#found something to appreciate about the infiltration outfit! | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

lovelybarnes · 3 years

Text

home- b. barnes

pairings: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: language, alcohol mentions and drinking, the use of my own headcanon that bucky gets very clingy when he finds someone he trusts and loves

about: (requested!) prompt 21: person a tugging on person b’s shirt

bucky has been a lot clingier than usual. you suppose it’s your fault, you have dragged him everywhere with you since you met him- although that was to help bring him out of his shell and get him to actually go outside. you’re not sure if your efforts have backfired, as he’ll be trudging behind you like a lovestruck puppy wherever you go, no matter if it’s around the compound or in the small boutiques you frequent. you convince yourself they didn’t, since his days aren’t spent locked in his room, which you consider a win.

a knock you identify as natasha’s interrupts your mutters about an entrance you hadn’t seen before, natasha’s voice cutting through the peaceful silence. “i swear i saw you in that exact same place like five hours ago,” she states, leaning against your door frame as you shrug, not looking up. “you should take a break, the plan you made yesterday is great.”

you’re going over mission plans in your room, trying to figure out the best way to infiltrate the very last hydra base and succeed in cutting off the last of the organization’s heads. bucky is sleeping, his head on your lap. the hand that isn’t skimming the lines on the blueprint is combing through bucky’s hair, calming him down and chasing away his nightmares. once in a while, you coo inattentively when he begins to stir, not wanting him to wake up.

you had been away for two days, during which he got a grand total of three hours of sleep, the rest of his attempts driven away by nightmares. you calm him down, he says, so he’s slept in your room with you ever since you got back. it’s a strange sight seeing the former winter soldier, over two hundred pounds and six feet tall, resting bitch face pressed on the skin of your legs.

“there are always possible ways to fail, i need it to be foolproof,” you respond distractedly. natasha rolls her eyes and raises her hand, holding a pair of black heels between her fingers. “we’re all going out in half an hour,” she instructs, and you furrow your brows, staring at the intimidatingly tall shoes, “what? we are?” natasha hums, raising an eyebrow at bucky, “i haven’t been able to spend any time with you since you got back, besides, you need to have fun for a few hours.”

“i am having fun,” you lie. and natasha, unsurprisingly, sees right through it, shaking the heels and letting you know you have thirty minutes. you sigh, pushing the plans away and stretching, already planning to wear something casual, even though wanda will probably have a fit about it and point out the new dresses you have stored in your closet.

“you do deserve a break,” bucky points out from your thighs, and you look down at him, not realizing he was awake. shrugging, you agree, “i guess you’re right.”

bucky hums in reply, sitting up and looking over the blueprints you just set down. “i also guess i have to get ready, then,” you say, pressing a kiss to bucky’s cheek before going to your closet and taking out what you want.

bucky isn’t in your room when you walk out of the bathroom, light makeup applied (an illusion because you have no idea how to do it), jeans and a loose shirt that you somehow make refined, and heels that you bought months ago with no real occasion in mind. you hope the heels pull the outfit together and get you the wanda seal of approval, avoiding getting sent back to your room and having the woman make a mess of your closet to find something else.

you check yourself out in the mirror one final time, squinting at yourself. “you look amazing, doll,” bucky compliments, coming in through your door to stare at you and kiss your shoulder. you look back at him, appreciating how he looks, stunning as always. “you don’t look so bad yourself,” you reply cheesily, admiring the smile that adorns his face when the words leave your mouth.

it appears you and bucky are the last to be ready, seeing how everyone other than sam, steve, and nat were already on their way to wherever it was you were going. “whoo,” sam whistles, and you twirl when nat claps and asks you to. “you look hot,” she comments, and you do a proud little bow, “i can clean up when i want to.”

“and this will be worth it. we are staying out late like we used to,” natasha declares. you grin, “hopefully i don’t fall asleep. missions are tiring. especially when you finish them that quick.”

“ah yes, we are celebrating the new record y/n set!” steve reminds, and you tilt your head in smug satisfaction. “oh yes, i did beat nat, didn’t i?”

shooting the russian redhead a faux complacent look as she smiles, “enjoy it while it lasts,” she replies simply, and you nod, “i absolutely will. i know there’ll be a new one by next week.”

you manage to drink half of your weight in liquor by the second hour you’re at the new bar, chatting with wanda over her and vision’s relationship while sam flirts with someone next to you. bucky is surprisingly invested in the conversation, pointing out how happy vision has been- as much as he’s noticed, he’s still getting used to vision being a synthezoid- which makes wanda blush and smile wider. you can tell his social battery is running out, though, and you can’t blame him, exhausting your own with how many times you’ve rejected guys and held useless conversations with both the avengers and random people you bump into.

natasha has managed to get you into the dance floor, and you manage to have fun, even through the tiredness that hasn’t stopped coursing throughout your veins and smell of sweat and sex. you’ve sweated out the alcohol in your system, sitting next to your boyfriend while you’re telling steve what you saw the other day. sam is listening along, head tilting back in laughter when you inform him that tony wears captain america underwear. how you found that out, you prefer not repeating.

bucky doesn’t add on to conversations anymore, instead listening silently and driving away any men that dare to bother you with a threatening glare. it isn’t needed, but appreciated regardless.

which each hour that passes, you can see less of the avengers and more of the sun’s yellow, your body planted in your seat, listening to the others’ conversations. you’ve bitten back enough yawns to know your night is ending, your shorter answers only reassuring you.

you’re nodding along to one of tony’s stories when you feel a tug on your shirt, not needing to turn to figure out who it is, but you do anyways.

“can we go home?” bucky asks, weariness clear in the bags under his eyes as you nod, tangling your fingers with his vibranium ones. you bid everyone goodbye, bucky lingering behind you, his own farewells a silent nod of his head if any.

you nearly fall asleep next to him in the car, and he swears it’s the cutest thing he’s ever seen.

he’s waiting for you on your bed as you get ready for bed, walking out and ruffling his hair when you see how he’s sprawled out. “come to bed, y/n,” he pleads when you begin to walk away again, his fingers pulling at your-his, really- shirt. “i’m almost done,” you promise, fulfilling it when you come back not a minute later.

he wraps you in his arms and is out like a light, dreams of you replacing the nightmares he’s had, and he vows he’ll never let you go.

852 notes · View notes

randomshyperson · 3 years

Note

hey I love your writings so so much. May I request an AU where Wanda and reader are undercover on a mission and have to pretend they are dating for some reason? 👉👈 I just love those cheesy cliches so much hahaha but only if you like the idea really. Have a beautifull day! ❤️

Hello Sweetie, how are you? I hope well. So you said “AU” and i kind interpreted it as secret agents then, other then Avengers super hero. I hope you like this, is heavily inspired by Hitman videogames.

Wanda Maximoff x Reader - Undercover Feelings.

Words: 2.907k (short one) // Read on AO3 too.

Warnings: None ;)

You are in Italy. Right now in a very compromising position.

You can see the sea many meters below you as you are sneaking along the edge of a mountain. And then your communicator is ringing, and you let out a sigh, trying not to fall over as you press the device to your ear.

- Yes? - You sneer, dragging yourself along the wall.

- Where the hell are you? - asked Wanda sounding annoyed. - Our target is here.

- I'm a little busy here, honey. - You grumble, stopping your pacing only to wipe the wetness from your hands, not wanting to slip.

- Hurry up. - She asks, and from her low tone you imagine that she is trying to hide that she is talking to you. - I'm in the main square.

And then she hangs up and lets out an impatient sigh. Your job sucks sometimes.

You and Wanda were assigned to recover important information from a mafia figurehead, who was to spend his vacation on an island in Italy. The problem was being able to infiltrate the place. You had the bright idea to install a hacking device in the security system of the house, the problem was that it was fusing the rock of the mountain where the house was located. Wanda would not approve of you hanging twenty feet out to sea, but it was your job after all.

Fortunately, you were able to install the device into the Mansion's system. And now you would be able to find the place where the information was stored. After checking if your watch was receiving the correct signals from the device, you made your way back up the mountain as quickly as possible, not wanting to leave Wanda alone.

The island of Sapienza was small, so it didn't take long for you to locate Wanda sitting in the square, a summer dress leaving her legs exposed. You tried not to stare too hard. It was not an opportune moment to deal with your buried feelings.

Assuming a friendly pose, and straightening the summer shirt you were wearing, you walked over to her with a smile, also noticing the man sitting next to her, who was apparently your target, Johann Schmidt.

- Hello. - You greeted cheerfully. Wanda smiled and stood up.

- Honey, there you are! - she said excitedly, hurrying to stand beside you as she held your hand. When she kissed your cheek, she whispered "Play along". And you ignored the beating of your heart to force a smile as you looked at Johann. - I have just met Dr. Schmidt.

The man looks at you curiously, rising to his feet. You offer your hand to him.

- It is a pleasure to have you in Sapienza. - He says with a smile as he shakes your hand.

You nod in agreement.

- I must return to my duties now, Mrs. Maximoff, but I appreciate the conversation we had. - He then says, you think you are imagining that Wanda's grip on your hand has increased. - It was very enlightening.

As he leaves, Wanda lets out a loud sigh of relief. She lets go of your hand and turns to you.

- Where have you been?" she asks through gritted teeth, and you look at her quizzically.

- "Honey"? - You quip ironically, wanting to know more about the disguise. Wanda rolls her eyes, but you notice the redness in her cheeks. - I had to find a way to find out where the data was. - You tell her, sitting down at the table she was at. Wanda sits down next to you. And then you hold out your arm to her, looking around. You notice the guards watching at various points in the square, and you look at her tenderly. - Pretend that you are stroking my hand.

Wanda frowns, but obeys. You enjoy the feeling of your fingers together, but say nothing. Then you hold out your other hand, activating the clock to let her see the information you have acquired.

She reads it for a moment, then looks at you.

- The data is in the downstairs room, so we will need to infiltrate the mansion.

You nod slightly, careful to appear entertained on a romantic date, as you notice the security guards in the square. And then you really are looking at Wanda, her bright green eyes, and you feel a chill in your stomach.

- What exactly is our cover? - You ask with a smile, and Wanda blushes, averting her eyes and stopping stroking your hand momentarily, surprised by the question.

- I told Schmidt that we were engaged - she says, and you smirk. - Stop that face, that's the first thing I thought of!

- Why not sisters? Or friends? - You playfully tease, and Wanda lets out a grumble.

- Damn it, shut up. - She says but she is also smiling. - This is a romantic city, okay? It makes sense.

- Yes, yes. - You joke, and Wanda pinches your skin lightly making you laugh.

You straighten your posture slightly, your free hand that was on the table moving across the iron, until it reaches Wanda's arm, gently moving up her skin with a caress. You brought your hand up to her face, taking a strand of hair from her eyes to put behind her ear.

- How do we get into the house? - You whisper to her, looking at her intensely as you play with strands of her hair. To anyone watching from afar, you would seem very much in love.

- That's why our disguise is good. - She comments with a smile. - There is a ball at the Mansion tomorrow night. Limited access to the upper floors of course, but I'm sure we can work around that.

You smile at her, thinking about the strategy. And then the restaurant waiter approaches the table, and you move away.

You eat lunch in comfortable silence after that, and as you get up and walk toward the small apartment you have been given for the mission, Wanda entwines her hand in yours, and you want to ignore that it is just for cover.

//-//

Wanda leaves the apartment in the evening, shortly after you have finished going over the plan. And she comes back only two hours later, with a mischievous smile and bags in her hands, and you look at her curiously while sitting on your bed.

- What's that? - you ask, and she just hums, putting the bags on the bed.

- Something you're going to hate. - She comments with a smile. And then she is pulling a long dress out of one of the bags. - This is your outfit.

- No.

- Yes.

You let out an unhappy sigh. And you stand up when Wanda waves for you to come closer. She holds the dress in front of your body, biting a smile across her lip in excitement.

- Why can't I wear pants? - You grumble as Wanda lowers the dress onto the bed.

- It's a gala party, darling. - she says. - You'd draw too much attention being a girl in a suit.

- That's not fair. - You retort.

- You know how these Nazis are, and their gender rules. - She says, and you shrug. And then Wanda smiles, turning to the other bag, and you throw yourself back on your bed.

- Don't be so grumpy, at least you'll be able to carry a gun.

You look at her with confusion, and she giggles. She walks over to the dresser, and pulls out two holsters. She tosses one into your lap. - Wear it on your leg, below the thigh. They don't search this area.

You nod in agreement, leaving the holster on the bedside table. And then you lie back on the bed, while Wanda puts your clothes away. It didn't take long for you to fall asleep after that.

//-//

You were staring. And honestly, it wasn't your fault. Wanda looked absolutely stunning in her party dress. And you felt your brain short-circuit when she left the room wearing it. You cleared your throat, and tried not to embarrass yourself so much when you said she looked beautiful. And Wanda just smiled and entwined your arms together.

Now you stand at the entrance of the mansion, mentally calculating and analyzing the number of security guards and all the exits, trying not to let yourself be too affected by the girl next to you.

You pass smoothly through the search, the security guards looking very uncomfortable from the stern look you gave them when they touched Wanda, and in less than two minutes you are released.

And then Wanda kept her hand in yours all night, casually whispering the position of the guards in your ear.

Two or three songs later, and some polite conversation, you were sneaking downstairs, Wanda's hand in yours.

You sneaked through the kitchen, ducking and hiding through the furniture to avoid being seen. The clock on your wrist guided you along the way.

When you finally reached the small security room, you beckoned with your finger for Wanda to be quiet. You looked around in the hallways, and bent down to hack at the door. You barely opened the handle and Wanda hurriedly pushed you inside.

You were about to ask her what was wrong, but she covered your mouth with her hand. And then you heard footsteps outside.

When the hall was silent again, you tried not to be so affected by the proximity and stepped back when Wanda took her hand away from your mouth, a smug smile on her face.

You hurried to retrieve the necessary data, and hurried out of the room when you were finished.

And then there was a guard coming around the corner, and you were quick to draw your gun and knock him out with a blow to the forehead as soon as he saw you.

- No shooting, only if it is indispensable. - You tell Wanda.

You turn down another hallway, and bump into someone. The man blinks in confusion, but when he notices the gun in your hand, he quickly takes an aggressive stance, and blocks your blow. And then you are fighting, and he disarms you. But you are able to overcome him with a strike to his waist, and then you punch him in the face. As he staggers, you slam his head against the wall, and he passes out. And then you grab Wanda's hand to hurry before these men are found.

You are almost to the salon when you are pushed again, but this time it is soft hands against your waist.

- Don't freak out. - Wanda whispers before closing the distance between your lips. You melt in her arms, sighing with surprise and excitement. And you kiss her back, moving your hands up to her neck.

And then someone is clearing their throat, and Wanda breaks the kiss. You're not reasoning correctly.

- Sorry ladies, this area is restricted. - Informs one of the guards. Wanda lets out a giggle, apologizing, as she pulls you in the direction the guard is pointing to.

Before you can say anything, Schmidt is approaching you at the party.

- Maximoff and her fiancée. - He greets you two with a smile. - How nice that you girls were able to join the party.

- It's our pleasure, Johann. - Wanda says politely.

- There is a collection of private wines in my living room. - Said Johann with something you thought was an attempt at a charming smile. - Why don't you join me for something more selective?

You wanted to punch him in the mouth, but Wanda smiled, squeezed your hand, and nodded positively.

And then you two were walking upstairs, at least five security guards behind you. You exchanged a look with Wanda, worried about where this was going. And then you arrived.

Johann motioned for you two to sit on the sofa, while he sat in the armchair in the middle of the room. Fortunately only two security guards entered the room, and you eyed them, each on an opposite side, while the others waited outside.

- Tell me, do I look like a foolish man? - He started as soon as you sat down. You felt your heart race but didn't show it.

- Johann...

Wanda's words were interrupted by a big punch from Johann on the table next to the armchair.

- You come to my house to rob me. - he says angrily. - And you lie to me.

You swallow dryly, trying to think of exactly how you were going to get out of this one. Wanda seems to have decided to continue her cover to the last, and you choose to follow her lead.

- We don't know what you are talking about. - She denies it in a whiny voice.

Jonhann laughs, and then he pulls a gun from inside his jacket. Your body tenses immediately, but he doesn't point it at you, but places it on the table next to him.

- The CIA must think I am an idiot. - He comments, shaking his head slightly. - That I wouldn't notice any strangers on my island.

- We don't...

Wanda falls silent when Johann raises his finger with a deadly expression on his face. But then he smiles mischievously.

- You told me you two are engaged, right? - He mocks and Wanda nods slightly. Then he looks directly at you. - Touch her then.

You choke in surprise, frowning.

At your lack of response, he straightens his posture, reaching for the gun.

You lock your jaw, but Wanda touches your hand, looking at you with an intense gaze. And it takes a second for you to remember the gun she carries on her thigh.

You nod slightly at Johann, who lets out a high-pitched laugh, putting the gun back on the table.

- Is it okay if I sit on her lap? - Wanda asks him, pretending to be afraid.

- Whatever gets you there honey! - he comments with a mischievous laugh.

You clench your jaw, ignoring the growing anger in your stomach. Then Wanda touches your shoulder, looking at you tenderly. She sits on your lap, her legs stretched out on the sofa. In another situation this would be amazing, but now, you feel your body tense up and you are trying to control your anger at the disgusting look you are getting from Schmidt.

He lets out a grunt of excitement as your hands begin to move up Wanda's ankles, and you make sure not to expose her skin by keeping your hands under her dress. When you reach for the pistol strapped to her thigh, Wanda sinks her face into your neck. And Schmidt is quite impressed and doesn't react fast enough when you pull the gun out of the dress, and shoot at him.

And then you shoot the security guards, and you barely have time to figure out if you really hit them, when Wanda is already getting up and pulling you out of the room onto the balcony. You should have about five minutes head start before the security guards outside realize that it wasn't you two who were executed, so you look around for a way out.

- I don't think you can climb in this dress, can you? - Wanda comments, making you laugh. Then you notice the speedboat parked below the balcony. You run back into the living room, rummaging through drawers. You let out a happy exclamation when you find the key.

- After you, darling. - You tell her as you look down at the balcony. It wasn't a high drop.

Wanda jumps first, and you throw the key to her. And as you are getting ready to jump next, the security guards enter the room. You give them a mischievous wave before you jump, and then Wanda takes off, and you leave Italy behind.

//-//

It has been a good few minutes since you left the mansion, and you have already warned Natasha of your location. The jet should arrive any moment now, and then you and Wanda will go on different missions.

- You wanna tell me something. - She remarks playfully as she steers the speedboat. You stretch your legs out on the bench in front of you, still seated.

- I don't know what you are talking about. - You deny it in the same tone.

- It's about the kiss, isn't it?

- You're the one who's bringing it up. - You retort with amusement. Wanda laughs too.

- It doesn't have to be weird, you know. - She comments, and you look at the ocean around you.

And with your lack of response, Wanda puts the speedboat on autopilot, and turns to you.

- Don't stare at me, Wanda. - You ask with a smile as you feel her gaze on you, probably deciding what to say. She laughs, and ducks her head. Then you straighten your posture, and Wanda sits down on the bench in front of you. You look at her tenderly for a few seconds, and she looks back. - You know I'm in love with you, don't you?

Wanda bites back a smile, looking away with a reddened face. You ignore the uneven beating of her heart.

- And you know I'm in love with you. - She replies after a moment with a playful smile.

- And what are we going to do about it, darling? - You reply with a slight challenge in your voice, watching the sparkle in Wanda's eyes change.

The next time you kiss her, you are only interrupted by the arrival of the CIA plane. But you don't care, because you are sure that the next time you disguise yourself as a couple, it won't be just a disguise.

#wanda maximoff #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wandaxyou #wandaxreader #marvel imagine

497 notes · View notes

shorkbrian · 3 years

Note

Ooh i’m so excited rn omg...what i need rn is more of aizawa and villian!soulmate reader. They just keep acting like a brat until aizawa takes them home and punishes them X3

Prelude - shoutout to y’all for being so patient with me! appreciate it so so much. Also, there was like one other ask that I wanted to include here but I couldn’t find it, so rip. Also, @bbygirlpastel ty for the “Villain? I’ll show you a villain.”

Pairing - Yandere Aizawa X Reader

Warnings - dub con, non con, NSFW, overstimulation, no actual penetration. Creepy Aizawa, vibrators, uhhh literally nothing good here. Dead dove man, if you look at a dead bird and KNOW it’ll taste disgusting and make you sick to your stomach.... DON’T FUCKIN EAT THE BIRD. listen to the warnings my dudes!!

Music - https://open.spotify.com/track/6p8eEdiZLKJH8tcjGZuNTK?si=9r_2kgkoR56h9UkBCybxLw

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

Maybe he wouldn’t be this infatuated, this utterly obsessed, this angry with you if you had just given in from the start.

You weren’t even a high-priority villain, just some desperate nighttime thug that preyed on innocent bystanders. Snatching wallets, causing a ruckus, stealing from thrift stores or gas stations a couple of times a week. You were a nuisance, but not big enough to catch Aizawa’s attention - not until you stole a women’s watch right in front of him on the street while he was buying a snack from a food-cart before his shift started.

