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heloisedaphnebrightmore · 3 years

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Important asset [Billy Russo x Reader]

Title: Important asset Pairing: Billy Russo x Female!Reader Word count: 3k Published: 22 April 2021 Author: Heloise Daphne Brightmore Notes: My first Billy Russo fic, I hope it's not that bad, I'm still trying to get a hold of his character :) Summary: [x] Being a former military personal gives you the opportunity to work for Billy’s company. Becoming a very important part of the company provides you with an even closer relationship with your boss. However, he seems to be deliberately dancing on your nerves, increasing your already built-up frustration.

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Working for Anvil felt like a safe place. After serving your country for years, coming back from your last tour turned out to be more difficult than you could have anticipated. Protecting important personals and working as security wasn’t something you wished to do, but after starting the job, working along with people who have been through what you have, your view of the company has changed. The job was different, but the people you worked with have given you more support than anyone, including your family, friends or your therapist for that matter.

Joining Anvil wasn’t easy, the requirement process raised some issues that you had to overcome. The physical part didn’t offer any difficulty, but the mental exam seemed to present some obstacles. It wasn’t until your second try that you have been approved and joined the team. That was when you met Mr. Russo, CEO and founder of Anvil. He was just as handsome as you have heard, and he had a way with words. He was confident and knew just how to use his charm. Even if you wanted to deny your sudden interest in him, you couldn’t have.

It seemed that even if he didn’t look at you as a woman, he certainly found your abilities interesting. You didn’t just become one with the team, a crucial member, but also became one of Billy’s most important assets. Having both good communications skills and excellent combat skills meant your worth in Billy’s eyes have grown and provided a great deal of opportunity for you to stay beside him. Officially you weren’t an assistant, but unofficially, Billy liked to give you a nice amount of work, keeping you close by from early morning to late afternoon or evening, sometimes past 10pm.

“Mr. Russo,” you called out to him as you walked behind him in a narrow corridor of the Anvil headquarters. Billy turned around, adjusting his tie with a confident smirk across his face. “I heard you were looking for me,” you added as you finally arrived beside him, glancing up at his handsome features, looking very professional in his expensive suit. You wanted to look feminine and pretty, instead of being dirty and sweaty, wearing a pair of tracksuits, but sometimes your work required you to look more worn out than you wished to be. He had a certain aura that kept pulling you towards him, but as confident as you were in your abilities to protect your country and your people, you were just as uncertain about your appearance when you appeared in front of Billy.

“Yes, I have. Care to explain why I can't reach you on your phone?” He asked, his features unimpressed with your lack of availability.

“I was training, I can’t possibly bring my phone with me everywhere,” you replied frowning, but you quickly adjusted your expressions, before he could have scolded you. It was clear that he wasn’t happy with your reply, but he dismissed it after all.

“Come to my office at 1700 hours. I have a couple things to discuss with you,” he replied in an authoritative manner.

“I have to train the new recruits at 4,” you explained, but he just shook his head.

“Ask someone to replace you,” he stated firmly, accepting no objection. But you took your job very seriously and even though Billy was your boss, often you found yourself going against his decisions just to spite him.

“I can’t do that,” you stated, lips pursed to emphasise your objection. “There’s no one to cover me,” you added. His firm stance and sharp inhale reassured you that he was anything but happy with your answer. He took a step forward, forcing you to take a step back and collide with the wall behind you. Your chest felt as though it was a small box, containing only a small portion of oxygen, its lack of tightened your throat, starting your heart off in a dangerous pace, pounding hard against your ribcage. Billy’s presence always made you feel as though you couldn’t breathe. A simple gaze in your direction, a confident grin, his low, deep voice calling your name made you weak at the knees and left your mind wandering to paths you should have never gone to, causing thousands of butterflies to erupt in your belly.

“I’m your boss and I can change your schedule whenever I want to. I want to see you in my office at 1700 sharp, or else—” he didn’t finish the end of his sentence, but you were sure his ideas were entirely different from yours.

“Or else—?” It escaped your mouth involuntarily, receiving a low growl from Billy, a threatening aura, still it didn’t frighten you, if anything it encouraged you further. “I think we both know you will not fire me, Mr. Russo. I’m a very important asset to your company. I am a very dedicated employee and therefore I will try to adjust my schedule to fit your request, but I cannot promise anything, unless you personally can provide someone to take over from me,” you replied in a challenging manner, earning a questioningly raised brow from Billy. Trying to read his face you couldn’t decide if he was actually considering helping you or he was planning how to murder you in the spot.

A heavy sigh left his lungs, but he didn’t back away. “I will send Simon to cover you,” he said between gritted teeth.

“That is absolutely brilliant, I’m so glad we are on the same page,” you exclaimed with a wide grin across your face as you turned around to leave the man behind. However, before you could have left, he grabbed your arm and pulled you back against him, your palms landing on his hard chest, feeling every inch of each fine muscle under your touch.

