student joining us today. This is Rébecca, she just transferred to our school today. I hope you will all give her a warm welcome." Bustier beamed at her class as many of her students mumbled clumsy, half-hearted hellos.
Marinette glanced up from her sketchbook and took a good, long look at the new girl. She was tall, slim, with dark bluish-black hair that reached her shoulders. Marinette could tell by looking at them that her clothes were Gabriel brand, the skinny jeans clinging to her long, long legs like a second skin, the leopard print top accentuating any curves the girl may have had.
"It's a pleasure to meet you all. Lila has told me so much about you all!" Rébecca beamed at everyone, and that instantly made Marinette narrow her eyes a fraction, while Rébecca strode over to where Lila and Adrien sat, sending a flirty little smile to the model. "And I heard you're quite the helpful one, of course. I'm so glad you volunteered to show me around today."
Oh, that was it. Lila brought along a croney to try and manipulate Adrien some more, maybe help granduerize her stories. Well, this was certainly becoming a fun class. Marinette pressed her lips into a thin line as Rébecca sat down next to Adrien, causing the boy to be uncomfortably sandwiched between the two girls. It made Marinette's blood boil at how the two girls kept pawing at the model, who clearly wanted to get away, while Alya and the others just cooed and urged it on.
Honestly, this entire class has gone crazy.
Marinette made a move to go down there and get them to stop, but Adrien had looked back at her and given her a look that pleaded that she didn't. That's what he wanted, for her to sit down, shut up, and not cause trouble. It took everything in Marinette not to snap her pencil as Miss Bustier began to lesson.
…
Adrien didn't quite know how to feel about this new girl hanging off of his arm, seeming overly cuddly with him, fluttering her lashes and trying to get most of his attention.
"How exactly do you two know each other?" Alya had asked when she and Nino sat down with the duo and Lila. Lila had only perked up, and got a somewhat secretive smile on her face, while Rébecca let out a soft giggle.
“All I can say is, Alya, that Rébecca is my best friend.” Lila boasted, giving Alya an overly obvious wink. Alya stared at Lila, as if slowly digesting her words before her eyes lit up and her hand shot for her phone.
“You’re serious?!” Alya began to open an app on her phone, but Rébecca reached out a hand to stop her, then gave Adrien a pleading look.
“Adrien, I’m very parched. Do you think you could grab me a soda, please? I would greatly appreciate it.” She slid a hand slowly along his arm, giving him a smile then when their eyes met.
Adrien opened his mouth, but then nodded and made his way to the lunch line, which had grown fairly sizable as lunch was halfway over.
“You’re Ladybug?!” Alya beamed as she reached out and took Rébecca’s hand, an eager gleam in her eyes. “I knew Marinette was wrong about everything! Can I see the earrings?”
Rébecca nodded and pulled aside her hair from her ear, showing off the black spotted red earring, making Alya practically squeal with delight.
“I just want to say that I’m so honoured that you chose me to be Rena Rouge.” Alya took Rébecca’s hand, so awestruck that she missed the surprised look Lila and Rébecca exchanged.
“Well it was Lila that gave me the glowing recommendation.” Rébecca grinned as Alya began practically bursting with excitement as she began dumping question after question on Rébecca, who answered every one with ease, puffing out her chest with pride. Nino even seemed to get into it, thanking her profusely for allowing him to become Carapace, thankful he was able to protect the people of Paris.
All the while Marinette was seated on the other side of the cafeteria with Rose and Ivan, trying her hardest to design something new for Kitty Section’s concert in a month, completely unaware of the imposter across the room. She was merely smiling as she discussed with Rose the possibility of adding more sparkles to the outfits, while Ivan was increasingly pleading for them not to.
“Oh come on, they won’t be that bad.” Marinette smirked up at her distressed classmate, playfully sticking out her tongue. “Maybe I’ll even make the costumes neon orange.”
“Don’t you dare..” Ivan growled softly, but any playful banter was cut short by an explosion nearby that shook the school. Many students let out surprised screams as trees seemed to burst from the floor out of nowhere.
“Hello Paris, I am Dryad, prepare to start tossing away those construction sites you use as excuses to cut down my precious trees!” A voice called out, echoing across the area, and it was then a panic began. Students cried out and began running in various directions, as the branches stretched from the trees and began snatching up various people.
Adrien ducked off into an alcove, and thinking the coast was clear, transformed and took off, completely unaware of Rébecca watching from around the corner, a stunned look on her face.
…
As soon as school was over, Marinette stretched and let out a soft groan. Her body felt so stiff from that akuma battle earlier, Dryad had been an eco-activist who had been angry that her favourite park had been dozed over to make room for a spa, so she had been an easy target for Hawkmoth.
“Mari, I have to tell you something.” Alya ran up beside her and grabbed her arm, stopping her friend in her tracks. Marinette gave her a smile, though silently wished she were heading home right now for a nap. She just felt so drained after the day, and she wanted to relax with a nice cup of hot cocoa and some cookies with Tikki.
“Oh, did you get a new scoop?” Marinette’s smile widened when she saw the eager look in Alya’s eyes, the slight bounce in her step. She knew right away that the young reporter had quite the story if she was stopping Marinette right outside of school.
“I sure did, and it’s all thanks to Lila.” Alya grinned, but it quickly dimmed when the smile fell from Marinette’s face. She then huffed and crossed her arms, cocking a hip. “Marinette, this jealous streak of yours is getting annoying.”
“I’m not jealous, Alya, I’m just tired of you believing her lies, which are so obvious.” Marinette crossed her arms, her own annoyed expression matching Alya’s.
“God, I don’t know why I even try with you. You’ll see soon enough what a fool you’ve been, never giving Lila a single chance. When you see my interview tomorrow, you’ll be begging Lila for forgiveness.” Alya said this in the most confident tone she could ever have spoken, making Marinette’s frown then press into firm line.
“Alya-” Marinette’s words died as soon as Alya held up a hand and began storming away. The young girl felt a heavy weight in her heart as she watched her best friend walk away. Why did it feel like she was about to walk away from their friendship..?
Marinette shook her head. No, she wouldn't let it come to that! Whatever stunt Lila was trying to pull, it wasn't going to work, Mari refused to back down and let her win, because if Lila won, she'd oh make things worse. She's hurt Marinette's friends, keep using them like she had. And she might even get her hands on Adri-
Adrien. Oh no, that new girl was trying to sink her claws into Adrien too, wasn't she? It just hurt to think about how those two would try and manipulate Adrien. But he wouldn't fall for it right? He knew Lila was a liar, he wouldn't fall for any tricks..
Marinette made her way home, tightly gripping the straps of her backpack, an uneasy feeling rolling in her stomach.
…
Adrien frowned as he was dragged off by Rébecca, who was clutching his arm like a vice.
"Rébecca, what's this about? I have a modeling gig in a few hours, so I can't stay very long.." He tried to point out, stumbling slightly when she abruptly stopped and turned to him, realizing the two of them were in an empty classroom. "Rébecca, is something wrong?"
".. I can't believe it. My Kitty has been before me this whole time.." Rébecca blushed as she slid her hand down his arm, gripping his hand lightly. "I've been so blind."
"Wait, what are you talking about?" Adrien blinked in surprise as the girl set her other hand on his chest.
"Don't you recognize me, Chat? Don't you recognize your Ladybug?" She whispered, biting her lower lip. "I guess without the mask, I'm not so special anymore.."
Adrien felt his breath hitch at her words, his mind racing. No, she couldn't be.. Could she?
"I accidentally saw you detransform when I was trying to sneak back into school after our fight with Dryad. I'm sorry, but I thought since I knew, it was only fair to tell you.." She whispered, looking away as if in shame. Rébecca was internally thankful that Lila told her everything she needed to know about Adrien and the class, and was even more grateful she had given into Lila's silly little plan to try and trick the class more. Being Ladybug could be fun, afterall, she always wanted to be famous.
"What, no! M- my Lady, that's not true!" Adrien blurted out the words before he could stop himself, alarmed at the sight of the tears beginning to stream down her face.
"The.. the reason I've been rejecting you is because I've been in love with you, Adrien. And when I found out that you and Chat Noir were the same person, I just couldn't believe it, but it made so much sense" Rébecca leaned closer, their bodies pressing lightly together. "You're right, kitty, we are meant for each other, I was just simply blind to it.. Do you think I could get a second chance, please? I love you, Adrien."
Adrien was silent for the longest time, his mind trying to process all of this. This was Ladybug..? His heart began to pound as she poured her heart out to him, his hopes skyrocketing. She loved him, she really loved him! It felt like his dreams were coming true! Grinning, Adrien leaned close, their foreheads pressing lightly together as he tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, eyeing her earring before chuckling.
"I love you too, my Lady. We're soulmates, something silly as a misunderstanding could never tear us apart." He murmured, and both of them leaned closer and shared a soft kiss, Rébecca practically preening as she ensnared the gullible model.
…
Marinette huffed softly as she stared at her essay. School had to be built to torture people, there was no way these institutes built up every person of every walk of life, because these essays and term papers were a pain in the butt.
"Tikki, I think my eyes are going to explode.." She groaned as she closed her eyes and rubbed them, feeling the beginnings of a migraine beginning to form.
"It's probably because you stayed up all night." Tikki scolded her, the alarm clock next to Marinette suddenly going off, making the girl jump in her seat.
"Oh no, I'm going to be a total zombie in school today.." Marinette groaned as she put her face in her hands. She hadn't even realized she had stayed up so late, but she had really wanted to finish this dark essay before it became a bigger problem than it was worth. She should have been more mindful.
It was then that her phone beeped. When she looked at the notification, she realized Alya had published that interview she had mentioned yesterday.
"Well, since I'm up on time, I can watch it while I get ready." Marinette shrugged and tapped on the video to play it, and began getting dressed.
Alya was seated in her room, beaming proudly as she sat between Lila and Rébecca.
"Hey guys, it's Alya your lovable Ladyblogger here. I'm here to give you guys the scoop of the century! Over the past year, you've all come to know my amazing best friend, Lila, and her amazing exploits!" Alya grinned as she wrapped an arm around Lila, giving her a quick side up before sitting up again. "Well, Lila has managed to convince someone very special to give me an interview at long last, without her mask."
Marinette watched as she brushed her teeth, raising a brow as she took in Alya's words.
"Everyone, I'd love you to meet our very own Ladybug, finally showing her face, right here, on my blog!" Alya grinned like a cat who had cream.
"I have to say, it's an honour to finally reveal myself to all of you, especially on one of the most important blogs ever. Without you, Alya, I think I'd be lost. You always do the best detective work, and give everyone the greatest stories." Rébecca praised, carefully stroking Alya's ego. "Lila finally convinced me to show myself to the world. You're right, Alya, the world has the right to know.'
Marinette felt the toothbrush drop from her mouth as she stared at her phone screen, the blood beginning to pound through her veins.
"Tikki.." She croaked out after she spit her toothpaste into the sink, her body beginning to tremble. "Oh God, Tikki, she's lying.. She's- she's claiming to be me!"
"Marinette, you need to calm down!" Tikki flew in front of her Chosen's face, panic making her gasp as she saw the tears beginning to well up in Marinette's eyes.
"Why would Alya do that?! I've told her time and time again that I want to keep my identity a secret! It's important to me, it keeps everyone I love out of danger, why would she do this?! Now Rébecca's family could be in danger!" Marinette pulled at her pigtails as her mind began to race.
"Marinette, please, calm down! Maybe you can tell Alya these things at school today! I'm sure she'll listen if you calmly explain these things to you, I'm sure she'll fix it."
".." Marinette sniffled and wiped away the tears. "You're right, Tikki. Alya has to at least think this is strange, it would be out of character for Ladybug to suddenly out herself like that.."
…
But when Marinette got to school and tried to talk to Alya, the girl merely cut her off and gave her a glare.
"I told you that you'd regret it, Marinette. I told you to try, and look at how things are now, even Ladybug herself thinks you're being unreasonable!" Alya snapped, motioning to where Rébecca sat with Lila, the class all overjoyed to have their wonderful hero Ladybug in that very room! The sight made Marinette feel ill.
"But Alya, Ladybug is always saying how she wanted to keep her identity a secret. Why would she suddenly start exposing herself, while Hawkmoth and Mayura are still at large?" Marinette held out her hands, trying to get Alya to see some kind of reason.
"You know what? I can't believe you're being this selfish right now. Honestly, this is the biggest story I've ever released and you're trying to ruin it!" Alya threw her hands up, catching the attention of a few of their classmates.
"Alya, we're best friends! Please, I just-" Marinette began,but was cut off again by Alya jabbing Marinette in the chest with a finger.
"Exactly, which is why best friends call each other out when they're being unreasonable,when they're making a complete fool of themselves! Look at you, you aren't even looking at the facts, Marinette, this jealous vendetta you have us ridiculous!" Alya snapped, then turned on her heel and stormed away. Marinette was left standing by her desk, her stomach coiling into a nervous ball.
Adrien entered the class not long after, a wide smile on his face. Before he could say anything, he caught Rébecca's eye. The girl stopped talking and abruptly got to her feet and rushed over to him, wrapping her arms around his neck as the two shared a passionate kiss.
Marinette felt her heart fall to the floor and shatter.
"Whoa, dude, didn't you two just meet yesterday?" Nino looked confused, as did the rest of the class. Inside, Lila was seething with rage, but she maintained a small smile.
"It may seem like that, but.. We've known each other for so much longer. I've been in love with Ladybug ever since I first met her. And it turns out, she felt the same way." Adrien beamed, lovingly kissing Rébecca's cheek.
Marinette began running before she realized she was doing it. She ran passed Alya, who gave her a look that screamed 'you took too long to confess, this is what you get', a confused Adrien, and a grinning Rébecca. She ignored the shouts for her to come back as she ran and ran, the tears streaming from her eyes.
She didn't have the proof, because the last time she had outed a lie as Ladybug, it had had disastrous consequences. And nobody believes her! No one saw the truth!
Marinette ran from the school and kept running, her lungs soon burning, her muscles soon aching, before she found herself into one of the small parks, which was completely deserted.
Marinette fell to her knees beside one of the fountains, burying her head in her arms as she rested against the basin, crying so hard, she soon passed out.
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ok so how about a story where (preferably bi) reader and levi both fall for petra and there's this competition between them as to who can win petras heart first but after petras death (or some other issue; your choice) they both mourn and bond with each other and realize that all those times they tried to outshine each other, they fell for each other instead
Levi x Petra x Bi! Reader (F) One Or The Other
genre: mild angst, fluff (healing)
summary: it’s a bit surprising that despite being rivals, both you and Levi have gotten through a lot together. before you know it, you’re already seeking refuge from one another.
tw: mentions of death
wc: 6,575
You know it’s a heck of a risk trying to aim for someone’s hand like Petra’s. She’s the entire definition of a dainty, lovely girl everybody admires, of course including you. Besides, you don’t even know if you stand a chance, not when there’s a tough guy your way.
Namely, Captain Levi.
Well, there’s another one named Oluo, but you don’t even think of him as a competition. Definitely not a threat as well.
“Hey,” you call the girl with strawberry blonde hair. She looks back at you with a smile and stands upright, wiping the sweat trickling down her neck. You watch as she tucks her hair behind both her ears to get rid of the stray fringes. Isn’t she just hot?
“Need help?” you ask, ready to give her a hand upon seeing her singlehandedly clean the stables.
“I don’t think Captain would allow that,” Petra says before petting the said man’s horse. “Am I right, big boy?” she talks to it, combing its black mane with her slender fingers. Adorable.
“One dick of a Captain we have, don’t you think?” you say, rolling your eyes heavenwards as the image of your superior passes by your mind. “Hmm, not really. I believe his austerity is right just the way it is,” she says in full decision. Of course. The one thing you don’t like about her is the way she worships the shitty Captain like some kind of noble man.
You let out a disappointed sigh, crossing your arms. “You have got to stop being a clean freak apologist, Petra. Unless you’re inlove with him or something,” you point out and take a step towards her, taking away the broomstick from her other hand.
She’s visibly spent to the bones, tending to the horses all by herself to meet the Captain’s regulations. He only always assigns one person per duty, saying soldiers should learn how to clean alone just as much as learning how to fight, which is an utterly dumb stance in your opinion.
When she blushes by your words, a small pang hits your heart. It’s just as you guessed.
Not that it’s not so achingly obvious enough these past few years, but it’s only gotten worse ever since the new 104th recruits joined the Scout Regiment. She keeps praising the dickhead in front of them whenever they ask about him, telling them a variety of stories stretching from way back, it’s ridiculous.
“I don’t!” She really doesn’t. She just idolizes him so much that it comes across as romance. People keep rubbing to her face that she’s inlove, though it’s definitely not what she feels.
Her denial nature and easily flustered reactions keep your spirits low, almost surmising with a conclusion that you had no chance at all if not for the fact that she never made romantic advances to him her whole stay in the army.
“You do,” you avert your gaze, not wanting her to notice the brewing jealousy in your eyes, else she might avoid you or act awkward if she finds out.
“I don’t!” she presses, accidentally pulling on the horse’s crest, forcing a neigh out of it. Petra apologizes to it like it can understand her. “If that isn’t definitely guilty, I don’t know what is,” you mumble under your breath, releasing another sigh as you start sweeping the scattered hay.
Once the Captain’s horse calms down, she faces you, hands on her waist, ready to explain her feelings in fine details. “Look—“
“Who said you can slack off?” Speak of the devil. Your conversation is given a good interruption when the dark haired man arrives.
Petra immediately fixes herself, fist slamming to her chest as acknowledgment of the Captain’s presence. “We weren’t, Captain! She just wanted to help me out,” Petra clarifies right away, voice firm and booming.
You feel the infamous pair of fierce eyes dart on you, and you briefly thank anything that first comes in mind for your current position, back facing the Captain so he can’t see your disgusted scowl.
You prep yourself and turn around, giving him a half-assed salute. “I just finished with the laundry. Thought I could give her a hand,” you say, tone almost holding no formality at all, “—sir,” you lazily add.
His brows twitch as he hears you out. Brat.
“I don’t recall telling everyone to work in pairs, neither of you understood that?” he pinpoints, staring you dead in the face. You’re not intimidated, though, not one bit. If you think I’m scared, you can kiss your own ass. “I insisted. In case you didn’t notice, she’s tired,” you inform, steadiness unwavering. What is even wrong with assisting someone? This merciless prick.
“Oh?” He walks toward you in strides, easily coming face-to-face with you in a span of seconds.
“Come to my office, Petra,” he orders without looking at her, and the woman gives you one last glance, then making off after giving him a polite yes. There it is. He’s about to show his true colors, you just know it.
“Cheap way to win her over,” Levi lowly spits at you, and you can feel his hot breath ghosting harshly over your face. “If you’re so kind, do it all over again,” he orders lastly, internally entertained by how your eyes shut close in fury, grip on the broomstick tightening.
As he finally steers to leave, you swear in your life you never wanted to hit someone so damn much it’d knock them out cold.
Levi heads back, footsteps fading into the background, and an exasperated groan leaves your mouth. You frustratedly throw the broom to the floor, startling his horse, which does nothing but make your blood boil stronger in your veins. Fuck him!
—
You lie down on the hard ground, even more deadbeat than the girl you opted to help. For shit’s sake, who knew this is what you get for volunteering to be of use? You can only imagine how the new cadets would have it hard once the Captain notices their mediocre cleaning skills.