And yeah, Aizawa tried to keep a low profile, not flaunt his hero status in order to effectively capture and subdue villains, but surely you would’ve noticed the man clad in black, obviously sporting hero gear standing nearby. But you didn’t, and then he was grabbing your shoulder so he could drag you to the police station. Aizawa had been surprised when you wiggled out of his grip and took off, and damn, you were fast.

The game of cat-and-mouse had begun, and while the underground hero failed to catch you that night (and every subsequent night he saw you out on the streets) he was determined to do so. Well, maybe not /as/ determined. When it came to you, the man was easily distracted.

The clothes you wore were baggy, hid your form effectively. But if someone looked close enough, they could notice the curves of your body, especially as you ran, evading capture. Aizawa was loathe to admit at first, but it was tantalizing watching you flee from him.

He beat himself up over it. He’d always had a solid grasp of self-control, and usually he felt no attraction to his targets, even if they were wearing the skimpiest of outfits. One time he had turned in a villain wearing nothing but pasties over her breasts and panties (her quirk was seduction-based), and he hadn’t felt anything but utter boredom as he filled out paperwork at the police station while they found her some actual clothes. It probably had something to do with the “soulmate” quirk he had been hit with once, but Aizawa had never really put much faith in it, nor thought about it extensively. He had always had a bit more self control than other men.

So for him to almost have feelings for some low-life idiot? It made his skin burn with irritation (and maybe something else, but he wasn’t ever going to address that). It didn’t make any sense.

The fact that it didn’t make any sense did not stop his brain from plastering not-suitable-for-work thoughts about you whenever he ran upon you committing some minor crime. It was infuriating.

The satisfaction the man felt from finally pinning you down, taking advantage of a small stumble, tackling you down and pressing you into the cold concrete of the rooftop was probably unholy. It just felt so damn good, catching you, forcing you to submit, getting you underneath him. When he had flipped you onto your back, you wouldn’t look at him, just staring off to the side, almost as if you were ashamed.

You should be - stealing from anyone and everyone, being a brat, making Aizawa’s life difficult as you infiltrated every waking moment.

He had started to lecture you, starting out with his usual cool-headed,

unbothered demeanor, but slowly getting more and more annoyed as you still refused to look at him. Pretending he wasn’t there, refusing to listen - Aizawa felt the urge to slap you, just to make you react.

He settled for harshly gripping your chin, forcibly turning your head so he could look at your eyes. Eye contact was an important thing to Aizawa - it was the basis of his quirk, but he wasn’t prepared for the punch to the gut he felt when he looked into yours.

Words escaped him, mouth dropping open, his body frozen. There was - there was something going on. You took advantage of his pause, shoved the man off of you, took off running. Aizawa could do nothing but sit there, staring after your form with his own eyes wide and wondering. What had just happened?

He reflected on the moment for the entire rest of the night, musing over the strange feeling coiled in his stomach, the weird tug in his chest, his brain wanting and desiring and lusting and it was so distracting, he wanted it to stop, but at the same time, he wanted to indulge.

The realization finally hit him - the soulmate quirk he had been hit with, all those long years ago.

Some lady had come up to him while he was shopping, smiling at him toothily before asking him wether he believed in soulmates. He had stared at her for a second, before blankly responding with a curt “no”, turning back to continue browsing the selection of applesauce packets. A hand on his wrist, a burning sensation from his arm to his heart, and then he was rounding on the woman, ready to drag her to the police station for using her quirk in public without a license.

She had just cackled, citing something about soulmates and how he was going to believe now, he’d learn what it would feel like to find your true love when he looked into their eyes. Some sappy, romantic, crazy bullshit that he had ignored and promptly forgotten, before calling the police.

The lady had been deemed mentally ill, driven mad by the loss of her husband in a hero-based accident. Aizawa quickly forgot about the incident.

Aizawa didn’t believe in soulmates, and even if they existed, there was no way in hell that his soulmate would be a villain.

But apparently, the universe did not care about Aizawa’s opinions.

He tried to ignore it, turn a blind eye whenever he saw you sneaking around late at night, would turn and head the other way. But there was no denying the burning flame in his heart, the yearning to see you again, to talk to you, learn about you, what you liked, what you didn’t, where you had grown up, what your aspirations were.

Aizawa hated it.

But he couldn’t ignore it.

The feelings grew and grew, festering in his body like an open wound, infecting his mind, crawling through his veins and slowly seeping into every aspect of his life, until all he could think about was you. The man needed it to stop.

The cat-and-mouse game was picked up again, except this time, Aizawa wasn’t going to give you any opportunities to get away.

You were able to sense the change, could see the rabid look in his eyes when he sought you out for the first time since the night you had slipped out of his grasp. There was something different, and it wasn’t good, it was dangerous.

You managed to dodge him for a time, and some part of Aizawa swelled with pride that his supposed “soulmate” was so clever. The other part of him wanted to break something.

He was almost frightened by the change in him, this volatile anger, the impatience and the lust. That wasn’t who he was, but ever since meeting you, looking into your eyes, it’s what he had become. Maybe if he tracked you down, got close to you, spent some time with you, this needy feeling would go away. You couldn’t run forever.

Aizawa caught you during the daytime, when both of you were off-guard and not paying attention. It was luck, really, or maybe destiny or fate, that he had looked up to watch as passengers filtered onto the subway. You were wearing the same baggy clothes you always wore, hoodie over your head, earbuds in.

There was a backpack slung over your shoulder, and Aizawa watched you sling it off to place it in your lap as you sat down before the doors closed.

It was easy to follow you home, to the dingy little deathtrap you called your own, on the first floor of an abandoned, moldy motel building. It was even easier to follow you inside, through the broken window , his footsteps undetected through the blare of music in your earbuds.

It was less easy to subdue you, with the desperate fight you put up, trying to kick and punch and scream as soon as Aizawa’s thick arm circled around your throat. Still, the man had been subduing unruly villains for a while now, and it wasn’t hard for him to keep his hold on your smaller from, no matter how you thrashed in his arms.

When you finally passed out from the lack of air in your lungs, Aizawa gently followed you down to the floor, staring at you for a moment (god you were pretty, how had he not noticed how pretty you were?) before looking around the room.

It looked like a regular motel room, except there was no TV, there was signs of rot dotting the walls, and the air smelled decidedly unhealthy. He wrinkled his nose as he took it in - you would be much better living somewhere less unsavory.

Which, Aizawa’s home was perfectly capable of hosting an unwilling guest. Aizawa wasn’t naive enough to think you’d be happy waking up in an unfamiliar room, but he figures it would be better than jail. Like hell was he going to hand you off to the police, not when the ache in his chest was subsiding in your presence, the burning need for something lowering to a slow simmer. Justice be damned, Aizawa was going to be the judge, jury, and executioner in this particular case, and he had yet to decide your fate.

----

“You are insufferable - if you would just give in, everything would feel so much better. Holding out like this is illogical.”

He was tired. Tired of your stubbornness, tired of your refusals, tired of your insults, tired of the way his skin itched and blood boiled every time you spat at him or knocked over the plate of food he brought to you.

When he was met with silence, Aizawa sighed. This was getting old. It had been a month since he’d brought you under his roof, a month of holding back, a month of playing nice, a month of letting you “adjust”. But you hadn’t adjusted, hadn’t even tried, and he was tired.

“You’re only hurting yourself by acting like this.“

“Maybe I wouldn’t have to act like this if you hadn’t kidnapped me.” You spat, glaring daggers at the man.

Aizawa paused, almost humored by your spiteful response. “You would rather I have turned you over to the police? The prison system isn’t kind to pretty little things like you. No matter how tough you pretend to be, you’d be broken in less than a week.”

You scoffed, pulling at the chain that held your ankle to the wall. “As if this is somehow better. You’re a sick man, I hope you choke on your next meal and /die/.”

Aizawa gestured to the room, his patience wearing thin. “I could make it worse.”

And he could. He could take away the thin mattress you were sitting on, shorten your chain so you couldn’t reach the bare-bones bathroom, he could stop feeding you, or make you eat scraps like a dog. Of course, he could make it much better too, but only if you’d stop fighting him at every turn.

“I don’t even know what you want. You’re just an old pervert, you’re no hero. You claim to be good and just, but you’re no better than the villains you put behind bars.”

Within a second, Aizawa was crouched in front of you, gripping your chin, yanking you forward until you could feel his heated breath across your face, could see the tension in his eyes.

“I want you to behave.” He ground out. “I’ve treated you with nothing but civility so far, but if you’re so determined to see me as nothing but a villain, then fine, I’ll show you a villain.”

Aizawa was at the end of his rope. It was uncharacteristic for him to exhibit such anger, such impulses and wild feelings, but when it came to you, Aizawa felt like he was an entirely different person, ruled solely by his instincts.

With a push, you were sprawled onto your back on the mattress, quickly trying to scramble upright, ready for an attack. But Aizawa just watched, letting you panic before you realized he was going to stay put. Well, stay put for a time.

There were some things he needed to go get, to show you how good he had been to you, to prove that he had been nice and accommodating. But if you wanted to play dirty, then Aizawa could play dirty.

He stood, shoving his hands in his pockets, keeping his eyes locked onto your face. You were such a shy thing, barely able to hold eye-contact, always blushing and stammering and fighting when he made you look at him. It wasn’t his fault that your eyes were enchanting, drawing him in like a spell. If he could, Aizawa wouldn’t mind spending a few hours just watching you, watching your eyes take in the world. Of course, that was an illogical desire, but the man found he was having a lot of those these days.

You huffed as you felt him watching you. “You’re a creep.” The man didn’t answer, and you deflated, voice coming out small “Please…. let me go. I won’t like, steal stuff anymore, alright? Just let me go.”

Aizawa could bet that you were scared - after all, you were nothing more than a common crook. It’s probably the first time you’ve ever been held hostage, the first time you’ve been immobilized. You were probably used to intimidation, maybe even abuse - someone living in a rotted, abandoned motel and living off of what they could steal each day probably didn’t have a good story to tell about what had happened to them.

Either way, Aizawa didn’t really care. If it wasn’t for the tearing sensation in his chest when he was away from you for too long, he’d definitely have handed you over to the police by now. It was driving him insane, how he couldn’t focus, couldn’t sleep, couldn’t think, couldn’t live now that his mind was constantly occupied with thoughts of you.

When he went out at night, he worried that you would hurt yourself, or escape - get away from him somehow. When he was at home, trying to do the “right” thing and give you space, not touch you, not invade your space, he was bombarded with the single-minded desire of holding you, feeling the warmth of your body against his chest.

It had to stop. He didn’t know how to make it stop.

Aizawa had tried everything, from leaving you alone, to spending time watching you from the other side of the room - the man had even tried to erase the supposed “soulmate” quirk he was infected with by using his own quirk in the bathroom, staring into the mirror. Nothing seemed to help.

He had tried to be nice, he had tried to be good. But there was still the tugging in his chest, the itch he couldn’t scratch when it came to you. He wanted to do so much, but he wasn’t a villain, he wouldn’t force you.

But there lay the problem.

Aizawa wanted to.

He closed the door behind him as he left your room, the “torture chamber” he had said once, deadpanned tiredly in an attempt at a joke. You hadn’t laughed.

The man supposed that this last month had really just been him warring against the dark, whispering corner of his mind that urged him to just take. To do what he wanted, to lay waste, to ravage you in every carnal way he so desired. To force you to lay by his side at night, force you to give him long, loving kisses, force you into domesticity.

Aizawa knew it was wrong. He had tried to ignore that part of him, push it down, focus on the logical solutions he could think of, the ones that kept his actions pure and heroic. But at this point, with you resisting so strongly? How you called him a villain, a pervert, a creep? Why not let the villain inside take a moment in the spotlight.

That’s what he was thinking as he gathered items into his arms from his room, spending hardly any time picking out what he wanted and needed. He’d had so many dreams, so many thoughts of what he would do to you once you finally submit to him. The man had plenty of ideas, especially now that he was deciding to throw his inhibitions out the window.

The fact that you most likely weren’t going to be willing merely meant that Aizawa added a spreader bar and an extra set of cuffs to the growing pile in his arms.

Stepping back into your room was almost thrilling, seeing your eyes snap up, to the bundle of items he held, then at his face. They were so wide, scared, panicked. It was a good look on you honestly, one that Aizawa didn’t mind seeing more often. He was done being the nice guy.

“This is entirely your fault, you know that (Y/N)?” He mused as he strode forward, crouching to set down a towel on the ground, slowly laying each item down onto it. Might as well build up your fear and anticipation.

“If you hadn’t provoked me so, I would’ve been able to be continue holding myself back.” He could hear your breathing pick up as each item was set down, had to fight down a mocking smirk. “You had to be a brat though, egg me on like that. Well, if it’s not apparent by now, you’re probably going to regret that.”

“Please, please, oh god, this-you don’t need to-you-there’s-“

“Didn’t you just accuse me of being a villain? I’m just trying to live up to your expectations here, isn’t that what you want?”

Aizawa finished emptying his arms, then headed towards you, holding the extra pair of cuffs in his hand. He caught your eyes, watching you beg, try to push yourself back into the wall, away from him. There was no doubt that you were terrified, practically having a panic attack as you hyperventilated, eyes darting between Aizawa, the cuffs in his hands, the items on the towel behind him.

It was easy for Aizawa to grab ahold of your already-bound wrists, pulling them down to the ground, right above the top of the mattress. Quickly, one cuff was attached to your wrist, the other cuff slipped through a small, recessed metal ring in the ground.

After you had…. “moved in”, Aizawa had done some renovations. The angle he had you trapped at now kept your arms stretched above your head, immobile and unable to move more than an inch in any direction. It’d be uncomfortable if you were left like that for too long, but Aizawa was still planning on being somewhat merciful today.

You were still babbling quietly, pleading with the man. “You don’t need to do this, please, please please please please-!” You sobbed out the last “please”, trying to wrench your arms free. Of course it was useless, and you were doing nothing but tiring yourself out, but Aizawa didn’t mind.

It was easy to attach the spreader bar to each ankle, despite the way you cried and kicked, ankles slipping out of his grasp a couple times before he could finally pin them down. Aizawa felt eerily calm, patient, but at the same time seething, excited, almost foaming at the mouth for what he knew was to come.

“Struggling won’t achieve anything, but feel free to do so.” He encouraged, shuffling backwards on his knees to look at you, stretched out body on display.

You were still wearing clothes, a thin t-shirt, a pair of loose basketball shorts - all Aizawa’s. He had immediately told you to leave your old clothes outside the bathroom door when you showered the second day after he had captured you.

You had resisted at first, but quickly relented when the man raised an eyebrow, shrugging his shoulders before advancing towards you menacingly. You had gotten the message loud and clear, immediately backing down, agreeing to wear the clothes you were given.

Aizawa retreated to the towel, swiping a pair of scissors off of it. Brandishing them, he snipped them twice in warning. “You might want to be still for this part. I don’t actually want to cut you, so if it happens, it’ll be your fault.”

And then he bent over, carefully snipping the clothes off of your rigid body.

As soon as the last shred of fabric fell away, you breathed in air, immediately letting out a loud, tearful wail. Aizawa felt a twinge of regret, but the quickly-growing bulge in his pants currently outweighed any other feelings he might be having.

Putting the scissors safely out of reach, the man let himself rest back on his heels, surveying your body the way one surveys their food before taking a bite. And oh, was he going to eat you up.

You were writhing, tears falling from yours eyes, still babbling out nonsense as you begged for him to stop, to reconsider, to think about what he was doing.

“I’ve thought about this plenty. It’s called fantasizing.” He murmured, before gently resting his hand against your naked hip.

You spooked like a wild horse, thrashing the second his hand made contact, crying and wailing, shying away from his touch.

Aizawa was glad he had the foresight to bring a gag.

You were so worked up, you didn’t even notice him grabbing it, didn’t register his hand clamping around your jaw, wrenching it open and shoving the ball gag past your teeth. You quickly fought against that too, outright screaming, trying to shake your head, pull away from the hands fastening the strap around your head. But Aizawa was quick, and good with his hands, and your screams became muffled, nothing more than desperate background noise to the defiling of your body.

Resuming his exploration, Aizawa cradled your head in both hands, pressing a chaste kiss to your forehead. “If you relax, it won’t be as stressful for either of us.”

With another muffled scream, you turned your head, tear-filled eyes glaring at the wall.

“Or you can be a brat.” Aizawa laughed, a sound he wasn’t used to making. “Either way, it’s not gonna change what’s happening.”

Returning to the towel, Aizawa picked up the next couple of items, turning back to see you watching him through teary eyes. He presented the items in his hands, showing them to you. If you were curious, might as well let you see how he was planning to take you apart.

The second your eyes fell onto the lube, the bullet vibrator, the skin-safe tape, you wailed again, closing your eyes in horror, shaking your head. Aizawa breathed out his nose, humored at your terrified reaction. Not so tough when you were tied up, at the mercy of a man, were you?

Your legs were already held apart by the spreader bar, and no matter how you squirmed when Aizawa kneeled next to your hip, you couldn’t close your legs. When Aizawa’s warm hand ghosted over your stomach, you cried behind the gag, and when his hand made contact with your soft pink folds, you absolutely bawled, the sound loud and pitiful even as muffled as they were.

Aizawa wanted to tease, to feel all around, rub against your labia, tickle your clit, skirt around your opening. He let himself indulge a little, before pulling back, squirting out a dollop of lube onto his fingers. When the cold wetness touched you, there was barely any reaction, the way you were already panicking essentially making you loose all feeling.

That was alright, Aizawa knew that would change soon.

He let his hand wander around your entrance, massaging the lube into your skin, taking special care of your clit, your inner labia, the puffy folds. The man got lost in the sensation of your warmth underneath his fingertips, eyes slowly falling shut, a low hum coming from his throat in a natural attempt to soothe you.

The man didn’t know how long he stayed like that, gently massaging wetness onto your skin, humming, but by the time he opened his eyes, your weeping had essentially subsided. You were making cute little sniffling sounds, trying to calm yourself, your own eyes closed, limbs almost relaxed, as if you’d accepted your fate.

When Aizawa took his hand away to reach for the bullet vibe, you barely moved. When he pulled back the lips of your labia, nestling the small, ovular vibrator against your clit, you only flinched. He pinched your labia lips almost painfully, hiding the vibrator underneath them as he pushed it hard onto your clit, before taping thick strips over your skin. When he was done, the vibrator was firmly in place, immovable, covered almost completely by your labia, which in turn was held over the vibe with the skin safe tape.

The vibe was turned on, and Aizawa swore that your back arched so fast and hard he heard it pop. You writhed on the thin mattress, pulling at the chains binding your hands to the floor, trying to turn onto your side, bucking your hips, jerking and twisting this way and that at the overwhelming sensation. Aizawa had never used the bullet vibe on himself, but he’d felt the strength of the vibrations against his hand as he decided on a setting for you, feeling the tingly sensations through your skin through the tape, before kicking it up a few notches.

You were screaming behind the gag - Aizawa guessed you weren’t used to toys, but he felt no remorse. He put a strong hand on your hip, holding you flush to the mattress as your hips moved about wildly.

“This is what a villain would do. They’d tie you up, assault you…. Tear you down and exhaust you until you turn into a broken little cockslut. Aren’t I so much nicer? At least I plan on taking care of you after. Plus, I’ll still lo-“

He cut himself off, grimacing at the words that had almost slipped out. Aizawa wasn’t ready to admit that to himself just yet. He wanted to hold onto the allusion that he could resist you, that he didn’t need you, that you weren’t unequivocally important to him

Not like you were listening.

With a sigh, Aizawa sat back, content to watch you writhe as you wiggled your hips, the movement making your breasts jiggle slightly. Aizawa groaned internally, his erection straining, throbbing inside his pants.

“You’re so beautiful, your body is…. Indescribable really.” The man mumbled, eyes trained on your form. A sheen of sweat was covering your skin, making you shimmer, making you slick. Aizawa’s hands itched as he looked at you, wanting desperately to wrap around your waist, to hold you close as he rut against you. But he wanted to prove a point. He wanted to show you that he could be nice, that he had been treating you good, that you shouldn’t be a childish brat and shout insults at him every day.

But god, was it hard to just sit back and watch you.

He unzipped his pants, reaching past the waistband of both pants and boxers, hissing as he took his erection in hand. He was wet, leaking precum, but did he expect anything else? You were laid out in front of him like a feast, delicious.

You were so overwhelmed by the vibrator strapped to your pussy, you didn’t even notice Aizawa beginning to jerk himself off. It’s probably better that way, he figures - if you realized what he was doing, you’d probably have a fit. Your cries faded into tearful whimpers, long whines, which then morphed into guilty moans, enjoyment that you couldn’t hide. When you came the first time, Aizawa was watching your body, stroking his cock in time to the way your hips jumped against the vibe.

When you came the second time, hair a mess, Aizawa moaned your name a little, his own cheeks flushed with embarrassment and desire as he squished his thumb against the tip of his cock.

The third time you came, screaming out muffled nonsense, Aizawa couldn’t take it anymore.

He leaned forward, quickly undoing your gag, having to let go of his cock to work on the straps. When the plastic ball was free from your mouth, drool slicked over your chin, gulping breaths being taken, Aizawa surged forward, pressing you back into the mattress as he kissed you hungrily.