“Pay attention to your attitude because it has gotten out of hands recently and you are standing on a very fine line,” he whispered, his breath tickling your cheeks. Indeed, you have been rather free with your words and actions around Billy, and you knew you were playing with fire, but it seemed that was the only way to get his attention.

“I might be pushing some boundaries, but my only intention is for the company to work effectively, to produce people that do their tasks efficiently meanwhile wearing Anvil’s name with pride. If I neglect my duties and ignore my job, even if it’s for your request, what use am I to the company?” you asked with a certain pride. Whilst your intention was to object to Billy once again, to be somewhat bratty, every word that left your lips were true. Anvil has given you more than you could have ever wished for and not even Billy could stop you from making this company one of the most well-working organisations.

Billy took a sharp inhale, trying to decide whether you were just being spoilt once again, because you were indeed aware of your own worth, or if the company really took priority in your eyes. His nod reassured you of the latter as he let go of your arm.

“I like the way you are thinking, but it doesn’t excuse your attitude. You are an important asset to the company, but not irreplaceable. By the time you come to see me in the afternoon, try to get rid of it,” he spoke sternly, before he shook his head and offered you a cocky grin as he turned around and left you in the corridor. You couldn’t stop the tiny smile from appearing in the corner of your lips, his expression reassured you that you were anything but invisible in his eyes.

As you were leading a shooting session for your team, Billy interrupted your practice, clearing his throat whilst leaning against the doorframe, watching your people. You looked at your watch, afraid of being late, but according to your time, you weren’t even anywhere near the time you were supposed to be in his office.

“Keep practising,” you instructed them as you walked back to Billy, whose arms were folded in front of his chest, his eyes following every step you took towards him. “Is everything okay?” you asked as you stopped in front of him.

“Hmm,” he replied with a simple hum and a single nod. He seemed to have something on his mind, and you were sure he would soon voice his opinion. Biting his lip, he grimaced slightly. “Your team needs more practice,” he added nonchalantly. Your eyes widened and you quickly turned around to check on the targets. Indeed, there were some errors, but you were overall satisfied with their performance, they were former members of the US Armed Forces after all. Inhaling sharply, you turned back to him, staring at his expressionless face.

“Is this really why you came here?” You asked with a questioningly raised brow.

“I was just wondering how useful you are to the company since you have been walking around voicing your importance. Just like you did in the morning, if I recall correctly,” he shrugged casually.

“Let me see if I understand. After all I have done for the company and for you, now you are checking on my people and my progress, questioning how much we are worth to your goddamn company?” You hissed in anger. Billy seemed to be on a roll attempting to piss you off at any given time. Usually, you could keep your act together, but he has done nothing but insulted you that day and he was very close to reaching your limits. You stared into his eyes and in the lowest, most threatening tone you could manage, you continued. “Listen to me Russo, I can take a lot, I’m quite a resilient person, but I’m very close to walking out of here and never coming back. If you would like me to leave then say it, but if not and you would like me to keep working for you, then let me do my job and leave me alone for the rest of the day,” you exhaled sharply and after a deadly gaze directed at your boss, you turned away and joined your team. Your blood was boiling from the amount of anger he could bring out in you, as if he found your frustration entertaining. Although you expected him to come after you and give you a monologue about humbling yourself, by the time you looked back towards the entrance, he was long gone.

It was already 5pm and Simon was nowhere to be found. You instructed the new recruits to take a 5-minute break from the exercises you have given them as you rocked from one leg to the other trying to calm yourself, slowly exhaling and inhaling. Preparing for the scolding you were about to receive from Billy, your blood pressure had risen. You groaned as you saw Simon run through the door, heavily apologising for his lateness. Shaking your head, you walked up to him and instructed him about the details of the recruits’ further training. By the time you were supposed to be in Billy’s office, you were jogging across the narrow corridors of Anvil, trying to minimise the nagging Billy was about to give you for not arriving in time.

“You are late,” you heard his voice as you opened the door, grimacing at the harsh tone. Billy didn’t even look up from his desk, his eyes were attached to the paperwork he was signing off.

“Not my fault,” you added, walking up to the table and sitting down across Billy.

“I told you to be precise,” he groaned, unhappy about your lateness.

“Next time send someone who actually appears in time,” you retorted, feeling fed up with his continued scolding.

“Once again you have that attitude,” he cleared his throat in frustration.

“Russo!” You shot up from your chair, placing your hands on his paperwork, staring straight into his eyes. “I’m aware that I have a slight problem with my attitude, but I don’t think it’s fair that you blame me for something I had no say in. You have asked Simon to replace me, still at 5pm sharp I was still in the training hub alone with the recruits, because he was late,” you replied firmly.

“I don’t think I have asked for an excuse, so why do I have to listen?” He asked with a deep frown, slowly standing up from his chair, his stance projecting authority. But at that moment, you couldn’t care less. Your blood was rushing through your veins, your built-up frustration threatening to reveal itself. As if Billy’s mere purpose was to dance on your nerves. And he was successful.