It’s probably nearing curfew, you guess from the excessive appearance of stars in the skies, but your muscles are strained stiff you can’t come inside any time now. You were left with no choice but start from scratch. If you act up and not clean up to his standards, you’ll only get it way worse, so you decided not to push him further.
You sense someone approach you, and you strongly wish it isn’t Levi. He’s the last creature you’d like to see today.
Soft and familiar amber eyes greet yours from upside down, a petite body looming over you, and you couldn’t be anymore thankful. Petra gives you a sympathetic look before sitting down beside your laid form, keeping her hands behind her back.
“I told you,” she starts, “it’d be no good if Captain sees, but you insisted and he arrived! Now look at you, you’re absolutely exhausted, aren’t you?” she continues to scold, though it doesn’t strike you as a scolding. More of a concern, yes. A smile creeps up your lips.
“Just give me the bread,” you confidently say, and she sighs in defeat before revealing the pastry she had in hand. Your heart feels giddy as you sit up straight, taking the food she went out of her way to prepare. It’s like the tiredness just disappeared into thin air. What an angel.
Petra scrunches her nose as she watches you eat in speed. You cock a brow as you see her look at you like you’re— “Do I stink?” you frantically question and smell yourself all over. No way, you’ll definitely get points off now!
She giggles bubbly and shakes her head to dismiss your assumptions. “No, but you’re biting like you haven’t eaten in ages. That famished?” she asks once she’s calmed down.
You feel heat rise to your cheeks, unsure of what to think. She’s definitely an angel, especially when she smiles. You sigh for the nth time, “Obviously. Did you see how much of a bastard our Captain is? In all honesty, I’d prefer Hange as our squad leader,” you complain and resume to munching.
“I don’t know about that,” she says, gaze boring into yours. You tear your eyes off of her and stare at the horse stalls. “What did the old geezer make you do?”
“Nothing, just a bunch of paperwork,” she says truthfully. Oh, for all you know, he just wanted her all to himself. What an unfair move, using his authority to have her alone.
You angrily bite down on the bread, later realizing you’ve finished it. As she observes you, her eyes widen, suddenly remembering something. “I forgot your water!” she exclaims and rises to her feet, but you stop her before she can leave, grabbing her soft hand.
Your chest stutters involuntarily from the contact and you compose yourself right away. “It’s alright, I’ll get it myself. Go back to your room before Captain catches you,” you urgently say, not wanting her to get in trouble again. “Just help me up,” you ask to which she generously follows. You briefly wish the moment could last longer.
“You sure?” she quizzes when you finally stand up. Both of you heading inside, you nod and hum in agreement, “Thanks for the food.”
She gives you a smile as you both reach the halls, waving you goodbye before you part ways. Ahh, you feel all energetic now.
You walk to the mess hall, footsteps light and shallow. Judging from the dimly lit corridors, it must be a few minutes away from curfew. You just hope you don’t bump into some higher-ups. Hange’s fine, though.
As you push the door open, you regret it right away. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” you mutter unintelligibly. Aside from the raven haired man, the room is dead empty, a lone candle in a chamberstick providing dull light. Technically, he is the last creature you see tonight.
You have lost count of how many sighs you’ve released the whole day, all energy in your body draining once again. Steel eyes lock on you as you enter. There’s no turning back now. Well, at least Petra isn’t the one who found him here.
Levi cocks a brow as he watches you proceed inside, seemingly heading to the water jug. You stay quiet and take a glass, then filling it with water. As much as possible, you don’t want to converse with him.
He seems like he won’t let you succeed with that. “Done with the stables?” he asks, sipping on his tea.
“Yeah,” you curtly answer, not up for some bantering.
“Some goody two shoes you are,” he scoffs, ticking you off, but you refuse to let it show. You face him and lean your back against the counter. “Like you’re any better with your assholish attitude,” you sass him out, drinking on your water all the while remaining eye contact. You’ll show him.
“And you complain like the little brat that you are,” he rebuts.
“You’re just threatened that she might go for me behind your back when I just wanted to help,” you answer with a shrug, taking a few steps closer to the table he’s seated.
“Women like you like to play dirty.”
“You don’t know a thing about women,” you snide with a condescending smile, belittling the man before you. He can’t be one to talk about women when he treats you like shit. If there’s someone Petra might end up with, you sure as heck wouldn’t want it to be this guy.
He throws you a glare, piqued by your words before standing on his feet and and walking his way to you. You stay steady, unfazed by the intimidation he’s giving off.
“After all these years, do you seriously think you stand a chance?” he deadpans, which strikes straight to your feelings. He doesn’t have to emphasize that, you already know it, memorized it even.
“I don’t know, but it’d be just as much as a loss if she chooses you,” you say, slamming the glass you’re holding onto the table. After giving him one last glare, you turn your back on him, having enough of the senseless arguments.
He hates how you only ever treat him as a Captain in the battlefield, but not when you’re at ease. You always looked at him like an arch nemesis of the sort, not afraid to answer back at him like he doesn’t deserve your respect. He stressfully closes his eyes and massages his temples as you leave.
—
You sit on the bench, just in front of the Captain, who is currently beside your beloved Petra. Look at him making his moves. You roll your eyes discreetly, sipping on your fresh tea.
“What are you, on a diet or some crap?” Levi asks, finding Petra’s plate empty, bowl of soup halfway finished.
“No, I gave it to the girl you made run laps,” she informs, “she almost passed out, you know.” Right? you wanted to agree but decide to sit still and listen.
Levi doesn’t answer, and instead puts his own loaf of bread on her vacant dish. “Eat. We have an upcoming expedition,” he only says and sips on the liquid left in his cup. Petra’s cheeks turn into a feminine shade of pink, and you so wanted to pull her away from him. She exclaims a yes and starts munching. Great, I should’ve done that first.
You’re not about to put up without a fight, though.
“Dear Captain has to eat as well, don’t you think?” you sarcastically chime in, transferring your unmoved bread onto his plate. “Can’t have him thinned to bones when the walls get breached again,” you add, innocent smile downright infuriating to Levi’s eyes.
You desperately try to keep in your barging laugh to yourself as you watch him look at his plate disgustedly.
What do you say, Petra? I’m just as kind as he is, right? That show off.
Petra hums in agreement and nudges the Captain to eat, a string of hearty giggles leaving her velvet lips, alluring about a total of three people from the same table. You heart skips a round of beats as you watch her flash her toothy grins. Talk about an appetizing view.
Her giggles boil down as realization hits her. She gives you a mixed look of confusion and thoughtfulness, opening her mouth to speak and stop you on your tracks.
“But—”
You wave her off before she can shove her worries to you and prop yourself up, momentarily stretching your limbs in relaxation to then pick up your dirtied china.
“Don’t worry, Petra, I’m already full,” confidence brimming in your tone, you tell her and take your leave. But not without giving the Captain one last glimpse. It was even more appetizing to see him pissed.
Your other comrades only watch in awe as they see the unnamed rivalry uncover ahead of their eyes, your victorious smile determining the whose triumph it is for today.
How about that?
—
When you finish with dish duty, you head to the dining area once more to check if the sconce candles are extinguished, only to find them still lit and burning, with a side of holy bastard, as you like to call him. Of all people.
“Here again? What is this, your lounge room or something?” you mockingly ask and take a seat in front of him, wiping your wet hands on your pants. He ignores you.
You purse your lips out of observation. He must be a tea addict, having another one after dinner. “Are you always here every night?” you ask again, initiating a genuine conversation.
He finally looks at you and sets his tea on the table, a bit surprised by your question. “I am,” he answers. You nod, about to ask another question but he beats you to it.
“I’m removing you from the flank,” he suddenly blurts, taking you aback. What? Your rested face visibly loses composure as your brows furrow together.
“What do you mean? Is it because I shitted on you earlier? Oh please, do you think I’ll hit on Petra while on a mission?” you continuously spurt in one go, hackles slowly raising.
“It’s not about her. Erwin specifically asked for you to join his group since you apparently answered him right,” he remarks, completely calm. You are smart, that’s already a given that he knows, it’s just that feelings can get over the best of you that he doesn’t find rational.
Your ragged breathing upon taking him the wrong way steadies as you listen. “The Commander?” you confirm and he grunts his response. “Alright then, you better watch over her in my stead.”
Levi takes a glance at you, steel grey eyes holding an unreadable expression, which you find amusing and triggers a laugh out of you. It’s like his answer should have been already staring you in the face. Naturally, he’ll do that without you ordering him.
He can be cute at times, can’t he? In a funny way of course, you inwardly clear out.
Meanwhile, he thinks you’re out of your mind as you humor yourself. He’d honestly like it if you just leave him alone right now, which you eventually did, waving him goodbye.
The night before the expedition, you pay Petra’s room a short visit.
She answers the door within three quiet knocks. “Hey,” you greet with a smile and she offers to let you in forthrightly. “No! It’s fine, I just need a few seconds,” you dismiss.
“What is it?” she curiously asks, now face to face with you as you stand in her doorway.
“I won’t be with you tomorrow, so you better take care. Stick with Gunther, or Oluo. If possible, not with the Captain,” you whisper the last bit jokingly, but she ignores it and only questions why you’re separated. You explain the situation to her, leaving out the confidential details.
Petra nods, stroking her chin. You notice she’s already in her nightwear and is probably prepared to sleep, so you decide to return to your own quarters.
“Take care, alright?” you remind, eyes boring into her borderline gold ones. They were pretty and gentle, a pair you always adored through the years.
Petra wishes you the same and then a good night, strongly wanting to unite with you safely after the mission you could feel it deep inside you.
As you look at her, you‘re certain that you haven’t met a more loving person your whole life. Will there ever come a time that you’d confess to her? Probably not. If you’re being frank, you don’t think what you feel for her is that deep a love that you’d go out of your way to initiate a romantic bond. If nothing else, it might only be admiration, an attachment at most. You like her, that goes without saying, but there isn’t any room for in depth involvement, especially not in this line of work, you think.
The door to her room finally closed, you spin to get your own shuteye, only to see a familiar figure from a little distance.
The candlelights on the halls define the highest points of the man’s face beautifully, and you identify him without a hitch, dull grey orbs meeting yours.
“Let her sleep, and get your rest,” he briefly says before making off. Your eyes slightly largen from the lack of interaction, as opposed to the reprimanding you expected. Was he supposed to say his regards to her as well?
In all fairness, he didn’t go for your neck this time. Well, you wouldn’t have it any other way.
Morning comes quickly, along with the falling into formation as sketched, the deployment of operation, and the arrays of discoveries you found in the progress. Everything happened quickly, and before you know it, the expedition is given an official beat to retreat.
You stand on the same branch as the Commander, waiting for his signal to flee after fighting off the wave of titans to defend the target. Three pair of your blades are blunted down to nubs from the excessive charges, and you think for a moment if you should replace them with new ones.
Catching your breath, you wipe dry your dampened skin and clothes. You watch as he idly chat with the Captain, instructing him to refill his gases. For what? I thought it’s over?
Levi listens to what he’s told, perceivably on his guard. Why is he even here? Where are the others? When you’re just about to call Levi’s attention, Erwin catches sight of you and the confusion resounding from your aura. He then permits you to break away from his flank and reunite with your own squad, and you gladly follow.
You first help clean up with the immobilizing equipment used on the spy, telling Hange to prepare for withdrawal. She passes the message onto the other soldiers, commanding them to bestride their horses to then get going.
You still don’t know where to find your teammates, so you stick with the higher-ups a little longer.
Since you’ll travel by horse from here on, you decide not to meddle with your gears anymore. You hop on the saddle and lightly yank the reigns to start moving, and with everyone else, you ride through the woods, thousands of questions ready inside your head.
A few moments later, you hear Erwin converse with Hange regarding the spy, about how they must still be alive and how they must’ve blended in by now. You feel the tension rising as you listen to his assumptions, trying to register everything he’s trying to come across with, and it all makes sense when you hear two consecutive thundering of little intervals.
You quickly turn around and swerve, shifting your weight to guide your horse back to where the booming sound came from. It’s the alleged sound intelligent titans make when they transform, and you know push has come to shove if you hear two of them.
As far as you remember, the key weapon was situated together with your squad, you being the only one left out, so you’ll find them where Eren is. You let your horse gallop in great speed, heart thumping loudly in your chest it’s almost deafening. Please, be safe.
It feels like decades have already gone by when you arrive at the terrorizing scene of carnage.
You put your horse to an abrupt halt and jump off, cold sweat breaking without control as you stumble upon corpses and corpses you achingly recognize, the life in their eyes strenuously extracted. Gunther, Eld, Oluo… Petra.
An immense vertigo hits your head, your field of vision blurring upon seeing them drained of consciousness. You refuse to accept the view, shaking your head like a child in utmost declination. It seems you’ve only followed behind the Captain, finding him looking at the same plight.
“Levi…” you helplessly call as if seeking for refuge and saving. But it horrifies you the most when you meet his dead gaze deprived of rest, almost exactly looking like theirs, striking violently at your heart. No, not you, too…
Streams of tears shed endlessly from the corners of your eyes, and Levi doesn’t know what to do. He’s beyond pained, watching the only comrade he has left on his team slowly break down due to the shambles. He can’t afford to be frozen by the fathomless torment he’s currently trying to overcome, nor does he have the luxury to stay by your side and console you.
He has no choice but to keep moving.
“Call the others for assistance and put their bodies on a carriage,” are the last words he gives you before taking his leave, wires zipping and clutching into the surfaces of the tree barks as he skillfully maneuvers with his gear.
You think for a second, is he that used to losing people? but you completely miss out on how he slashes the giant enemy in great anger, expertly cutting flesh like he’s never done before as if it’s his only chance to momentarily pour out his emotions, all the while trying to stay objective.
Your whole body weakens and you fall to your knees, getting a closer look at the dead woman before your sight. Your hand acts on its own, stretching out to painstakingly tuck Petra’s locks behind her ear like how she always styled it. Your lips tremble as you attempt to fight your threatening sobs back.
She has slipped out from both your reaches.
Since then, you limited your interactions to those that were only really necessary, because for the first time in a while, you feel utterly alone. Years of having the sweet girl by your side all gone into the dust, along with the overwhelming loss of your whole squad, everything is weighing you down.
Flashes of memories come at the most misplaced time every now and then, and you can’t handle it when it triggers in public, causing you to lock yourself up in your room, weeping in secret.
You can’t be any more thankful to your Captain for letting you wallow in your own way of coping. Most importantly, though a small part of you still doesn’t want to admit, you’re more than grateful he stayed alive all throughout the last of the mission, coming back home with you.
You still remember the hurt in his eyes that no matter how hard he attempted to conceal, still peers out. It was visible when you had no choice but to throw the bodies out of the carriages, bringing not a single fallen soldier back. It was visible when Petra’s father asked the Captain for his daughter, even going as far as spilling his plans of arranging a marriage between the two young pair.
It’s haunting you so much, you haven’t had an hour of sleep after arriving back even if there’s an upcoming operation. Despite it being against your will, you frequently wonder how he’s doing.
One night, you find yourself walking through the halls, unable to force your mind to just shut down and rest without stressing out for the uncountable time.
You don’t know why you’re fully decisive of where to go and who to find. You don’t know why you feel calmer every step further. You don’t know why you’re so eager as you push on the wooden doors of the mess hall. You don’t know why you already expected to see him there.
“Oh, look at the old geezer drinking his tea in the dark. Do you know what time it is? It’s past curfew,” you inform sarcastically, voice also forging a front to sound normal. It’s not yet past curfew, you just want to tick him off.
“You’re only four years younger, and it’s not,” Levi answers as he lets his eyes land on yours. It’s obvious you’re only trying to clown around, the exhaustion in your face giving away your crestfallen state.
“What? How do you know that?” you ask, scandalized.
“I recognize the time.”
“I meant my age?”
“Because I am your Captain, woman. Don’t push me,” he hisses and brings his teacup into his mouth, the hot beverage staining on his tongue just the way he likes it. Even more so that it’s the only thing he can rely on at the moment. That’s what he thinks.
You scowl and sigh. Fair enough.
You take a seat in front of him and he gives you an unreadable look, as usual. Does he feel intruded? All of a sudden, you feel shy, hoping you’re not bothering him.
“What? I won’t mess with you, I’m tired,” you argue upon seeing him stare you down like something’s off with you.
Levi studies your expression, finding your face a bit similar to his in a not so positive way. With a shallow sigh, he decides to let you be and do what you want.
You prop your cheek on your elbow and maintain eye contact. “How’s your leg?” you quiz, genuinely curious of his current condition. The bastard brought home an injury as souvenir, rendering him downright useless for the plans the Scouts had right ahead.
“Not good,” he says, earning him a hum in response. The longer he lets his glance stay on yours, the more he notices the little details in the way you presented yourself.
Tonight, you spared no effort in fixing your hair, still a bit messy from the tossing and turning earlier in desperate hopes to fall asleep. Your lips were dry and chapped, he notes to call you out for it later. For all he knows, you might be dehydrated already. Your eyes? Unquestionably racked with pain.
You rest your face on top of your overlapped arms and settle to find a comfortable position.
“Go to your room if you want to sleep,” he orders, which you only ignore. Does he seriously think you’ve been able to sleep these days? Because you’re sure as heck he can’t with those dark under eyes of him. “Your neck will only get stiff in that position,” he adds.
Something about the company he generously, though not obviously, offers makes your eyelids fall shut in ease, his baritone voice helping your nerves compose themselves.
“I said I’m tired, give me a break…” you gradually lose volume as you speak, slowly drifting off without knowing.
Levi clicks his tongue when you finally succumb to drowsiness.
It’s not like he doesn’t have any options left, but he couldn’t do anything as he stays all night to watch over you. Surprisingly enough, the company felt comforting that he can’t bring himself to leave.
Couple hours later, he’s still up and reading a book when he hears a soft whimper escape your lips. Levi takes a glimpse at you and is a bit baffled to catch sight of a lone driblet trickling from your lids.
Sighing, he feels inclined to wipe it away with his thumb in sympathy and does as his subconscious says. The moment his calloused finger touches your skin, he realizes that you were undeniably warm. So much for a brat like you.
When you wake up, you feel a heavy cloth wrapped around your soldiers. You check the surroundings and remember falling asleep in the dining, later seeing that the fabric is a tan jacket, a uniform. The familiar scent enters your nostrils, and you name its owner right away.
An involuntary wave of heat rises to your cheeks and you’re uncertain why. It’s Captain Levi’s.
It makes you contemplate out of nowhere, was it wrong to treat him like a competition?
Thinking about it, you kind of regret not being casual with him. Without question, you’re not really in best terms with him, having an eye for the same person for a long time, that should be understood. He’s an outstanding soldier, that you can admit, but you can’t exactly put up with his strict ways at times, some of it coming off as irrational.
Maybe you should really just accept the fact that he’s a great Captain nevertheless. Because even though you viewed him like that all this time, he’s still being considerate in some ways.
A small smile forms on your lips. You definitely should start warming up to him. He’s the only team you’ve got left.
—
Tray in hand, you enter the Captain’s room, not bothering with a knock. To hell with that, I’ve got a handful, if he complains about his privacy or some crap, I’ll shove this damn food to his face.
Yes, you decided to bring him his lunch after the successful-fail raid in Stohess District. Honestly, you’re damn tired to the bones, but you take it upon yourself to give Levi a short visit.