You whined into his mouth, naked chest pressed against his shirt, crying in overstimulation as the vibrations between your legs didn’t give up.

“Mhm, you taste-“ The man had broken away from your mouth, only to dive back in again for a quick taste before speaking again. “-so damn good.”

“Aizawa-Aiz-aah! Aah!” You keened, a fourth orgasm washing over you, leaving your nerves tingling, buzzy.

“That’s right, that’s who’s making you feel so good. You feel good, don’t you?” He pressed, crowding closer to you. He was in the process of pushing down his pants, his boxers, kicking them off.

“No, no no no, can’t-can’t-it hurts! Mmmfh-!” You moaned, back arching again.

“Don’t lie. Listen to yourself, you sound like a whore.” Aizawa chuckled breathlessly, turning you slightly onto your side. He was feeling hot, flushed, feverish. He wanted to do so many things - fuck you stupid, cuddle you close, give you warm hugs and kiss your pussy until you ground against his face.

“No I…. I don’t!” You yelped, the way he was positioning you pushing the vibrator into a different position. “Aiz-mmmm, Aizawa! Please-oh god, oh god-oh, please, st-OP!”

A kiss shut you up, Aizawa licking inside your mouth, feeling your saliva smear against his stubbled chin, felt you fighting against your bindings again. Where did you get all the energy?

He didn’t break the kiss to look down, to take himself in hand and guide his cock into the tight plushness of your thighs, right up against your dripping, messy cunt.

When he pushed forward, his mouth fell open. There was so much /pleasure/, he felt dumb, thick-headed and cotton-mouthed. You were so warm, so wet, and the vibrator was still buzzing away happily, pulsating through his cock as it rested against your pussy.

He wanted to cum, right then and there.

Feeling his thick cock pressing between your thighs, you wrenched yourself away from the kiss, whimpering as he pressed his cock up to chase the buzzing sensation, increasing the pressure of the vibe against your skin.

“Wait, ah, wait! Please, no more-mhmm! I’ll-I’ll be gO-od!” You whined, hips bucking again as the feeling built up again.

Aizawa thumbed at the wetness covering your face, trying to wipe away the tears, but simultaneously forcing you to look into his eyes.

“Shh, it’s okay. Let it out, I won’t look, there’s no need-fuck-no need to be embarrassed sweetheart.”

He reassured, knowing you were close to humming again. This time, he didn’t want you to have to finish alone.

With another gentle caress to your cheek, Aizawa grabbed your hips, before smoothly sliding his cock through your thighs, fucking right against your pussy. It felt incredible, better than anything else he’d ever experienced in his sex life - hell, in his entire existence.

Aizawa tried to hold himself back from humping against you, pumping his hips wildly, but he couldn’t stop himself. Not when he was so worked up, not when you were moaning and gasping in his arms, shaking towards another orgasm.

“That’s it, almost there, just a little longer.” He reassured, voice strained and almost cracking in pitch as he neared his end.

“I can’t, I can’t, don’t make me! Don’t-aaah! No, no, plea-SE!”

Your muscles tensed, Aizawa could feel it, your body pressed so tightly against his own. Then you were gone, eyes rolling back, mouth open in a silent gasp, brows furrowed as you were forced into cumming again.

It made Aizawa burst, feeling your thighs tense around his cock, your cunt convulsing, body trembling. He came easily, covering the inside of your thighs with his sticky seed, before quickly pulling himself free.

He had just had an earth-shattering orgasm, but he needed to get you cleaned up. After all, you had just had /several/ earth shattering orgasms.

The vibe was turned off, the tape gently pulled away You flinched at every tug, skin burning with sensitivity, all of your nerves fried and overstimulated.

Tape off, Aizawa reached up and unbound your hands, quickly throwing the vibe and extra set of cuffs back towards the towel (he hoped - his brain wasn’t working well enough to know if he was accurate or not).

Aizawa felt... good, warm inside. He didn’t want to acknowledge the feelings swirling around in his chest, the contentedness that came from just holding you, but he couldn’t exactly deny all of it either.

The two of you sat there, you lost in your own headspace (subspace? Aizawa didn’t know the terms.. but for you, he’d be willing to learn).

“You did so well, look at you.” The man breathed, looking down at your body. Fuck him, even covered in sweat and cum and fluids, you were still the most enticing thing he had ever seen.

You didn’t respond, just occasionally blinking at the ceiling, still as a mouse.

You were submissive and compliant for the time being, not struggling when Aizawa gathered you into his arms, cradled your head to his chest. His heart soared at the physical contact - you hadn’t let him do so much as look at you without yelling or snarking some mean insult. This was progress.

Aizawa kissed the top of your head, noting that the two of you would need a long shower in a bit.

You were so fucked out, Aizawa almost felt a little bad at your disheveled state.

At least he had been merciful this time.

445 notes · View notes

handwrittenhello · 3 years

Text

sweet little lies

Rating: M Warnings: Assassination attempts, poisoning, bombing Relationships: Geralt/Jaskier/Yennefer Word Count: 6.2k Summary: “He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed. "Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man. “Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.” -- When Yennefer of Vengerberg, Warlord of the North, receives Jaskier as tribute, she doesn't trust him—the rumor is that assassins and spies are trying to infiltrate her court. And despite being sent unwillingly, Jaskier seems perfectly happy—too happy—to be there. As tensions with the bordering country of Rivia grow stronger, she must beware, and figure out who she can truly trust.

or, yet another warlord au (but with warlord yennefer this time), inspired by @inexplicifics! read here on ao3.

“He’s very…” Geralt trailed off, arms crossed.

“Pretty?” Yennefer finished for him, appraising the man in front of her. He seemed entirely unconcerned about his state of near-nudity, and even less concerned about the fact that the entire court was ogling him, including the Warlord of the North and her right-hand man.

“Thank you,” the man said, bowing deeply. “I do try.”

He did indeed try, judging by how heavily his face was made up and by the numerous precious metals and jewels that adorned his ears and fingers and even one nostril. Yennefer didn’t think she’d ever seen more piercings in her life. The wealth the stranger wore on his body was simply astounding. Besides the more conventional jewelry, he also wore a shirt—if one could call it that—of fine gold chains interlaced, studded intermittently with shimmering gems. He wore no trousers, only a sheer wrap accentuated by a belt, made of yet more fine chains entwined. Finishing the ensemble were golden cuffs around his wrists—the entire outfit seemed to subtly shout prisoner, in fact, when she looked for it.

“And who sent you?” she asked, her voice ringing clear through the hall.

“I come to you as a gift, courtesy of King Vizimir of Redania,” the man replied, sinking into another low bow. “Julian Alfred Pankratz, Viscount de Lettenhove, Master Bard, and Esteemed Courtesan, at your service, my lady.” He made no mention of his own involvement in the matter, Yennefer noted darkly. She would not take slaves, expensive tribute or not.

But to publicly refuse such a gift would show blatant disfavor, and may spark an unwanted war. “You may tell King Vizimir I accept his gift,” she told the messenger who had accompanied Master Pankratz. “And you,” she turned to Pankratz, “may come with me.” She turned and left the hall, trusting him and Geralt both to follow her.

Whispers rose up in her wake, titters at what she might do with the new esteemed courtesan, but she ignored them. One did not become Warlord of the North by caring what courtly gossip featured oneself.

She pushed open the doors to her room, Pankratz just behind her, and Geralt, silent, bringing up the rear. He was good at that sort of thing—protecting her, always, and always with the taciturn seriousness most knew him for.

Only few knew what truly lurked beneath the surface. She was privy to more than most—as her right-hand man, bodyguard, and occasional lover, he let her see more than most. She could see a hint of it peeking out through his stony exterior now—he was disturbed, unsettled, though she couldn’t tell the cause.

She sat herself in her customary armchair by the hearth, Geralt taking a place looming behind her, and after Pankratz hesitated, she directed him to the armchair across from her. He sank into it quickly, giving the ridiculous impression of a puppy aiming to please its master. She rolled her eyes.

“We can drop the bullshit,” she stated plainly, and his eyes widened. “Do you truly wish to be here? Speak truly.”

He swallowed. “My lady, it is truly the greatest honor to be in your presence—” he began, but Yennefer cut him off with a look.

“I said no more pretty lies. I have enough of those in my court—I don’t need you adding to that pile of shit.” There was little more she despised than venomous intentions disguised. The best attack was one that could be anticipated.

“Very well, my lady. Though it is true I did not come here willingly—” Geralt stiffened at that, his hand going reflexively to the hilt of his sword, though Yennefer gave no outward indication of her disgust. “—I did not come here willingly, but, having found myself in your court, I find that there is little else I could wish for. In truth, I would much prefer here to whence I came.” He said the last bit in a black tone, hinting at some strife Yennefer knew not of.

“Well, I would give you the option, then,” Yennefer replied. “You may leave, if you so wish—I will supply you with enough to get by until you can establish yourself, wherever you may choose to go. I hear Toussaint is nice this time of year.” Pankratz smiled. “Or you may remain in my court, but know this—I tolerate no treachery, no spies, of any sort.” She leaned in close; the smile dropped from his face. “If I discover that you’ve been sent as some foreign agent to engineer my demise—” she locked eyes with him “—your demise will not be swift.” She spoke the last words softly, so softly, but plenty intelligible in the absolute silence of the room. “But you’ll wish it would be.”

Pankratz gulped.

“Have I made myself clear?” she asked, leaning back, releasing him from the uncomfortable closeness.

“Crystal, my lady,” he answered, smiling shakily. “And, if it’s all the same to you, I would rather not try my luck out there. Much easier to earn my keep at the luxury of the court.”

Yennefer wasn’t surprised by the attitude; clearly this was a man well accustomed to luxury. “Very well. And how do you plan to earn your keep?”

“Well, my lady,” he began, voice dropping into a sultry register. “You’ll find that I’m quite good with my fingers and tongue, as it were.” He slid from his chair, somehow managing to make it look effortlessly elegant, and shuffled closer to her on his knees. Geralt stiffened; Yennefer waited for Pankratz to dare touch her. But no touch was forthcoming, despite the strange flutter of arousal in her stomach that spoke to how she almost wanted him to try.

“Presumptuous of King Vizimir,” was all she replied. “And what if I have no need of a bedwarmer?”

Pankratz sat back on his heels. “Well, I have other talents. I studied at Oxenfurt—you may also hear me called Jaskier the Bard, at your service,” he said, giving a little half-bow, all he could manage in a kneeling position. “I would sing of your victories for all to hear and be warned, lest the—the Raven Storm come to batter down their doors!” He punctuated his sentence with a grand gesture, one that nearly knocked him off balance.

“No.”

“N-no, my lady?” Jaskier questioned, his arms dropping. “I can come up with something else, if you don’t like the name—"

“It’s not the name,” Yennefer said dismissively. “It’s the exaggeration. I’ve already told you, I value honesty alone. I won’t have any pretty ballads hiding bastard truths.”

Jaskier looked as though he wanted to argue, but wisely held his tongue. To soften the disappointment, Geralt came around and offered him a hand up. Jaskier took it, and also took a moment to stare appreciatively at Geralt. He was lucky she wasn’t the jealous type—she could have his head for it.

“You may stay,” she declared. “You need not pay for it in my bed, though if you do truly mean what you say, then we can discuss your… talents, as it were. For now, Geralt will find you rooms of your own and show you around the palace. You may have the rest of the day to acclimate, though I expect you in the dining hall tonight at sundown.”

It was a clear dismissal. “Thank you, my lady, you’re too kind,” Jaskier said as Geralt led him out of the room.

“No flattery,” she reminded him, but they were already gone.

Jaskier settled into life at her court like a duck to water. He did indeed have a talented tongue and fingers—which he proved the first time he sang for them, with a lute to accompany it. He bounced around the room, capturing the attention of all he met—he was impossible to ignore, loud and bright as he was, bedecked in jewelry.

Geralt had tried to offer him clothes when he first settled into his rooms, but Jaskier seemed more than content to prance around nearly naked. Geralt hated it—he complained to her, one night, that Jaskier was too distracting, pulling Geralt’s attention away. He took his duties very seriously—formerly a knight of Rivia, he now devoted himself to her with the same near-religious fervor, taking her protection upon himself.

It was sweet, if a little misguided. She could protect herself just as well, but it was nice knowing that he was there behind her, always ready to support her if she faltered.

“I don’t like it, Yen,” he said to her, late one night, as the fire burned down to embers in the hearth. They were curled side by side in her bed, sweat cooling on their damp bodies, Geralt occupying himself by playing with strands of her hair. “Unrest in Rivia is growing stronger—we could have a revolt on our hands before the harvest.”

“I’m not worried about Rivia,” Yennefer replied, waving a hand lazily. “Little more than whispers on the wind. King Reginald, gods spit on his soul, has too few supporters left to be any real threat. The rest either died with him in the coup or fled like the cowards they were.”

“I’m serious, Yen. Word on the street is that there’ll be an attempt on your life before the year is out.” A furrow creased his brow, his fingers growing tense in her hair. Gently, she disentangled them before lacing their fingers together.

“Is that not what I have you for?” she asked, a smile quirking her lips. He worried too much—his consternation was almost cute. “Relax. If any assault comes, we’ll be well prepared for it.”

“It won’t be anything as obvious as an attack on the city. Rivian forces are smart—they’ll send spies, or assassins, or both. You wouldn’t even see it coming.”

“If it will make you feel better, then you may begin vetting those in the court you find suspicious,” Yennefer relented.

Geralt hummed, his eyes slipping closed in satisfaction. She too closed her eyes, but the thought nagged at her—did she trust everyone in the palace? Most of them she’d known for decades—they’d worked under King Demavend with her, and had helped her overthrow him when he became too cruel to stand. She’d rewarded their loyalty with a place at her side, and they’d remained trustworthy through the years.

There had been few new arrivals since then—Geralt himself was among them, having joined her during the Coup of Rivia. And of course there was their newest arrival, Jaskier.

He seemed perfectly content in his new role. She had to admit it suited him well—he loved attention, and got it in spades when singing or when draped seductively next to her throne. He made good decoration, though she had yet to negotiate a more intimate role with him. She never held back from staring, though—and though he often caught her, he seemed pleased more than anything else.

Was he too comfortable here? It was true, he had settled in remarkably quickly—did he have a hidden purpose? But what use would King Vizimir have for a spy in her court, especially one as useless as Jaskier? He wasn’t present at any strategy meetings, or even privy to her company more than most. Perhaps he was an assassin biding his time?

Yennefer huffed. This was how paranoia set in—whispers and rumors crept in and set the mind aflame with possibilities until it drove itself mad. She resolutely cleared all thoughts of betrayal from her mind and tried to sleep.

Geralt commenced his investigation as soon as he was able, but Yennefer heard little else from him about it. She assumed that meant the search for traitors was proving unfruitful.

She interrupted him one day with a task at the southern border—there were reports of skirmishes breaking out, most likely bandit attacks. He departed with a promise to return by the month’s end, and she watched him leave with a pit in her stomach.

It wasn’t the first time they’d parted—so why was her stomach twisting so? Why were her instincts screaming that it would all go wrong?

There was nothing to worry about. She needed to take her mind off it, that was all. She went back into the palace and headed for the southern wing—where Jaskier’s rooms were.

“My lady Yennefer!” he greeted her happily, springing from his writing desk upon her entrance. “To what do I owe the pleasure?” Then he paused, frowned. “Where’s your shadow? I can’t hardly think of a time I haven’t seen him hovering menacingly over your shoulder.”

“He’s away for the time being.” She motioned him closer, and he went as if reeled in by a fishing line.

“Luckily you still have me,” he replied, biting his lip. He was yet unsure of his advances—good. She would keep him on his toes.

“And would you give yourself to me?” she asked, stepping even closer, until there were scant few inches between them. “Let me have you?”

“In a heartbeat, if my lady so wished,” he breathed, leaning in. She didn’t wait for his lips to brush hers; she surged forward at once, attacking with brutal efficiency. The kiss was more a clash of wills than anything tender. To her delight, he didn’t simply let her plunder his mouth, but gave as good as he got, hands coming up to clutch at her dress. She pushed him away, and his face split with confusion until she pushed him again, back onto the bed. His hands fisted in the covers as she climbed on top of him, finding the clasps that would free him from the confines of the chains that draped over his body.

Soon she had stripped the gold and gems from his body, and at some point her own clothes had disappeared as well, and finally she was free to take him how she wished. He was a good lover, enthusiastic and skilled—his talents truly were as good as he’d made them out to be.

Her only point of contention came near the end, when he began to murmur sweet nothings into her hair, praising her and begging in turn. Even after, when they lay panting atop the sheets, he continued to weave pretty lies, complimenting her prowess and beauty until she rolled over and pinned him down.

“What have I said about lying?” she bit, but there was no real heat to it.

“And as I’ve told you a dozen times, I speak nothing but the truth,” he replied, “but if you wish my silence, well—I suppose you’ll have to find a way to shut me up.” He grinned.

She was gratified to see that he was no longer the deferential pretty thing that had been gifted to her, but had instead grown into his role here and thus felt comfortable enough to tease and prod.

In fact, as the days passed and they spent more time together, he turned downright annoying, at times, whining about how cruel silver was to his skin—did she know that he was one sixty-fourth fae? How it itched so—but gold didn’t go as well with his complexion, and really, he should be wearing sapphires, not rubies, since they brought out the blue of his eyes better…

Yennefer tolerated it with confused amusement for all of one day before she took his suggestion and found ways to occupy his mouth, just so that the inane chatter would stop.

She was almost disappointed when the day that Geralt would return drew near. She looked forward to his triumphant return, of course, but she was apprehensive of how he would react to her getting so close to Jaskier in his absence. She was lucky that she didn’t have to contend with jealousy from him—he simply wasn’t the type—but nor did she want him to distance himself from her, afraid of intruding on something new.

And though she’d succeeded, for the most part, at distracting herself from his absence, she couldn’t shake the sense of dread that still came over her at odd times when she thought of him. He was plenty capable; there was nothing to worry about, she knew, and yet that didn’t stop her traitorous heart.

As the days passed, however, with no sign of his imminent return—not even a letter—she knew her worry was well-founded. On the second day of the new month—two weeks since she’d last seen him—she resolved to ride to the border with all the forces she could gather.

Jaskier worried at her departure—“My lady, you would leave the palace so defenseless?”—but she would not be swayed.

“You’ll be fine. The city can protect itself; you need not worry about a thing.”

“It’s not myself I worry for,” he replied flatly, a moue of displeasure overtaking his face. He didn’t grace her bed that night, and she resolutely told herself she wasn’t bothered.

The sun rose early, and she with it, saddling her horse and donning her armor. The air held a chill, heralding the coming of autumn, though it was unusual so early in the season. As the morning mists in the fields began to burn off, she and her forces rode out, heading south.

They were scarcely a mile away from the palace when she spotted something on the horizon. She called them to a halt, sending ahead scouts to report on what the disturbance was. They returned in short order, shouting joyously—Knight Geralt was returned, unharmed, though he’d lost his men in the interim.

“Yen,” he greeted her warmly, pulling short his ill-tempered mare as he approached. She seemed especially ornery today, hardly responding to his commands, but Yennefer supposed that after weeks on the road, she would be ornery too. “Sorry I’m late.”

“You should be,” she answered, but couldn’t maintain her anger for long, not upon seeing him safe and whole. “What took so long? And where are the men who accompanied you?”

He frowned. “They’re not back yet? I’d thought they’d arrive first.”

“No, we’ve heard nothing since you left. What happened?” It was unlike Geralt to leave his men behind—his sense of chivalry demanded otherwise.

“It wasn’t bandits at the border—it was Rivian insurgents making trouble. Easy enough to mop up, but in the fight, I got separated. Ended up having to lay low for a few days in Spalla. I gave the men instructions to return to Vengerberg if anything went wrong.”

“Do you think they’re still out looking for you?” Damned loyalty. While she valued it, it often proved to be quite the pain in difficult situations.

“Could be. We ought to send another team out, round them up.” She was grateful that he didn’t suggest going back to look for them himself—she would have expected that from him, stubborn as he was, but she wasn’t ready to lose him again so soon.

She motioned over the captain of her guard, Ivenka. “Take your best fighters and track down our poor wayward soldiers.”

“Yes, my lady,” Ivenka replied. The party split; Yennefer and Geralt led the rest of the forces back to Vengerberg.

Upon their return, Jaskier launched into a rousing song of victory—if he was surprised to see them back so soon, he didn’t show it. Geralt bore the attention as he always did, with an uncomfortable grimace. Once the commotion settled, Yennefer pulled Geralt into her rooms for a full report on what he’d found at the Rivian border.

“The talk of insurgence was right. A resistance has formed, with more support than we thought. King Reginald had more friends than we knew.” Geralt delivered the bad news with no inflection, which was how Yennefer knew it was a grave matter indeed.

“A resistance? How strong would you say? Have they any support from the commonfolk?” That was how battles were won, Yennefer knew—it all depended on the attitude of the peasantry. If their favor had shifted against her, they could expect full-blown war within the year.

“Not yet, though they’ve changed the minds of a few. More than anything they’ve sown dissent—talk of crop shortages, of trade disturbed. Trying to make you out to be just as bad as Reginald.”

Yennefer cursed. “We need to head this off before it grows any worse.”

“Parley? They might be open to discussion—this incursion may have been a way to get our attention.”