“Billy,” you called his first name with clenched teeth. You have gotten used to calling him Mr. Russo or Russo, even though you were close to each other. However recently he has been deliberately annoying you and you couldn’t take it anymore. Indeed, you wanted to get some kind of reaction out of him with your brattiness, but receiving the same attitude didn’t seem that entertaining. You knew you were supposed to be professional when you were working, even though he made it his mission to piss you off, but you just lost your self-control. “I have done nothing for this company but work my ass off to help you. When you asked, I had to be at two even three places at the same time. I have no life, because every single free time and day off I’m supposed to be having, I have to spend here to help you. I don’t mind, because I love working here and I want to make this company a better place. But you are the one talking about my attitude, even though I have never asked for anything in return?! Have I ever asked for a raise even if you dumped hours of work on me? You keep me here from early morning to late evening and I’ve never once complained, still you dare to talk about my attitude? Please, tell me what your problem is with me, because recently I feel like it’s your mission to get on my nerves. At this point the only thing I can think of is that you want me to quit because that’s the kind of hostility that comes across from you,” you huffed releasing all your frustration on your boss.

“You—” he wanted to speak up, but you didn’t let him. It was your time to talk, and you didn’t even give him a chance to object.

“No, I’m speaking,” you interrupted him, earning a sharp inhale from the man. “I understand that I’m only a mere subordinate, and I know I should not have the attitude that I do take on sometimes, but I am still a human and I don’t have to deal with your moodiness on a daily basis,” you hissed. “Tell me honestly, is it your mission to get me to quit? Because at this point you are very close to forcing me to resign and—” you had no way to finish the sentence as Billy grabbed the back of your neck and pulled your lips against his, earning a moan from you. He only let go of you for a second to get around the table, his movements quick as though he was a lion hunting down his prey. He attached his lips to yours once again, pushing you up on the table and positioning himself between your thighs. He sneaked his arm around your waist, pulling you closer to him, his other hand firmly holding you close to him by the back of your neck, wanting nothing but to reduce the proximity between the two of you.

“Do you ever shut up?” He asked, breathing heavily against your lips. “I hear nothing but your continuous yapper,” he groaned as he laid his forehead against yours, massaging random patterns on your thigh. “Why on earth do you think I have given you so much job to do, you dumb woman? Can you be any more oblivious? I didn’t just dump all those random tasks on you and left you to do them, did I? I stayed behind with you, isn’t that, right?” he asked through gritted teeth. “You really know how to get on my nerves, and this certainly isn’t how I imagined this to come out, but you make it impossible for me to keep my cool,” he inhaled slowly, forcefully pulling you closer to him as he stood between your legs, making you moan at the contact. “I’m going to give you two options now,” he stated as he took a step back, giving you space to think. You can walk out that door, act like nothing happened and we will go back to being a boss and an employee. Or you can stay, and we continue what we started. But then there’s no turning back. I don’t just let go of what’s mine,” for a moment you ran the options through a logical part of your mind, that screamed for you to walk out the door. But you couldn’t possibly listen to the voice when you could finally be Billy’s after you have done so much for the man you longed for.

You grabbed his belt and pulled him between your legs, whispering against his lips. “Close that door,” Billy’s jaw clenched and without a second to waste he stood by the door, locking it behind him and getting back to you in haste, capturing your lips with his hands exploring every part of your body.

“So, have I become irreplaceable now?” You asked with a proud, overly confident grin as his hands tried to remove your shirt impatiently. His eyes darkened at your words, his hands stopping mid-air.

“Don’t get cocky with me,” he groaned, grabbing your jaw and connecting your lips once again, trying to get you out of your clothes. Whatever Billy called you for was long forgotten for the rest of the evening, you were busier with each other’s company.

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#billy russo #billy russo x reader #ben barnes #ben barnes x reader #anvil #billy russo x reader fanfiction #billy russo fanfiction

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rexscyarika · 3 years

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Di’kutla Mando’ad

⚠️18+ MINORS DNI⚠️

Wolffe x afab gender neutral reader. Reader is a Mandalorian bounty hunter that now works for the GAR.