He gives you an annoyed stare, obviously not expecting your company, and you only roll your eyes. “What’s that?” he asks.
“Food. What, is your old age getting to you? Need some glasses?” you talk back, not up for his dumb question.
Things aren’t going so well for the Survey Corps, political stances going against your brigade, comrades dying one by one you’re not entirely sure if their death was in vain or not. It’s only a miracle the Commander found a way to nullify the consequences about to come your way. That’s why Levi better not raise your hackles bad or your brain will completely explode in front of him.
He ignores your sardonic jest and eyes the tray, primarily looking for the tea, if you brought one. You did. But he keeps his hands to himself for a while.
“It’s too early for dinner, and I could’ve gone to get my own food.” An exasperated sigh escapes your throat, hearing his argument.
“This is your late lunch, sir,” you inform candidly, taking him by surprise. True enough, you didn’t mean to be so observant, but you saw him skip lunch earlier before the raid. Heck, this isn’t even the first time he deliberately missed it. You know he’s still unwell and at a loss just as much as you are—maybe even worse, and that’s preventing him from taking care of himself.
Of course, he’s still your Captain whom you’re willing to serve, wholeheartedly, at that. Hence, you’re going to take care of him if he’s not doing it himself, whether he likes it or not. If even this guy leaves you, then you’ll probably arrive at the end of your wits.
With an exasperated sigh, you set his meal on top of the nightstand right beside his bed. “Are you enjoying being a useless Captain?” you cross your arms and quiz, having enough of his prideful attempts for rejection.
“Tch, you know full well I’m not,” he answers and averts his glance, looking outside the window and the dimming skies.
“Then eat your food and stop complaining,” you lastly command, real bossy and assertive that he’s on the brink of cocking a brow in question.
He falls silent. You were right, he won’t get any better if he continues to mistreat himself. Besides, it’s already you who went out of your way to prepare him food, he shouldn’t just let that go to waste. Finally giving in, Levi first grabs the teacup by its mouth and takes a sip, nose immediately scrunching in repulsion upon tasting the beverage. You might be trying to poison him, after all.
“This tea is shit.”
“I said stop complaining.”
—
A whole different wave of hurdles and complications just got overcome after the wall breach alarm got deemed false, and three new intelligent titans were revealed. Seeming as though those weren’t even enough, humanity’s key weapon got kidnapped as well. Naturally, a rescue operation was deployed to action, losing a ton more soldiers in the process.
Everything is starting to become overwhelming, you’re both physically and mentally exhausted, and emotionally. Everything is beginning to feel like a pain in the neck, as if the Scout Regiment didn’t have that way from the start.
It’s actually just as you guessed. When you went outside without a full functioning team and a Captain to follow orders from, you felt lost and misplaced. The novel experience was depressing, to say the least, moving forward without the ones you’ve fought side by side with through the years.
You can’t help but find yourself looking for a familiarity, a middle ground of the sort. Feeling like a storm is building up inside you for trying to suppress your problems all by yourself.
On the low spirited trip back, you eventually realize you needed someone. And who else is there aside from him?
You ride your horse back to the walls, aching for his presence. Anything that has to do with him, you want to see and feel.
It’s almost like vexing decades have passed when you arrive and return to the headquarters. You hop off your horse, movements slow and back hunched, aura visibly despondent.
Your half lidded eyes desperately scan the fields to search for that one person, comforting satisfaction taking over your entire body as you find him standing a few meters away from your form.
Funnily enough, he was waiting for you just the same.
Levi couldn’t decipher what shitty smile you tried to give him, it was only plain pitiful in his eyes that his guts are telling him to walk over to you and give you a welcome. He didn’t have to do it, though.
Because maybe you did the first step. Maybe you took big strides or maybe you eagerly ran to his figure to feel his warmth against your body. But nothing else matters when you reach out both your trembling arms to him, now wrapped around his sturdy body, locking him in an embrace you never thought you’d feel your whole life.
You slowly descend to a sobbing mess, completely abandoning the idea of you looking like a mere crybaby in his eyes. He’ll surely bring this up some other time, but damn that. All you know is that you needed this, badly.
It’s shameful, being fully aware that you’re slowly eating your words. Whenever you think of how you put the tiny distance between you and him, you just want to slap your palm across your face. In reality, he isn’t so bad.
You want to thank him for letting you free yourself and let it all out, but your awfully shaky sobs are hindering you from doing so.
Levi senses your exhaustion, and a whole other variety of intense emotions. You’ve been keeping some burden to yourself, too. It’s amusing to him in a way that you’re both similar in a lot of things. Especially in the bad habit of bottling oneself up, assuming it’d do any better.
Deep down, he’s glad you let loose and opened your walls to him. He cares for you, after all.
As you weep against his chest, lungs stuttering and eyes turning bloodshot, Levi allows his hand to pat your back, lightly stroking it to make you calm down.
It is, indeed, wordlessly reassuring, telling you that he was there. You never imagined that of all people, he had the ability to offer the exact solace you’re looking for, just with the simple gesture.
For once, he lets it slide that you’re all bloody, sweaty, dirty, filthy—name it—when making contact with him. He just doesn’t know that needed this as well. In fact, the entire time you were away, his foot mindlessly tapped in full expectancy of your arrival, waiting with bated breath. Not like he’ll admit that.
“Don’t you dare speak,” you threaten amidst your shaky hiccups, and he almost finds it amusing how you can still manage to act so tough in front of him when you’re already breaking down against him.
He secretly heaves out a sigh, the expression of relief escaping your ears, “Brat.”
Both of you stand there underneath the twilight to dusk horizon, ignoring how some of your subordinates watch you in shock, or how you’re not halfway the trouble yet, still utterly clueless of what lies ahead. Because right now, you were still together. You had each other, someone to lean on in this wretched mess.
Without the two of you knowing precisely why, both your hearts feel a tad bit alive.
#hope this didnt take too long!#changed the last bit a little tho#healing is the best:’)#be there for each other pls#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levixreader#leviackermanxreader#levi x petra x reader#levi x petra#petra x reader#levi imagine#levi scenario#levi fanfic#levi fanfiction#levi ackerman imagine#levi ackerman fanfic#levi ackerman scenario#levi ackerman fanfiction#levi#levi ackerman#captain levi#levi heichou#petra ral#reader insert#aot#snk#levi x reader fluff#levi x reader angst#aot imagines
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Emp-Ire, “Patriot.”
Still working and am still in a bit of a writing slump.
I have only been able to write the very few things that REALLY interest me right now. So thank you for your patience with me going off on the occasional tangent, ok maybe more often then not going off on a tangent, but thanks anyway :)
A crisp morning breeze needled his skin, the icy tendrils causing goosebumps to break out over Adam’s bare chest and shoulders. Overhead a layer of dismal grey clouds blocked the sky over an alien landscape.
He was so tired.
And he hurt.
All around him other bodies shifted in the cool morning air, and he would have sworn he could see their breath puffing out in great gouts of steam, though that might just have been his imagination. He was so cold, what the hell was wrong with wearing a shirt, or at least some real pants.
But no, apparently pants were reserved for those who earned them, everyone else was relegated to nothing better than short leather skirts, or underwear which he found mildly infuriating. Even some compression shorts would have been nice. Another cold breeze ran past him and he crossed his arms over his chest palms pressed flat over his freezing nipples in hopes that by warming them up they wouldn’t just fall off.
Also his toes were numb, courtesy of the sandals he was wearing.
Looking around him, he could see that the other men and women didn’t appear to be nearly as cold as he was, in fact, they were probably being kept nice and warm by the sheer awesomeness of their big manly muscles or something.
Standing in a line with all of them he felt like the awkward nerd kid trying out for the football team. Each and every last one of them had washboard abs, or similar since genetics is more kind to some than to others.
And then there was him.
Chicken chest, noodle arm bastard that he was, with only the faint line of abs hanging out waiting for the moment he flexed intentionally to pretend his abs were bigger than they actually were. He hunched his shoulders just a bit, feeling very very small in comparison.
“Hey, how are you doing? Looking good everyone, looking good…. Hey…. hey.”
Adam lifted his head just in time to watch Ramirez strut up like he owned the damn place turning heads with the sheer gravity of his confidence.
He walked up to stand Next to Adam, “Fuck you, dude.”
“What?”
“How can you do that?”
“Do what?”
“Strut up like you and I aren’t literally the most pathetic people here.”
Ramirez patted him on the shoulder, “Confidence is key my friend. If you pretend to be awesome, soon you’ll believe it and eventually it will be. Self fulfilling prophecy and all of that. The mind is a powerful tool. Also chicks dig confidence.”
“What about men?”
“Them too, I don’t discriminate.” he held his arms out wide, “Everyone could do with a little bit of Ramirez in their life.” He looked at Adam pointedly, “How about you?” He flexed, “Want some of this.”
Adam snorted, paused and then said, “You know what, if I swung that way, sure.”
Ramirez put his hand over his chest, “That is probably the nicest thing you ever said to me. But the Ramirez is an open door and I open both ways.”
“You’re not a swinging door, you're a revolving door.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“I don’t know man, it just sounded good. But if you were a door, you would also open from the bottom up, I just couldn’t think of an object that opened on both the x, y and z axises.”
He tapped his chin, “Gotta love how my morning has mostly involved being compared to a door, besides I don’t open to just anyone, I am age restricted, and no pets allowed.”
Adam grimaced, “Gross.”
“No I am not gross, if I was pet friendly THAT would be gross.”
Adam paused, “How about…. aliens ?”
Ramirez shrugged, “If it’s sentient, I Will try anything once. You kno, can’t knock it till you've tried it.”
It was at this moment that Adam became acutely aware that they were the only ones talking. They may have been speaking rather quietly, but at some point the other men and women had stopped speaking. He paused and turned his head to look. Ramirez’s voice faded off into the silence as the two of them turned to find a tall, heavily muscled woman standing before them. Her hair was tied back and her midriff was bare. She carried a spear in one hand and a shield in the other, and she waited very pointedly for the two of them to stop talking.
The look on her face could have coagulated his blood in his veins.
He shrunk back.
She walked up, looked at the two of them and her face pulled into an expression of disgust.
“Flabby.” She announced smacking Ramirez in the thigh with her spear. He yelped and grabbed his leg, “Soft.” The spear jabbed Adam in the belly driving the wind from his boy, “Pathetic,” She announced, “No weakness, not on my island.” She jabbed at him again and, on instinct, Adam caught the haft of the spear.
He knew pretty immediately he had made a mistake as her eyes widened, and then he was slammed to the dirt head ringing from the metal of the shield on his skull.
He groaned and rubbed at his head.
“Thank you for volunteering.”
Adam didn’t know what he had just volunteered for, but it sounded like he wasn’t going to like it very much.
As it turns out.
He was right.
She announced immediately that they were going to play a game. He thought that seemed weird for the biggest badasses this side of fake Greece but ok. But it turned out her idea of a game was just a fun way of saying I am going to make you regret you ever lived.
They were the wolves, he was the rabbit. He had a two minute head start, and then they would chase him. If he got caught, they were allowed to beat him up for a few minutes, and then he got another two minutes head start.
This lasted all morning.
About two or three hours. He couldn't tell by the end.
He had never been so exhausted in his life, andhe thought training with the Drev had been hard.
By the end he determined that they were about the same amount of hard, but the Drev didn’t do nearly as much Running. Towards the end his two minute head start counted for almost nothing, and he was in a nearly continual state of getting the shit kicked out of him. Ramirez huffed and puffed at the back of the pack like the big bad wolf had asthma.
And Adam threw up…. Three times.
Three times.
By the time it was over he was covered in bruises and could barely walk. He thought, like during training, they would get a lunch break or something, but nope by the end of the day they were back to the sandy training field where it was either, wrestling, bare knuckle boxing, sparring, or some other ungodly torture.
There was no stopping.
Occasionally, they were allowed to kneel on the dirt and have something to eat. He wasn't sure what the spartans had eaten back in the day, but this looked like meals clearly prepared by people who studied the science of getting jacked. Mostly protein and vegetables. Whatever drink they were using was some kind of water, but cut with something else he couldn’t have been sure about, probably electrolytes.
Either way he had a hard time keeping it down.
Ramirez on the other hand was part of the passing out gang.
The two of them together barely made a functioning human. And by the end of the day they crawled themselves back to what constituted as the barracks, which was just one long building with mats laid out on the floor. He was so tired that he slept like a log through the entire night until they were woken up to do it again the next day. He slept whenever he could, using anyone and anything as a pillow.
He became way more intimately familiar with Ramirez than he had ever wanted to be but at that point he was too tired to give much of a shit. Even Ramirez was too tired to say anything sarcastic or inappropriate.
He honestly couldn't have said how long they were there, every day seemed to bleed into the next with only the changing of the weather and the night to let him know anything was going on at all.
The change in himself was so gradual that he barely even noticed until one day…
“SHIELD WALL!”
Adam and Ramirez raced forward interlocking their shields with the group of men and women before them. Others piled up behind bracing their spears over the shoulders of their comrades.
“Remember the wall is only as strong as its weakest member!”
Across from them a group of other trainees raced forward and slammed against their shield wall.
Adam and Ramirez shouted their exertion.
“Push back!”
They pulled back slightly and then drove forward shoving the other recruits back and to the ground tossing a few of them bodily three or four feet back.
“BRACE!”
They returned to their interlocking position, spears bristling outward like some sort of demonic porcupine.
They did that exercise once or twice more until ordered to break off, separating into individual units which charged the other groups' spears raised.
Adam Batted another combatant’s shield aside, slammed his shoulder into the man’s chest, kicked another oncoming from the left, dodging out of the way as Ramirez covered him from the right with a sharp jab of his spear which caught another woman by the bottom of the shield and sent her deflecting to the right.
They clashed on the training field for a good half hour of continual battle, when another group of fresh, armored combatants charged them. He was tired, but as the enemy charged inward, he shook it off, roared a battle cry and charged them.
“Shields!” He ordered without thinking, and a small group of remaining fighters bunched up with him and Ramirez. They managed their wall right before the new combatants hit, “PUSH!” And with a massive have they threw them back, causing them to trip over one another. They broke their wall to take on the remaining group now fractured.
Adam went straight down the middle with Ramirez guarding his back chagrin at the armored combatants.
They were fresh, and Adam had the distinct impression that they were also not trainees.
Three of their number had already gone down under the onslaught, but he brought up his spear, knocked the shield to the side and tagged the other man with a glancing blow in the throat. He staggered away holding his neck. He spun left clobbering a woman with his shield. Ramirez cut past him stabbing straight down the middle and catching another one straight in the breastplate.
Two more of their number went down to the right.
There was no way they could make an effective shield wall now.
One more went down on their right.
Ramirez went to his knees shield held up before Adam, who used the shielding to strike past with his spear.
Ramirez ducked and Adam leaped over him crashing into another line of men shield on one side spear on the other.
The man before him went crashing to the dirt. He caught incoming strikes simultaneously and ducked under both allowing Ramirez to take one while he dealt with the other. They were split off from each other in the confusion and he didn’t see what happened as he was blindsided by another shield.
The power in that was awful, and he went flying back at least two feet staggering until he skidded in the sand and regained himself. The armored man came charging at him with a roar, and they clashed shields again. The other man was clearly stronger, though not by much. Adam strained against him, feet digging into the dirt before suddenly slacking and rolling off to the side.
It nearly caught the other man off his guard, but he was good, and caught himself before he could fall forward.
Adam snarled as they exchanged a flurry of blows. All the other combatants had backed off so the two of them could fight. He advanced pushing the other man back, though it seemed impossible that he would be able to score a hit, the other man was just too fast. It went on for a while.
Adam got tagged in the right hip, but kept fighting, it was nothing compared to the beating he had received only yesterday. He cut in again slamming his shield against the other man to throw him off balance. It didn’t do it as well as he had hoped, but for a split second he saw an opening. He would have to time it perfectly.
It was probably as much luck as it was skill that he managed to pass the spear through the little hole between the shield and man scoring a long cut across the man’s left bicep. As soon as he did someone shouted the halt, and he froze in palace.
The man before him lowered his shield and pulled off his helmet to reveal.
The King!
Adam stepped back in shock, quickly raising his spear in salute.
“Sir!”
The man smiled grimly turning to look down at his bleeding arm. He turned back to look at Adam, “Exhausted, training all day, and you still managed to cut me, I think that is a good sign.”
The entire field was returning to rest position.
Ramirez climbed out from under his shield, dazed but somehow unscathed.
“How long have you been with us now, two months maybe more.”
“I can’t remember.”
“Two months of improvement I think, and today many of these men proved themselves worthy of being real soldiers….” He turned to look at Adam, “How about yourself, what do you think you deserve?”
Adam planted his spear against the ground, “I’m still standing aren’t I.”
James, the king of sparta, laughed, “Spoken like a true Spartan.” He turned to look at the others, “I tend to agree with your assessment.” He waved a hand at those who are still standing, which included Ramirez, to Ramirez’s evident surprise.
He looked down at himself then around then grinned nodding as if it was very obvious he deserved to be there.
Adam smiled slightly.
He supposed he did.
And now that he realized it the two of them didn’t look at all out of place in comparison to the other men and women there. He stood up straighter, “Thank you, sir.”
“Just right in time then. We set out for Argos tonight, one last test before I let you go.”
The men and women raised their spears to thor king.
***
It felt good, almost familiar, with a cloak fluttering at his back, a spear in hand and a helmet on his head. Granted it was almost nothing like the Drev, but it still felt good enough that he could forgive it. He was, in fact, very proud of his accomplishment as he now stood on the rocky outcrop next to the King of the Neospartans and an entourage of warriors, his sandals feet rested hard against stone and a bare wind tugged at the red plume on the top of his helmet, the same wind that caused the red cloak to flutter behind him in the breeze.
“What is in Argos?” He wondered allowed, not entirely sure if he was allowed to ask, but curious enough to risk it.
James looked down at him from the pinnacle of rock, “You know we dislike the New Athenians?”
Adam nodded “Yeah…. About that, is it just tradition… or…”
James shook his head, “No, nothing like that. We would be fine working with them. This is a real place with real people who have their own real beliefs. It isn’t just some elaborate LARP. No, I was here when this colony started, and there was no difference between us and the New Athenians but after a while there rose some… disagreements.”
Adam tilted his head, “And what disagreements are those?”
“Moral disagreements. I am a patriot, admiral. I may be the king of Sparta, but I was also born on earth and am a True believer in the unity of the GA. Division Will only weaken us. But there are factions among the New Athenians who don’t believe the same, which would be fine. I understand a group of people who disagree with the current political system. That should be allowed by all means, but the way they are going about it is just wrong.”
“What do you mean.”
“They Are supplying information, weapons, and lodging to rebel forces who wish to destroy the GA and everything it stands for. They aren't just doing it through protests and reforms, but through violence, and hurting innocent people. They don’t care how they win as long as they do, and that is something I cannot abide. I have on good authority that some of them are working with Kree operatives and anti-alliance forces to plan assassinations against key members of government.”
Adam’s eyes widened in shock, “Really!, than why haven't we heard about this.”
James shook his head, “Despite their radical ideals, they are a very small and mostly powerless group who don’t pose much of a threat to GA members themselves. In fact, most of them are all bark and no bite. I figure that it's my job to keep my little slice of the galaxy clean, and I have managed it so far.”