Yennefer nodded. “Send a messenger at once,” she instructed.

Geralt inclined his head in acquiescence and left her to her thoughts.

He had been right about the coming rebellion—was he also to be believed about the rumored attempts on her life? She would have to keep her guard up.

They received the Rivians a few nights hence at a banquet, meant as both a display of wealth and numbers. The entire court was assembled, and the visiting party arrived wide-eyed and trying to hide it.

Yennefer herself was seated upon her throne in full gilded plate armor—everything but a helmet. Geralt stood beside her, arms crossed, a scowl writ upon his face, his hand resting on the hilt of his sword. And on her other side, draped across the arm of the throne, was Jaskier, in his finest jewels and with a full face of makeup, not looking even a bit vulnerable though he wore almost nothing.

“Yennefer of Vengerberg,” the man leading the visiting party said, inclining his head in lieu of a bow. Beside her, Jaskier narrowed his eyes. “I am Gudros of Scala, and accompanying me are Velah of Hawksburne and Ozrias of Scala.” He gestured to the two behind him, who had so far stood silent and still, their expressions unreadable beneath their helmets.

“Vengerberg welcomes you,” Yennefer announced. “You may partake of food and rest from your journey. Once you’ve had your fill we may retire for more formal talk.” Gudros bowed his head again, and the feast resumed.

“I don’t like this,” Geralt murmured, barely audible over the voices and instruments overlapping in the hall. Yennefer glanced up at him—he looked torn, lips pursed and hands clenching and unclenching into fists.

“Keep an eye on them for me?” she replied. He nodded and slipped away—Yennefer looked forward to his report on what they were saying.

She was so intent on watching the Rivians that she hardly noticed it when an attendant approached with a tray carrying goblets of wine. “Milady,” he greeted, offering her a glass. She reached out to take it, but was beaten there by Jaskier, who snatched it out of the attendant’s hands before she could.

He grinned cheekily at her—this was almost too bold. She’d have to put him in his place later tonight. But she let him have it and reached for her own goblet, just as Jaskier took a sip of the wine.

The smell hit her nose as soon as she raised the glass to her lips. It was hardly detectable, but she’d learned a thousand and one ways under King Demavend’s reign to brew poisons—she recognized instantly the characteristic sour odor it held, the way it slid, oily, down one’s throat, the way it burned from the inside out.

She threw the goblet to the floor, heedless of the way that it shattered into a million pieces. “Geralt!” she screamed, wrenching Jaskier’s goblet from him—though it was already falling from his stiff fingers, his eyes bulging and his face reddening in mere moments.

Geralt appeared at her side instantly, as if he’d never left. Seeing Jaskier in trouble, he threw the consort over his broad shoulders and followed Yennefer as she fled to her old workshop—Goddess willing, she would still have enough ingredients to prepare an antidote, though it had been years since she’d set foot there.

The doors flew open under her hands, dust swirling about the room and cobwebs shuddering in the sudden breeze. Yennefer drew on the spark of chaos buried deep inside her, hardly used, but called forth in full force now. The torches flared to life at once, jars and pots flying off the shelves into her hands.

Geralt laid Jaskier down on the worktable in the middle of the room, now wheezing and coughing, spittle flecking his lips. “Yen,” he tried to wheeze, but she paid him no mind. She needed every ounce of concentration to prepare the antidote, something she hadn’t done in years.

“Mistletoe… wartweed… ground lichen…” she muttered, adding each ingredient in turn. The potion began to bubble, a haze descending on the workshop as it released puffs of smoke.

“Yen, he's not breathing,” Geralt called, and she cursed, stirring faster. Finally, finally, the sickly shade of green gave way to a deep turquoise, and then a solid blue. She rushed to Jaskier’s side, forcing his mouth open with one hand and pouring the antidote down his throat.

He convulsed, and, sensing that he was about to spit it up, she clamped his mouth and nose shut, putting her full weight into holding him down as his limbs juddered and jerked. But with no other choice, he eventually swallowed, his throat spasming under her harsh grip, and then he went abruptly lax.

She took her hands away, letting him breathe—it was a long, tense moment of waiting before he took an easy breath, no wheeze present. Yennefer breathed too, the tension lifting from her shoulders.

Jaskier’s eyes fluttered open. His gaze flitted around the room for a moment, landing first on Geralt and then on herself. “Yen,” he said urgently, struggling to sit up. “You’re alright?”

“Of course I am,” she snapped. “I’m not the idiot that drank poison.”

“Oh, thank the gods,” he sighed. “I mean, I had a suspicion, but I didn’t want to die for nothing—”

Yennefer froze. “You had a suspicion?”

“Well, yes,” he answered, frowning. “I highly doubted the Rivians were here under good intentions, and as Geralt has been saying, an attempt on your life was bound to come sooner or later, so—”

“You knew it would be poisoned, and yet you drank anyway? Why the fuck would you do that, Jaskier?” She dug her nails into the tabletop, itching to wring them around his neck.

What sort of fool would knowingly drink poison? Only the braindead or suicidal, and while Yennefer did hold his sanity in question at times, it still didn’t make sense.

He blinked. “Do you really have to ask? It’s as I’ve told you a thousand times in a thousand ways.”

No. No, he couldn’t mean—

“I love you, Yennefer of Vengerberg. I would, in fact, die for you, as we’ve proven.” He grinned. “Don’t say I never live up to my promises.”

While, yes, he’d said as much before, it still stunned Yennefer to hear it said so blatantly, and with such tangible commitment. She’d thought them pretty lies, the fanciful words of a jester that wanted only to flatter his lord.

Unable to come up with a response, she turned and fled. If she stayed in that room, she might end up saying or doing something she would later regret—whether that was wring his fool neck or have him right there on the table, she would never know.

So caught up was she in whirling thoughts of truth and lies, she didn’t notice Geralt was following her until she was nearly to her rooms. “I don’t want company right now, Geralt,” she said tersely, whirling around.

“We need to talk,” Geralt replied, stepping closer. “The Rivians—”

“Leave me alone!” she snarled, which was enough to make him pause, giving her time to dart into her rooms and slam the door behind her. She locked them with a fierce finality, relishing the heavy click that signified she was alone with her thoughts. She pressed her back to the door and her hands to her eyes, seeing the stars that burst behind her eyelids from the pressure.

If she could have but a moment to think, to sort out the mess of thoughts churning in her mind—but no, even now, she could hear raised voices, shouting, the clang of steel on steel. What kind of leader was she, cowering in her rooms like a confused animal, simply because of an ill-timed, unexpected confession of love?

She straightened her armor and drew her swords before opening the door and heading out to face whatever chaos lay in wait. As she grew closer, the voices grew more panicked, and she hurried her steps along until she was nearly running.

Jaskier came stumbling out of her workroom, looking worse for the wear and confused, searching for the source of the commotion the same as she was. “Go lie down,” she snapped. “I just saved your life. I don’t need you undoing all my hard work.”

“But what’s happening? Where’s Geralt?” he asked, craning his head. Then he spotted the swords she carried. “What do you need those for?”

She started to reply, and then—

An explosion. All-consuming, fiery hot, ripping her eardrums apart. She flew backwards and hit the wall, stunned. Through blurry vision, she saw Jaskier tossed like a ragdoll, slumped opposite her, bleeding from the temple.

Her ears were ringing; she blinked. Chunks of stone rained down on her like hailstones, a fine white powder covering everything in a thin layer of dust.

Slowly, slowly, her vision stabilized and her hearing began to return—the first thing she heard were screams.

Her people—she had to help her people. She tried to struggle to her feet, but it was as if her limbs were encased in plaster. She looked down and saw that a large chunk of stone was pinning her legs to the ground—with monumental effort, she lifted it off herself, grunting. She closed her eyes and breathed, in, out, and then staggered upwards.

She checked on Jaskier first—he had a head wound, bleeding profusely, but nothing more serious than that. She clumsily slapped his cheeks a few times until he roused, groaning, eyes squinting shut.

“Are you alright?” she shouted, her own voice hardly reaching her ears. He nodded, eyes still closed, and she left him to recover. Staggering into the hall, she took in the sight before her—it was as if a bomb had gone off, and maybe it had.

The entire hall was bathed in sepia-toned light, the torches guttering in and out in the wake of the blast. Chunks of stone and broken pieces of furniture littered the floor, which had fallen through to the dungeons below. To her surprise and immense thankfulness, there were few bodies—perhaps they’d had advance warning and had fled, screaming.

Four people stood in the middle of it all—she recognized Gudros, flanked by Ozrias and Velah. The fourth had hair as white as bone—“Geralt?” she called, and he slowly turned around. Wrong, wrong, wrong, all her senses screamed.

“Not quite.” He laughed, a chilling sound, unlike Geralt’s own rare laugh in every way. She knew then—this wasn’t Geralt. This hadn’t been Geralt for a good while.

“When?” she asked, though she knew exactly when. It had been that damned trip to the border. “Who are you? Really?”

“We are the rightful leaders of a free Rivia, and we would see her prosper once more, no longer under your bloody banner!” Gudros cried. “You have bewitched Rivia’s citizens. We’ll not see you reign any longer!”

“I’ve bewitched no one,” Yennefer snapped. “If you speak of your loyal knights turning against you—that was your king’s own doing, with his wicked deeds and cruel heart.”

“No! Geralt of Rivia was a good man—we’ll break whatever spell you’ve placed on him, right after we parade your desecrated body through the streets!”

Not-Geralt smiled, all teeth, and dropped the illusion—suddenly, he had changed forms, and now appeared as Yennefer herself. “You’re a doppler,” she said, teeth gritted. “What stake have you in this fight?”

“I’ve lived a long life, you know. To tell you the truth, I’ve grown rather bored with it—and what better game to play than this?”

“You’re sick,” Yennefer spat. “You’ve aligned yourself with murderers and oathbreakers.”

“Would you have me align myself with you, Kingslayer?” the doppler purred. “I see it all, you know—I’m in your head. I see how you kill, and lie, even to yourself.”

With a wordless yell of rage, Yennefer threw herself at the doppler, who met her swords with a sword of its own. It was an even match—perfectly even, with all her skill as a fighter reflected back at her. And with the other three Rivians advancing, it looked to be a quick end for her.

Her people would die, and Jaskier would be captured and most likely enslaved, and Geralt would remain captive to those who believed him brainwashed, subject to tortures as they attempted to break whatever enchantment they believed lay over him. And she would be brought up as an example, her dead body held up to the world to say: this is what happens to those who fight back.

She dodged the first swipe of Gudros’ sword, but it left her open for the doppler to press her back, putting her off-balance. Her foot caught on a chunk of rubble and she teetered backwards, falling to the ground, the doppler pouncing on her at once.

“Here lies the Raven Storm; blustered herself out, little stronger than a gust of wind at the end,” the doppler cackled. Yennefer looked into its eyes—her eyes—and braced herself for the end.

And then a chain looped around the doppler’s neck, choking, burning. The skin beneath the silver links smoked and cracked, blackening, the doppler’s hands scrabbling uselessly at the chain and burning too.

Yennefer looked up to see Jaskier standing tall behind the doppler, one of his many decorative body chains in his hands, his face creased in furious fierceness. Yennefer pushed the doppler off of her, rolling to the side just in time to avoid yet another blow from Gudros. She yelled inarticulately and stabbed upwards, piercing his gut through. Without bothering to check if he was dead, Yennefer turned to Velah and Ozrias, both of whom were advancing on Jaskier, swords drawn.

“Behind you,” she shouted, and he ducked a swipe meant to behead him. She darted over and shoved Velah away with a kick to the side, and in the same motion brought her sword up to parry Ozrias’ next strike. Behind her, she heard the doppler let out a guttural noise and collapse—hopefully dead—and out of the corner of her eye she spotted Jaskier trying to avoid Velah’s wildly swinging sword. He barely dodged the last one, and earned himself a neat score along his cheek, blood pouring forth from the small wound.

Luckily, Ozrias proved to be a rather weak swordfighter, and she killed him with a swift dodge and counterattack, cutting off his head in one swift motion. She threw herself in between Jaskier and Velah just in time, handily disarming her while Jaskier cowered and yelped behind her.

Pointing her sword straight at Velah’s throat, Yennefer demanded, “Where is he?”

Velah threw her hands up. “He’s in Spalla. Please, don’t kill me.”

Yennefer narrowed her eyes. “You hurt what’s mine.”

“Please, mercy—” She didn’t finish; she was dead before her body hit the floor. Mercy granted her a quick death, but nothing more. Not after kidnapping her right-hand man, her lover, not after bombing her palace and killing her people, not after hurting Jaskier.

Jaskier took in a deep breath, letting it out shakily. “Whoo. That’s enough excitement for me, I think. I need to sit down,” he said, and sat down right there in the middle of the wreckage.

Yennefer busied herself with cleaning her sword. “So you don’t want to come to Spalla with me?” she asked casually, and he sprang back up to his feet—albeit shakily.

“No, no, I’m in! Someone has to write sweeping songs of your victories there.” He paused. “Just, maybe, a moment to catch my breath? I’ve never really—ah—never had to fight for my life before. Never killed anyone, either. I think my body might be shutting down?” he squeaked, sinking to his knees. “My—my heart is beating so fast, gods, and my hands feel all tingly, and I’m shaking—”

“That’s the adrenaline,” Yennefer answered, kneeling down as well. “It will pass.”

“Good. Because this—well, is this what you feel all the time?” He looked up at her, a dawning sort of respect in his gaze.

She shrugged. “You get used to it eventually. But yes, more or less.”

“Color me impressed, then.” As they spoke, the color began to return to his cheeks, and his frantic breathing slowed, and his shaking died down. “Alright. I’m feeling better, I think.”

“Good,” she echoed, sheathing her sword and helping him up. “Because now we ride for Rivia.”

“To Rivia,” he repeated. “Hey, do you think Geralt will be impressed? Bet he’s never killed a doppler before.”

“Shut up, Jaskier,” she replied, but couldn’t hide the small smile that graced her face.

Her palace was in ruins, and Geralt had been kidnapped, and they were about to go to war with Rivia for the second time, but somehow she knew—it would be alright.

#the witcher #geraskefer #yenskier #yennskier #yenralt #geralt #jaskier #yennefer #warlord au #accidental warlord au #hurt jaskier #jaskier whump #in the rare event that i write more ask to be tagged

45 notes · View notes

bktaro · 3 years

Text

rumour (part 1)

erwin smith x f!reader

warning: season 2 spoilers, eventual smut, drinking, one night stand, 18+

click here to read on ao3

summary: there’s a rumour about Erwin Smith amongst the aristocrats of Wall Sina, and you were determined to finally figure out the truth behind it.

“There he is.”

Your eyes followed the direction your friend nudged toward, leading towards the entrance of the ballroom. The grand double doors spread open, welcoming a group of people to into the hall, all dressed impeccably head to toe in their best outfits with matching emerald brooches either wrapped around the collars of their dress shirts, or dangling by a chain around each of their necks.

His tall figure stands in the front of the group, serving as the obvious leader, shoulders broad and chiseled chest puffed out. He doesn't disappoint from your imagination of him at all— he’s just as handsome, if not more, as the rumours claimed him to be.

Erwin Smith, Commander of the Survey Corps had finally made his long-anticipated entrance to the party.

“So, it’s true.” You whispered to your friend; eyes unable to peel away from Erwin. “He indeed is incredibly easy on the eyes.”

His reputation amongst the aristocrats and bureaucrats within Wall Sina was one that sparked a controversial debate depending on who the question was to be asked. To some, he was the genius leader of the Survey Corps that ventured out to seek truth behind the unknown, a job only a select few could ever possess the intelligence to handle. However, to others, he was nothing more than the head honcho of a group of suicidal maniacs wasting taxpayer funds with little to no returnable benefits to the grander society.

You consider yourself part of the first group, especially impressed after his ability to sniff out and take out the illegitimate trash that infiltrated the Military Police and Royal Government— something that you were always disgusted with but were too outnumbered to truly do anything about even as a part of one of the noble families. In your view, he was a daring, brave and admirable soldier, sincerely passionate about what he does.

But as much as you admired his courageous acts, there was a lingering rumour about him you just couldn’t ignore.

“There’s absolutely no chance those raunchy rumours could possibly be true about a man like that.” Your friend’s jaw is nearly on the ground, her eyes glued to every move the tall, blond man made.

A waiter balancing a tray of champagne glasses pauses and offers the drinks to Erwin and his group. Erwin gives a small, charismatic nod in thanks, grasping one of the champagne glasses and tipping the bubbling beige liquid into his mouth. His eyes survey the ballroom, observing the attendees across the room, and he eventually catches you staring at him.

You expect him to look away, ignore it and move on. You haven’t even fully introduced yourself to him yet, and you imagine even if by some chance your father who worked closely with him before had dropped your name or showed a portrait of you in conversation before, he would have never remembered it.

But Erwin surprises you, locking his eyes with yours and giving you a tiny smirk against his champagne glass. It’s more than enough to fuel your confidence, reciprocating him and giving him just a tiny grin back.

“You know what?” You mumble, and your friend looks at you, eyes widening at the realization of the interaction between you and Erwin. “I’m going to see if the rumour is true myself.”

—

The night continues to carry on in the traditionally extravagant ‘Wall Sina’ manner. The bureaucrats and noblemen continue to drink their wines and other alcohols, noblewomen gossiping amongst each other, food continuously being brought out and served, and live classical music playing in the background, allowing the open space of the dance floor to be available for couples to sway along with.

You had split with your friend, sitting with the rest of your family at your designated table and took sips of your own champagne while quietly analyzing the scene in front of you. Your mother is off gossiping with the other noblewomen, and your father being the head of one of few legitimately operating branches of the upper Military Police was busy, most likely drunk in discussion about how ‘finally-those-good-for-nothing-lazy-leaders-all-got-removed-and-got-what-they-deserved” and “now-the-Military-Police-could-finally-regain-its-former-glory’. It’s probably an interesting conversation, but at the moment you were waiting for just one particular thing you know is bound to happen at any second.

And as if he could read your mind, he comes just right on time.

“Look who it is!” Your fathers face is red from the alcohol, a toothy smile spread across his face at the arrival of a new guest at your table. “The man who brought glory back to the military himself— Erwin Smith.”

“Please sir, I wouldn’t have been able to do it all without the support of you and your honorable team.” Erwin’s voice breaks out into a deep laugh, drunk members of your father’s team hollering and even slapping Erwin's back in appreciation. “I hope the evening is treating you well.”

“Good food, good drinks and good company, nothing more I could ask for a good time.” Your father stops, glancing his eyes towards you before continuing his sentence. “By the way, this is my daughter, the one I’ve told you about previously.”

Bingo— the moment you’ve been waiting for was exactly this.

Your eyes look up right into his, the most professional and pleasant smile spreading over your face. Offering a hand outward, you introduce yourself, and Erwin bends forward, taking it gently into his and holding on to your fingers, bringing them up to leave a tender kiss against your knuckles.

“Pleasure is mine to finally meet the daughter the chief has talked so much about.”

“No, no. I take all the pleasure meeting you, Commander. You’ve done such marvellous things for the people of the walls.”

Erwin lets go of your hand, his eyes lingering on yours for a little longer than he knows he should, before he pulls back, facing your father once again.

“Erwin,” Your father begins, taking another sip of alcohol from his cup. “May I request something personal from you?”

Erwin raises an eyebrow. He doesn’t know what he was expecting, but a personal request sure isn’t one of them.

“Of course, sir.”

“My daughter, she’s a smart one. Got into the Military Police on her own too, being top ten in her training year. I plan to pass down my position to her eventually, but only if she proves capable.”

You suppress a laugh from coming out at his words, trying your best to hold a straight face. You knew you were more than skillful enough to handle the position and found it rather cute your father thought otherwise. Not that you particularly felt offended at his words— you were smarter than to let the old man's dated standards of what ‘capable’ meant define your worth. But he was helping you get closer to the Commander Erwin Smith, what more could you do than just sit back and let him set it all up for you?

“I want a great leader like you to teach her more ways in becoming successful that aren’t the out-of-date methods us old folks use. You two are also close in age, I assume it would be much easier to understand one another's viewpoint.”

Erwin's response is nothing short of what you expect him to answer, the corners of his lips turning upwards into a small, confident grin.

“It would be an honor and a privilege to share my knowledge onto such a gifted young woman.” He bends his body slightly down towards you once more, offering the palm of his hand upwards towards you. “Would you be interested in having a discussion about it tonight?”

You eye your father, silently seeking his approval. When he nods his head in a way that is much more enthusiastic than you imagined, you eagerly place your hand onto his, letting him wrap his fingers around your hand.

“Gladly, Commander.”

His hands are large and calloused compared to yours, the years of training and firsthand combat clearly visible in the rough texture of his palms. Effortlessly, he leads you across the dance floor of the ballroom, heading towards the outside veranda that overlooks the city of Stohess, and where the noises from inside the party become muffled behind you.

“You smart, aren’t you?”

Erwin’s hand releases yours, admiring the view of the quiet city of Stohess under the night sky, the side of his body leaning against the railing. His broad statue is overwhelmingly large compared to yours, now emphasized by him standing mere inches away from you.

“Whatever could you mean by that?” You arch an eyebrow, questioning him back.