Warnings and such: Establishment bdsm (dom/sub) relationship (up to you to decide if that extends to romantic too as it’s never stated either way), orgasm denial, spanking, vaginal fingering, semi public sex, sex in a gunship, public flirting, flirting with Sinker, mention of mlm Boost cause there are no cishet characters in Star Wars, degrading/name calling, use of military titles during sex, manhandling, teasing, praise, pet names including sweetheart and little one, hair pulling, use of the color system, aftercare, begging, dirty talk, brat taming but not really good brat taming cause you got exactly what you wanted by being a brat tbh, implied past threesomes, implied possible future threesome with Sinker (a sequal anyone 👀), hint of an armour kink, military title kink, mention of knives and I think that’s all I hope *edited to add* piv sex

Mando’a translations (I hope there’s not so much it gets confusing to read, if there is lmk, but I love this language sm and writing with it helps me learn it lol)

Cyare/cyar’ika: Darling/beloved/sweetheart

Gedet’ye: Please

Elek/‘lek: Yes

Ad’ika: Little one/sweetie/darling

Al’verde: Commander

Mando’ad/Mando’ade: Mandalorian/Mandalorians

Ori’jate: Very good

Beroya: Bounty hunter

Ruus’alor: Sergeant

Haar’chak: Damn it

Shabuir: Fucker

Di’kut: Idiot/fool

Ner: My

She’cu: Nine

Gar: You

Title means “Foolish Mandalorian”

Ps idk what toilet paper is called in the Star Wars universe so I went with “‘fresher rolls” don’t @ me.

You glanced past the holo projection of the Kel Dor to your frustrated Commander. His hands were flexing by his side and his body was rigid. He shifted impatiently on his feet as he nodded along to whatever the General was saying. The way his muscles rippled under his plastoid armour made your mouth water and you couldn’t wait to feel yourself underneath him. Submitted and begging for release. You knew he’d pounce soon, you knew how to play him. Sure you could just ask him to rearrange your guts but where was the fun in that? You’d been extra flirty with him all morning, an extra touch there, a lingering hand here, a breathy and sweet tone to your voice as you followed his orders.

“Yes, Commander.”

“Anything for you, sir.”

“You’re armour looks extra good on you today, Al’verde.”

An “I’d sure love to cyar’ika.” After you heard a hissed “fuck me.” under his breath after he had spilled hot caf on himself.

He had given you a couple warnings. Ones you responded with by a flutter of eyelashes and a mockingly sweet “Sir, yes, sir.”

What really wound him up though was what you were doing as he spoke to the General. You were sat beside Sinker on a nearby crate, your knees touching and a hand on his thigh. You had removed your helmet and sat it beside you so Wolffe could see every bite of your lip and flutter of your lashes you gave his vod.

You turned your attention back to the silver haired trooper, leaning in closer than necessary to hear his story.

“So Boost goes up to him and the di’kut says: Hey are you a lightsaber cause I’d like to impale myself on you.”

The poor man barely gets that sentence out before he’s wheezing, you joining him promptly after. Wolffe’s head snaps up to you guys and you can feel his gaze burn through you, you just know his lips are pulled into a tight line under his helmet. He turns his attention briefly back to Plo before he is dismissed and you hear footsteps coming your way.

You tried to stifle a smirk as you ignored him.

“How many times do I have to tell him to stop with the pickup lines, he’s never gonna get laid.” You rolled your eyes and huffed in mock exasperation.

“Or maybe a haircut.” You added with a snort.

“I keep telling him that! But he-“ Sinker immediately stiffens and removes the hand that had travelled to your waist as he noticed Wolffe. He stands up and gives his C.O. a small salute. Not really necessary or protocol but he was afraid he had crossed a line and didn’t want to take any chances.

“Commander.” you purred, lifting her head and blinking up at him with hooded eyes. “How’d the meeting go, anything new we need to know?”

He ignored your question but continued staring daggers into your soul as he spoke to Sinker.

“A new shipment of supplies is due to be dropped off anytime. Go and make sure the shinies don’t spill them again.” His voice was gruff and commanding, trying his best not to snap at his vod. After all, it wasn’t his fault you were being a needy little slut.

“Yes sir, right away, sir.” You heard him reply, his shoulders relaxing and a relieved sigh leaving him as he walked away.

You stood up and looked towards Sinker, huffing in mock disappointment.

“Rude. I was having a nice conversation with him.”

You turned to grab your helmet, settling it onto your head before turning back to your Commander.

“He was telling me embarrassing stories about Boost, it was quite entertaining.”

“Uh uh.” He replied, taking a few steps towards you. His voice, deep with irritation and lust, sent a wave of arousal straight to your core. “Entertaining.” The word was laced with sarcasm and a touch of a snarl. He stepped closer, you could hear his breathing through the modulator now. A hand came up to run along the top of your belt, sending shivers through your spine. His other hand came up to rest under your helmet, pulling your head up to look at him. “You’re quite the needy little thing aren’t you, sweetheart?” It was more of a statement than a question and you just scoffed at him and shifted to hide the arousal that was building between your legs. “I asked you a question, beroya.” He growled, his grip on your helmet increasing. You responded by stepping back, your hand moving up to flick his away.

“I’m going to help Sinker.”

You huffed, turning to walk away. His hand hadn’t left your belt, however, and he tightened his grip and pulled you towards him.

“Foolish Mandalorian.” He snarled as he snaked his other hand around to land on your lower back and pull you flush against him, causing a small gasp to travel through your modulator.