Adam shook his head in surprise…. “So the Oracle….”
James nodded, “She recognized you, and likely sent you here in hopes that we would kill you for being spies, which we have done before. She honestly should have killed you herself, but the New Athenians don’t like to get their hands dirty, they like to keep their hands clean and let others do their dirty work.”
He turned to look at Adam, “Based on my studies, you are an important piece in an intergalactic chess game, holding the GA together with a volatile humanity.” He turned his head back to stare out at the horizon, “Like I said, protests, petitions, and legislation is all well and good, but as soon as your course starts to hurt innocent people you lose my sympathy. You are no longer the heroic rebel, but you are a blight and you must be stamped out.”
The fire in the man’s golden eyes was enough to make Adamstand back a little.
“I see.”
“I am glad you do, you need to see what goes on at the small scale. You need to know that there are people here fighting for you and your ideals. You built what the GA is today, whether on purpose or not, and that is something I intend to uphold.” He pointed downwards, “And we are going to start here.”
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Forgotten Light: Chapter 11: Bonding
A/N Eight days until doomsday for me. Enjoy this. Mostly character building. Probably longer than it should be, but I think this is the most time they spend together the whole story. It had to happen somewhere.
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Chapter 11: Bonding
Kendra woke to someone picking her up gently.
“Shh, you fell asleep. I’m just taking you to your bed so you don’t wake up sore.” Ronodin said as she blinked her eyes open. She was cradled securely in his arms.
“No, I can walk,” Kendra insisted, starting to wiggle free.
“You’re so stubborn, just go back to sleep,” he encouraged gripping her tighter.
“Put me down,” she demanded.
Ronodin smiled cheekily, “What if I like holding my fiancée? Putting her down sounds like a favor.”
Kendra flushed and folded her arms, looking away from him. As much as she didn’t want to be carried, she didn’t want any part of Ronodin’s favors either. She wanted to protest more, but there wasn’t a point, he was too strong and wasn’t letting go of her.
Unless…Kendra rapidly unclenched the mental fist she had over her brightness. Ronodin stumbled and dropped her on her rump.
“You did that to yourself,” Ronodin said.
“I would have been standing on my own if someone had let me go when I asked,” she said, standing up and stretching. “Good thing I put carpets in this place.” Because it was impolite to blind people, she dimmed her light once again, pulling back the showcase of her magic. She felt a pang inside, like a muscle that didn’t want to flex, but she did it anyway, and the feeling disappeared.
“I’m guessing you don’t feel tired anymore?”
Kendra shook her head, “That was a good wakeup call. How did your errand go?”
“It went —what is that thing you’re wearing?” he asked. The look of horror she had been imagining was better than she imagined. His nose scrunched!
“I don’t like my wardrobe,” she declared, “I wanted to be more covered up and add a bit of color. Do you like it?”
He went deadpan, “So, I’m guessing your sewing skills were forgotten along with everything else.”
“Yep,” she said, leading the way to the kitchen, “So now you have to take me shopping. In fact, I’ve decided you aren’t leaving again without me. I tried to draw the outside today, and I couldn’t. I haven’t seen the sky, or the sun, or the ocean, or the stars in my entire life. That needs to change, now.”
“All I hear is another favor,” he teased.
“Ronodin,” she warned, looking over her shoulder.
“Then I guess we’re just going to have to stay put a little longer.”
Kendra turned at the kitchen doorway and folded her arms, “Leaving this place is only a favor if I’m a prisoner. I know you’re trying to protect me, but I refuse to believe that out of everywhere in the world I could have hidden, I chose the one place that I would never breath fresh air.”
Ronodin studied her before sighing and massaging his forehead, “I wasn’t going to tell you this, but I couldn’t do what our host wanted. Your brother got in the way. He’s tracking me, trying to find you. I must have let too much of our relationship slip after you lost your memory. Out of everyone in your family, he’s the only one blaming me for your kidnapping. The rest are blaming your family’s usual enemies: dragons, sphinxes, and demons. It’s not only dangerous for you to go out, but I’m going to have to lay low for a while as well.”
“I’m not budging on this,” Kendra said forcing her chin up. “You will not leave me trapped in here again. It’s a prison cell, a nice one, but you said we bonded over the fact that my family was imprisoning innocent creatures. Why am I different than them?”
“It isn’t a prison,” Ronodin said, “For two reasons. One, you volunteered to come here. Two, it’s temporary. Like…quarantine. You just need to be kept apart from the world for a little while, and then you’ll get released and everything will be fine.”
“And when will the quarantine be over?” she asked.
“I’m working on faking your death,” Ronodin admitted, “Once we’re sure everyone believes you’re dead, we’ll be able to get out of here,” he snapped his fingers, “An idea. I’ll negotiate with you. We can also go out, once you craft an item strong enough to protect yourself.”
That reminded her. Her hand went to her neck, but she only felt the ruby pendant. She pulled the amulet forward, where it had fallen down her back.
“Like this?” Kendra asked. “I looked through the books for something protection based, but the closest thing was making your enemies weaken so you can escape.”
Ronodin took it into his hand, “Hmm, it’s very beginner. You really are back to the start. It’s a good start, certainly better than that nonsense sweater you’re wearing. Make something with this effect, but a hundred times stronger, and we can go anywhere you like.”
“Great,” she grumbled, taking the amulet back, then taking it off and tossing it on the counter. “It’s not doing anything, why bother?”
“It’s not doing anything because I’m not your enemy,” Ronodin teased. “You keyed it into those who wish to harm you in the immediate vicinity. That’s an extremely vague idea of enemies.”
“How should I define enemies?” Kendra asked.
Ronodin smiled, “Anyone who prevents you from achieving your goal.”
“And if my goal is to go outside?”
His smiled turned sharper, somehow more genuine and far more dangerous, “Make something you can wear that will disable me, then we can talk.”
“Break the kneecaps, got it.”
Ronodin laughed. Kendra glared.
“Keep laughing like that and I won’t wait to create a magical object to do it for me,” she threatened. “You literally asked for it.”
“No, it’s nothing,” Ronodin gave a half smile, “But we really are back to square one. It seems you really do use threats of violence as flirting at the start of every courtship.”
“Must be difficult for you, since as far as I know, that’s also how I start off all relationships with my mortal enemies,” she said, getting up and making tea. He was being ridiculous again, the only thing to do was walk away.
“You are quite the trial,” Ronodin said, quietly, and her ears strained to pick it up, “But worth every second of it.”
When the kettle rang, he got up and made his own tea. On the one hand, she was glad he didn’t expect her to serve him, on the other hand, the kitchen was small. They kept brushing hands and sides, and there wasn’t really anything Kendra could do. His hands settled on her hips to move her aside, and she jumped.
“Just getting the honey,” he said innocently. She glared, and he held up his hands, “I’m done messing with you for now. I saw you were reading a different book in the library, what was this one about?”
“Well, the library is rather limited,” Kendra said, settling back with her tea. “I can’t read most of the books. But while the first one was about the Fair Folk, this one is an autobiography of a woman hiding her life as a shadow charmer from her husband and children. I only got through the first couple of chapters, where she destroys wraiths with sea salt, removes the cursed talisman poisoning their village’s water, and a demon inducts her as a shadow charmer.”
“Lady Kuychia,” Ronodin said, nodding, “She convinced a High Fairy to enchant that amulet you’re wearing so that her husband could have protection while she was still learning her skills.”
“Shhush!” she said, “Don’t spoil anything.”
He then talked to her about some of her old favorite books she had forgotten to pack, and pointed out that it was Lady Kuychia’s family portrait that hung over the library fireplace.
Despite enjoying the company, she started to grow tired again.
“You better head to your room if you really don’t want me to carry you,” Ronodin said, picking up her teacup and taking it to the sink.
Kendra nodded and went to her room, motioning for Mendigo to follow her.
“Mendigo,” Kendra said, once she was in the silk robe she apparently liked to sleep in, “Don’t let Ronodin leave out the front door. Stop him and hold him until I get there. I meant it when I said I wasn’t going to be part of a cage anymore.”
Mendigo nodded.
“Go stand guard by the front door, the one I tried to have you open earlier today.”
Mendigo left, and Kendra sighed into her pillow. It wasn’t hard to understand what Old Kendra liked about Ronodin. Absolutely gorgeous, an edge of excitement, intelligence, and he’s crazy about her. But he was missing a lot of things too, respect for personal boundaries being the top of the list. Did she keep trying to find what Old Kendra had loved about him? Reclaim that part of her life that Old Kendra had valued beyond even her family?
There was a shout and some grumbling from Ronodin’s room. Wrapping herself tightly in her blanket, she pulled it free and went to her door, opening it and grinning at the irritated unicorn outside her door.
“Really hilarious,” Ronodin grumbled. He relaxed at her grin, “aside from the surprise psychic insanity attack, this was actually really well made. And pretty powerful. You might be closer to creating something to protect yourself than I thought.”
“I was pretty angry at everything when I painted it,” Kendra said, “Like I said, you aren’t allowed to leave me alone here again. I thought having this in your room would be a good reminder.”
“Not if I want to sleep without having an existential crisis and accompanying panic attack,” he said drily. “It’s covered now, and hidden. I wish you wouldn’t take it out on me when you’re the one that set it up this way.”
Kendra felt the familiar pang of guilt. She hadn’t thought the painting was that powerful. Ronodin seemed so good at magic, and she wasn’t even sure it worked. Panic attacks were serious and something she shouldn’t wish on anyone, much less her former fiancée trying to make the best of a terrible situation.
“Sorry,” she said, “I guess that was a little uncalled for. It didn’t seem that powerful to me. Why do you think I’m so much better at painting than the other things I used to craft?”
Ronodin shrugged, “Painting is a little more straightforward. You don’t have to worry about needles or knives, you were probably just able to focus better on the magic aspect than you were on your other projects. We’ll paint something together tomorrow. And you can give sewing and whittling another shot. Is there a reason Mendigo is at the front door?”
“Um, I told him to make sure no one bothered me in the night,” Kendra lied, “I guess he took that to mean guard the front door.”
“You’re lying,” Ronodin stated. “Want to try again?”
Kendra huffed, “Fine, I meant it when I said you aren’t leaving here without me again. He won’t let you leave without me, so don’t bother thinking about it.”
“Kendra,” Ronodin said, groaning, “If our host calls for me, I have to go.”
“Then I’ll go with you.”
“He doesn’t want to see you,” Ronodin shot back.
“Why not? I was fine when we negotiated this place, right?”
Ronodin shook his head, “Even when you dim yourself, your light is way to bright for him. He will either swallow your light, or you’ll make him angry. Call your puppet off.”
“No,” she said. “If I’m going to be a prisoner, so are you. I’ll wait outside the door or whatever, but I’m sick of being trapped.”
Ronodin’s face went blank, there was nothing in his eyes as he looked at her, mouth still, and Kendra drew back half a step. Ronodin took a deep breath and motion returned to his face, leaving Kendra unsure what she had just seen. “We’re both tired, and I don’t plan on being called away for a while yet. We will talk about this more later. Goodnight.”
Ronodin leaned forward, and Kendra hiked her blankets up over her mouth, glaring.
His lips pressed gently to her forehead, lingering, as she glared at him. Ronodin stepped back.
“Goodnight, my little caterpillar,” he teased, then walked back to his room.
Did other people with amnesia have this confusing a time with their boyfriends? How long before Ronodin gave up on her? Looking in the mirror, even with the sexy clothes, Kendra knew she wasn’t anywhere near the same league as Ronodin in the looks department. Did she want Ronodin to give up on her? From the sound of it, her family wanted her back, and her brother seemed like a pretty cool kid.
What did she owe a past she couldn’t remember?
The questions circled her mind like fluttering butterflies until she fell asleep.
“Okay, so what do you want to paint?” Ronodin asked.
“We can’t peek outside so I can figure out what the sky looks like?” Kendra checked. They were standing in front of their easels in the craft room.
Ronodin shook his head, “We’re laying low for the moment. We can visit a grotto after lunch, but that’s still enclosed in a cave.”
“Wait, really?” Kendra asked, beaming.
Ronodin nodded, “I’ve been thinking about it, and I think I can convince our host to let us out that far, and we’ll still be on their property, so your family won’t find us. If that’s what it takes for you to get your puppet to stand down, then we’ll do it.”
Kendra pounced on him with a hug, surprising both of them. She let go just as quickly, blushing, “Uh, thanks. Don’t read into that. I just really want to get out of here.”
“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Ronodin said with a smirk, “How about I paint an outside landscape? I remember what your home looks like. Then at least it will be a full picture for you to put together for your next painting.”
“I’d really like that,” Kendra said. “If you’re painting something for me, how about I paint something for you? An apology for the panic attack.”
“You are being quite generous this morning, dream of anything good?” Ronodin asked, getting in her face again. “Because if we’re taking requests, and you’re firm on only being able to paint things you’ve already seen. I want you to paint us.”
“Us?” Kendra asked, eyebrows drawing together.
Ronodin nodded, taking her hand still holding the pencil. Kendra tried not to wince. Even through her protective amulet, his hands still felt cold. She wanted to pull it back, but she was trying to be nice.
“How you see me, how you see yourself,” Ronodin said, “Paint it.”
“I’ll try,” she said doubtfully. She tried to tug her hand free, but he wouldn’t let it go, “Any requests on what effect or emotion I should try to work into it?” If she had to be able to create something strong enough to protect herself, it looked like her best bet would be painting the biggest ‘do not bother me’ spell she could on the back of a jacket. Which meant she had to get good.
He pulled her hand towards his mouth, and when he spoke, his lips brushed the backs of her fingers. “Uncontrollable lust.”
“What!” she yelled, yanking her hand back.
He laughed, “Poor, innocent caterpillar.”
“That’s it, you missed your chance,” Kendra said, turning her back on him, “I’m painting Mendigo, and this painting is going to fill the viewer with the insatiable desire to strangle unicorns named Ronodin.”
She already had her magic flowing into her pencil. Threading? It was kind of like threading a needle, and drawing it through the work, and she could thicken the thread with concentration.
“Can’t wait,” Ronodin said, putting his own pencil to canvas. It didn’t feel as satisfying, knowing he approved of her project. The desire to kill seemed a little extreme anyway, and she flinched away from it remembering her actual almost murder of her kinda boyfriend. Irritation with Ronodin it was then.
She started to sketch Mendigo, but ran into the issue of creation/affect dichotomy that the book warned her about. Looking at Mendigo wouldn’t inspire anyone to be irritated with Ronodin. Glancing sideways, she decided to stick to irritation, but she would have to paint him. Half body, because with the robe it was just more interesting to be able to focus on his face and torso. Arms folded, because hands were hard to draw.
“How about some music?” Ronodin offered. “Anything you’d like?”
She focused on her canvas, “I have literally never heard music before. Play anything.”
“Very well,” he said, pulling out a cell phone. Kendra first heard the click of a camera going off, and decided against saying something. If he wanted a picture, maybe they could print it out and hang it, add a little more personality to the room. A moment later, piano notes filled the air, something a little frenzied, and the violin joined in. She didn’t dislike it, but as the first song she ever heard, she didn’t have much to compare it to.
Threading her magic through her pencil, she drew the outlines she wanted. His know-it-all smirk, perfect hair, eyes. Was it weird to use unicorn blood for the eyes and teeth? It might be his own.
No, she had to focus, she had to get good at this. The black of his robe was the hardest part, and she ended up mixing it with reds and blues to get the full effect of how Kendra saw him. His skin tone was also difficult to mix with the limited colors, but she did it. Using one of her whittling knives, she made a pretty cool effect for the scar over his eyebrow.
Surprisingly, Ronodin stayed quiet the whole time. He didn’t tease her or try to mess with her. When she had to step back to let a layer dry, or go to the bathroom, he just smirked at her. Her eyes would drift to him for reference, and he would occasionally strike a pose, but he never said anything.
Maybe this was how they had bonded the first time, painting quietly to music. It didn’t help too much in this case because she painted with a thousand irritations in her brush, but if they were ever able to do this outside her prison cell, in the open air, it would probably be a different experience. Maybe next time she could try for companionship when she painted.
She thought she’d like that painting a lot more. Luckily, irritation with her lack of skill and being stuck with only negative emotions helped feed into the current project.
By the end, it wasn’t perfect, or even particularly good. People were hard, but she liked it. His smug smile said ‘kill me’, enough for her.
“You ready for the great reveal?” Ronodin asked, turning off the music.
“Sure,” Kendra said, “You probably figured it out, but it’s a lot easier to want to kill you while looking at your stupid face.” She took her canvas and showed it to him.
Ronodin scrutinized himself through her painting. “My ears look a little misshapen, and all I’m sensing is vague irritation with myself. Have a problem with killing intent?”
“Despite various actions to the contrary,” Kendra said, “I don’t actually want to kill you. So yeah, irritation. Can I see yours now?”
“It’s not my best work,” he said, picking up his own canvas, “You wouldn’t believe how long it’s been since I painted,” so that means they didn’t bond over painting, “but I hope this helps you put together what outside looks like.”
He turned it over and showed her a castle rising above a forest. The sky was a heart wrenching blue, and there had to be forty different shades of green in the trees. A couple of deer with wings glided over the treetops, beneath a sun that was paler than she imagined, its light fell gently. Two clouds gave variety to the sky, and the castle was done in blacks and grays that blended so well together, she couldn’t begin figuring out the shades. The stones and towers, the gate, and just barely she could make out a road that vanished under distant trees, horses racing across it. Two mountains rose in the distance, and a ravine far to the right.
“It’s beautiful,” she said reverently, going closer to the picture. “It’s absolutely beautiful. You’re amazing.”
“Yes, well, I try,” he said. Kendra looked, and he seemed flustered for a moment, then smirked, “I take it you like my gift?”
“A real gift this time?” Kendra asked dubiously.
She was expecting it, and was able to turn her cheek at the last moment as he pulled her close.
He pulled back, “Never.” And let her go.
“Try again after I’m out of this prison.”
“Quarantine,” he corrected.
“What am I infected with?” Kendra countered.
He shook his head, “We’re doing this so you don’t loose the self you found and were so proud of.”
Kendra didn’t know what to say to that.
Sorry I’m not me enough for you at the moment?
I’m sure I’ll be myself again eventually, don’t give up.
The only version of me I care about is the one that gets to sit in the sunlight.
She kept staring at the castle instead, her former home. The place where the other Kendra first became the person Ronodin loved.
Quietly, she asked, “I can really keep this?”
“Of course, Love,” Ronodin said, “I even left out the caged dragons for you, so you can remember the good parts more than the bad.”
Her head swiveled towards him, “This isn’t what it actually looks like?”
He blinked, “No, that’s what it looks like. But Dragons are a pain to draw, and most of them stay out of that particular direction anyway. They generally don’t like to be near the keep, nor the giant’s mountain behind it. I was just joking.”
“Oh,” she said, “That’s…okay. Mind if I take it to my room?”
“Be sure to let it finish drying,” Ronodin said, stepping aside.
Kendra hesitated at the door, “I’m not the Kendra you know. I don’t know how to be that Kendra. Are you sure it wouldn’t be better to just drop me off back home so I can figure things out from the beginning?”