You’re not an idiot, and neither is Erwin. You’re more than aware he knows exactly what you’ve been scheming.

“I can see right past the facade you put up with your father back there. You’re not interested in the slightest talking strategies to become a better military leader tonight, are you?”

Erwin’s eyes shift to look at you, a knowing glimmer in his eyes in which you can’t help but release a tiny smirk in response.

“You caught me.” You take a step forward, bringing a hand up to rest your palm on the top of his chest. Your fingers traced the muscles of his well-defined chest through his dress shirt, eyelashes batting while looking up straight into his eyes. “Truthfully, I might have asked father to say I wanted advice just as an excuse to talk with someone as impressive as you in private.”

A smug grin forms onto his face. Erwin knew exactly who you were the moment he saw you, the famous beautiful yet intelligent daughter of one of the top Military Police chiefs. He never failed to get any woman he sought after, and he planned on making you no exception to that rule.

He’s enjoying this all just as much, if not more, as you are, internally gloating at it all unraveling quicker than he anticipated— partially due to your cooperation of course.

“You’re just as I envisioned. Quite the vixen.”

“Having daydreams about me already, Commander?”

“Can’t help it, the rumours amongst the soldiers said you were the most stunning woman in the entire Military Police.” Erwin’s gaze flickers from the bottom of your lips and works upwards, meeting your eyes once more. “And I can now confirm the rumours are indeed true.”

You want to roll your eyes, no, you should’ve rolled your eyes. But when such words come out of his mouth, they no longer felt cliched. That was the renowned power of Erwin Smith, he had just the right charm and skill to hypnotize just about anyone with his words.

And rumour had it he was a repeat offender in using this ability skillfully to the advantage of the Survey Corps.

“There also is a rumour floating around about you too, Commander.”

“Enlighten me.”

“You do exactly what you’re doing to me right now, charming and enticing me until I open my wallet to you to aid in the cost of the Survey Corps next expedition. Then to show your gratitude while taking the advantage of the opportunity to release your pent-up desires, you’ll offer me the night of my life, and when morning arises, you’ll be gone without a single word.”

Erwin does nothing at your accusation, staring at you blankly momentarily until breaking out into a low chuckle.

“That’s quite the ridiculous rumour, I must say.”

You embarrassed yourself. You let yourself get too cocky. Rumours were rumours for a reason. Your friend was right, there was no possible way such a dignified man like Erwin Smith would do something like that. Or at least, that’s what you think briefly.

Erwin’s hands find their way to the small of your back, pushing your body closer to his. His face looms over yours, illuminated by the moonlight shining above the night sky, and the smug grin on his face widening before asking you one last question.

“Would you like to make that rumour into reality?”

#erwin x y/n #erwin smut #attack on titan erwin #erwin smith #erwin x reader #aot fic

61 notes · View notes

llybian · 3 years

Text

Sniffing through my old Slayers files, I found a list called “Silly Slayers Prompts” some of which I ended up using, some of which I did not...

Due to a large real-estate acquisition, Xellos is now Filia’s landlord.

Filia goes to a Lady Gaga concert.

Xellos tries to get Milgazia to give him advice on how to go about wooing a dragon girl.

Val wants to get a tattoo and Filia is mortified.

Amelia is asked to perform her princessly duties and kiss a frog.

Gourry chokes on an overlarge meatball.

Xellos gives Zelas a Mother’s Day gift that she does not really appreciate.

The entire Seyruun castle staff receives sensitivity training on how to deal with Zelgadis.

Lina realizes that not everything should be deep-fried.

Zelgadis can catch a bullet with his teeth.

Gourry competes against a mysterious, talking book for Lina’s attention.

Having lost her last spare garter/mace holster, Filia must go lingerie shopping.

Xellos gives Filia ‘The Talk’.

Filia grievously misuses Xellos’s vast powers.

Amelia is comforted by strong, rocky arms.

Lina and Gourry infiltrate a nudist colony.

No prison can hold Zelgadis Greywords!

Lina sells her talismans back to Xellos for an antacid.

Zelgadis does not have a goatee.

Lina tells it like it is.

Gourry reads scribbles on the bathroom wall.

Lina gives Xellos a nickname.

Filia and Fem!Xellos. You fill in the blanks.

Xellos ruins Val’s first communion.

Xellos spends an afternoon making daisy-chains.

Xellos does not appreciate your wild, uninformed guesses as to how he spends his spare time.

Xellos can actually cook very well, thankyouverymuch and your shots at his supposed lack of skill are unfair and a bad reflection on you moreso than on him.

Filia persuades by intimidation.

Val sells magazine subscriptions in an attempt to win a bike.

Gaav buys eyebrow wax and uses it to a purpose it was never intended for.

After a blow to the head by Lina for something he didn’t deserve, Gourry has an out-of-body experience in which he meets several demon lords who really were not expecting company.

Water-type moves are super-effective against Zelgadis. (Alternate Title: Zelgadis suffers from erosion)

Lina and Gourry… and a big coat. It writes itself!

Lina doesn’t like the coconut flavored ones.

Amelia fights for the Fish-person’s right to vote.

Amelia paints Zelgadis for Easter.

Jillas eats the last of the pumpkin seeds.

Zelgadis is not in a coma, whatever Amelia has been led to believe.

Filia makes up a lie about Xellos in order to terrify Val into finishing all the food on his plate.

Lina takes on an army of slugs armed only with a single salt-shaker.

Filia considers the fact that Xellos is OLD. Good GOD is he ever OLD!

Xellos does not make good girls go bad whatever he may tell you.

Xellos’s hair is not a laughing matter, young lady.

The spell calls for the lifeblood of an unspoiled virgin. So… which one of you is it gonna be?

Gourry’s safety is dismissed as irrelevant.

Filia angrily informs Xellos that it was only funny the first time.

Filia decides to make a little extra money by taking passengers on commercial flights.

Filia learns that you should never let Xellos book a vacation for you.

The gems on Filia’s outfit operate on mood ring technology.

Xellos may have exaggerated when he said he was busy.

#slayers

21 notes · View notes

bellygunnr · 3 years

Text

Of the Same Steel and Temper

John regarded Dr. Halsey calmly as she revealed the information he already knew-- Project MJOLNIR was entering its final stage, and he was a player in its execution. He doesn’t even smile as she continues to talk, only resting his holographic hand on the hilt of his holographic blade, allowing bits of his code to fritz together as he ran operations elsewhere. He was rather proud of his latest bit of detective work. Infiltration was his specialty.

Not that he enjoyed it, but he did like showing off his prowess in all tasks.

“I’ve already selected my teammate,” John announces, cutting off Dr. Halsey.

She stops short, raising an eyebrow, but expression otherwise unreadable.

“And who have you selected, John?” she says patiently.

John unsheathes his blade with a flourish and points theatrically at a picture frame on the corner of Dr. Halsey’s crowded, messy desk. In the picture, a single woman stood at attention while an Admiral-- Stanforth, he notes-- pinned the UNSC Legion of Honor to her chest. Her expression was relatively schooled, but a mischievous brand of fire shone in her eyes, permanently captured in eternity by the photo. He didn’t have to look at the other citations and medals weighing on her chest to know that she was well-accomplished.

A moment passes. When Dr. Halsey doesn’t say anything, seemingly unable to recover, John forges on.

“Master Chief Petty Officer Cortana-117,” he says, weighing each word carefully, “is a highly accomplished and experienced Spartan. I’ve taken the liberty of researching her thoroughly and I like what I’ve seen. As I speak, I am already calculating our compatibility and… find them within acceptable parameters.”

“It seems you have made up your mind, John,” Dr. Halsey says slowly. “But are you sure?”

“I do not dwell,” John says seriously. “She seems to know how to take action. I can appreciate that in a body.”

“But you know she excels particularly nowhere in terms of physical or mental prowess, yet is the most willingly to undertake risks. She got that medal by attacking Covenant head-on and saving Marines in the process.”

“I am aware. Again, that is something I can appreciate in a body, Dr. Halsey.”

John had wandered off from his holopad to stand inches away from Dr. Halsey’s face. His sword is back in its sheathe, hands clasped firmly behind his back. Under the lights, his ancient Spartan armor glitters emerald green and fire yellow, body rapidly shifting between the two colors.

Despite his level best efforts, his emotions tended to reveal themselves. He was tense and excited but most of all, determined. He would have Cortana as his teammate.

“And what of a mission if she were to become compromised? What would you do if she could die?”

John immediately tenses, his holographic form flashing a brilliant ruby red. A second later, it washes back into his neutral dark green, swirling across his stout frame in ragged bands of hue.

“I don’t think you should ask me questions you are not prepared to answer yourself, doctor,” he replies, affecting a flat tone. “You insult me.”

AI and human stare at each other. Dr. Halsey seems flustered, her thoughts visibly racing behind steely eyes. She cuts one last look at Cortana’s photo before allowing her demeanor to shift, conceding defeat with just a tip of her head.

“Very well, then, John. You can have her,” Dr. Halsey says. “Now, what of the rest of the mission?”

---

The differences in the new model of armor ranged from subtle to obvious. It was definitely heavier, but the modification of her neural implants made the weight negligible. If she was feeling generous, she might even say she was moving faster in this armor. There was also the addition of the shielding-- a shimmering electric layer that reminded her of oil spills on pavement. Iridescent and full of color, but dangerous.

But there was one more thing-- the second major change they had given Mjolnir. So far, it hadn’t come up at all, overshadowed by the shields. The shields were fantastic (as long as she didn’t slip and fall), but it was high time they moved along.

She cocks her head wordlessly at Dr. Halsey. In reply, Dr. Halsey withdraws something from her bag.

“Your own neural lace has been upgraded to better interact with the armor, as you may know,” she starts, “but it also it interface with an AI. A layer of memory-processor super-conductor has been added between the reactive and bio-layers of your armor.”

Cortana nods once. “The same stuff found in an AI’s core?”

“Correct. Your armor will be able to carry an AI-- the same kind that starships house. John will be able to interface between you and the suit. His primary objective will be to provide intelligence support while you’re on the field.”

“What does that entail?” Cortana says, tilting her helmet.

She liked AIs. They were useful and often had personality. She wasn’t sure about sharing her armor with one, however. John wasn’t even impressive name-- who went to all the trouble of making an AI just to name it John?

“John has been outfitted with the best of ONI’s computer infiltration routines and software. He is also equipped with Covenant translation programs. He’s also quite resourceful, but his specialty is, essentially, spywork,” Dr. Halsey replies.

Hm. So this John would be the AI they brought with them, should the upcoming test go well.

“How much… jurisdiction will he have over the suit?” she asks cautiously.

“None. You will have full control of it at all times. John will only be reading and translating the link you have between your brain and the suit-- and improving upon it, so expect that whatever you’re feeling now to be multiplied.”

Cortana liked the sound of that. Real-time intelligence data and greater physical performance? She would be unstoppable. Provided they got along, of course. But everything Halsey was telling her just raised more questions, but before she could ask, Halsey started talking again.

“I’m afraid we only have a small window of time. Please, kneel down so that we may insert the AI into the suit.”

Obediently, she takes a knee, bowing her head to expose the chip’s slot. There’s a moment of hands flicking something open, then a rush of ice water and pain jolts the back of her neck. The sensation trickles like water down the length of her spine before dissipating, leaving her strangely… the same.

Then the AI spoke, and everything was different.

“Hello, Master Chief,” a deep voice said. It was slightly raspy and reverberated in the suit’s speakers.

“Hello, John,” she answers, eyes wide. “Got enough room in there?”

“Not nearly enough. It will do… Thank you for asking.”

Oh. Well, at least he was honest. It was probably difficult to jam the processing power of a starship into the fractional space of her Mjolnir, though she had to wonder how he was compensating for it.

“Let’s begin the test. The conditions have been changed to involve combat-- not ideal, but it should provide ample opportunity for you two to become acquainted. The “win” condition of the test might be familiar to you, Cortana.”

“Ring the bell?” she guesses wryly.

“Indeed. Be careful, and be wary, Master Chief. I hardly need to remind you to be prepared when ONI is involved, but I will say it anyway. You are also authorized to neutralize any threats to accomplish the objective.”

Then Dr. Halsey leans in, voice low, worry lines etching deep into the contours of her face.

“Some would like to see you fail this test,” she says. “See that you don’t.”

“No, ma’am,” Cortana agrees.

Dr. Halsey nods once, then turns on her heel. Just before exiting the tent, however, she looks over her shoulder to stare into Cortana’s face plate, flanked by technicians.

“The second I leave this tent, you must count to ten. After that, make your way to the obstacle course where the bell will be located. And be careful,” she adds, voice firm. “Good luck.”

Cortana resists the urge to salute Dr. Halsey in jest. Instead, she shakes her body out, getting the feel for the armor one more time. As she wiggles her fingers, she hears the metallic clack of weapons from outside the tent.

Her HUD shimmers. The proximity tracker immediately lights up with yellow blips that turn red on the next cycle.

“Assume that all units are hostile,” John says. “The targets are equipped with MA5B assault rifles. Be prepared for my participation.”

“I hope you participate,” she says dryly. “What do you think about this? We’re engaging our own soldiers.”

Eight.

“We’ll win, but I am more excited to see how you handle this,” John says, a hint of emotion slipping into his gravelly voice.

Nine.

Cortana flicks her eyes across the walls of the tent, noting the surprisingly clear silhouettes of soldiers moving outside. She didn’t enjoy facing off against UNSC personnel, especially when they weren’t Spartans, but she never had a choice. Her apprehension only spikes when the shadowy figures become real, breaking into the tent with guns already brought to bear.

Shock troopers. ODSTs, to be exact.

Ten.

The center Helljumper opened fire on thin air. Cortana dove from her elevated platform before his finger could depress the trigger, but she didn’t target him right away. She ripped the rifle out from his port-side buddy’s hands and winced at the unmistakable sight of a shoulder dislocating. Still, she cracks the butt of the rifle across the lead’s chest before turning on the third, suddenly aware that she was in “Spartan Time.”

To her, the third trooper was moving in slow motion, still caught in the throes of reacting to his companions’ defeat. She rips his gun out of his hands and shoves him to the floor, biting back a sigh at the sensation of ribs cracking.

This suit was definitely a step above the last mark. If she didn’t want to hurt them, she’d have to restrain herself even more.

“That’s an odd notion,” John says suddenly. “You have been ordered to neutralize the targets. Why not kill them?”

Cortana frowns as she bustles out of the tent. Immediately, her motion tracker updates with seven more yellow blips that flash red. If she had to hazard a guess, John was forcing the suit to acknowledge the troopers’ FoF tags as ‘foe.’

Interesting.

“John. I think that might be murder.”

“We do need every soldier available,” he concedes.

The tracker’s blips appeared to be concentrated in another on-site tent. On the far side of the tent, she witnesses an ODST peek around the corner for three full seconds before abruptly withdrawing. A thrown grenade replaces them.

Cortana shoots it out of the air. It detonates in a shower of shrapnel and flame, jostling the tent with the shockwave and shredding holes into its roof, but not catching it alight. She’s cutting an entrance into the tent before the smoke and flak has even cleared.

The troopers are facing away from her, rushing for the exit in uniform, slow motion fashion. To her surprise, one twists around and opens fire, bullets pinging across her chest.

She slings the knife she’d been equipped with into his gut. Shielded or not-- and the shields did their job well, turning the impacts into tickles-- she didn’t take kindly to being shot. His buddies she pursues out of the tent, bringing the butt of her rifle to bear on the back of their skulls.

They drop instantly.

“Unconscious, not dead,” John chimes as she whips around to face the other four troopers. “Thought you’d like to know.”

“Thanks,” she says shortly.

More bullets ricochet off her shields. The meter in the corner of her HUD blinks as it diminishes uncomfortably quickly, still un-replenished from the last round of projectiles. Not eager to damage the armor, she rushes forward, grabbing the closest trooper by the torso.

Effortlessly, she tosses his frame into his allies before grabbing up his gun, crushing the barrel. Her HUD wavers as a bolt of alarm flits through her, gaze drawn to the grenade the furthest ODST was trying to arm.

She lets her boots fall onto the arms of the first two troopers, determinedly not thinking about the state of their bones. She also does not think about how the alarm wasn’t her own, instead focusing on snatching up the final two soldiers by their chestplates and tossing them aside.

“Shoot them,” John hisses into her ear. “They’re not neutralized if they’re conscious or functional.”

“What do they have to gain by fighting me? I threw them forty meters!” Cortana exclaims. “I don’t want to hurt them, John.”

John doesn’t say anything but he does mark their position as nav-points on her HUD. She pointedly ignores him by stripping one of the downed soldiers for their grenades, which she promptly attaches to a magnetic hardpoint on her armor. With that done, she takes to the outer edges of the immediate area, making herself as hard to locate as possible.

The obstacle course is achingly familiar by the time she reaches it. It was an endless expanse of tough gravel, just over ten acres of the stuff. She remembered having to cross it bare-foot multiple times alongside her siblings; she could almost feel the ghostly sensation of rocks stabbing her soles.

Before she could step off, however, John speaks, low and urgent.

“Throw a grenade at the field.”

“That’s-- why?” Cortana asks, bewildered.

“There are Lotus mines and that’s the best way for me to calculate the layout. UNSC Engineers try to randomize the pattern, but humans are predictable creatures,” John says impatiently.

Well, it was as good as reason as any. She pulls a grenade from the stolen bandolier and arms it-- and holds it for three full seconds. With a controlled flick of her arm, she chucks it at the ground, watching it bounce once and explode.

Two Lotus mines explode in a geyser of gravel of dirt in reply several feet apart from each other.

“Give me a second,” John says. “Okay. These are rough estimations, but they shouldn’t get you killed. As you were, Master Chief.”

A graph flickers to life, overlaying itself perfectly across the gravel expanse. Yellow flower-like symbols join it in an affixed pattern, telling her what to avoid. That was… extremely useful.

“Don’t like that they’re using anti-tank mines,” she says, gravel crunching underfoot. “Seems a bit much.”

They make the trek across the gravel field in three minutes.

“Thanks, John. That’s really helpful,” Cortana says, making her sigh of relief productive.

“...There’s radio chatter on D band,” John says, his voice oddly pitched. “Encrypted and encoded, but it’s from the nearby airfield. I don’t like it.”

“That sounds exciting…”

But they had bigger things to worry about. After the gravel field was the long, narrow strip of mud and razor wire. It would be interesting to see how the armor’s shields fared against the constant scrape of barbed line. She doubts she could hunker low enough to avoid it entirely.

...If she didn’t get shot to hell first.

“Chain guns, 11 and 1 o’ clock,” John says, almost as soon as she notices them. “I advise evading. I do not feel like dying today.”

Crawling through the razor bed probably doesn’t count as evading, she thinks dryly. She’s glad for their incredibly slow rotation and similarly slow rate of fire at least. It meant that at least one was deactivated by the time she took off sprinting for it, firing at its power lines with her rifle.

There were two chainguns at the far end of the route, clearly meant to create a field of crossfire should she crawl. She’s silenced the one closest to her, but its cousin’s 30mm rounds punch into her chest, threatening to drop her shield into zero with just a handful of impacts.

She silences it by kicking the first chaingun into its chassis, toppling them both.

“Elegant,” John remarks once the residual firing stops. “I am going to investigate something. Don’t get shot.”

Cortana feels the AI slip out of her neural lace. To escape the sudden gaping emptiness, she charges into the rest of the razor-lined trenches. It gave her a few moments to reflect, too. John was an interesting AI. Not horrible to work with, if a little bossy. And vague, too.

If this didn’t feel so high stakes, she’d be arguing more.

Ice water rushes down her neck the same instant she comes up on the next stage of the obstacle course. Years ago, when they were all very young, the Spartans had dubbed this portion the ‘Pillars of Loki.’ It was a nightmarish network of smooth poles of wood-- razed trees-- interspersed with traps and danger. She’d seen the kind of damage the traps could cause.

She wasn’t keen on taking any of them on.

“The airfield is launching an aircraft,” John announces, his voice edged with anger. “A Skyhawk.”

Fuck.

“Language,” John says sternly. “Do you have any ideas? I calculate roughly 30 seconds before contact.”

Well, the best way to avoid traps was to go around them, right? She stares into the crisscross of pillars and deadly vegetation for a couple seconds too many. It would leave her too exposed to try skirting the borders of the field, but maybe climbing onto the poles…

Yeah, that would work.

Cortana scales the nearest tree with a certain lack of finesse. Her armored fingers leave indents in the hard wood and her boots gouge out chunks of bark and flesh from the pole, but she’s standing atop it with-- 15 seconds to spare.

A timer was now ticking down in the corner of her visor.

“Don’t know if that’s helpful, John,” she mutters.

“Bandit inbound,” John replies. “Ideas?”

She launches herself from one pole to the next, taking a diagonal route across the Pillars of Loki. The Skyhawk was an atmospheric fighter that specialized in close air support. It’s complement of four 50mm cannons and anti-tank missiles made it a terrifying and formidable ship, and against her?

Mjolnir, augmentations, AI assistance…

Well, she was as dead as any Covie soldier.

“Contact!” John barks.

The air thrums violently around Cortana as the aircraft bears down on her position. She kicks off of the pillar, free falling just as a spray of bullets sunder the air. Trees shatter into pieces behind her and the world blurs as she tucks into a roll, hitting the ground.