“Shabuir.” You fired back, your hands coming up to push at his chest, not that you really wanted to get away mind you. But you knew the more resisting you did the rougher he would get. And the rougher he got the more heat gathered between your legs. And the names, oh the names. Coming from anyone else you probably would’ve pulled your blade on them, but the way he said them in that voice of his, especially modulated through his helmet, turned your limbs to jelly. They were like a condescending prayer falling from his lips and travelling straight to your cunt. He knew this of course, this wasn’t your first time and you had discussed your limits to avoid well, you pulling your blades on him.

He growled your name, a low sinful warning as his hand left your belt to grasp your throat, not hard enough to bruise but certainly not light.

You light out a low whimper at that, the sound, along with it being enhanced by your modulator, sent a shiver down the Commander’s spine.

“Color?” He murmured, somehow flipping his voice to be soft and gentle, his hand moving to gently rest against the back of your neck.

“Green!” You nearly gasped out. You were starting to lose your composure and you knew he could tell that to.

He immediately straightened up, his voice becoming hard and commanding again.

“Then I think it’s time to teach you a lesson in following orders, little one.”

He turned and started walking towards the nearest gunship, his hand pulled tight around your waist.

You stumbled alongside him, his words having weakened your legs even more.

“Easy there.” He chuckled. The sound a low and deep rumble in his chest.

It made you stumble again. The bastard. He knew exactly what he was doing to you.

Despite your weak legs you managed to make it to the gunship where Wolffe hastily opened the door and ushered you in. The door hadn’t fully closed by the time he had pushed up against the wall. His hands came up to remove your helmet and discard it alongside his own and he wasted no time in claiming your mouth, only pausing to order you to keep your hands clasped behind your back. His tongue found no resistance through your lips and he pulled moans deep from your throat as he explored your mouth. While his mouth was busy his hands came to grope and grab at your ass before moving to remove first your belt, then your codpiece. He teased his fingers just inside your waistband, enjoying the way your moans turned to whines.

Just as you were about to pull away and spit a snarky comment at him for taking his time he finally moved his hands down to slide a calloused finger through your folds. A surprised whimper left your lips at that.

He hummed approvingly at the wetness he found there, slowly sliding his finger in before he moved to nip and suck at your neck. His finger didn’t move, not until he slid another to join, at which they both stilled inside you again.

You tried to roll your hips against him, desperate for any kind of friction, but you were met with his other hand roughly shoving your hips back against the wall.

“Ah ah, you take what I give you, cyar’ika.”

You whined into his ear, trying to think of something snarky to say but you were at a loss for words.

“Aw, all tongue tied are we?”

You opened your eyes to meet his as he pulled his mouth from your neck.

You opened your mouth to disagree but it turned into a surprised gasp as he rutted his fingers up inside you, fingers curled expertly to find that spongy spot.

You saw a sly smirk form on his lips before your eyes closed in bliss. He still wasn’t moving quite enough for your liking but at least he was moving you thought.

He brought his mouth back to yours to swallow your moans as his thumb came up to gently circle your throbbing clot.

His hand moved from your hip to grab a handful of your hair. He didn’t pull at first, just kept a gentle pressure pulling at the roots.

“Wolffe.” you moaned out, his hands sending waves of pleasure through your body.

His fingers stilled inside you, making you let out a small whine. He used his grip on your hair to turn you to face him.

“Excuse me?” He growled, meeting your gaze with darkening eyes.

Your own eyes widened at the realization of what you said. “Commander! Sorry, sir.”

He gave a hum of approval and started pumping his fingers inside you again, only this time it was faster and harder. Every push inwards had his fingers brush against that sweet spot and you could feel your orgasm approaching.

You could feel his gaze travelling over your face as you twisted and groaned beneath him.

His thumb came to swirl around your clit again, causing you to cry out. You let your head fall back against the wall as you prepared for the wave of pleasure to wash over you. You could feel it building and building, burning hot, deep within your core. However, instead of the sweet release you had been craving you got a sudden emptiness as he pulled his hand away. You clenched around nothing and let out a whine, snapping your eyes open to look at the culprit. You shivered at the sight. He brought his fingers into his mouth, sucking and licking off the taste of you. His eyes were closed in bliss and he let out a groan around his fingers. A long, deep, sinful sound that shot straight to your soaking cunt.

You watched him with hunger, trying desperately to keep your hands to yourself.

He removed his fingers with a pop and let his eyes fall to your exasperated state. Which he let out a chuckle at.

“You didn’t think you were going to get away with being a brat, did you?”

The venom in the way he said brat and the way his lips turned into a snarl made your pussy throb even more than it already was.

Your eyes widened and you shook your head.

His grip on your hair tightened slightly and he raised his eyebrow in a silent warning.

“No, sir.”

“Thought so.” He let his hand fall from your head and he walked over to some stacked crates, gesturing for you to follow him.