“This is a beginning of sorts,” Ronodin mused. “But I know the truth of you. I know how confused you are right now, and how much trust you are putting in me. I am deeply aware of that.” He said. The sheer intensity of his gaze made her blush. “The day you understand truth of who you are in your bones, and who I am, that day will change everything. That day is worth waiting for. You are worth waiting for, whether you become exactly the woman I remember or not.”
Kendra blushed and fled. She went to her room, put the landscape against the wall, and put her hands over her flushing cheeks. Smoldering intensity was not a fair superpower! Did all unicorns have that? No, she didn’t really love him yet; he was just distracting! This was desperation, and loneliness, and—and she didn’t even know the names of her parents! She didn’t know what love was. Had she ever been in love before? When you loved someone, was Ronodin what it looked like?
They still had to go the grotto that afternoon.
She pulled back on the clothes she had arrived in, jeans, shirt, and added her poorly made cardigan. Feeling nice and covered up, she made her way to the kitchen for lunch.
“I changed my mind, let’s have lunch in the grotto,” Ronodin said, waving a basket full of sandwiches and chips in her direction as he filled up water bottles, “Remember to keep your light dim.”
Kendra frowned, but it wasn’t like she was going to complain about leaving this place.
He frowned at her, “Those clothes again?”
“You could always take me shopping,” she said, folding her arms. “Or let me use your phone for some online shopping.”
Ronodin chuckled, walking up to her, “Our host doesn’t exactly have a listed address. Come on,” he held out an arm, and Kendra weighed the pros and cons of accepting it. Pro: get out of here faster. Con: Ronodin being a jerk and violating her personal space.
“I’ll be on my best behavior,” Ronodin said, rolling his eyes.
Kendra took his arm, and watched him carefully as they approached the door. Mendigo moved to stop him, but Kendra said, “It’s alright. He’s allowed to leave with me. Watch our stuff, kay.” The puppet snapped back into guard position.
Ronodin took out a key from his pocket. A big, rusty thing, and fit it into the lock at the same time that he said something in language she didn’t understand.
“That’s not fair,” Kendra said as he turned the key. He didn’t respond, just opened the door and led her out into a hallway.
This part of the property was much less polished than her apartment. The stone was rougher, smoothed by time rather than professionally. She also knew instinctively that she would be frozen if it wasn’t for the ruby necklace. The corridor narrowed and widened randomly, and it was dark.
Of course, she probably could have brightened things by letting her own light shine, but out here it wouldn’t only be rude to Ronodin, it would also be rude to anyone else in the hallway. They passed by one person, who looked extremely gaunt and old, and he still flinched a little at her dim shining.
Ronodin led her up through twisty corridors with lots of forks. She tried to keep track, but would undoubtably be lost within minutes if Ronodin wasn’t here. Kendra started to smell saltwater, and pulled Ronodin along faster.
It was strange. If ten minutes ago you had asked her to describe and know the smell of saltwater, she wouldn’t have been able to. As soon as she smelled it though, it was like that synapse reconnected. Of course that was what saltwater smelled like.
“Watch the brightness,” Ronodin warned, but sped up with her. In her excitement, she had let her control slip. Kendra forced herself to slow down and keep her magic to herself.
They reached a rocky shore, the tide lapping in tiny waves. There was seaweed scattered below the waterline, a drum in the corner, and a bunch of random animal bones.
She put her hand into the water and sighed. Feeling it push and pull against her hand was amazing. Ronodin set up lunch behind her, but she focused on the sensations of right now. The feel of water, the look of the rounded grotto, the…dead fish. And now she had memorized what rotting fish smelled like.
Grossed out, she went back to Ronodin who offered her a napkin to dry her hands and some hand sanitizer. Then he snapped another photo of them on their picnic blanket.
“Why didn’t you set up closer to the drum?” Kendra asked. It looked much flatter and less rocky over there.
“Didn’t want to risk accidentally sounding it,” he said simply. He handed her a sandwich.
“What happens?”
“The sound would summon a dragon that would more than love to eat you.”
“Romantic.”
Ronodin looked amused. “You wanted elsewhere, I got you elsewhere. You’re going to have to be a little clearer when you want me to court you and when you don’t.”
Kendra blushed, “It’s complicated. I don’t know when I want you to court me either. I don’t think I want to be courted right now. There’s still so much I don’t know about myself.”
“Well, let’s find out a little more,” Ronodin said “What would make this romantic?”
Kendra blushed and looked at her food, “I don’t know, I’ve never been courted before. That’s the problem.” She took a bite.
“You knew enough to know that this place isn’t romantic, give it a try,” Ronodin encouraged.
“Give me a second to think then,” she said, then took another bite.
She finished her sandwich half, took a drink, and said. “Well, the rotting fish in the water wasn’t pleasant, that would need to go. So would the animal bones, and the threat of a deadly sea dragon eating me. Umm, fairy lights I guess? Something soft to help light this place. This blanket is okay, but having some pillows set up too would help.”
“Music?” Ronodin asked.
Kendra shook her head, “Not necessarily, the sound of the waves is calming and new. I’d be a little sad to have that drowned out by music. Of course, this place would be immediately topped by anyplace with sunlight. Like a mall.”
“A mall,” Ronodin deadpanned. “Do you even remember what a mall looks like? Secluded grotto beats mall every time, even with dragons and dead fish.”
“But we could buy clothes,” Kendra emphasized. “And knowing what I want and need, and spending time with me? Most romantic thing ever.” She had agreed with Lady Kuychia in that aspect. She thought she did, at least. Everything Kendra agreed with currently was subject to change.
“Noted,” Ronodin said drily. “A bit contradictory, but noted.”
“Prison cells make everything unromantic,” she declared.
“On that,” Ronodin said, “We agree completely. I’m glad that viewpoint hasn’t changed with your memory loss.”
Kendra hesitated, “Was my family really a bunch of jailers?”
Ronodin nodded, “They thought they had their reasons, but the reasons were nonsense and broke down once a reasonably intelligent teenager looked at them. They justified them by saying that the inhabitants were happier in cages than in the mortal world, while the continuous, active rebellion suggested that they aren’t. The prisons protected mortals from dangerous creatures. But mortals have their own protections, and who said that humans should be the ones in charge of everything? They’re doing a terrible job of it.
“And my favorite: keep them locked up because their nature is to harm. Humans have killed more things than all the dragons combined since the prisons were put up. You don’t hate the wolf for eating the deer. You don’t hate the ocean for crumbling the shore. Is the day better than the night? For somethings, like sunbathing and growing plants, but the night is better for seeing stars and sleeping. Not only is it morally wrong to keep sentient things in prison without hope of freedom, it throws the world out of balance.”
Kendra was quiet.
Ronodin looked at her, “Oh, your family isn’t terrible. Your brother is a nuisance, as most brothers are, but he believes he is doing the right thing and goes out of his way to cause as little harm as possible. They all do. It’s what their parents did, and their parents, for a very long time. They are wrong, not bad. Clearly, otherwise you wouldn’t have turned out the way you did.”
“What happens when you open all the prison cells?” Kendra asked. “You said the dragon here would love to eat me. I haven’t done anything at all to it. Could I convince the dragon not to eat me?”
“If you were skilled, and you were clever,” Ronodin said. “And by the Jirbarro’s standards, we did do something wrong: we entered his territory. By entering the hunting ground of a bear, you invite the bear to attack.”
“How many jails are there? Would the whole world become a hunting ground?”
Ronodin shrugged, “Don’t know. But I think it would be interesting and fair to find out.”
Kendra frowned, and was about to say something else, when the water in the grotto started splashing.
“Ah,” Ronodin said. He glanced at Kendra. “Be ready to be skilled and clever.”
“What!”
A dragon rose out of the water. Huge. Impossibly huge. Ridiculously large. Things that size shouldn’t be allowed, some law of biology had to be crying over this creature’s existence. Kendra’s muscles locked into place with fear.
“Ah, Ronodin, have you brought me a snack?” asked the dragon. It was like Kendra was hearing three voices, the dragon’s main voice, a voice that came as though from underwater, and its echo.
“No, just enjoying the scenery,” Ronodin said.
“Oh my,” Jirbarro said, completely ignoring Ronodin, “And such a unique snack too! Slayer of the Demon King, caretaker of wyrmroost, and handmaiden to the fairy queen herself. Rumor has it that she sent Celebrant back to his hole like wyrmling.” The dragon lowered its head to better look at her. “Tell me child, can you speak?”
Kendra focused on the ground infront of the dragon, “Please…back away.” It took will power, but she was able to grind out a single sentence. She was rather proud of it.
Jibarro shook his head, “Barely, and your reputation was growing so well. Eating you will be doing you a service. You can die with your legends, and no one has to know you were speechless.”
“I need her, our host has a special task for her,” Ronodin lied, “No feasting now.”
Kendra tried to pull her magic forward, massage it through her muscles, anything, but nothing worked. Ronodin needed her, he loved her, she wouldn’t make him watch her get eaten by a dragon.
Still her muscles refused to move.
Kendra thought about the picture Ronodin had painted of her childhood home. Thought of her brother. But it was remembering that pale orb that stuck in in her mind. She was not going to die without feeling sunlight.
There was a snap, and all the bindings holding her in place fell apart.
“Excuse me,” she said, “I am nobody’s dinner.”
Their attention riveted on her again.
“Does the kelp speak?” Jibarro asked.
“The human does,” Kendra said, and she let go of the hold she had on her light. She felt better as the grotto brightened to a dim room. “And I would like to request the curtesy of asking me to leave before eating for an imagined slight or because you think it would make yourself more important. We are both intelligent, let’s respect that.”
This time Ronodin’s mouth really did drop open, but she didn’t need to laugh at it, Jibarro was doing it for her.
“Such an entertaining mouse!” Jibarro said. He looked down at Ronodin, “Very well, now that her fear is gone, humans make far too paltry a snack. And as the mouse demands, you should leave before I change my mind. I can’t wait to see what insults she and her brother serve the mighty Celebrant next.”
Ronodin nodded, “We will accept your offer of leave.” Ronodin rolled up everything into the blanket he brought and together they left, hearing the splash of water behind them of Jibarro leaving as well.
Once they were back in the corridor, Kendra collapsed against the wall.
“I see your point,” Ronodin said casually, “The threat of being eaten by a dragon is a downer.”
“What was that?” Kendra asked.
“Dragon fear,” Ronodin said, “All dragons exude it, though some don’t by choice. It gets paired with their general mesmerizing ability, but your status as Fairy Kind protects your mind from that part. The resistance to fear seems to be something you needed to overcome on your own. Congrats are in order, I suppose.”
“He called me a lot of titles,” Kendra said. “How did he know? I don’t even know most of those.”
Ronodin shrugged, “Certain experiences and acts leave marks that those with eyes to see can perceive. You read about the Thrones of Power right?” Kendra nodded, “One of the prisons your family supported was the greater demon prison, Zzyzx. With a powerful sword and a hefty bit of absolute rage, you slew the previous holder of the Demon Crown. I wasn’t invited to that party, my family likely concerned I would side with the demons, but even I can see the mark on you from the experience.”
“I did that?” she asked, standing up. A whole four pages of the book had been devoted to the crowns as the pillars of magic that are virtually unlimited, held in check only by each other. “Wait, would you have sided with the demons?”
Ronodin shrugged, “I would have heard them out, I suppose. I didn’t have a preference one way or another how it turned out. I would have been fine.”
But would the rest of humanity? She didn’t know much about demons, but they seemed worse than the undead. The destruction of the undead seemed predicated on their nature, they have nothing but wanting, so even a sliver of life seems the greatest feast. Created by the weakness of living beings. Demons did it because it was fun, they wanted to, and because of a personal conviction that everyone is terrible and deserves to die if they aren’t strong enough to live. That’s why demons were on the morality triangle, and the undead on the creature triangle.
It was a silent walk back to her apartment.
They entered and Ronodin looked at her. “See what I mean about this place being dangerous? I have connections and favors down here that let me go without harm, but you don’t.” Mendigo was standing beside him.
Kendra thought about it, but that orb of sun stuck fast in her mind. “Yes, it is dangerous, but even with the danger and dead things, it was more than I’ve gotten in my life. Mendigo? My orders stand. Ronodin isn’t allowed to leave without me.”
Ronodin was livid. “Rather than let me go out and secure your freedom, you would trap us both here? Foolish doesn’t begin to cover you. Insane? Senile? Self-destructive? Call off your puppet.”
“No,” Kendra said, raising her chin, “You leave, you take me with you. I’ll do what I have to to stay alive. You said that everyone who got in the way of my goals was my enemy. Being faced with Dragon fear taught me that seeing the sunlight is a more important goal to me than just about anything else.”
The ‘even you’ went unsaid, and she wondered if Ronodin heard it as clearly as she meant it.
Ronodin closed his eyes and breathed. He seemed to be counting, and Kendra waited. He opened his eyes and was much calmer, “You have no idea what it means to have a goal more important than anything else,” he said, “You are acting like a child, but I am going to give us both one more chance to act reasonably. For every time you come with me, I obtain the right to leave by myself twice. Considering how infuriating you are making everything, this is an extremely generous offer.”
Kendra thought it over, “A one to one ratio, and you don’t have to take me above ground. A two-to-one ratio, and you have to take me above ground for it to count.”
“Fine,” he said, “One to one. But I’m tired after dealing with you, so please entertain yourself.”
“Mendigo,” Kendra said, “Ronodin may leave once without me. Come, we’re going to the library.”
She took five steps away, then stopped, “I’m sorry, but while I’m negotiating with the power to stop you from leaving, you’re negotiating with the power to leave me here forever. I can’t risk that.”
“Then maybe you should stop being such a brat, and I’d more inclined not to leave you here forever,” Ronodin said.
Kendra glanced back at him, but he wasn’t looking at her, instead doing something on his phone.
He doesn’t mean that. She made herself think, over and over. If only she believed it.
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Hi! Can u please write Erik Lehnsherr x FemReader where there’s a dance and reader thinks he’ll ask Raven but instead he asks reader to go with him to the dance? Thank you!
A Dance for Two
Request: Requested by anon
Pairing: Erik Lehnsherr x FemReader
Prompt: Hi! Can you please write Erik Lehnsherr x FemReader where there will be a dance and reader thinks he’ll ask Raven but instead he asks the reader to go with him to the dance? Thank you!
Warnings: Fluff with slight angst, cursing
Author’s Note: Hello lovely anon, I hope you enjoy this Xx.
Requests are open!
(Gif not mine)
The halls of the X-Mansion were bustling with mutants and humans alike. The mutants were going about their business, trying to get to class while the humans were trying to decorate the entire place. Currently (Y/N) was standing out of the way of everyone just observing everyone passing by. There was no way she was about to insert herself into the chaos just yet.
Recently Charles Xavier had announced that there would be a ball in order to raise funds and awareness for Charles Xavier’s school for gifted youngsters. Ever since mutants have been brought into the light, more and more students were coming in with different forms of powers. If it weren’t for (Y/N), Erik, and Raven, Charles was sure to be overwhelmed with everything. It was only after Erik’s attempted assassination on the U.S. president that he realized what a mistake he had made. In order to get Erik to contain his anger and hatred for humans, Charles had convinced him to stay after his previous attempts. Charles liked to tease (Y/N) and say that if it weren’t for her, Erik would have refused yet again.
Unfortunately, (Y/N) never believed Charles and rebutted his teasing by insisting it was only because Erik had nearly hurt Raven. It only made sense after everything Raven and Erik had gone through together. (Y/N) was almost positive that Erik’s feelings ran deep for the other mutant, so to spare her own feelings, she suppressed any and all thoughts of her and Erik ever getting together. She’d never tell Charles, though she suspected that he already knew what with him being a mind reader and all. (Y/N) knew Charles wouldn’t read her mind unless it was absolutely necessary, she trusted him enough, but sometimes she felt as though her feelings for Erik were strong enough that Charles didn’t have to read her mind in order to find out how she felt.
“(Y/N) It’s nearly time for class, your students are waiting for you.” Charles’s voice echoed in her mind.
“Speak of the devil,” (Y/N) muttered to herself.
“Aw, were you thinking about me, love?” (Y/N) could clearly hear the teasing tone in his voice, it was almost as if he were right next to her.
“In your dreams, Charles,” (Y/N) nearly rolled her eyes at his insistent teasing. Despite the conversation going on in her mind, she made her way to her class. He had a point, she couldn’t keep her kids waiting, she had some interesting stories to share with the kids today and it nearly made her giddy.
“Oh, I think you’ve mistaken me with someone else. Like Erik, perhaps?”
“Fuck off Charles,” She snapped. His constant teasing was almost enough to take her out of the good mood she was in, almost.
“Sorry everybody, I wish I could say I have an excuse for being late, but sadly that isn’t true. You’d think I’d have frozen time in order to get ahead, but I save that for special occasions, like beating Professor Xavier and Professor Lehnsherr at games for instance.” She joked.
Her lame attempt at a joke managed to score a few laughs out of the young mutants, “Anyway, let’s get started shall we?”
(Y/N) went through her lectures with grace, answering and asking the right questions when they arose, a few of the students even volunteered to read a few passages from the textbook, which was often very rare. Because of everyone’s participation, (Y/N) allowed the students some free time at the end of class. Many students took the opportunity to leave and spend their time outside, while a few stayed in their seats.
“Professor (L/N), can I ask you something?” Scott Summers asked curiously. He was hanging out with Jean Grey in the front row.
“Of course, anything in particular?” (Y/N) asked curiously.
“Yeah, actually, it’s about the dance. Is everyone required to take a date? Cause the flyer said to bring a plus one.” Scott had already asked Jean to go with him and she had thankfully said yes, but they were talking and it seemed as though the professors may need dates too. It’d be interesting, to say the least, to find out which professor was going with who.
“Oh, uh, that’s not necessarily a requirement, I think Professor Xavier was just getting ahead of himself,” (Y/N) brushed off, “If you’re not comfortable with taking someone, then it’s not mandatory. I think he only meant for you to go with someone to keep you from getting bored.”
“Okay, so, who is Professor X going with?” Jean asked instantly.
“Oh, I think Moira MacTaggert. I’m sure you’ve all met her, right?” (Y/N) looked around for any confirmation, “If not, then this weekend you’ll get to.”
“What about Professor Lehnsherr? Or you?” Scott prodded.
“Uh, I’m not sure, to be honest,” (Y/N) felt her heartbeat rapidly, could the students know about her fascination with Erik too? Shit, Jean was a mind reader too. (Y/N) glanced at the young student briefly, “That I know of, Professor Lehnsherr might take Professor Darkhölme. And I am going with,” (Y/N) looked around, “Uh, Hank! I mean Professor Mccoy,” She lied not so smoothly. Thankfully the bell rang before anyone can ask any more questions.
“So, you’re going to the ball with Hank?”
(Y/N) nearly jumped out of her skin when she heard Erik’s voice. She hadn’t realized he was even standing there.
“Fuck, you scared me, Erik,” (Y/N) ran her hand through her (H/C) hair.
“Sorry, I knocked before I walked in,” He shrugged, “So Mccoy? Really?”
“What?” (Y/N) furrowed her brows, “What about him?”
Erik laughed slightly, “You said Hank was going to the dance with you.”
“Oh! Right, no I didn’t wanna sound like a complete loner to the kids so I lied, sorta,” She shrugged. This was probably the most embarrassing thing that’s happened to her thus far.
“You could have said I was taking you,” Erik shrugged, “Just a thought.”