The Mjolnir’s gel layer absorbs much of the impact, but it still hurts.

“Eleven seconds! Goal: 300 meters!” John barks again.

“You’re yelling,” Cortana huffs, climbing to her feet. “No need to yell!”

Once again, a timer was ticking down on her HUD. Nine seconds and going. She was no Kelly, but how hard could a three hundred meter dash be?

Nothing achievable when it was rockets she was facing. The eight-seven-six seconds must be the Skyhawk’s turn time. Maybe she should run for cover.

“No time! New timer! About face!” John shouts, his voice so intense that it drowned out her own panicked thoughts.

Dirt and grass sprays with the force Cortana applies to twist herself around. Her HUD pulses red once before yet another timer pops up, accompanied by the silhouette of a missile. John’s presence inside her mind and suit is suddenly overwhelming.

“When the timer hits zero, the missile will be on top of us. Deflect it.”

John had a knack for sounding like a drill instructor. Or a suicidal admiral. Firm, commanding, unshakable, and slightly tyrannical.

The Skyhawk was hovering nearby. Plumes of white smoke erupt from its left wing as it lets loose a Scorpion missile. Cortana grinds her teeth, feeling a lurch as her brain overclocks into Spartan Time once again.

Three.

Cortana nearly falls over as the Mjolnir’s shields are ramped to their maximum settings.

Two.

The Skyhawk is bearing down on them, outpacing its missile.

“Now!”

Cortana jinks to the side, slapping the fuselage of the missile and sending it off course.

It still explodes several meters behind her. The resultant explosion knocks out her shields and launches her ten meters into the air. Darkness overwhelms her and several internal systems start wailing.

“Run like hell.”

She didn’t have to be told that twice, but her body is shaking violently as she hauls herself back to her feet. Her initial few strides are wobbly, growing steadier in fits and bursts. The goal’s nav-point is blurry and out of focus.

Oh, she was bleeding!

Cortana uses the bell’s tripod to stop her forward momentum. It collapses underneath her and crumples like a tin can, unable to stand up to a half-ton of armored Spartan.

She’s rewarded by the crackle of Dr. Halsey’s voice in her ear: “Test complete. Withdraw, Colonel Ackerson. Magnificent, Master Chief, but please don’t move. I’m sending a recovery team.”

She picks herself up from the bell. Despite its crushed state, she can tell it’s the very same bell she rung some thirty-odd years ago.

“We did it, John!” Cortana laughs. “That was… exhilarating.”

Gingerly, she sets the bell back onto the ground, panting and bleeding inside of her helmet. She probably broke her nose but that was nothing compared to the sense of peace she was now feeling. Whatever this had been, she had conquered it.

“I couldn’t have done it without you, either,” she says softly. “Thank you, John.”

“...Thank you, Master Chief,” John replies. “It was a pleasure working with you.”

Yeah, it was, wasn’t it?

#halo #master chief #cortana #role swap

91 notes · View notes

unfortunatelysirius · 4 years

Text

Once Upon a Star | Sirius Black, Marauders’ Era

「 ❁ 」PROMPT 「 ❁ 」

Sirius finds Y/N at the Astronomy Tower and she teaches him the muggle tradition of wishing on a shooting star.

「 ❁ 」AUTHOR’S NOTE 「 ❁ 」

anyone who doesn’t believe in me doesn’t deserve to know me and I've accepted that

SIRIUS USUALLY didn’t trail Hogwarts past curfew unless it was one of two things: one, he and his mates were looking to fulfill a prank; or two, he intended to sneak out through one of the secret passages. On this late and dreary occasion Sirius was sent to infiltrate the Ravenclaw common-room (the door’s riddle a trifle he’d probably turn red in the face tackling) to charm the boys’ stairs to solely turn to a slide when Ernie Mackett came down. Sirius had been personally spurred to enact vengeance by the asshat when he made that comment in Transfiguration earlier in the day— calling him a Pureblood reject that would, sooner or later, turn to the Dark Arts when being a runaway misfit didn’t feel fun anymore. Stupid Ravenclaw prat, who did he think he was? Sirius could still hear his annoying, weaselly voice…

No one found him funny and James charmed spitballs to projectile-launch at the back of his weasel head. Appreciated. Ernie deserved worse but in the moment, spitballs sticking to his military cut really took the edge off. Like was said… momentarily. Key word: momentarily. He was getting his reckoning in the morning when he’d go squealing down the slide like a toddler.

Not his greatest prank. Sirius could do better, much better, but he didn’t have many options without immediate expulsion. He was running it thin with Minnie; one step out of line and she’d probably send him packing the next day. The little things were good enough… for now.

Sirius had James’s Invisibility Cloak to be safe, though he did believe strongly in his stealth abilities. He walked up the stairs of the Astronomy Tower, slower than his long legs were plenty capable of. He’d passed Peeves a while ago, kind of got nervous (pssh, not that he’d admit it) until Peeves was well away and not close enough to muck his motion-going plan up. Then he got here, so close to the prize. The Astronomy Tower was well-abandoned. It was almost… too easy to just walk right up the stairs, spend long enough to grow a gray hair on some dumb riddle, and waltz through the door.

Then he heard it. Humming. A soft voice, throat thrumming to a tune Sirius could hear but not recognize—pretty in an enticing way. It was well past curfew and Sirius didn’t expect to meet anyone on his way; why was anyone here? Truly, sincerely, this had to be a trick… Minnie could be the culprit and she’d be at the next window, pretending to pet a cat. Don’t be ridiculous, Minnie’s not a psychic…

It was a girl at the next window, just not one ashen with age.

She was sitting and staring out of the Tower’s open gap, touching her palm to the stone beside it. Instead of cutting off at the uvula and paranoia inciting a suspicious survey of the area, she continued her humming, the hum transitioning into an open mouth melody. Interesting. Weird, but interesting. Sirius raised his eyebrows and put a hand to his mouth, jerking the cough pounding at his gullet back in.

She brought her knees up and perched her chin on them, her back still turned to Sirius. Sirius closed his eyes and jerked them open, taking her backside in just one more time. Okay, fun was over—Sirius reluctantly tore his gaze away. He moved to be on his merry way to avenge his reputation against the slimy Ernie.

The humming cut abruptly off. He got a few steps in before a voice stopped him. “I know someone’s there… who is it?”

Sirius almost groaned. He snuck a peek over his shoulder through the cloak.

The girl wasn’t even a stranger or some power-hungry prefect who’d be deducting points from the idiot out after curfew. It was Y/N bloody L/N.

Sirius tore the cloak off himself without thinking it completely through. “Y/N, what are you doing here?” he whispered (for the sake of fact, whisper-shouted) and shuffled closer, mindful of the noise his feet made.

Y/N, shards of a moonbeam illuminating her face, turned away from staring out of the tower. She was dressed in what constituted as pajamas, a rumpled outfit more for lounging around in a dorm than being in direct fire from crisp December air. She smiled toothlessly when she caught Sirius’s hard gaze. “I come here to think and look at the stars. What are you doing here?”

Getting revenge, Sirius thought. Y/N wasn’t the violent type and the unlikeliest of people to ever hold a grudge; she wouldn’t take kindly to him proclaiming his intentions, dishonorable as they were. He tightened his grip on James’s Invisibly Cloak. “Would you believe me if I said I was taking a leisurely stroll?”

Y/N giggled, Sirius perking up at the sound; did that mean she believed him?

“Do you take me for an idiot?” she said incredulously, still giggling.

Sirius’s shoulders drooped. He bit back a groan. “Can we pretend you never saw me and go on as we were?”

Y/N blinked at him. She patted the empty spot where she previously had her legs, right in vantage of the sky and its children. “I have a better idea, Sirius. Come join me!”

Sirius’s eyes found the stone her bottom was plopped on, then where she was continuing to drum her fingers against. Sirius found her proposition odd and a little perplexing. “Are you serious?” he asked, raising his eyebrows—not that she could really see it.

Y/N nodded eagerly.

Sirius’s forehead cinched and he debated his options. Getting revenge on the arse that defamed him or sitting with a pretty girl and looking at the stars… he could go on and on about what was pro et contra. Ernie deserved humiliation at the highest setting, but Sirius was opportunistic; he knew he could think of a better prank tomorrow. Something that was bigger, better, smarter, and more mortifying. He could humble Ernie for the rest of their bloody time at Hogwarts, if he brewed on what would ruin him the most a little longer.

Y/N was nice to talk to. In the dark and feeling exhausted by his ire that had ran his ragged and thin over the last few hours, Sirius didn’t think deviating from his plans and sitting and staring at the stares was necessarily a bad thing.

Sirius shrugged and thought, What the hell?

Y/N’s smile was ear-to-ear when he sat down beside her.

“You know anything about constellations?” Y/N asked him.

Sirius shrugged again, bringing his thumb up to nibble on the edge of his fingernail. He was nervous, but that mostly came from having to sit still. It was a tough objective for someone with the mind motor of a motorcycle. “Not much.”

“You’re named after a star, though,” Y/N said. She touched his arm and guided him closer, using her free hand to point at a cluster of stars dotting the sky. Sirius squinted. “Tonight’s sky is just covered in stars. So many constellations. See that? That’s the Canis Major. There’s Sirius.”

The brightest star in the sky. Sirius didn’t know whether she was telling the truth or pulling a flirtatious fib.

He barked out a laugh. “Really?”

Y/N bobbed her head and flashed him a giant grin. “Really. I forget the rest of the names and where they’re located… I think one of them’s called Orion.”

Sirius was uninterested in his namesake and that of his prat father. “What’s so great about stars? They’re just stars.” He let his partner do all the work in fifth-year Astronomy for a reason.

“What? How can you say that?” Y/N gasped, like Sirius spoke blasphemy instead of an opinion. She shook her head and looped her arm around his, dragging him closer to the Tower gap. “The sky’s like a blanket of all these different colors. Even when there aren’t any stars you can keep making new discoveries. The sky’s blue, but not just blue; you can distinguish the navy from the little slivers of obsidian. It’s all just—”

“Alright, love, I get it,” Sirius said, defensively pulling his arm out of her loop. Her hopeful expression penetrated his defenses, though, and he cracked under the pressure. He exhaled a deep, frustrated sigh. “I’m not sentimental, okay? I don’t care about any of this.”

“I know, but I care,” Y/N said, something defiant in her stare.

Y/N turned to look back out, apparently in a bit of a tizzy, and Sirius bit back a retort. He didn’t have to be here; he could retreat back to his dorm under fire from his mates who expected Ernie’s comical wrath in the morning, aiming for a decent night’s sleep. Instead he let himself get roped into star-gazing, an activity he never envisioned himself participating in. This was just too… quiet. A serene atmosphere meant for patient souls, not misfits itching at the folds.

“I never said you couldn’t—” Sirius started before a loud gasp echoed in the Tower. Y/N’s hand reached out and swatted clumsily, hitting Sirius in the nose and the chest. Forgetting it was past curfew Sirius cried, “Ow! What the bloody hell?!”

“Look, Sirius, it’s a shooting star!” Y/N gasped, pointing excitedly out at a glimmer of light soaring through the sky. It was ethereal and dainty, faster than anything Sirius had ever seen. Y/N hit him again, lightly this time. “Quick, make a wish!”

“What—why would I do that?”

“Shooting stars have a magic of their own,” Y/N said to him in a haste. She closed her eyes then opened them again. A goofy smile went on her face. “You just think of something you want most in the world, and maybe the star will listen.”

Huh.

Sirius breathed a sigh as the star was nearly out of sight. He closed his eyes and let caution be thrown to the wind; whatever popped into his head first, he’d let that be his wish. As long as it satisfied Y/N. Regardless of how weird this was. It had to be a Muggle belief—he never heard of such a thing.

Acceptance. I want acceptance.

Sirius flinched. His eyes popped open and Y/N was already staring, breath hitched in anticipation. He rolled his shoulders and said, “I guess I did it.”

The shooting star had rocketed past their tiny hole in the Tower, leaving the sky a painting of asterisms.

Y/N giddily enveloped him in a hug. “See? Wasn’t that exciting?”

Sirius gazed down at her, feeling something new and abnormal in his stomach. A feeling he didn’t know the best word for, but a feeling that he accepted—like it was a welcome guest in what he claimed as his, just his territory. “Sure,” he said noncommittally.

Y/N buried her head in his chest.

Sirius thought back to his wish. Acceptance was the first word that popped into his head and one of the many things he found himself yearning for time and time again. He indeed got love and appreciation with James and his family, with most of his mates actually, but there was a lingering category of “acceptance” he failed to acknowledge through the years. He had refused to sit on it, thinking the very occupation as someone who could find and reciprocate love would forever be an impossibility. Unimaginable for someone like him that went years thinking he didn’t deserve anything at all.

Strangely, it felt different with Y/N.

Strangely, he felt accepted with her in his arms.

#sirius black x reader #sirius black #sirius black fanfiction #young!sirius black #marauders' era #marauders era #marauders map #shooting star #astronomy #padfoot #sirius black fanfic #sirius black oneshot #sirius black imagine #Harry Potter imagine #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter tumblr #Harry Potter x reader #I was listening to emotional music while I wrote this oops #sirius orion black

161 notes · View notes

hiro-gari · 3 years

Text

Speaking of Neo Heroes' security guards doing the housekeeping at Badd's house as part of the deal between Badd and Neo Heroes when he joined them, this makes me think:

- "What if redeemed Garou successed at infiltrating Neo Heroes without getting recognized and disguising himself as Badd's guard?" -

This is just pure self-indulging thought because imagine this: Current Garou, the calmer, wiser, matured, yet still powerful as ever, been wanting to return the favor to Badd for defending him in the previous battle and also to protect him from Neo Heroes' shady schemes, he decided to infiltrate Neo Heroes with his new identity and becomes Badd's security guard.

Of course I know this scenario wont be possible at all because of Neo Heroes would investigate everyone to the tiniest details, and some of Neo Heroes members already recognized Garou in canon webcomic just like the whole Suiryu's team squad did. But let's just think they would be fooled by Garou's new persona when he enrolled the job.

Not to mention, let's just assumed enrolling the job as Neo Heroes' staff would be separated from the regular member's employment and many of Neo Heroes' execs haven't familiarized yet with Garou's new appearance.

The setting could be after Garou got ambushed by Suiryu's team and also after Badd got attacked by Neo Heroes' cyborgs, since I think these events occured on the same time or at least at the same week, imho. So, once Garou heard about what happened to the Neo Heroes' members, he got worried for Badd and decided to sorta helped him in a way by become his personal guard.

During the interview, Garou would giving "made up" personal data that wont mentioned any of Bang's influence or everything related to his mentor. During the physical test, he would only using the most basic martial art moves in front of the execs so they wont recognizing his distinct style.

Garou successfully passed the test and get the job, at the same time when Neo Heroes' need a new security guard for Badd since the delinquent hero already kicked out the latest guard from his house for being "too goddamn nosy", courtesy by the furious Badd himself. Badd said he wanted a more decently normal guard and not a creep. That was a great chance for Garou to fill the requirement as his security guard.

Imagine the short-haired Garou wearing a suit like usual bodyguard outfit, looking so neat, professional, and reserved. And he was standing in front of Badd's front door, ready to greet the hero (who saved his life before) then introducing himself as both his new bodyguard and housekeeping guard.

Eventhough from outside Garou looked very calm, actually he was a bit nervous because he would meet Badd again. Unsure if he should be proud that he got a real good job in which he could be by Badd's side, or afraid that Badd would reject him then kick him out from the house just like what he did to other previous guards.

The moment Badd opened the door to scold and complained whoever Neo Heroes stubbornly have sent to him, he got tongue-tied by Garou's appearance. At first Badd still not recognized his identity, but after inspecting him for a few seconds Badd immediately gawked and immediately yanked Garou into the house, closing the door so noone would hear their conversation.

Badd realized that this man, this charming mysterious person, his new bodyguard, is Garou. Garou the ex Hero Hunter, Human Monster, the former enemy who put him into hospital yet also the one whom he protected from the rest of S-Class heroes, the reason why Badd leaving Hero Association, now was standing before him. Introducing himself as Neo Heroes' new security guard who will "keep him and his lil sister" from any danger outside.

Not easily convinced, Badd cornered Garou and asking if Garou has gone crazy for joining Neo Heroes, too. Especially now Badd knew that they were such scumbags disguising themself as saviors.

Garou calmly answered that he already know firsthandly of what Neo Heroes is, also had heard of what they have done to Badd. Hence he became a double agent: working for Neo Heroes to gain their trust so he can protect Badd from anyone, including Neo Heroes members itself since he has the privillege to do that. Of course by doing that, Garou must be smart enough to trick them and manipulated the reports so they wont gain Badd's personal information that was too private to be shared because it could endangered Badd's life.

Garou doesn't care if this could endanger himself should Neo Heroes realizing his true intention. As long as Badd is safe, he wont give a fuck for all of Neo Heroes' bullshits again. Nobody would hurt Badd any longer, let the delinquent hero do his job properly without any disturbance.

Badd was surprised at how far Garou willing to do for the sake of him, but he still wont convinced enough of him because at this point it seems Badd couldn't trust people anymore since the Hero Association's post-war chaos and Neo Heroes' cyborgs assault.

Garou knows Badd got trust issue because of them, same as what Garou feels after all this time. Wanted to reassure Badd, Garou kneeled before Badd and vowed to him, that he definitely will keep Badd and Zenko safe at all cost. If something wrong happened between Badd and him that makes he should betray Badd, Badd has the full rights to punish him severely and he wont fights Badd back. His life is fully on Badd's hand and not Neo Heroes'. With pleasure, Garou pledged his loyalty just for Badd only. Only him.

Garou ended his vow by taking Badd's hand and kissed his knuckles softly. Then he gave Badd such tender genuine smile with equally tender adoring gaze, because for Garou this man in front of him is his "Hero". Now he would return the favor by cherishing Badd and make him happy.

Listening Garou's vow and receiving sweet gestures from him made Badd flustered, he didn't expect that the ex Hero Hunter who hunted him down would be willing to be his loyal guard. Even swore to cherish him. That's more than a regular guard should do to their client!

Badd had thought he didn't deserved to be treated so nicely like this since he was just doing what he thinks is right. Also he wasn't often getting praised at all by people hence he still hasn't used by it. But seeing how genuine and determinated Garou is, somehow it warms Badd's heart. That Garou really appreciating him to the point he wanted to return the favor, in which Garou didn't have to do that yet he still do it out of free will.

Finally, Badd accepting Garou's offer and trusted him to do his job as his bodyguard. Like Garou has promised before, if someday Garou has to betray his trust, Badd will not hesitated to demolish the wolfman. Monster form or not.

With a bright yet soothing smile, Badd helped Garou to stand up again from his kneeling position and then hugged him tightly.

And saying, "Welcome home, Garou".

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

Bonus headcanon:

Imagine how often Garou gets Badd blushing madly just by appearing as professional bodyguard, so handsome and charming. Not to mention now Garou showing more responsible and mature side of him that put Badd in awe everytime Garou doing his job properly. Sometimes it distracted Badd's mind and every single memories of the wolfman being so sweet and loving to him lives in his head rent free.

Also, Zenko totally adores Garou and really glad that he wasn't like those creepy bodyguards that Badd had to kick out before. More often Zenko asked Garou to be more casual and to treat Badd more as a friend and not as a client, since she told Garou that her bigbro loves his presence especially when both of them were off-duty at home.

Gradually, Garou becomes more laid-back around Badd (except when he was on-duty or still under Neo Heroes' surveillance). They're eventually becomes bestfriends, completing and complementing eachother since they both were alone and lonely boys.

Secretly without Neo Heroes' knowledge, Garou has been helping Badd to cope with his doomed situation under Neo Heroes' cruel scheme by finally having someone trusted enough on his side when he need it, as he will be always on Badd's side no matter what. Even as far manipulated the daily reports brilliantly so Neo Heroes wont touch Badd with their dirty hands anymore. Anything Garou will do, for Badd.

In return, Badd wont let anyone to hurt Garou again, even if it's Neo Heroes itself. The ex Hero Hunter has already suffered enough. Badd would try his best to cooperate with Garou so they both could make convincing "false reports" while they enjoyed their secret private life together. If someone from Neo Heroes found out what they have done, Badd worried if Garou would be taken away from him. Or worst, gets a fate worse than death. And Badd doesn't want that happens.

On the brighter side, Garou could spend time together most of the time with. Even living with Badd as a privillege of his bodyguard status and Badd's seal of approval to the Neo Heroes execs (so they would let Garou lives together with him, for "surveillance" reason).

Sometimes Garou also assisting Badd in a battle when he was still on bodyguard duty, ensuring Badd wont be too reckless during fighting the enemies. If Badd was injured, Garou was the first one who reacted and immediately taking care of him at home, or bringing him to the nearest hospital if the injuries were quite heavy and need proper medical treatment.

Imagine Garou bridal-carried Badd towards hospital. Badd was actually unconscious at first, but when he regained his consciousness the first thing he saw was Garou's handsome face with those seriously worried expression. That made Badd swooning because: 1. "Why did Garou has to be THIS gorgeous even in pinch situation like this??"; 2. "But he cares so much to me, this strangely makes me happy in some way..";

Then Badd pretended to be passed out in Garou's arms, just so he can peek on Garou's face. Spoiler: Garou knows it the entire time, but he let Badd enjoyed the scenery while he focused on running to hospital.