He ordered you to turn around once you had came to face him. The break from him touching you and the brief walk was enough for you to gain back some control of your thoughts so you opted to have a little fun.

“No.”

“Pardon that sweetheart?”

“I said no.” You crossed your arms over your chest and popped your hip out, meeting his gaze with one of defiance. “You didn’t let me cum so I’m not going to listen.”

His jaw tightened and before you knew it you were bent over the crates, face pushed against the cold medal and hands held tightly behind your back. You gasped as you felt yourself being pushed even harder down onto the rough surface as he bent over to bring his lips against your year.

“Watch it, Ruus’alor.” He practically spat, giving your neck a hard nip to prove his point. The use of your title send a shock of arousal through your body and you shivered against the feeling of his breath on your neck.

He straightened up and roughly pulled down your pants, your underwear going with them. The Commander waisted no time in bringing his hands to grope your ass, and his mouth to bite at the soft flesh. Your groaned and leaned into his touch, encouraging him to move his mouth lower.

You were met with a harsh slap to the sensitive skin.

You let out a surprised yelp and your hands moved to grip on the edges of the crate.

You received another slap, this one slightly harsher. You felt him straighten up again as he spoke. “Did you forget how to count, sweetheart? That was two.”

“Sorry, Sir.” You mumbled into the table and were met with another slap.

“Three.” You gasped

“Four.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“Seven.”

“Eight.”

“She’cu.” You choked out. That was one of your tells it was becoming to much when it came to impact play, slipping back into your native tongue. You two had been quick to figure that out when you started. It wasn’t always negative when you started speaking Mando’a however. Most of the time it meant you were on the verge of an orgasm or you were just so lost in the pleasure you forgot how to speak basic.

His hand moved to rub soothing circles over the reddening skin as his other trailed up and down your waist.

“Ori’jate ner Mando’ad.”

You relaxed under his touch, your breathing coming deep and easy again. Your cunt ached from neglect, you needed him inside you, now.

“Gedet’ye Al’verde.”

“What do you need Cyar’ika?” He leaned his body slightly over yours. You sighed under the weight, it was comforting.

“Gar, Al’verde.” You whined, trying to wiggle your hips against his codpiece. “Need to feel you inside me. Please.”

He brought his lips to the back of your neck and kissed you softly before answering. “Only because you took your punishment so well.”

You managed a breathy thank you before he pulled away to remove his codpiece. You shivered in anticipation as you watched him expertly remove the armour. Your tongue darted out to lick your lips when he removed his cock from the confines of his blacks. He was rock hard and slick with precum.

His gaze met yours and his lips turned up into a grin. “What you’ve never seen a cock before?” He teased taking himself in hand and giving himself a couple pumps.

You managed to roll your eyes and mumble a “Just fuck me already.” as you turned your head from him.

“With pleasure.” He cooed, lining himself up with your aching hole and placing a hand on the small of your back to press you further into the cold surface of the crate.

You both groaned in tandem as he began to push himself into you. He slowly moved deeper until he couldn’t go any further, stopping to take a minute to make sure you were well adjusted before he started moving. As he stilled inside you he moved his body over yours again, taking a hand to gently pull your chin towards him. He kissed you, it was slow and gentle, and you returned it eagerly, clenching around him when he gave your lower lip a little nip. He released a curse into your mouth at that.

“Ready?”

“‘Lek.”

He attached his lips back to yours as he slowly started pulling out of you, eagerly drinking down every sound you made. You thought he was going to pull out of you completely before he buried his hips against yours in one swift motion. His cock hitting deep inside you caused you to cry out and push back against him, seeking more.

“So eager.” He breathed against your lips before pulling out and snapping his hips in again, faster this time.

This caused you to roll your head away from his, resting your forehead on the crate, hands clinging desperately to the sides as your Commander’s movements quickened with every thrust. His breathy groans left your ear as he stood up, placing his hands on your hips in a tight grip.

“Fuck you feel so good.”

You only groaned in response, the praise sending a wave of pleasure down your body and causing you to clench around him. He hissed at that before speeding up his thrusts and somehow managing to hit even deeper inside you.

Your words were coming in garbled mix of basic and Mando’a now, the pressure in your core steadily growing.

“Are you going to cum, sweetheart?”

You managed to nod in response before crying out in frustration as his movements slowed.

“Do you think you deserve to?”

“Elek, Al’verde gedet’ye!”

“Hmm. I don’t know about that.”

His head lowered to your ear again.

“Good Mando’ade listen when their Commander tells them to behave.”

He brought a hand to your ass in a light slap, making you jump slightly forward in surprise, well as far as you could being pinned against a metal crate.

“They don’t continue to be brats and flirt with my vode.” He added, moving his hand to grip at your hair. “Maybe I should call Sinker in here so he can see what he’s missing.”

Your breath hitched at that.

“Or maybe I should just pull out and let him take care of you. After all sweetheart, you seemed mighty eager to let him fuck you.”