“Yeah, next time,” (Y/N) laughed nervously.
“Speaking of the dance-”
“Sorry, Erik, I uh, I’ve got to… Pee! I’ll be right back,” (Y/N) brushed past him and marched to the nearest restroom. She wasn’t about to stand there and let Erik tell her that he was going to ask Raven or that he had already asked her, she wasn’t a masochist after all.
“I’ll just wait here then,” Erik mumbled to himself once she bolted out.
(Y/N) leaned against the bathroom door and sighed. She was going to have to get a hold on herself. She couldn’t keep dodging Erik every time he brought up the dance, they were friends after all. She’d just have to ignore her pride and accept the fact that Erik didn’t like her the way she liked him. No big deal.
(Y/N) composed herself and made her way to the kitchen. It was nearly lunchtime now and she was starving, she just hoped there was a snack or something available.
“Hey, (Y/N)!” Raven shouted when she saw her from across the hall.
(Y/N) looked up and smiled slightly. She tried to keep things civil, it wasn’t Raven’s fault Erik liked her and not (Y/N).
Raven stopped right next to her with a bright smile, “You ready for the dance this weekend?”
“Yeah, you bet,” (Y/N) lied.
“I can’t wait either, I only ever got to go to parties as my “normal” self before but this time I can just be me,” Raven grinned.
“Well, you’re beautiful so it only makes sense to go as you are,” (Y/N) shrugged.
“Thank you, you are too. I can’t wait to see what you’re going to wear. Charles said to make it formal so it should be interesting to see everyone in a tux and dress.” Raven looked off as if she were imagining just that.
“Yeah, it should be interesting,” (Y/N) agreed.
“Were you headed to the kitchen?” Raven asked suddenly.
“Yeah, I was. I got kinda hungry so I was going to grab a snack or something.” (Y/N) turned to leave.
“I’ll go with you,” Raven decided. She walked right next to (Y/N) without any notice to her discomfort. Raven was the best, really. She was funny, beautiful, badass, and well, (Y/N) could see why Erik liked her. It just really fucking sucked is all.
“So, have you talked to Erik?” Raven wondered.
“Kinda? He stopped by my classroom earlier but I uh, I needed to use the restroom,” (Y/N) really hoped this would be the end of this uncomfortable conversation.
“Oh, well, he really wanted to talk to you so I’ll let him know we’re in the kitchen then,” Raven pulled her phone out of her pocket and texted, (Y/N) assumed, Erik.
“Right, I guess I’ll wait here with you then,” (Y/N) mumbled. This had to be a nightmare right? This wasn’t really happening, right?
(Y/N) grabbed a jello cup from the fridge and a spoon. She jumped onto the counter and started eating her snack. Maybe if she froze time she would be able to escape without any notice. But then they would know what she had done, so it wasn’t really the best option. But still, it was an option.
“There you are (Y/N), I was wondering where you had run off to,” Erik smiled and leaned against the counter right next to you.
“Uh, yeah, sorry I got kinda hungry,” She shrugged.
“I was waiting in your classroom,” Erik mentioned casually.
“Oh, shit, sorry I uh,” (Y/N) wasn’t sure what to say. Why would he wait for her? Why couldn’t he just show up to the dance with Raven and leave (Y/N) alone?
“It’s okay, anyway, I wanted to ask you something,” Erik glanced at Raven, who was pretending to mind her own business but was failing miserably, “You know, you’re not as subtle as you think you are,” He huffed in annoyance.
“Fine, fine, I’m leaving,” Raven stomped off.
“Erik?” (Y/N) set her empty jello cup aside, “you wanted to ask me something?”
“Right! Yes, I did, I do,” Erik bit his lip and shifted nervously.
“Well?” (Y/N) asked impatiently. She didn’t want to sit there while he told her he asked Raven to the dance and if she could help him with something to woo her or something.
“Sorry, I was wondering if you might want to go with me to the dance?” He spoke quickly.
Wait, what? “Wait, what?” (Y/N) asked surprised.
“Will you go with me to the dance?” Erik asked, meeting (Y/N)’s eyes.
“I- what about Raven?” She asked confused. Why would he ask her out and not Raven? Was this a pity date? Is that why Raven was okay with it?
“What about Raven?” Erik asked just as confused as (Y/N). What did Raven have to do with their date?
“I mean, why are you asking me and not Raven?” (Y/N) asked getting frustrated with Erik.
“Because I don’t like Raven, I like you” Erik laughed joyously. He had thought it was pretty obvious. He always dropped everything he was doing to help (Y/N). He made stupid jokes just to hear her laugh, he always tried his best to show off his powers whenever they were teamed together. Their most successful training session was when he showed her how he could lift their jet plane.
(Y/N) sat in disbelief. Erik liked her? How had she not realized before? She thought back to all the times Charles would tease her, she assumed he was teasing her, but come to think about it, Erik was always the one who got flustered and angry. (Y/N) assumed it was because he really didn’t like her, but it turns out the complete opposite was the truth.
“You really like me?” (Y/N) asked softly.
“I do,” Erik agreed, “So, would you want to accompany me to the dance?”
(Y/N) nodded almost too eagerly, “Yes, I would love to!” She grinned.
Erik smiled and stepped between her legs, “can I kiss you? Or is that pushing my luck?”
(Y/N)’s cheeks flushed, her breath hitching, “No, it’s not pushing your luck.”
Erik leaned forward, looking from her eyes to her lips, “good,” He pressed his lips to hers in a gentle passionate kiss.
#pining#mutual pining#erik lehnsherr#erik lensherr x reader#x-men#x-men x reader#michael fassbender#fluff#erik lehnsherr x femreader#misunderstandings#anon
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Across The Serververse, Chapter 7
Back on the spaceship a debate was brewing.
“-But all I’m saying is that it makes sense to get Sam!” Penelope said, for about the 5th time. “Then we know we’ve got everyone who was connected with the cartoon network universe!”
“But that’s completely illogical.” Marvin said, bluntly. “Sam, as we know, can take care of himself and is unlikely to cause great harm to himself or others. Sam is also in the ‘Wacky Racers’ universe, which is not unlike our own. Wile.E and Roady however are in the ‘Mad Max’ universe. That’s a completely different ballgame, so to speak, and we should retrieve them first so they can’t cause damage to other people, each other and themselves in that order.”
Bugs sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Why, WHY did he think this would be simple? Just go round the universes and get everyone back. A hard conversation may be needed here and there [he was anticipating one with Daffy, for instance] but on the whole he was certain the others would come back. After all, why wouldn’t they? The entire family was here after all, would they really want to be left behind?
Just as Tweety was yelling that actuawwy GRANNY would be a good idea as she was - and direct quote - ‘owd and fwail’ [which Bugs personally found hilarious as he’d seen frailer cement mixers] the decision was taken out of there hands.
“Stop!” Pepe yelled at the top of his lungs, seeing he now had everyone’s attention he said, calmly. “Why do we not see what planet we are closest to and retrieve the toons on there, yes? Make it simple, no?”
A thought flashed across Bugs’s mind that if they carried on down that route it meant Fudd would be last, but he shook the thought away like it was an irritating insect. Fudd would be fine, Bugs reasoned, he was more quick-witted and intelligent than people gave him credit for. He would be fine. Fine! Absolutely fine...
Marvin smiled [or at least the others assumed he was smiling. It was a bit hard to tell] and ‘full-speeded ahead’ to Mad Max Universe.
“Be careful!” Pepe yelled as Penelope crashed into him. “You are not on the racing track now, non?”
Marvin - somewhat uncharacteristically - ignored him and just landed the spaceship with a small ‘thud!’ “Well.” The Martian said, as he zeroed in on Wile.E’s and the Roadrunners trackers. “Here we are. The Mad Max universe. There was a pause before Marvin said, with faux brightness. “So, who’s going to volunteer to get our two brothers then?”
It soon transpired that it was Bugs himself who was going to ‘volunteer’ for this no doubt arduous task, what with the rabbit being the fastest amongst them.
“How do I get meself into dese situations?” Bugs wondered aloud, as he stood in the middle of a dust road looking for any sign of either the road runner or the coyote. Then he saw it. The familiar dust trail of the roadrunner which Bugs knew from previous experience meant he was about five-
-zoom!-
...make that two seconds away. And if the roadrunner was here, that meant the coyote wasn’t that far behind-
-zoom!-
Aaaaaannnnnnnnddddddddddd there he went! Bugs turned tail and ran after him.
Wile.E, Bugs could hardly fail to notice, looked like an advertisement for leather. Leather coat, leather gloves and a weird looking mask tied across his eyes, making him look like a robber. In one hand he wielded what looked like a extended litter-picker with the end significantly modified so it was [in theory] capable of catching roadrunners. The other hand was clutching the steering wheel of the motorbike he’d presumably ‘borrowed’ from somewhere.
Bugs ran flat out as he did his best to get level with the coyote, and it was a testament to his abilities and pig-headed determination that he actually managed it. “Wile.E!” Bugs called, loudly in order to ensure he was heard over the noise. “Wile E! It’s me Bugs!”
The coyote looked at him in startled surprise, taking his eyes of the road for literally about two seconds, but that two seconds was all the universe needed for Wile.E to fall flat on his face and go skidding into a rock, which caused a boulder to fall from above onto him, just for good measure.
Bugs winced and slowly sidled up to the rock where the coyotes arm was sticking out from under it. The rabbit waited for his younger brother to come crawling out from under it, probably glaring daggers, but nothing happened. After a few more seconds he got concerned and tried to move the boulder himself.
Back in Tune World this wouldn’t be a problem. As long as Bugs timed it at either a funny moment, or a moment that made sense within the narration, he’d have been able to do it. But, Bugs realised as he pushed, shoved and yelled curses at the rock, this wasn’t Toon World.
“Beap, beap!”
Bugs let out a shout of surprise and jumped about ten metres in the air, before landing with a thud. He sighed, got up and turned to see the road runner examining the rock critically. Seeing Bugs looking at him, Roadie held up a sign which said. ‘You get one side, I’ll get the other.’
Really, Bugs thought, this might be a good time to get Marvin’s disintegration ray, or maybe the other toons, but he didn’t really have time to argue so he just grabbed the other end of the rock [which was thankfully quite jagged, so easy enough to get a grip onto as opposed to the smooth round boulders that usually fell on Wile.E.] and together he and Roadie lifted the boulder of off the coyote and looked at the crushed noodle-like body beneath it.
Bugs stared silently, trying to digest what had just happened, while the roadrunner donned a black suit and tie and threw a random wreath at the coyote’s still body.
As soon as that wreath made contact with Wile.E’s stomach the coyote ‘rose from the dead’ ala Mushu style saying dramatically. “IIIIII LLLLLLIIIIIIIVVVVVVVEEEEEE!”
He was rewarded for this Oscar-worthy spot of acting by tomatoes being thrown at him by Roadie and Bugs. “Dat’s for quotin’ Disney!” Bugs told him sternly.
Wile.E shrugged. “Don’t blame me, inferior creature, I didn’t write the script.”
They glared at each other and then, going a 180, hugged and laughed joyously. “Oh!” Wile.E exclaimed, as he swung Bugs around. “I’m so glad you’re alive! I would like to say we never gave up hope, but I’m afraid that would be a lie as we’ve thought you were dead for the past few months now.”
Wile.E popped Bugs back on the ground and the rabbit wasted no time shaking himself to get all of the dust and rocks and like out his fur. “Oi’m gonna be hearin’ that for de next few chapters, ain’t I?” He reflected.
In response Wile.E simply pointed. Bugs followed the point and saw Roadie holding up a sign that said. ‘Well, the last time we saw you you were left alone with an angry psycho. So, you know, assumptions were made.”
Bugs grinned and flapped his arms. “Ah, never mind all dat! C’mon, Oi’ve managed to get some of the gang already, we’re all on Marvin’s spaceship! C’mon, follow me brothers!” And with that he dramatically turned heal and started in the direction of the spaceship. [Which wasn’t actually visible from where they were, Bugs having had to go on something of a hunt for his younger brothers.]
He got about ten steps in before realising he was Coyote-and-Roadrunner-less and turned back to see Wile.E standing in the middle of the dust track with his arms folded and his nose in the air, while Roadrunner looked confused and kept looking between the two like he was a spectator at a volleyball match.
Bugs approached his coyote brother carefully and asked. “Eh...what’s up, Wile.E?”
Wile.E scoffed and holding his nose up even higher [if that was possible] said; “I find it interesting, Mr Bunny, that you assume I shall just go with you?”
The rabbit frowned. confused by this question. “...Why wouldn’t ya?” He asked, eventually.
Wile.E scoffed again, as if to say ‘if you don’t know I’m not going to tell you’ and turned his back on the rabbit.
Bugs was now very confused and started pulling apart the conversation they’d just had in his mind to see if there was anything he’d said that would explain the coyote’s behaviour. About ten seconds into this thinking Bugs was gently pushed aside by Roadrunner who held up a sign that said: ‘Leave this to me.’
[Note from Author: The following conversation has been translated into English for ease of reading. Within the universe of the fic, on the other hand, the below conversation was said in roadrunner style beaps from both parties concerned. The author has also tried to keep Roadie’s rhyming style of speech. Whether she’s succeeded or not is a different matter.]
Roadrunner stepped closer to his brother and said, in a kindly tone.
“Wile.E, my brother,
From one twin to another
Would you be so kind?
Tell me what is on your mind?”
Wile.E took a moment to think about exactly what was bothering him, before saying in a measured manner. “I’m thinking Roadie that...I’m old.”
Roadie’s eyes went wide and Wile.E hurriedly clarified. “Oh, I know what you’re going to say, I’m in my early 70′s, early 70′s is no longer considered ‘old’. Except, factually, it is. Even if you take into consideration the fact that I’m a toon and therefore immortal, I just can’t help wondering...how much longer can I do this?”
His brother looked at him in a manner that suggested he was unsure of what he meant. Clicking his tongue impatiently Wile.E snapped. “For Newton’s sake, do I have to spell it out!? How much longer can I keep throwing myself off of cliffs and under boulders and the like without damage? Even with gadgets like these...” Here he looked down at the custom-made grabber and chuckled. “...Not that we’ve got anything like this back on Tune Town. I mean, look at this!” Here he went into a half-mad description of what exactly the grabber was made of, what it could do and why exactly it was the best thing since sliced bread. Roadrunner waited patiently the whole time this lecture went on, nodding at what he felt were appropriate intervals until, finally, Wile.E finished with: “But what’s the use? I’ll never be able to invent another one.”
Roadrunner frowned and said, rapidly. “But Wile.E, why ever not?
Seeing as you’re a total swot*
Would it not be so very easy,
to build something just as great?
From an engineers point of view,
it should be easy to recreate
And with me by your side
You’ll be sure to hit your stride.” At the end of his little rhyme, Roadie smiled brightly at his twin and waited for the verdict.
“Because, my fraternal twin brother, I made THIS one via the materials on this planet and seeing as when I step on Marvin’s ship I’m presumably not coming back here then that means I’m somewhat sunk, aren't I? More than usual, I mean.” Wile.E looked at the grabber and lovingly stroked it.
While he was doing that Roadie thought. Truth be told he had heard this more than a few times before. Wile.E periodically went through periods where he thought he was reaching the end of his genius, but he usually pulled through. This time he sounded different though. More wistful and melancholy. It concerned Roadie, but he was unsure of what to say and went quiet for a bit trying to think of the right words.
While he was doing that Wile.E’s ginormous brain was ticking, slotting the pieces together as he looked down at the grabber. Really, now he was actually thinking about it instead of running on emotion, the materials the grabber was made with weren't that different to similar materials that could be found on Tune Town. Melt an anvil down, for instance, and simply reshape it...
Wile.E smiled. Oh yes, that would work alright. He was an idiot to have not thought of it before!
Roadrunner saw the familiar smile and, immediately perking up, said rapidly to Bugs. “I think you will be happy to know, we are finally ready to go.”
Bugs made a celebrationary air-grab and grabbing his brothers by the arm and wing respectably pulled them in the direction of the spaceship. Luckily Roadrunners brain was ahead of Bugs’s on this occasional and he had also see where the spaceship was earlier on in the chapter when he’d speeded ahead; so, with his usual catchphrase, he ran under Bugs so the rabbit was forced to cling to him and sped of at about 1000 miles an hour, not wanting to waste any time.
Behind them Wile.E smiled wickedly and activated the grabber which enabled him to swing between boulders [how he managed not to crush himself the author only knows] essentially becoming the coyote version of Tarzan and together they speeded towards the ship
#Across The Serververse#Bugs Bunny#Marvin The Martian#Wile.E.Coyote#Roadrunner#Looney Tunes#Pepe Le Pew#penelope pussycat#roadrunners rhyming is literally the hardest thing to write#Wile.E and Roadie are twins though#Space Jam 2 Fanfiction
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“My Babysittee’s a Vampire”
Spike x Reader, BTVS
Warnings: cursing, partial nudity, a little pain? but not necessarily violence. Possible spoilers.
Description: The reader volunteers to watch Spike at Giles’s house while the others do some sluthing, but nothing goes as planned. It turns out that vampires are very hard to babysit.
Spike swore that the chip in his head prevented him from hurting anyone, but you weren’t so sure. Giles decided to keep him chained up in the house for observation and that required someone to actually observe him. You volunteered.
You were still the weakest of the Scoobies, unfortunately (except for maybe Anya, but she got points for being an ex-demon). There wasn’t much you could do except get in the way of the monster fighting. But if you could be helpful by staying in and doing some homework, hey. You weren’t going to complain.
“What, Buffy can’t even be bothered to watch me herself, now that I’m all neutered?”
Spike was in a hell of a mood, seemingly forgetting that he had come to you and your friends for sanctuary. It probably didn’t help that Giles and Xander chained him up in the bathtub.
“She’s busy.” You were unsure of whether or not you were trying to comfort him or just get him off your back. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”
“So I’m just supposed to sit here and stare at the bloody wall all night?”
“Mhmm.”
You were up against the opposite wall, trying—and failing—to get through the sociology chapter your professor had assigned that day. Everyone else in the gang seemed to ignore their homework entirely, except maybe Willow, but you needed a good grade. Your future plans extended outside Sunnydale. But that was only half the trick. You also had to convince Buffy to come with you.
Spike lapsed into silence as you took your notes, the concept finally clicking into place in your head after the third time around. You highlighted and underlined, drawing triangles to help you understand the ideas of hierarchy and filling up your margins with little asides that helped you contextualize. You didn’t even wonder if you should be worried about the vampire’s sudden quiet until his voice broke through your focus.
“Read to me.”
You dropped your pen, startled. He was staring at you intently, like how you imagined a lion might study its prey. Like everything else had faded from view and he was trying to decide whether or not to take his chances on the hunt.
“I-It’s just soc-sociology,” you stuttered, holding up the textbook for him to see. “I don’t think you’ll like it.”
“I like people.” Spike bared his teeth in a grin that you guessed was supposed to be charming or encouraging, but toed past the line to frightening. When you hesitated, he sweetened his voice, practically cooing, “Come on. What harm could it do?”
So you did. He never asked you to stop and explain anything or gave any indication that he didn’t understand, but you interjected your own learnings in anyway. You almost forgot that it was him you were talking to. Willow used to really value school, and she was still the smartest person you knew, but witchcraft was taking over her areas of interest and none of the others cared about this kind of stuff unless you were helping them with their own homework. It was nice to have a rapt audience, even if he was literally being held captive.