Imagine the off-duty Badd walking around the town together with Garou. Or going to family picnic with Zenko and Garou has to "keep on eye" on them (when in fact Garou just having fun together with them as it's just a false report for the Neo Heroes execs, Neo Heroes surveillance be damned).

Maybe somewhere in the future, Badd would finally releasing himself from Neo Heroes' grasp and decided to be vigilante, followed by Garou who rebelled against Neo Heroes since his loyalty is only for Badd. Noone can stop them as vigilante duo. Maybe at that point, one of them would confessed their feeling to the other and then they would become lovers, too..

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

---- THE END -----

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

Notes:

NO THOUGHT HEAD EMPTY, ONLY GAROU WEARING BODYGUARD SUITS *hyperventilated* 😍😩👌💗💘🔥🔥

This was totally self-indulged headcanon where I want short-haired Garou wears some formal outfits and being a Cool Looking Guy™ who is secretly as powerful as monster. I'm thirsty for any short-haired Garou contents (and also him being together with Badd), forgive me for this outrageously messy writing.. 😅🙏

But honestly, if Garou really showed up at Badd's door as his bodyguard that would be very hilarious lmaoo! Btw I wrote this at 4 AM and now it's already 7 AM by the time I finished, lol. Getting not enough sleep go brrr 😜

So, how was it, guys? Did you enjoyed it? I'm so sorry if it wasn't good enough 😳💦👉👈

@hiro-gari @the-goddessfighter @garous-nipple @jusqu-une-etudiante

Thank you so much for reading this headcanon, guts! I will try to fight off my writer's block and depression, hopefully I can get back on writing more stuff in the future. Wish me luck ✌😁

Have a nice weekend, guys! Love you all~ 😎😘💕💞💖💝🌸🌺🌼🌻🌷💐

-Little1993lamb-

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

~Lilia:

Yessss dude I’m here for this!! Finally he’s got a job that suits him :’) And oh yeahhhh Garou dressed as a bodyguard 🥴 pleeease it would be such a look for him👌😩 bet he pops the collar a bit tho

I love how Badd is like ??hello these guys are scumbags, wtf are you doing, and Garou’s like 🤷 that’s why I’m here, duh. What a sweetheart agshsjsks

I irl clutched my chest when he got down on one knee!! awwwe 🥺💖 The fact that he went to such lengths has to speak for itself as well, I mean Badd knows how much he hates heroes, but especially morally corrupt ones with ulterior motives 🙄BROOO and Badd’s acting all professional and slightly suspicious and Zenko’s just coming out and telling Garou how it really is 😂😂 That’s perfect omg

I love this alternate webcomic version so much 💗 What happened to Badd is so heartbreaking 😓 so it’s very nice to see Garou’s using his mischievous tactics for good to help him get through it and support him 😩 *sobbing*

Thank you so much for sharing this with all of us!! It’s beautifully creative and sweet 💕💗💖😚 We love youu~

#ahhhhh webcomic batarou hits different agsjajsk #thank you anon this is so perfect!!#hope you got some sleep 😥#and I hope you are having the best day!! 💕#good luck and good vibes to you 🍀✨#batarou #garou #metal bat #opm #webcomic #spoilers #headcanon #submission #emoji anon

16 notes · View notes

getreadytosmash · 3 years

Text

Small smash headcanons I was thinking of and to put out my reboot designs

Skaar

Skaar took a more gladiator look from his time on Sakaar and no longer wears the loin cloth except for when he's on off days

His hair gets to around his upper back and often tends to be in buns and ponytails

Working on his reading and writing and gets help from Hulk and goes to the Xavier Institute for sessions with his mind control and memories

Got introduced to queer stuff by Rick and he was THRILLED to find out about this stuff and the footage of Skaar carefully picking out non binary, asexual and panromantic stuff was trending for a month

Yes I'm going into pridecanons a little more

Skaar's very happy with his own feelings of being nb. The rocks below him whisper about it always being fine and he doesn't need to care about what others say anyway. Not when they're too busy calling him a monster to care about his gender

Anyway. Skaar's sex neutral and I say this because its quite often the theory that all ace folks won't have kids blah blah but??? Some aces want sex to have kids and that's Skaar.

Ridiculously good sword fighter and often meets up with Nightcrawler and Shadowcat to have sword fights and compare tricks

Lots of whipping scars on his back and some around his mouth that hardly anyone knows are from

Has a matching scar with Red of a circle on the back of his neck as well as running lighting scars up his hands and feet with Rick, Red and Jen from where the Skrulls tried to harvest their gamma

Absolutely has the tattoo and has no clue about it

Occasionally has days where he can't remember the entire event and Skaar's become rather thankful that they can rely on Rick's cameras to guide him home if needed.

Adores the Savage Lands and is best friends with Kazaar and Zabu

Sometimes copies memes from Rick and it’s terrible

Likes having Jen help him with normal stuff, especially when she helps him learn stuff like reading and writing

Rick

Yeah, can’t feel anything and that causes a few secret depression episodes aha

Big on other sensory stuff now. Really likes to savour sights, sounds, taste and smells since he lacks a big ass part of it now. It really isn’t that uncommon for Rick to have a low of flowers within his bedroom and shit.

Has to file down his spikes since they keep growing and often Hulk does it for him while Rick falls asleep

Rick needs a lot more protein now and often eats eggs or fish and gets into big fights with Red over it daily

Uses a stylish for everything since his fingers don’t work on touchscreens anymore

Often wears sleeveless jackets with different pins. Owns four of them with three of them entirely dedicated to alien, mutant and bi rights

Well known Youtuber and I really need to get around to writing some videos he’s done god someone remind me to put out that shit

Hardcore gamer and still screams at Samuel to help make a dating sim come oN-

Can hold his breath for an hour and a half and didn’t realise until he fell asleep in the bath and got woken up by Hulk panicking and tossing him out of the water

Very intent on mutant rights and often helps out with teenage mutants and raising the social status of the school

Loves bi culture and is very defensive over aspects of his identity after years of feeling lost among the orphanages

Has gotten more comfortable with his gender since he’s been wearing kilts and skirts for almost two years now

Used to have scars across his hands and thighs from years of canings from the nuns but now has a large cracked scar across his chest after Abomination ripped his shell off

Red unintentionally fathers him and blames Hulk

Best pals with Jen and Betty and is the only one who gets to join them on Ladies Night with Lyra and Marlo

Stands on his tip toes when talking to Hulk often because he wants to be tall and it amuses Hulk to no end

Jen

Has a lot of different costumes she changes regularly and Rick always posts a vote on “What outfit has Jen got this week?”

Freckles and curly hair galore

Hulk paints her nails and she does the same for him and it isn’t long before Skaar joins in

Works in New York but stays at Vista Verde for her time off

Yes i do want a all female gamma mutate team and yes they are A-force

They consist of Jen, Betty, Lyra, Carmilla and Marlo but are sometimes joined by other female heroes

Wears sweatband wrists, left one is the bi flag and the right one is the trans flag

Was afraid about being open towards loving women for a few years since Jen knew her father didn’t do anything about Bruce’s abuse, what would happen to her if Brian found out she liked more than boys? Came out after hulking out and is happier than ever

The same goes for being trans since Jen’s form is based heavily on her mentality of her body. Gamma gave Jen the body she wanted and she was SO pleased with it

tbh I do imagine she was more comic/noodle armed at the start since Jen wanted to look rather feminine but over time she’s gotten more comfortable with her body and idea of who she wants to be and slowly she got beefier

Has two wardrobes at the base and makes Red help rearrange stuff for laughs

Pals with Samuel and often enjoys sitting around and dragging him out for shopping and starbucks while discussing cases

The one who appears in Rick’s youtube videos the most

Can never finish a book and feels deep seeded adhd guilt

Sings outloud to every thing she hears

Likes grape flavoured stuff and she is so thankful that she can’t die for that sin

BEST pals with Betty and Rick. Like. There’s a reason my “Betty is the OG Hulk and is a lil wlw with Jen” has happened honestly

Has vitiligo patches of grey around her arms that were left over from her more traumatic transformations

Watches Red bake if she’s having a panic attack and the videos don’t help

Red

Has a lot of scars over his body from where Ghost Rider’s chain dug into him and left him burnt. idk seems really fucking cool

Like Jen, has yellow patches along his spine and hands from where he was joined mentally with Zzzax

Still gets nightmares about said incident and is still scared for the day that a nightmare is actually happening

Started to bake because it helps from when he couldn’t control his heat powers or during ptsd attacks

Tends to get lost in work alongside Samuel, especially if they’re overly excited about a certain idea

Hulk fondly calls him a nerd for this exact reason and Red tackles him over it to this day

Tech reacts to him badly sometimes due to his possession issues and there’s been once or twice where he’s had some...odd experiences when it’s come to certain technology or alien tech

Stays the same mostly with his outfits but occasionally wears a leather jacket and fuck it takes his shirt off a lot he’s a dilf he can do that

The one who crouches for humans the most and it isn’t uncommon for him to do it purely to unsettle the humans. Ass

Uh. Likes women but??? Sometimes there’s an annoying guy and shit being able to be easily suplexed now means that anyone who can do it can kinda catch his eyes and he fucked a demon- uh. Red has a lot of thoughts now about dating and it’s nerve-wracking

Still does missions with his Thunderbolt team and still hangs out with Hell’s Circle team when he met others that had been dragged down to hell as well

Gets courted by vampires and hates the fact that the others laugh at it

Gets nightmares of crashing, of electric burning him away but doesn’t want to admit to the fact that he has some ptsd

Not really Red but fuck it Betty has her own team and I’m shifting the Gamma Corps for Betty so her team involves; Betty (Harpy), Marlo (Sirin), Clay (Hulkverine), Lyra (Athen), Carmilla (Scorpion) and Gwen (Daydream)

Right. Uh. So for those who don’t know who Daydream are, basically the writer at this time had been going through a bad divorce and he treated Betty like SHIT which involved breaking Bretty up before they could have a child, making Betty suffer a miscarriage, killing her and having the villain Nightmare raping her in her sleep and having Betty give birth to Daydream who appeared for one arc and was never seen again. So. I’m mad.

anyway fuck him but I did like Daydream so instead she was an experiment from gamma base as a unique weapon that got used to infiltrate the Agents sleep but was later on rescued along with the rest of the gamma experiments. Got adopted by Betty when she found out Gwen had her DNA and went “oh worm?” to getting a baby i have more thoughts about this but u know. carry on.

Hulk

So Tired. Part time team leader and Avengers and even has his many own adventures of trying to help so many people out

I imagine he has a lot of the same issues as Steven in suf where Hulk often stresses out more about not being able to help people since he worries about the worst case scenarios

Gets forced to take days off by each of the team and appreciates it but dear god if he doesn’t get anxiety about the whole situation every time

SomeTIMES he wears a blue shirt but only sometimes and that’s if he’s actually prepared for missions. Also has boots Red got him but Hulk keeps those clean and safe instead

Team dad for a reason. Fathers anything he can get his hands on and well known for it enough that Rick and Skaar get him something for fathers day every year and Jen gets him goofy ties because she KNOWS he doesn’t throw them out

Pretty relaxed about being pan and yes he makes jokes about being attracted to kitchenware he’s THAT terrible Rick wants to die and not come back pls

Buys a lot of pride stuff for the others. Skaar owns so many nb and ace colour chalks he needs help

Really wants to own a guinea pig but he’s worried about scaring it or not being around all that often to take care of it properly

Falls asleep through almost every movie that he usually starts one half of it one day and finishes it the next day

Meets up with Ben Grimm and Logan Howlett every Wednesday for a night out. Usually they do bowling, play cards or go out to eat. It’s isn’t uncommon for other heroes like Spidey or Gambit to join them occasionally

Has business lunches with Betty to discuss movements of gamma mutates that turns into a fun brawl because they’re immortal children

Keeps a whiteboard in his room so that he can have arguments with Joe and Bruce.

Samuel

Keeps his outfit relatively the same but adjusts it slightly so it isn’t the exact same outfit he wears back when he was evil

Tends to cover up more after he gains a power that lets him control people just by touch

Aware of this power and thus often awkwardly flitters when someone near him might be upset and keeps spare gloves or arm sleeves on hard just in case

Has the sharpest teeth of all the hulks and actually tends to file them down so he doesn’t need to “scare people off” when in reality he’s self conscious about his teeth and the fact that he keeps biting his tongue by accident

Buys and redesigns Icarus’s cage every other month to make it more elaborate, is currently fighting the constant urge to buy more rats for this reason

Demiboy! Fine with what he is, doesn’t give a shit. He rules hell and he’ll send you there if you argue with him so who the fuck cares if Samuel wears dresses and makeup?

Big stupid bi. Cannonly into women who are more powerful than him with examples being Rikki (Aka Brilliance, a female Leader) who kicked his ass and threw him across the room with her more advanced mind, Betty Ross...who can blame him, and lately is that one scientist in Hulkverine who Samuel literally fell for within one night sksksk

Big manipulator for people he cares about. Samuel has and will make elaborate plans to keep someone he cares about safe and is more than willing to kill anyone who has hurt his loved ones

Owns a large collection of nail polishes and tends to vary them when he’s bored and creates amazing art. Red watched Samuel once spend and hour re-creating all of Van Gogh’s paintings on his nails

Really good friends with Betty surprisingly, mostly because she can make jokes about being dead and he’ll just snort and go “same”

Has the second best sense of smell after Skaar as he can smell early signs of sickness as well as a wider range of emotions

Info dumps so much and has long winded theories about the oddest things that resonate really well on the Youtube channel

talks to his oversized rat so seriously

Suffers nightmares and currently runs the Down Below and is so tired

Has actually died from exhaustion twice already

Has large sockets in his back due to the fact that Samuel physically cannot hold the information he knows all the time and uses it to charge his phone

Still hangs out with villains like Loki and Mystique tho

#Headcanon #found in body lost in mind (Skaar)#movie star (Rick)#green goddess (Jen)#one man army (Red)#the loneliest there is (Hulk)#he swims in a sea of regret (Leader)#hate and love are both red (Betty)

14 notes · View notes

princeasimdiya12 · 4 years

Note

I adore your talentswap backstories! I'd like you to write some headcanons for my Talentshift SDR2 au. It consists of Mechanic!Hajime, ReserveCourse!Mahiru, Photographer!Ibuki, Musician!Fuyuhiko, Yakuza!Gundham, Breeder!Chiaki, Gamer!Mikan, Nurse!Nagito, Lucky!Imposter, Imposter!Peko (impersonating non-despair Junko), Swordswoman!Sonia, Prince!Nekomaru, Coach!Teruteru, Chef!Hiyoko, TraditionalDancer!Akane, and Gymnast!Kazuichi. If not, I completely understand.

Hey anon! I’m glad you enjoyed them! ^_^ And I’d be happy to make some headcanons for your AU. But just to let you know anon, I would appreciate it if you asked me first before sending me your listed requests. I honestly don’t mind writing headcanons for talentswaps (I honestly enjoy doing that) but I would appreciate you asking me and then sending them to me. That way it doesn’t take me by surprise.

So without further ado, here are my headcanons for your SDR2 Talentswap AU.

Peko Pekoyama as the SHSL Imposter

While Peko was adopted by the Kuzuryu Clan, she didn’t have a choice in her lifelong profession like Fuyuhiko did.

She was made to work as an infiltration agent.

As a professional imposter, Peko learned how to analyze and copy the body movements and behaviors of any potential person.

She also was taught how to apply makeup to make her disguises as accurate as possible.

Her assignments involved abducting low level workers of rival clans and taking their place while disguised as them.

She’d then relay the rival clan’s weaknesses and business transactions towards the Kuzuryu’s so they can exploit them.

Peko was discouraged from having any personal interests or hobbies so that her infiltration and identity theft skills wouldn’t be tarnished.

This made Peko feel more like a tool and how she only existed to promote the success of the Kuzuryu Clan.

When Fuyuhiko was scouted to go to Hope’s Peak, her superiors used their connections to grant Peko a spot with him to keep an eye on him.

She would take on Junko Enoshima’s image given that the supermodel was busy with her own personal affairs.

Although no one can recognize her while disguised, the viewer/player can recognize Peko with her thick glasses and piercing red eyes.

Hiyoko Saionji as the SHSL Chef

Hiyoko came from a family of culinary masters who amazed Japan with their creative and flavorful dishes.

There was unfortunately alot of drama within the family as they each wanted to train Hiyoko so they can pass their personal culinary training onto her.

Her grandmother managed to win and was one of the most ruthless teachers ever.

Under her training, Hiyoko received burns, cuts and having her food thrown in her face just for making the smallest of slip ups.

Her brutal training mixed with having negative relations with her family made her bitter and aggressive towards everyone around her.

She also has a hard time trusting others to work with her in the kitchen due to multiple incidents where dishes were poisoned and nearly tarnished Hiyoko’s reputation.

Because of this, she prefers to work alone in the kitchen. When she’s assigned to work with partners or underlings, she can be best described as Gordon Ramsay if he were a sassy lost child.

She often holds a knife or a frying pan whenever she’s threatening someone she doesn’t like.

Her culinary specialties involve desserts such as wasabon and kompeito.

Ibuki Mioda as the SHSL Photographer

Throughout her childhood, Ibuki was neglected by her caregivers so she took up photography as a means of distracting herself from the loneliness of her household.

She managed to earn her success by taking high quality photos of lovers in romantic situations.

At her middle school, she made it a game for herself to see how many pictures she could get of different couples at her school without getting caught.

While developing her photos, the couples tried to chastise Ibuki for her actions but they immediately changed their minds when they saw how cool the photos looked.

Ibuki gained a reputation among her peers for her photos and now everyone wanted one too.

This resulted in Ibuki getting alot of “friends” who only wanted to hang out with her just so she could photograph them doing what they wanted while conveniently leaving out the photographer herself.

The fact that these people only cared about her talent so she can capture their memories for them gave Ibuki a sense of familiar loneliness.

Despite this, she wants to enjoy her talent as much as she can with an upbeat attitude.

Ibuki’s favorite subject to photograph are people.

She loves to people watch since the people walking around come in different shapes and sizes and are always doing something unique that you wouldn’t expect.

Sonia Nevermind as the SHSL Swordswoman

Sonia came from a family of professional swordfighters who taught her the power of the blade at an early age.

She grew up on European fairy tales and legends of powerful heroes who used their swords to fight for justice or prove their superiority against enemies who opposed them.

Her family taught her classical fencing, mordhau, the half-sword, destreza and several other fighting styles which she claims are a secret.

She earned her title after winning multiple swordfighting tournaments, many of which were held underground.

Despite her victories, she’s actually been hospitalized due to the extreme injuries she received from sword wounds and physical attacks from her opponents.

Since these wounds have yet to diminish her fighting power, Sonia feels that it’s best to pay them no mind so she can continue her family’s legacy.

She’s never seen without her longsword which she made herself. She calls it Stjerneild because there were shooting stars on the night of making it and also since she burned herself during the process.

Sonia isn’t afraid to boast about her fighting skills and eagerly offers her girl friends the chance to learn how to use a sword.

Fuyuhiko Kuzuryu as the SHSL Light Music Club Member

Rather than becoming the next heir of his family business, Fuyuhiko wanted to pursue his dream of being an idol.

He takes his career extremely seriously and wouldn’t do stupid stunts or scandals that could jeopardize his work.

To make up for his young appearance, Fuyuhiko uses outfits that have a punk aesthetic while also incorporating black and gold color schemes to make him look older.

Alot of his songs feature themes of embracing your personal talents or how it’s better to carve your own path rather than rely on others.

He knows how to play the electric guitar and the keyboard.

Having refused his parents’ intended career plans, he feels that he can’t screw up his career or else everything he ever worked for will be for nothing and he’d have to crawl back to them for support.

His sister Natsumi often joins him during his tours and unofficially becomes his manager and bodyguard during her visits.

He has a hard time dealing with fanclub meetings because the fangirls would make jokes about his baby face which would drive him insane.

Akane Owari as the SHSL Traditional Dancer

Just like in canon, Akane had to take care of her younger siblings while struggling to survive her poor hometown.

While she did take different jobs to support her family, she would lose those jobs constantly because she kept getting into fights against strangers who tried to grope and harass her.

One day, while she was training by herself in an empty plaza, a woman passed by and paid close attention to her fighting form and rhythm.

She revealed herself to Akane as a traditional dance instructor and offered to train Akane to perfect her skills.

The girl wasn’t interested in doing something fancy like dancing but she changed her mind when she realized that her dancing could be used to raise money for her family. To which, she accepted.

While the instructor taught Akane the fundamentals of mai and odori techniques, the girl performed better when she used her own skills.

While frustrated, the instructor decided to rework her teaching style so Akane’s performances would be passable while also integrating her own skills.

She ended up winning multiple competitions and performances and used the prize money to move her family into a bigger and better house.

Although her reputation as an “easy waitress” would often rear its ugly head and would make Akane become agitated.

Her dancing moves incorporate alot of her old fighting techniques.

She wears a cherry red kimono with a yellow dragon etched on the side as a design.