You buried your head against the cold metal as a whine escaped your hips and you clenched around his barely moving cock.

“Hmm what a filthy little thing, you’d like that wouldn’t you?” He chuckled, suddenly snapping his hips back towards you in a deep thrust.

You let out a choked cry. “Haar’chak Al’verde, gedet’ye!” The pressure in your core was overwhelming, you felt like you could burst at any second but his movements were to slow too let you. Tears pricked your eyes as the pleads fell from your lips. His cock inside you was too much yet not enough at the same time. Your body was heated with pleasure but also a small amount of smugness. You had him exactly where you wanted him, pushing all his buttons to get what you wanted.

You hadn’t realized you had been whining apologies to him until his movements sped up again.

“There you go, cyar’ika.” He breathed out as he set an unforgiving pace, hips angled to hit your g-spot and his hand leaving your hair to rub circles on your clit. You couldn’t form words at this point, just moans and gasps as you chased your release. You could tell he was close too. His thrusts had become more erratic, and the hand at your hip had tightened its grip. Your mouth fell open in a shout of his name as his next words pushed you over the edge.

“Cum for me, ad’ika. Make a mess on my cock.”

And you did, your orgasm rippling through you in it’s unforgiving intensity. You felt yourself clench hard around him, the action causing him to spill inside you with a sputter of his hips and curse of your name from his lips. You became slightly numb as you came down from your high, barely registering that Wolffe was pulling you into his lap. Soft praises fell from his lips as he gently held your head against his chest. You wrapped your arms around his waist, trying to get as close as you could despite the armour you both still wore above your waists. Your breathing came slow and deep, synching to his. Once you had gained some semblance of control you looked up at him to find him studying you intently.

You raised an eyebrow at the question that was pulling at his lips.

“Would you actually wanna fuck Sinker?”

You giggled at the disbelief in his voice before you moved your head into his chest to hide the red that was creeping up your face. “Maybe.” You mumbled, partly hoping he didn’t hear you.

“But it’s Sinker!” He groaned in confusion.

You popped your head back up that.

“I happen to like Sinker quite a bit thank you very much.” You huffed in defence. Not that it had any real heat to it you as you knew he was teasing. He really was quite fond of the trooper but he liked it give him a hard time.

He chuckled at you, more moving of his chest than actual sound. “Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve shared you, cyar’ika. As long as you remember the rules.”

You rolled your eyes at him, of course you’d remember the rules.

“Not without you and you’re in charge.” You sealed your words with a boop to his nose, causing him to return your eye roll.

“That’s my good little beroya.”

His words made you flush again, but it turned into a grimace as you felt the mess between your legs.

“You made a mess Wolffe!” You tutted in mock annoyance as you stood up in search of something to clean you up. You couldn’t see his face but you’re sure he rolled his eyes at you again. You let out a small cheer as you opened one of the crates to find it filled with ‘fresher rolls. Grabbing one you turned back to find your Commander walking up to you with your discarded pieces of armour. You put them back on after cleaning yourself up as best you could. Once you were done you looked up to find Wolffe staring at you with a smirk on his face.

“What?!”

“Your armour’s sexy.”

“No your armour’s sexy.” You replied tapping a finger on his chest as you leaned up to press a kiss to his cheek.

He let out a snort before handing your helmet to you.

“Why thank you, cyar’ika.” You purred, lifting it from his hand. Before you could put it on however, he grasped your chin between two fingers and pulled you up to kiss him. It was deep and passionate and made you melt into his touch. He pulled away with a smirk, leaving you out of breath and on slightly shaky legs as he put his helmet on.

“Why don’t we go and check on your darling Sinker? Make sure he hasn’t knocked out any shinies.” He sighed in slight exasperated at the second sentence as he turned to open the door out of the gunship.

You scoffed at his words but also put on your helmet to follow him. Sinker has been know to get a little... snippy at shinies here and there. You’ve had to step between him and a terrified trooper more than once. Not that you haven’t had to do that with Wolffe mind you, he was just as bad if not worse. You grinned as you stepped out of the gunship, a small limp finding it’s way into your step. You couldn’t wait to see Sinker’s response to your little proposition you had prepared for him.

#commander wolffe #commander Wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #commander Wolffe smut #I hope sinker isn’t to ooc but he didn’t have much screen time so I made up things

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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

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n-amelessart · 2 years

Text

Prompt Response - Irresponsible Teachers

I wrote a response to a prompt on Reddit but since I am totally new to the site, I didn’t realize the comments were locked until after I wrote the story. After fuming a while and calming down, I figured the story can be saved. So here it is!

Unfortunately, I can’t find the original prompt so I can not credit the prompt author correctly. If anyone knows who wrote this prompt then please tell me and I will edit this post to credit them. Here is the gist of the prompt:

There is a Conference of Masters where people gather to discuss how they raise their heroes. The main character can not believe how many people are willing to leave the fate of the world in the hands of children.