“Basically, he’s saying that social environment shapes how we act and react to situations. Like in the Stanford Prison Experiment.” Your eyes darted from the text to Spike, waiting for a nod or something, but he looked as much like a statue as ever. “Good people can be made to do bad things because of the pressure they feel, real or imagined, to follow the rules that have been set in their environment.”
You waited for him to tell you that you had been right before and he was bored, but instead he leaned forward and narrowed his eyes. The chains around his midsection clanked against each other and you forced yourself to keep your expression neutral, even though your heart felt like it might beat out of your chest.
“What about bad people?”
Being around Buffy and the others, around so much supernatural for so many years, had made you into a person who could handle most things with a cool head. It was a required skill. You could freak out about the little things—tests, dating, work—though they seemed to matter less now than ever. But you couldn’t let the supernatural world scare you shitless unless you wanted to shut down completely. Your hands trembled where they grasped your book, but you kept your voice even. You forced your eyes upward to meet Spike’s.
“You tell me.”
——
You couldn’t run away from him, even though you were deeply and truly uncomfortable, so you excused yourself and went to the kitchen for a snack. You knew you shouldn’t leave him alone for too long, chip or not, so you sat down at the table and tried to catch your breath. You were counting down from one hundred when he started shouting about blood.
“It’s unfair,” he said when your frame filled the doorway, arms crossed, “that you get your snack and I don’t get mine.”
At this, his eyes raked down your body. You doubted that the gang would mind much if they came back to find him with a broken nose, but you exercised some hard-won self-control and dug your nails into your palms. Spike was smart and if he was working you up, it was probably for a reason. You treaded back to the kitchen and returned with a mug filled with some B negative that Giles had “borrowed” from the hospital’s blood bank.
“This is the last of the human stuff,” you told him with some satisfaction. “Next you’re drinking pig’s blood.”
You held the mug well away from you, willing your eyes to ignore the splatters on the rim from when you had poured it in. Spike cocked his head.
“Are you going to unchain me, or—?”
“I’ll get a straw.”
When you came back, he was slumped against the inside wall of the porcelain tub. You sat on the edge, held the mug up for him, and turned your head away, enough that you couldn’t see him take his first sip but not enough that he would notice. The sound by itself was almost worse.
“It’s cold.”
“I’m not running a hotel. You’re a hostage.”
“I’m a guest seeking asylum.”
You sucked in a deep breath. “Fine.” You couldn’t bicker with him any more. You needed this to be over.
You warmed it in the microwave, swearing the whole time, and brought it back with both hands wrapped around the mug to keep yourself from throwing the blood in Spike’s face. He smiled as if he knew what you were thinking and relaxed against the tub, tilting up only his chin so that you had to sink to your knees against the tile floor to get an angle that would work.
“I could get used to this,” he mused when he had finished. A few droplets splattered on your hands. You tried not to look at them and began soaping up in the sink.
“Don’t.”
“You know, love, Passions is on in twenty, if your watch is correct.”
You unclasped it from your wrist and wiped it off with a damp tissue. “Forget it.”
“I guess we could always read more from the textbook.” You caught his crafty smirk in the mirror. “You seemed to like that well enough.”
You sighed. “Will it get you off my back?”
“If that’s what you want.”
“Fine.”
You crossed to the tub and tried to puzzle out how to lift him without breaking anything. Spike’s hands were bound in front of him by a separate set of chains than his body to make it more difficult for him to escape and give him some limited mobility. His back was flush up against the tub wall, pressed to the porcelain in a way that would make it difficult to pull him up from behind. There was a small amount of space in between his legs, as his feet had been spread to either side of the tap.
“Well?”
“Shut up.”
You stepped into the tub gingerly, easing over the high rim to stand in between Spike’s legs in the space provided. It wasn’t much, and you caught the fabric of his jeans under your foot at first, but you adjusted.
Next you placed your arms on either side of his chest right under his arms.
“Lift with me,” you said, and together you managed to get him to sit on the edge of the tub. “Okay, next—”
He straightened out, trying to stand before you were ready for him, overcompensating so he wouldn’t hit the wall nearest to him and then hitting you with the full force of his weight as he toppled forward.
“Fuck, Spike!”
He was so goddamn heavy. His chest pressed against your face, forcing your back to the wall where the tap caught you in the back of the lower thigh and tore the skin. You couldn’t shove him back unless you wanted him to fall out the back of the tub and onto the floor, possibly cracking his skull in the process. It was tempting, but your reputation as a babysitter would be shredded.
“This isn’t exactly comfortable for me either, you know!”
“Ouch. Ouch. Fuck. Okay, I’m going to push you back slowly. Try to keep your balance.”
But when you moved your leg to keep it from being pressed against the spout, you hit the knob for the cold water, which came pouring down over your heads.
Spike cursed so loudly the neighbors could probably hear. “Turn it off!”
“Stand up! I can’t turn it off with you all over me like this!”
He righted himself too quickly and fell backward back into the floor of the tub, sending his legs sprawling out beneath you. Your feet were knocked out from under you and you fell on top of him heavily, bruising your elbow and knocking your chin against his sternum as the water poured on.
“Fuck,” he whispered, unable to do anything else. It took you both a moment to adjust to the pain and you closed your eyes to your own idiocy.
“Did you hit your head?” you asked finally, reaching out a hand to the platinum blond mop that was now plastered against his skull.
“Turn. The bloody. Water. Off.”
“Okay, okay,” you huffed. He groaned as you sat up, spreading your legs to either side of his hips to steady yourself and keep from slipping in the tub that was slowly filling up. “But this was all you. You had to watch Passions.”
“You’re the one,” he grunted, “who volunteered to play babysitter.”
The shower head drenched you as you twisted and leaned back to flick the knob off.
“I’m normally good with kids, so I figured I could handle one whiny brat for a night.”
You were breathing heavily, your body throbbing from all the places you had scraped and bruised in the struggle. Spike didn’t look much better, although you supposed he had his super vampire healing or whatever. You weren’t worried about it. Your clothes, on the other hand...
“Now what?”
Carefully, you stood and stepped out of the tub. You avoided your textbook on the ground as you grabbed a towel from the cabinets underneath the sink and wrapped it around yourself.
“You can’t leave me here.”
There was at least an inch of water kept in the tub by the plugged drain. It would probably serve Spike right to sit there all night. You both knew that the others would find it funny rather than an exercise in abuse of authority.
“Take the chains off,” he said, switching his tone from murderous to honeyed. “I promise I won’t bite.”
“You can’t,” you retorted, before realizing you had proven his point. “I mean, if what you say is true.”
“Do you think I would be here right now if it wasn’t?”
You couldn’t. This was the setup for a disaster. Things like this always happened to you guys.
“Look, I could’ve hurt any of you before you chained me up. I didn’t.”
He did look kind of pitiful, soaking and lying on his back in the bathtub.
“Maybe you were playing the long game. And now you’ve decided it’s not for you.”
Your words made sense, but you were wavering. Maybe you had a death wish. You left the room for a moment and returned with the key.
“Your hands stay locked up.”
“Fine.”
You were all too aware how close to him you were now, to his mouth. You barely breathed when you stepped into his personal bubble and let the chains slide to the floor. His lips twisted as he looked down on you and before you could step back, his face contorted and he stretched his mouth open.
“Ow! Fuck! Bloody hell!” he cried, putting a hand to his head as you fell back onto the floor on your already sore ass, scrambling backward. “It was a joke!”
“Buffy should have staked you,” you spat, but you led him into the living room anyway.
The two of you were still dripping all over the carpet, but you ducked into Giles’s closet after re-hiding the key and brought out two pairs of pajama pants and a t-shirt.
As it was, you had to take the scissors to Spike’s shirt and throw it out. It was impossible to get it off with the chains on, though you gave it a shot anyway and ended up tangling Spike in it. It was kind of gratifyingly funny to see his head tucked in under the fabric as he struggled.
“You bloody witch!”
“Stop squirming!”
The pants were worse. He had to sit down in the armchair as you shimmied his soaked jeans off, leaving him only in boxers.
“Like what you see?”
“Shut up or I’ll leave you like this.”
Getting the pajamas on was even harder. He had to stand up, support himself by leaning his hands on your shoulder, and kind of hop into the legs of it as you held them up. They were big on him, too, but you tied the drawstrings as tightly as you could, which meant having your hands near a very sensitive area for a few seconds. Ultimately, the pants still hung low on his hips, and you wrinkled your nose in frustration. When you pulled back, Spike had his lips puckered, stringently trying to avoid laughter.
“So you’re just going to leave me in damp knickers?”
“We’re all having to make sacrifices today. Turn around.”
You didn’t want to leave him again, not even for a second, afraid of the trouble he’d get up to on his own. You yanked off your own jeans and t-shirt, watching his back in case he disobeyed you, unable to ignore how muscled and lean he was.
Goddamnit, he really could kill you if he had half a mind to. You’d been training ever since you’d found out what Buffy was, but with school and a job, there was only so much you could fit in.
You wavered between turning around to unclasp your bra and staying in place to monitor him, but ultimately you decided it was safer to just hurry up and do it. You weren’t sure how much skin Spike saw when he went ahead and broke the rules, but it was more than you had hoped. You pulled the t-shirt over your head hurriedly, but Giles wasn’t necessarily a very big man, and it was decidedly short on you.
“Spike,” you hissed. “Go watch TV.”
“Well, we’ve probably missed Passions by now. But our romantic evening doesn’t have to be ruined.” His eyebrow quirked suggestively and you balled up your wet jeans, aiming right at his face.
“Go!”
You almost took yourself out on the corner of the coffee table as you pulled on Giles’s only pair of pajama shorts. You had to roll the top down three times for them to sit at your hips without totally falling off. Spike watched you do it. You gritted your teeth and said nothing.
When the others came back, you and Spike were in separate chairs, your hair still drying.
Xander opened his mouth and then closed it, glancing back and forth between the two of you. Giles seemed disturbed, his right eye beginning to spasm as he spotted the piles of clothes on the floor. Willow stifled a laugh, almost choking on it. And Buffy’s fists curled like she was preparing to hit one—or both—of you.
Spike didn’t look away from the TV, although the corner of his mouth twitched. You dug your fingers into the chair’s arm rests.
“I deserve a raise.”
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You Can’t Keep Safe What Wants to Break - Chapter 6, Jace
(AO3) (Prologue) (Chapter 1 - Magnus) (Chapter 2, Alec) (Chapter 3, Isabelle & Maryse) (Chapter 4, Simon) (Chapter 5, Clary)
Chapter 6, Jace Herondale
It takes Jace three tries to plead his case convincingly enough to the Council representatives assigned to him before they see he isn’t going to change his mind about his decision, but the request is finally acknowledged and approved, and a date set.
One week. He has one week left in the only life he’s ever known before he, for all intents and purposes, has to start from scratch.
He shares the news like a victory, but even as he heaves a sigh of relief he can feel the spike of apprehension now that it’s no longer a ‘what-if’ scenario.
This is really happening. It’s no longer a hypothetical he can debate the merits of, imagining a million ways it could go well and a million ways it could go wrong. It’s going to happen, and every decision he makes leading up to that moment, not to mention every decision he makes after, will shape a very real future for him now.
Not just for him - for Clary, too. They’re in this together. He’s doing this as much for her as he is for himself, and despite his fear of somehow screwing this up he has zero doubts about one thing: Clary is his soulmate. They were always meant to be together, and now they would be. As long as that one constant holds true then the rest will fall into place.
He’s sure of it.
---
Jace tells everyone that they don’t need to come the day he gets deruned. The past few days of waiting involve numerous reassurances that he’s fine, and will be fine after, and that he doesn’t expect any of them to be there. He could never ask that of them. He’s heard the stories - how the screams of the person getting deruned will echo through the halls despite the noise-dampening runes on the room - and he can’t ask them to listen to that. He’s already asking so much (too much) from them as it is.
Jace arrives alone. He has to - Clary isn’t allowed in, not even for this. But the moment he crosses the entryway he finds himself flanked by Alec and, to his surprise, Izzy.
There’s a small but sad smile on Alec’s face at the sight of his shock. “You didn’t think we were going to let you do this alone, did you?”
Jace can’t help the tears that gather in his eyes as he looks uncertainly at Izzy. She hadn’t properly spoken to him since the day of the family gathering at Maryse’s, and when she did it was only ever work-related. To see her here, now…
“Three go in,” she says with a determined nod, though her eyes are puffy and there are fresh tear tracks on her face. “Three come out. We’ll be there, hermano. Every step of the way.”
“Thank you,” Jace says, reaching out to pull both of them into a hug. If they notice the hitch in his breath or the way his hands shake ever-so-slightly they don’t say anything. “I love you.”
“We love you too,” Alec and Izzy reply, nearly in unison.
Jace thought he was ready to do this alone, but having them here just proves that he wasn’t. He needs them, now more than ever, and having them here means everything to him. It might be the first time all day that he’s truly believed he can do this instead of just pretending for the sake of appearances.
He can do this. With his family by his side, he can do anything.
When they pull away Jace glances down at where, hidden behind his shirt, Alec’s parabatai rune resides. Alec follows his gaze.
“Don’t worry about me,” Alec reassures him. “I’ll be okay.”
Jace knows that isn’t quite true. In fact, He’s sure Izzy’s here just as much for Alec’s sake as Jace’s.
At Jace’s continued silence Alec adds, “We both will.”
Jace hopes Alec is right.
They walk the rest of the way in silence, parting only when they get to the room set aside for the ceremony.
“You should wait outside, at least,” Jace tells them.
“Are you sure?” Alec asks. “They’ll let me in if I tell them to.”
Jace laughs a bit at that. Of course, Alec wouldn’t hesitate to pull rank just to be there for what Jace is sure will be one of the single worst experiences of his life. Honestly, he’s surprised that Alec is even giving him the option and not just waltzing right in with him.
“Please,” Jace insists. “It’ll be better this way.”
Selfishly, part of it is so he won’t see Alec when they get to their rune. He knows not seeing it happen won’t change anything, but he knows that if anything is going to break his resolve it’ll be looking Alec in the eye as that connection severs. He isn’t sure he could do it, and he needs to be able to see this all the way through.
“Alright,” Alec agrees without pushing the decision. “Then we’ll be right outside. If you change your mind just say the word and we’ll come in.”
Jace nods, not trusting his words or for his voice to hold even if he could think of the right thing to say. He gives himself a moment to collect himself, willing his usual bravado into place even though he knows his siblings will see right through it.
“Well, see you on the other side,” he says before going into the room alone.
Except he isn’t alone for long.
Brother Zachariah waits for him inside the room. He’s a silent brother, bound to the same rules and lifestyle as the others, but he’s always been different from the others. Ever since Jace found out he was a Herondale, Brother Zachariah has shown a new interest in Jace’s well-being, something about a long family history between the Herondales and the Carstairs. Jace wonders if he’s here to look after him in these final moments as a Shadowhunter, or just to stand witness to Jace letting down one last person with his decision.
“Here to try and talk me out of it at the last minute?” Jace asks
“No,” comes the voice inside his head. Brother Zachariah’s lips don’t move, but Jace swears he sees them curl up into a soft, sad smile. “A long time ago I made a promise, a vow to watch over the Herondale bloodline. I’m here for you, Jace.”
Jace nods. “Alright then. I’m ready.”
There’s a small raised platform in the middle that Jace stands on. It’s lined with a soft material, almost like a training mat, that doesn’t make sense until the first of his runes is removed and the pain catches him so off-guard that it drives him to his knees. He wonders if they do this for everyone, or if this is a small comfort afforded to him through Zachariah’s invested desire to watch over him, even now.
Even as Jace is betraying the very bloodline Brother Zachariah swore to protect.
Jace wishes he could say that the anticipation is worse than the de-runing itself, but he knows nothing but bone-deep, constant pain that shifts from barely tolerable to complete agony the moment it begins. It doesn’t get any easier with the second rune, or the third, or any that follow. In fact, each one somehow feels worse. It’s a level of pain so intense that there’s no ‘getting used to’ it. He fights the urge to ask them to stop, just for a break to catch his breath. There’s no stopping now.
It isn’t too late.
Jace knows that he can stop any point before his Angelic Power rune is removed and still be able to reverse the damage done. But for Jace, that rune isn’t the deciding moment. His parabatai rune is. Even though he’s expecting it, there’s still a moment of shock over how much worse the pain of his parabatai rune is.
Even in that moment of his own nearly unbearable pain, Jace’s first thought is that he prays Alec doesn’t feel it this strongly.
The moment the bond begins to sever with the removal of his parabatai rune, Jace lets out a scream so intense it feels primal, torn from the very soul of him. At the exact same moment, he hears a matching cry come from the hallway outside the room and knows that it’s Alec, even through the haze of his own pain and the dimmed sound of everything besides his own cries which echo through the room.
“Alec!” Jace cries out, and hears his own name called back in response. The flood of pain is suddenly twofold, the severing bond between them entirely open now. There’s nothing left to ground it enough to allow either of them the control to dampen what’s felt between them. Pain and love and pain and loss and pain and guilt and pain. So much pain that Jace has to wonder if there isn’t some kind of magic keeping him from losing consciousness at this point of the process, because it feels like the very core of him is on fire and burning away the last of what makes him.
Jace hates this the most. He hates himself for causing Alec this pain, for allowing the last thing they feel through their bond to be a moment of agony.
And then it’s gone.
For the briefest moment after the last tether of their connection snaps Jace feels nothing, the space where he once felt Alec now left with something broken and hollow in its place.
It’s worse than the pain.
“Alec!” Jace calls out again, the inability to feel Alec bringing out an instinctive reaction of panic and fear. Silence greets him, and he isn’t sure if it’s because Alec doesn’t hear him through the heavy doorway or simply doesn’t want to respond.
There’s a pause after that, and it takes all of his strength to look down at the blank space of skin on his hip where his parabatai rune was only moments before. Jace wants to cry.
What he does is throw up.
It’s all very undignified and embarrassing. The Silent Brothers pretend not to notice outside of getting a cloth for him to wipe his mouth with before continuing to remove the last of the runes.
When it’s over, the rest of the Silent Brothers leave, their job complete. Only Zachariah lingers to deal with Jace in the aftermath, a role Jace is certain he volunteered for.
“Take this,” Zachariah holds out a small vial filled with a liquid that’s an unfortunate shade of putrid green. “It’ll help with the pain.”
“Thanks,” Jace says, wasting no time in downing the entire potion. He trusts Brother Zachariah enough not to question it - it isn’t as if his pain could get any worse, after all.
It somehow tastes even worse than it looks, but almost immediately Jace feels a light tingle spread across his skin. He doesn’t ask how strong the potion is, or if he’s even supposed to have it. Jace has bent enough rules to know better than to ask questions he doesn’t need to know the answer to.
“Do you wish for your siblings to come in and retrieve you?” Brother Zachariah asks.
Jace manages the slightest shake of his head. “No. No one comes in yet. I’ll come out when I’m ready.”
Jace doesn’t bother to try and stand. He speaks the words from where he’s just barely managed to pull himself onto his knees, an act of being ‘okay’ that he drops the moment Zachariah leaves the room to speak with Alec and Isabelle, collapsing back onto the floor.