At the end of each performance, she can be found at the snacks table eating just about everything.

Nagito Komaeda as the SHSL Nurse

Nagito lost his family when he was just a child.

Having pity on the boy, along with finding traces of frontotemporal dementia, the head doctor of the hospital he resided in decided to adopt the boy as his own.

Nagito became the doctor’s apprentice and learned of the different techniques that came with working in the medical field.

The doctor taught him which drugs/medicines were used for what along with how to use the surgical tools properly.

He personally saw different medical cases each more mesmerizing than the last.

He became fixated on the concept of death and how it was an integral part of life.

When he became old enough, he started to work as a nurse and partake in the same surgeries he saw as a child.

While he certainly participated in a number of cases that saved the lives of his patients, he also had a number of cases that resulted in death.

He personally requested to handle the patients that were unable to be saved so he can spend their final moments with them and capture the memory of their deaths.

There’s been word from the medical staff that he tries to comfort the dying patient and their family with speeches on how they shouldn’t be afraid of death and how the patient will move on to greater things in the next life and how the families will become stronger afterwards.

This has earned him the nickname “Angel of Death”.

He wears mint green scrubs and carries a portable bag withhis own medical equipment.

Teruteru Hanamura as the SHSL Coach

Despite his physique, Teruteru has amazing stamina and is capable of lifting heavy objects that ordinary people would have trouble lifting on their own.

Teruteru can analyze a person’s physical stature and determine which exercise or physical activity best suits them.

He always offers massage therapy proclaiming that it’s the best way to strengthen the body and relax the mind.

There are multiple cases where the players he’s worked with have accused him of sexual harassment or groping their bodies.

He has a complicated relationship with his family.

The younger siblings antagonize him for pursuing a career that isn’t related to their family’s restaurant business while putting more hardships on their mother.

His mom on the other hand, is more accepting of his career and asks that he focus more on what he enjoys doing in life.

Teruteru’s massages originally stemmed from how he would give massages to his mama to help alleviate her of her body aches.

He wears a dark red track suit and gold chain. Mixed with his combed over hair, it makes him look like a sleazy gangster.

Chiaki Nanami as the SHSL Animal Breeder

As the daughter of a rich family that hardly had time for her, Chiaki’s parents bought her a variety of animals to keep her company.

She found comfort with them but was heartbroken when she noticed that they became saddened and died.

She became motivated to learn from them so they could stay alive for long as possible.

Chiaki began studying different types of animals and what behaviors are ideal and which are concerning.

After school, she would venture to local animal shelters and veterinarians and offer to volunteer so she can work with different animals and examine first hand their behaviors.

She earned recognition by forming connections with the animals in her care and teaching them commands.

While she prefers the company of animals to humans, she will make an effort to help her human clients have a better relationship with their pets.

She can often be found napping alongside any of her animal friends.

Sagishi as the SHSL Lucky Student

Saigishi grew up in an orphanage having been abandoned by their family before they can remember.

They noticed that they had an unusual luck themed streak when it came to playing with the other kids.

If they were playing soccer, they would accidentally kick the ball into the window which surprisingly knocked out a janitor that was about to assault one of the orphanage workers.

If they tried to pass a love letter to another child they had a crush on, a burst of wind would fly the letter straight into the child’s face and they’d end up having a terrible accident.

If they were preparing food for an upcoming dinner, they would end up pouring too much vinegar into the meal which would spoil the dinner resulting in the staff having to order pizza for the kids.

Saigishi developed a reputation as a kid with creepy powers which both amazed and terrified their fellow orphans.

The kid realized that their luck would only benefit the people around them but would make bad things happen if they tried to use it for themselves.

At the urging of their friends, they ended up participating in the Hope’s Peak Lottery and wound up with the chance to join them as the next SHSL Lucky Student.

Sagishi was worried since something bad would eventually happen if it was the work of their luck, but they decided to take the offer knowing that they needed to make a future for themselves.

They wear a white collared shirt with old jeans.

They still have a mullet which has a small ahoge on the top of their head.

Mikan Tsumiki as the SHSL Gamer

She still had a horrible childhood growing up where her family and classmates would bully and abuse her for a variety of reasons.

Not wanting to put up with their abuse anymore, Mikan decided to drop out of middle school and become a hikikomori.

Using her worn out computer, Mikan found comfort in playing online video games.

She personally enjoys fighting games as she imagines her enemies as her abusers and would deliver swift justice on them by beating them up.

Mikan has a preference for playing as male characters since the female characters wearing skimpy/stripper-esque outfits bring back painful memories for her.

After sufficient online practice, Mikan gained enough confidence to try tournaments in the real world.

But she kept this secret from her family in fear that they would use this to torment her.

When it comes to tournaments, she unleashes her pent up anger and frustrations for her past tormentors by cursing at her opponents as she beats them.

While her fandom is impressed with her gaming skills, they do question why they would call her opponents by a different name and accuses them of doing something awful to her.

When she wants to calm down after a heavy day, she likes to play relaxing games with cute animals.

Nekomaru Nidai as the SHSL Prince

During his childhood years, Nekomaru stayed in his room because of his heart condition.

He received private tutoring based on the history of his kingdom along with different world cultures.

His father and mother spared no expense in providing the best doctors and medical professionals who could ensure that their son would be physically fit.

When he started making appearances outside of the palace, there were rumors that the frail prince was placed in a secret government program that was designed to create super soldiers.

He’s often recognized for working first as a soldier under his father’s militia before becoming of it’s main generals.

Nekomaru is well versed when it comes to proper etiquette and engaging in the company of royals or high class aristocrats.

He has a personal club made of suitors who have fallen for his image as a charming (and handsome) prince.

He also devotes alot of time to interacting with the middle class of his kingdom as he believes having a bond with his people is important for a royal to have.

The main uniform he wears is a blue military outfit with a silver sash and a black beret with a family jewel in the front.

Gundam Tanaka as the SHSL Yakuza

He inherited the throne of the Tanaka Empire at an early age due to the death of his father.

He wasn’t able to remember his father but the stories passed by his underlings and advisors describe him as a devil who was incredibly powerful but dangerous when provoked.

His mother on the other hand, remembers him as a loving man who was very attentive toward her needs.

Gundam would unintentionally embrace his father’s memory thanks to his “overlord” personality which would make him come off as overly dramatic and sinister to his enemies.

His reign as a yazuka lord involved more emphasis on spiritual affairs by bringing spiritual communities under his Empire.

He personally believes that maintaining ties with the spirits and Gods will grant the Tanaka Empire a stronger chance of survival.

While maintaining relationships with minor businesses under his control, he would also invite potential gang groups for tea ceremonies and offer them the chance to join him.

He’s been trained by his advisors in using a katana and gun making him skilled enough to handle even the most dangerous of gang members.

While he’s capable of defeating them, he vows never to take the blood of anyone weaker than him or unless he’s given no other choice.

Before entering high school, Gundam was able to have his upper and lower body tattooed with images of oni demons and spirits.

He found the Four Dark Devas when he passed by a street and saw the four hamsters foraging for food in a dumpster.

He also expresses admiration for Sonia’s impressive swordfighting skills and has offered her an opportunity to work for his Empire if she wishes.

Kazuichi Souda as the SHSL Gymnast

Kazuichi got into gymnastics by reading alot of shonen manga.

He was impressed by how athletic and fit the heroes were so he wanted to train and be like them.

When not helping in his dad’s shop, he would try practicing parkour near the streets of his town to help him develop better flexibility.

While practicing at middle school, his teachers noticed his potential and offered him a spot in a gymnastics program.

His dad didn’t like him getting into “girly shit” like gymnastics and frequently insulted him for it.

He would often perform for his friends which impressed them at first. But then things got troublesome when they requested him to do flips and jumps for their amusement.

It got worse when they tricked him into breaking into a second story classroom so he could steal the answers for an upcoming test.

Not wanting to be taken advantage of again, Kazuichi gave himself a radical makeover so no one would mess with him.

Along with his pink hair, his outfit consists of a black tanktop with neon green stripes and yellow shorts.

Hajime Hinata as the SHSL Mechanic

His parents rented his own shop for him to work at but they personally didn’t invest their own time to work with him.

To avoid having to think about his loneliness, Hajime placed all of his effort and thinking into his work.

He began receiving requests to repair average household appliances before moving on to bigger machines.

He’s received alot of praise for improving the appliances while also explaining to the owners on how they should best maintain their appliances so they can last longer

The machines that he worked best with were vehicles and motorcycles.

Despite being underage, Hajime managed to practice driving on his own and learned how to drive the basic motor vehicles.

While he’s grateful for his mechanic talent, he often worries if he’s really living his life to the fullest and if there’s something missing that he needs to achieve.

His favorite invention is a hoverboard that he uses to ride around his hometown to clear his mind after a hard day’s work.

His mechanic uniform is a mechanic uniform with a design similar to that of a racecar driver.

Mahiru Koizumi as a Reserve Course Student

While Mahiru was interested in the idea of going into Hope’s Peak, she wasn’t confident enough in her photography skills to go through with the entrance exam.

At the insistence of her best friend Sato, Mahiru ended up in the Reserve Course so they can fight for the chance to be special.

While she didn’t mind the work provided by her classes, Mahiru took notice of how her peers had a hard time with paying for their tuition along with even getting into the Talent program.

She also had to deal with Sato having to fight against her old rival Natsumi who was picking fights with her while trying to get recognized herself.

She became an unofficial peace keeper of her class as she would chastise her classmates for picking fights against each other or making rude remarks.

As time went on, Mahiru herself was unable to keep up with her classes since the money to pay for them was running low.

She would later receive an e-mail from the Steering Committee offering her a chance of entering the Talent program through an unconventional method that was funded by the school.

She had to cast that thought aside when Natsumi ended up dead and Sato is all but stated to have killed her out of frustration.

Soon vengeance would claim Sato’s life with Mahiru finding her in an empty classroom and on the brink of death with her head bleading.

Before dying, Sato begs her friend to make something special with her life and not to waste it in the Reserve Course. She knows that Mahiru will do great things in her life and that she believes in her.

Casting her doubts aside and refusing to let her friend’s death be in vain, she accepted the Steering Committee’s offer by participating in the Hope Cultivation Project.

61 notes · View notes

skullrock · 4 years

Text

the partners, chapter ten - Steve x Reader

chapter ten - how soon is now?

series summary: you and Steve are police apprentices at Hawkins Police Station in the fall of 1986. you get along famously, but there’s something Steve is hiding, and there is an unknown evil lurking in Hawkins. [friends to lovers, angst, hurt/comfort, fluff]

chapter summary: In the aftermath, you and Steve find comfort in each other.

warnings: swearing and an overwhelming amount of fluff

word count: 2k

a/n: here’s the Spotify playlist that goes with the series, and you can catch up here. this is it, folks. we have the epilogue left. if you stayed with me this entire time - thank you. this is my first longfic and it was a blast. thank you for the kind comments and interactions with this story. it means everything to me. one more chap to go babes. hope you enjoy this one <3

===

Steve has a lot of housekeeping to do.

He talks to your parents on a payphone at the hospital once a day. They’re in Europe and it’s taking them a while to get back, so they communicate this way. It’s awkward and weird for Steve to introduce himself, stumbling over his words – “Hi, I’m Steve Harrington. I’m your daughter’s partner. Like, at the station? But we also – we might – yeah. Anyway, she’s hurt pretty bad.” They tell him how much they appreciate him though, and he figures he’s had worse “meet the parents” scenarios before.

In between waiting to see you and sleeping on the floor, Sam Owens takes him into an empty conference room within the hospital. Steve tells him everything – the gut feeling that something was off about the Chief, the meddling of the evidence, the underground base, the bar, the building permits, everything. Owens nods solemnly as Steve speaks. It’s a lot to get through, and by the time Steve’s done explaining, his throat hurts.

“It’s taken care of,” Owens says simply, patting the top of Steve’s hand. “And we are looking into other properties to make sure they aren’t infiltrated, too.”

Steve nods. He doesn’t know if he can even trust Owens right now, but he’s too exhausted and worn to put up much of a fight.

“Are you doing okay?” Owens asks.

Steve doesn’t know how to answer. He leans back in his chair and lets out a long breath. Finally, he says, “I haven’t been doing okay for a long time.”

Owens nods sympathetically and pulls out a paper pad and pen. “We have some of the best therapists in the country, if you’d want to take a look at the programs. I’ll give you the information.” Owens pauses to write, then looks back up with a smile. “I’ll prescribe you some Ativan, too. Just to take the edge off.”

Steve nods weakly. Owens shoves the paper towards Steve who takes it and folds it into the uniform he is still wearing. He’s been asked numerous times to go home to clean and change, but he refuses, scared to lose the chance to see you if he’s gone when you wake. Owens leans back in his chair now, hands crossing over his chest. “I have something I want to talk to you about.”

Steve nods again.

“You exhibited… phenomenal skills when dealing with this case,” Owens starts. “Your attention to detail and drive to continue is something to be admired. The willpower you have and how strong you’ve been –“

“I haven’t been strong,” Steve interrupts. “I just… hid the pain very well.”

Owens shrugs. “You’re still a tough son of a bitch.”

Steve laughs.

“Your expertise is something that could really be helpful in the FBI, or CIA.”

If Steve were drinking, he would do a spit-take. “Are you serious?” he asks incredulously, leaning so far forward he almost falls out of his chair. “Me? FBI? CIA?”

“Just something to think about,” Owens says. “If you think you’re interested, give me a call. But before then….” Owens eyes shine. “We need an interim police Chief until we can get someone better in there. What do you say?”

Steve blinks. “Are you asking me to be acting Chief of Police in Hawkins?” Owens nods and Steve scoffs in disbelief. “Bullshit. I’m just a kid.”

“A kid with a hell of a lot of knowledge on all the things that have happened in this town. A kid with the will to keep going and do what’s right.” Owens sighs. “Look, you’re not going to have all the power – you’re just a sitting Chief. You’re already part of the force, so see it as a promotion. Just until we can find someone new.”

Steve swallows hard, his head racing, but he can’t help the smile that curves the ends of his lips. “Jesus.When do I start?”

He can’t wait to see his dad’s stupid face when he tells him.

===

Steve eventually does leave the hospital, because he wants to change and shower and buy you something nice. The thought didn’t even cross his mind until the Party showed up, all sporting either flowers or chocolates or movies for you. Robin and Dustin hug Steve tightly, and Steve’s eyes beam when he tells them of his promotion.

“He even said I could be part of the FBI,” Steve says lowly.

“Congrats,” Robin says. “Now please go change your clothes.”

And so he does, changing into the same outfit he wore the first time you both hung out. He grabs the most expensive bouquet at the florist, knowing full well he was about to be broke, then uses what little he has left to spare to buy you chocolates. He goes for a card but decides that he should probably use his words. Also, you probably couldn’t really read right now, what with the enormous concussion you’re sporting.

He’s sitting on the floor with the bouquet in hand – he insisted it was personally delivered – when the nurses tell him he can see you. He jumps up and pauses – his palms are sweaty, his heartbeat is through the roof, and he feels dizzy. It’s like being on a first date, or something; but he figures that’s what happens when the love you’ve been suppressing for months comes to you in one night.

You’re sitting up in bed and eating Jell-O when Steve bursts in, holding a huge bouquet of every flower known to man and a box of chocolates. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think it was Valentine’s Day.

“Hey,” you say, smiling broadly and taking him in. Last time you saw him was in a dimly lit bar lounge. He looks a lot more handsome here.

“Hi,” he says back. He stills before kicking into action, walking towards you. He awkwardly places the bouquet beside the other flowers people had brought and he sits the chocolates on your tray. “I figured maybe you’d like something that wasn’t hospital food.”

“I don’t know,” you beam. “Hospital Jell-O is pretty good.”

Steve laughs quietly as he sits on the chair next to you. You’re looking pretty rough – sporting a black eye, bruises and cuts over your face, your ribs wrapped up and your legs bandaged. Every movement hurts you and the concussion has you feeling dizzy and downright miserable. But all you did when you woke up was ask for Steve, and now he’s here. The sight of him adds ten years to your life and subsides the pain.

“You, uh,” he says. “Still look beautiful.”

You snort. “Okay.”

“I mean it!”

“Hotter than Mia Sara?”

“Always,” he grins, but it falters. “I need to talk to you.”

You put your Jell-O cup down. “Steve, we –“

“Please.”

You sigh and nod curtly. He sighs as well and runs a hand through his hair before starting. “It’s the worst feeling in the world to know that I got you into this. This was all my fault. And… and if I was just straight with you from the start, you wouldn’t be in this mess.” He swallows hard and fights off the painful feeling in his throat, signaling tears. “I was a dick. A total, complete asshole. And I don’t deserve for you to accept my apology. But I will tell you every single day for the rest of our lives that I am so, so sorry.”

“I’m not mad at you for this,” you say. “I’d die over and over again if it meant saving you and your cute ass.” You pause to let Steve roll his eyes, then continue. “I’m mad that you told me you didn’t love me. I’m mad at the mixed signals. I’m mad that you used to – you used to pick me up and twirl me, hold my hand.” You bite your lip. “Steve, you looked at me like I was the only girl in the world.”

“Because you are,” he says, reaching out and clasping your hand. “You are everything to me.”

“Then why did you say you couldn’t love me? Because you didn’t want me to get caught up in everything?” Steve nods, avoiding your eyes. You laugh. “Steve, here’s the thing. When someone loves someone, they’d go to the ends of the earth for them. When you told me you didn’t love me, it just spurred me on. It made me mad, yeah, but I still loved you. Nothing you could say could change that.” You laugh again and gesture to yourself. “Dude. I’d literally die for you. I almost did.”

Steve can’t stop the tears now, and they feel warm as they run down his cheeks. He shakes his head and squeezes his eyes shut. “I thought that if I acted like I didn’t love you, they couldn’t hurt you.”

“I understand,” you say gently. “I know. But no evil can stop love, Steve. And you’re kind of an idiot for trying to think otherwise.”

Steve laughs sadly. “Calling me an idiot, just like old times.”

You gently grab his chin and tilt him towards you. “If there’s one thing I have learned in the past – however many days I was out – it’s that you’re not an idiot, Steve Harrington.”

Steve’s eyes fall downward. “Then what am I?” he asks quietly, his voice cracking.

“You’re smart,” you start. “You’re brave. You’re strong. You’re funny. You’re caring. You’re kind. Fast learner. Wholesome. Helpful. Inspiring.” You don’t notice that you’re leaning forward until you’re right at his lips. You smile softly. “Devilishly handsome.” You rest your forehead on his, your thumb caressing his. His hand cups your face and your eyes brim with tears. “You’re incredible, Steve.”

When your lips meet, it feels like everything lost has been found. It feels like the missing pieces are finally set into place. Like the void within your chest has been filled. It’s warm, gentle, adoring. Steve’s thumb caresses your cheekbone and he melts into it, a smile forming on his lips. He feels like everything is right. He feels like he’s home.

When you part, you both can’t help the comically large smiles that form on your face. Steve’s thumb continues its course on your cheekbone as he whispers, “I’ve wanted to do that since you first walked into the station in that stupid blue uniform.”

You shake your head. “Bet you tell all the girls that.”

The next kiss is passionate, hands touching wherever they could reach. It’s intoxicating – Steve is a better kisser than you thought. Your hands tangle in his hair and you pull him towards you. Despite the dizziness in your head, you continue – it’s been entirely too long of a wait. He gets up, ready to climb on top of you, when a voice behind him shouts, “Excuse me!”

Steve whirls around and finds a nurse, arms crossed, and eyes narrowed. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“Uh, I’m – helping her – with her Jell-O.”

“Helping her with something, alright,” he huffs. “Hands off. I don’t care if you’re her partner or not.”

Steve blushes deeply and you do, too, biting your lip and trying to hide your bashful smile. Steve sits again, grabbing an unused pillow on your bed and using it to cover himself. Yeah, it’s probably a bad look to get a boner when the girl you love is lying in bed, concussed and broken, but this is Steve. What can one expect? The nurse checks on your vitals and gives you some painkillers, leaving with a stern look towards Steve.

You look to him, holding his hand again. “What now?”

Steve sighs. “Now you sign about a hundred documents saying that you won’t tell anyone what you saw. And then you get better and we both go to therapy.” Steve smiles softly. “And then after that, I have a thousand dates to take you on.”

“Just a thousand?” you tease.

“I’ll take you on more if you’re good.”

There’s a comfortable silence. You both just want to be near each other, hear each other’s breath, the rustling of clothes.

“Steve,” you say quietly, playing with his fingers. “I love you.”

It’s music to his ears. Softly, he says it back. “I love you, too.”

“Partners?” you ask.

Steve smiles. “Partners.”

===

taglist: @harrington-ofhawkins @wolfish-willow @gothackedalready @m-blasterrr@sourapplebaby @harringtown @sassisaluxury @comedy-witch @peanutem@mochminnie @willowrose99 @whimsicalwoodlands @anerroroccurrrrred @marvels-gurl @willowrose99 @andyl394 @ssanjuniperoo @davnwillcome @darth-el @troop-scoop

#steve harrington #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #stranger things x reader #stranger things x you #stranger things fic #my fics #the partners #the epilogue will go over a lot more of the aftermath dont worry <3 #im crying@!!!!

72 notes · View notes