Jace isn’t sure how long he lays there, alone. All he knows is that the first time his siblings see him in the aftermath of everything, he wants to be standing on his own two feet.
It takes him the better part of an hour to collect himself enough to stagger weakly to the doorway on his own. He barely makes it two steps before faltering. The moment he opens it Alec and Izzy are by his side, arms reaching out to hold and steady him.
Neither of them says a word as Jace leans back against the wall and slides down it, slumping to the floor. Instead, they each sit beside him, holding onto his hands and just being there until he’s ready.
What can he say now? Nothing feels like it’s enough, like it’s worthy of this moment. This moment where not only is his own life going to be changed forever, but so will theirs, and their entire family’s. Is his own happiness worth that much?
Would they still be here beside him, supporting and comforting him, if they didn’t believe it was?
“It’s done,” Jace says finally, pulling his hands from his sibling’s to hold out his arms, observing the skin devoid of any markings. Alec shifts to get a better look and winces beside him. “Alec, I’m so sorry. When they… I…” Jace pulls his hand back to hold it over where his parabatai rune used to be.
“Do you regret it?” Alec asks. The question is entirely neutral, with no leading tone, no accusation behind the words.
“No,” Jace admits, not sure if it’s the answer Alec’s hoping to hear, but it’s the truth. The hard part is over, and it’s that much easier for Jace to see how satisfying the road ahead will be from here on out.
“Then don’t be sorry,” Alec insists. As if it were that simple.
Maybe it is. Jace is sorry for the ripple effect his decision will have on so many others, but he doesn’t regret making it. Through the haze and discomfort of the pain, he’s relieved that it’s over. He’s proud of himself for taking that leap. It looks like maybe Alec is, too. Still, there’s one thing Jace has to see before he can begin to even try and put this part of his life behind him.
“Can I see it?” Jace asks, eyes darting down to Alec’s side.
Alec hesitates, then lifts his shirt slowly to reveal a bloody scar where his rune used to be. “I didn’t want to leave to go clean it. It looks worse than it is.”
Jace knows Alec’s lying - that it hurt when it happened, and that he feels that same empty, longing feeling Jace does now - but he’s too exhausted to argue.
“I pulled a few strings,” Izzy adds, changing the subject. “You can stay in your room here until you’re done recovering. Just in case you need the infirmary for anything.”
Jace is tempted to decline but he can tell that Izzy wants - and maybe even needs - to have him around for this one last thing.
“That sounds great, Iz. Thank you.”
They fall back into a contemplative silence. It’s not a lot, but it’s enough that they’re all here, together.
Maybe they’ll be okay.
Maybe he’ll be okay after all.
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Essays in Existentialism: Polo 3
Previously on Polo
The sun was glaring; absolutely murdering the entirety of the world in the noontime shine of a clear day in the early spring. The heat couldn’t come just yet, still not allowed due to larger forces like the tilt of the planet and the distinct absence of a certain player, yet to be seen despite a not-so-covert glance at the pitch during warm ups. The entire event was going to be the largest of its kind, and it was like the world knew it, opening itself up and shining all of the kindest wishes on the sport, as a large herd of watchers made their way to find a place to watch.
The tents were stocked with alcohol and snacks, people in hats and those who were there because they were supposed to be. But along the pitch, bleachers filled up with anyone who wanted to watch, creating an atmosphere of joy and excitement that’d been lacking at the private matches.
There really wasn’t a reason to be there. Clarke had more than fulfilled her daughterly duty for the entire year with her increasingly frequent showings at events for both of her parents. She chalked it up to growth, and becoming a better person, to make an effort, to try her best to show her mother that she was happy for her, and to prove to her father that she was deserving of her name, even if that meant trudging through society things in lieu of his wife.
But seeing as Kane’s opening of the Gauntlet of Polo opening day party was not her mother’s, nor was it something she felt compelled to do to represent her father, Clarke had no true reason to go other than because Kane was nice enough to invite her, and she truly had nothing else to do.
“So where’s the hot polo playing Argentinian underwear model who recites you poetry and fucks you in stables?”
Clarke grit her teeth before sighing and shaking her head, giving her best friend a look that should equal death, if she’d been luckier.
“What?” Raven shrugged. “I want to get a good look at the girl that convinced you to be okay with your parents divorce. I’m sure there are over-paid therapists who would kill to know how to do it.”
“She didn’t--”
“And made you nicer in general to your parents. And me. And your life is less chaotic now-- I’ve noticed you are volunteering. That must be some of the worlds most powerful puss--”
“Kane! Mom!” Clarke interrupted her friend’s tangent, thankfulness apparent in her voice as she found the host and hostess.
Her mother was always beautiful, but Clarke began to see how much nicer happiness looked on her, and as much as she claimed to always love her father, there was a girlish spark that came when Abby was near Marcus. It took Clarke long enough to put aside her feelings to see it, but when she did, she couldn’t have been happier, despite the occasional bitterness about what was lost. It was Lexa’s stupid notions of love that messed with her brain and her ability to hold a grudge.
There’d been a truce between herself and Kane, reached gently and treated very cautiously, but still, it remained. She had dinner with them just a week ago when they were in the city, and it wasn’t entirely painful. As much as she wanted to dislike Marcus Kane, she couldn’t bring herself to do it because he was just… nice. And he made Abby smile in a way that Clarke didn’t realize she hadn’t seen in a while.
The real benefit of all of this love and joy being that while Abby got to live her best truth, it meant less comments about Clarke’s “wasted potential,” and there was a bigger focus on her art, which led to less stress with their average communications.
“Oh, honey you made it,” Abby smiled and hugged her daughter, kissing her cheek quickly, squeezing her shoulders. “I didn’t think we’d find you in all this.”
“Believe it or not,” Clarke explained as she accepted a quick hug from her mother’s boyfriend. “It’s easy to find the guy who owns a team in a tournament sponsored by his company.”
“I’ve been looking and couldn’t find you.”
“I took Raven to see the ponies.”
“Look at that,” Kane grinned. “She’s using proper jargon already.”
“Clarke’s given me a quick rundown, but I don’t know if I trust her expertise yet,” Raven offered after all pleasantries were exchanged. “Care to teach me, Kane?”
“The more the merrier,” he smiled wider, like a kid in a candy store, surrounded by people who wanted to listen to him explain his favorite sport. “We better go find a good spot. It’ll start soon.”
Raven turned and gave Clarke a wry grin before linking her arm with Kane’s as she maneuvered them through the crowd. Clarke let her mother squeeze her and follow along a few steps behind.
“It means a lot that you’ve tried to take an interest in something that Marcus finds important,” Abby offered as they meandered along.
“Just a good reason to be outside, and Raven loves selling rich people her programs and things,” Clarke dismissed her effort for anything benevolent as she grabbed a flute of champagne gratefully. “I’m fairly certain that’s the only reason she keeps me around.”
“Whatever the reason. It means a lot to me. I know it wasn’t easy to find out--”
“We don’t have to do this.”
“I know,” Abby relented. “You just never cease to amaze me is all. Marcus is important to me, and you’ve taken the time to get to know him, just like I’m sure you would when your father starts--”
“Dad won’t date anyone else.”
The words came out a little bit too harsh, and Clarke wasn’t sure why she felt so protective of her father’s refusal to get over a broken heart.
“He will eventually, and believe it or not, no matter how he feels about Marcus and even me right now, seeing you be open to our happiness will make it easier.”
“I guess I’m just a saint.”
It was meant to be a joke, but Clarke felt suddenly a little guilty. They took their seats beside Kane and Raven, and Clarke looked out on the pitch, wondering if she would be there at all if it hadn’t been for the oddest addiction she somehow developed for a stupid girl who argued with her every time she saw her.
She might not even get to see Lexa today. She might only see her on the pitch. And would that be a waste? Should she think about this perfect stranger as often as she did and look forward to this stupid even for the past three weeks? Was she proving Lexa’s points right about lust and love and soulmates? Did she believe in something like soulmates? How could she? And what did it matter. Wasn’t this a lot to do just for sex? Very, very, very good sex, but still--
“You’re not zoning out already, are you, Clarke?” Kane smiled and waved his hand in front of her face, bringing her back to reality.
“Just listening, making sure I remember everything.”
Raven gave her a look.
“Now tell me about your team. Clarke was telling me all about how skilled the one… what was her name?”
“Lexa,” Kane offered excitedly, before Clarke could bring herself to utter the name. “She is incredibly skilled. I’ve never seen someone ride with such passion. She is so fluid, covering everything, seeing plays before they happen. And she’s got this passion in her blood for the sport. She hits hard, and takes a licking-- Are you okay?”
Only when Kane stopped talking did Clarke realize she’d spilled her glass, letting it tilt back toward her chest as she remembered exactly how passionate and fluid and licking that Lexa had been. The cool liquid froze her chest, dripping down her front as she hurried to pat it dry.
“Fine, fine. I wasn’t paying attention.”
“Off in another world,” he offered politely.
“This girl has her head in the stables,” Raven joked, though only Clarke understood it. “I get now why Clarke’s so passionate about those ponies. You are a hell of a salesman, Kane.”
“This is something that costs me money. Imagine what I can do with something I want to make money off of.”
They shared a laugh and Clarke joined in, only half paying attention as the team was announced and she caught the now familiar jerseys making their way to the center for the start of the match.
There was an air to the polo player, helmet on, stoic and sitting tall as she stood beside her fellow teammates, her horse still as she was. Lexa listened politely to the anthem, she listened to the announcer, but she didn’t move more than necessary. It was by a stroke of luck that she found Clarke in the crowd, though Clarke wouldn’t agree anything was lucky about it, because now she had to sit in the stands after getting the full weight of Lexa’s glance. Only slightly did Clarke notice the pull of one corner of Lexa’s mouth and the fire behind her eyes. It made her gulp.
Lexa didn’t look away the entire time and neither did Clarke. She didn’t have to say anything. They both knew.
XXXXXXXXXX
It was an actual match, and a hard fought one to begin the Gauntlet that would last the next few months, and Lexa ached in the most delicious kind of ways after the win. Over the next week she’d have to win five more to hoist the first cup, collect the first purse, and move onward in hopes of completing the perfect Gauntlet, winning all three cups, and collecting the bonus purse that would triple her yearly income.
No pressure at all when trying to impress a girl who was set to inherit billions. With a B.
Showered and cleaned up, Lexa made it to the crowds in time to catch part of the second match. The sun was dimming, fading into the trees, giving a bit of a sunset despite the lights that shined over the pitch. It was a perfect evening for polo, and Lexa felt it, still riding the high of her win and feeling the limitless possibility of the next few months.
It didn’t hurt that she caught a certain girl’s eyes before it started and put on a show. No, Lexa didn’t think about that at all.
There was absolutely no way she had a chance with someone like Clarke, prize purse be damned. Lexa was the person who got a taste-- who was used for the pleasure of someone who had other responsibilities. In all of her dealings with people like Kane, with people like Clarke, she knew she was an interloper; destined to be a tagalong, someone who was never quite part of their world. Those were the things that she thought about after that momentary rush of seeing Clarke-- an intense loss at never having her completely.
She didn’t look for Clarke in the tent with the other donors because she could feel her. It would take her a moment to get back to being okay with being a plaything. It had its perks, and it wasn’t the worst thing in the world, to be someone who only got a taste when that taste was delicious. Lexa was okay with the being just a fling, if only her heart would listen and not get in over its head.
“You, in that dress,” Lexa whispered as she approached a bare back, the navy blue of the dress, dipping along spine, hanging on shoulders. “Has all of my attention.”
“Are you sure?”
Lexa half-smiled and grabbed a flute of champagne, handing it to the woman beside her before taking one for herself. Only then did she allow herself to look at Clarke, meeting blue eyes and lips she desperately wanted to kiss already, after exactly one second of being within her orbit.
“It’s becoming a problem, princess. You look too distracting in everything.”
“Maybe you should stop looking?”
“Would you like me to stop?”
With her words, Lexa shifted closer, and Clarke felt it. Their bodies moved around, hovering and refusing to touch though desperately wanting to feel the next. Clarke licked her lips and looked up from beneath her lashes while Lexa looked over her cheekbones as she took a sip and played with the stem of her glass.
“It’s been three weeks. You didn’t try to find me?”
“I’ve been busy training,” Lexa tried, unsure of if she was supposed to find Clarke. She never knew it was an option. “And I didn’t… Three weeks, and were you preparing for a Gauntlet?”
“You were the one that was trying to convince me to fall in love with you.”
“Or lust.”
“Right, or lust,” Clarke nodded. “I couldn’t find you. That’d just prove you right.”
“And we wouldn’t want me to be right, would we?”
Despite herself, Clarke smiled, small and there. She blushed a little, right beneath her jaw, near her earlobes. Lexa gorged herself on it.
“If you’re right, you get all of the power. I can’t give you that.”
“But it would be great if you did. I promise to be a benevolent overlord.”
“What if I don’t know how to be kept?” Clarke asked after a moment of quiet. It was the most honest thing she’d said in their time together.
Lexa reached forward to touch her, finally. She ran her finger along her forearm, and she paused at Clarke’s wrist, running her thumb along the small protrusion there. She watched her fingers move against Clarke’s skin.
“I’m good at being still. I’ve broken more wild things than you, princess.”
As she stood there, Clarke felt Lexa’s warmth, and she wondered to which level they were speaking, because almost accidentally, she’d confessed one of her truly darkest fears, that she wasn’t one to be in love, that she didn’t know how, that she wasn’t sure she was worth being looked at like Lexa looked at her, whether it be love or lust of something between.
“I completely mean to interrupt whatever is happening over here,” a voice rang out, oddly cheerful and not at all in line with the tone established.
Lexa retracted her hand quickly, finishing the rest of her champagne as a result of compensating for the movement. Clarke stood up, her body language becoming alert and afraid. There was the shame, Lexa saw and pretended to ignore, of being caught with someone like her.
“Hell of a game you played out there, Lexa,” the new woman explained as she grabbed them another round of drinks from a passing tray.
The crowd cheered for whatever was happening on the pitch, and Lexa looked toward it in hopes of finding a reason to escape, the trance of Clarke Griffin broken for a moment.
“And I heard all about how amazing your play was from Kane. Clarke couldn’t keep her eyes off of you, and I have to say, I get it now.”
Lexa found her interest turning back to this shorter, nonplussed member of their group, her interest piqued as she recognized a fellow interloper, although someone who seemed to own it much better and in a way she almost envied.
“I wasn’t--” Clarke began before taking a breath, earning a grin from her friend. “Lexa, this is Raven, my best friend dating back from elementary school, so please don’t hold it against me.”
“I couldn’t. She seems to have such great taste if polo players,” Lexa grinned, extending her hand. “Lexa Woods. It’s a pleasure to meet you--”
“Raven,” she offered, shaking it heartily. “I’ve heard many things.”
“All good, I hope.”
“Mythical, some might say.”
Clarke coughed and cleared her throat until her friend returned the hand it’d been shaking and went back to sipping her champagne. Lexa felt her chest puff a bit, and she couldn’t help it.
“I should go make the rounds,” she finally offered as the two ancient friends glared at each other, having an entire conversation. “I’m sure Kane has some constructive criticism, and plans for the next matches. I hope I see you both around, and thank you for coming to support us.”
“It was nice to see you again,” Clarke offered with a slight nod.
Brazenly, Lexa leaned forward, placed her hand on the small of Clarke’s back so that her thumb could touch the bare skin of her spine. She kissed her cheek.
“I hope you choose to find me, princess,” she whispered. “I love wild things as they are.”
Lexa pulled away quickly and shook Raven’s hand again.
“It was nice to meet you, Raven. I hope Kane didn’t bore you terribly.”
“Not at all,” she returned. “I hope to come to more, if Clarke will invite me.”
But Clarke didn’t answer, just stared at Lexa until she nodded and walked away, fading into the crowd in search of her benefactor.
“Holy shit she’s hot up close,” Raven finally offered after a moment where Clarke downed her champagne. “Like. Insanely hot. Superhuman hot. And when she did that thing, that being so close to you but not touching you thing. Damn. And then, I think she practically was undressing you with her eyes when I walked up. I’ve never seen eyeballs look like murder, but hers were coming for me.”
“You see what mean, right?”
“Yeah, you have a problem there,” her friend agreed as Clarke finally took a breath and nodded weakly. “I’d have to go for it.”
“Yes. Without a doubt.”
XXXXXXXXXX
Even though there was an entire week of matches for the tournament, Lexa still waited for a girl to appear, to make the move, to find her. She knew that it had to be Clarke who appeared, who made the move because she was the one who was most afraid. It was supposed to be a joke, but Lexa knew it was the most honest thing about her to admit that she was already in love with the stranger.
She knew nothing about Clarke, not really, and yet she felt like she understood her on a cosmic level, an inherent kind of language they both spoke, that defied time. Lexa craved that poetry, and perhaps it was the works of the great romantics that she kept reading and clouding her brain with such notions, but she couldn’t help it. It seeped into her very DNA.
The week led to the first win out of three for the Gauntlet, and Lexa hoisted the cup valiantly, happy that she was worth her weight in gold, as Kane liked to explain. And after all of it, after they made the trip home, and she made sure the stables were taken care of and schedule made for the following day, Lexa sat on the porch to her small home about five miles from the horses, and she opened a bottle of beer.
The night was colder than the day, giving off the heat and letting the warmth disappear with the sun, but it was a clear night, the moon bright above, casting moonbeam shadows in the tall grasses and from the fence posts. She could have lived in the city, gotten a place an enjoyed the splendor of her generous paychecks, but Lexa had a need to be near her ponies and to be close to the games. She wouldn’t commute if she didn’t have to, and she wouldn’t allow herself any distractions.
And then headlights appeared in her driveway, following the gravel up toward the converted cabin.
She stood and tapped her beer against her thigh as she leaned against the railing, squinting into the light in hopes of figuring out who was going to bug her after a rather long week and an impressive win.
She wasn’t in a dress. She was in an old jacket and jeans as she shoved her hands in the back pockets and made her way around the car once it turned off. It really was becoming a problem, because every time Lexa saw her, she was distracted. She really didn’t think about the car and how many questions she had about the absolutely devastating piece of machinery.
Instead, she took another sip and smiled.
“Congratulations,” Clarke offered.
“Did you watch?”
“I didn’t, but I heard.”
“Good news travels fast.”
Despite her initial burst of courage, Clarke paused near the stairs, looking up at the polo player, the lights from the glowing windows giving her a little bit of color. Lexa didn’t move to fix the height gap between them, instead, waiting for Clarke to make the moves. It was her porch, but it was Clarke’s rules, and she wasn’t sure she’d trained wilder things than Clarke Griffin, but she was a tamer of beasts.
“I found you,” Clarke offered, as she took a step.
“You did. I’m not hard to find though.”
“I think we should applaud the effort,” Clarke grinned, stepping up another until she was just one below. “I was impressed with your win. You must be happy.”
“I’m honestly happier that you’re here right now than the trophy.”
“Are you going to show me your home?”
“I don’t want to move,” Lexa offered as Clarke stood in front of her now. “I’m afraid you’ll bolt the moment I do.”
“I showed up. I made the move,” Clarke sighed, looking at her lips. “You have to teach me the rest.”
“Three conversations for you to fall in love with me,” she grinned, closing the distance and moving so she was touching Clarke, pressed against her front. “I can work with that.”
“Lust.”
“For now.”
NEXT
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