I tugged at my beard. Are these people stupid? I looked at the long table at the head of the room, careful to keep open ridicule off of my face. Five people sat behind the table. Four of the most senior educators from the Academy and their Headmaster, who sat in the center. The rightmost educator was standing, a retired military commander who once served under the king. The General was supposedly sharing his opinion, though it sounded an awful lot like commands.

"Upon hearing the oracle's prophecy regarding the return of Ahriman," he was practically screaming despite the silence of the room. "The Academy has decided that when the heroes are found, regardless of their current position, they will be immediately enrolled into the advance classes at our Academy."

I had once been involved in the affair of nobles and I was well aware of their political double speak. Regardless of their current position. Clearly, it was meant to sound charitable but there was no doubt that kidnaping was an effective option.

"As this room is filled with Masters, Sages and every other form of educator," the General continued, lowering his voice to only a yell. "It is understandable that if you were to find one of - or all of - the heroes, that you would not want to hand over your disciples. However, if you relinquish your hero to us, you will bestowed a position at the Academy as an Advanced-level Educator. Including all of the benefits that come with that title."

Blatant bribery. There were roughly 50 other people in the room listening to the Academy's speakers, but no one spoke up against them. No one asked what would happen if they refused to hand over the kids. The Academy had the backing of the King, that authority turning its eyes towards you would end tragically.

"Thank you, General." The Headmaster dismissed the General around a yawn. He sat stiffly, pressing the wrinkles out of the military uniform he still wore. The Headmaster was an old wizard was famously brilliant and equally infamous for his apathy. Rumor said he got the role of Headmaster so that students' parents would stop complaining about his teaching habits, or lack there of. Who was the moron who put him in a more important position? Just fire him. The old man rested his chin on his palm. "Any questions for the Academy?"

A scarred and muscled man holding his sword instead of having it hang from his waist raised the hilt to get the Headmaster's attention. "How would you teach the heroes?"

The General slammed the table and exploded back out of his seat. "Do you doubt our methods? The heroes will forgo the standard education of the Academy and immediately be placed in the field. Only real experience would do us any good!" The two men glared daggers at each other. Perhaps they had met each other before.

"Yes yes, thank you General." The Headmaster waved for him to sit back down. "It is as he said. They will be put in charge of a military unit in the King's army to gain leadership and combat skills."

"What about magic theory? Tactics? Logistics?" The person who spoke up was portly man in a robe.

"Hmmm..." The old man tapped his fingers on the table. "I do like theory..."

"Headmaster, if I may?" To the old man's left was a beautiful woman in luxurious purple robes. He sat back in this chair, allowing her to speak.

"Thank you." She did not target the portly man, but instead turned and addressed the whole room. "The education of the heroes, when they are found, will be our top priority. Out in the field, the heroes will come across the exact sort of situations they will face when the time of the prophecy comes. Of course, they will not be left to their own devises. Advanced-level Educators from the Academy will be available to the heroes when they have questions. This will ensure they only ask questions relevant to their purpose. Learning anything more would be a detriment not only to the kingdom, but to the world."

What are the heroes to them? Tools? The sheer arrogant recklessness of putting untrained people into real combat scenarios was tantamount to murder. Not only for the heroes, but for the soldiers under their command. I could not stand this.

"Are you out of your mind?" The words left my mouth before I could stop myself.

"Pardon me?" The woman's tone was incredulous. Dammit. I just had to say something. The room had been quiet in between speakers before, but this silence was overbearing. Might as well commit to this foolishness.

"Have you considered the heroes in this situation?" I started. "You don't know who the heroes are! How could you plan to throw them in the army when they could have been farmers before this? They need, at the very least, the basics of magic, combat and strategy before they even look at a battlefield."

The General on the right had turned several shades redder, veins bulging on his forehead, but it was the woman in purple who spoke first.

"I am a woman of faith, sir." Her tempered anger felt more dangerous than the raging fury coming from the General. "I have no doubt that only the finest and most qualified people are fated to be revealed as the heroes. As such, a farmer rising to that position is simply impossible. In addition to this, we do have some idea as to who the heroes are." She paused, waiting for the full attention of the room before continuing. "The oracle stated that the heroes have just reached the age of adolescence."

My stomach sank. Those who had remained silent gasped and shouted now. Angered yelling, stomping feet and people crowding towards the Academy's table filling the once still meeting room with boiling emotion. The Headmaster did not get up from his seat, but the other four representatives had stood and were attempting to calm the crowd, shouting over the noise to be heard. The General waded into the crowd and shoving people away from the table, hand on the hilt of his weapon.

"The safety of the heroes are ensured! By the Academy and by the flow of Fate itself!" The woman in purple yelled, barely audible over the cacophony. "The sooner the heroes' training begins, the better off the kingdom is!"

They knew that the heroes were children? And they still suggested this? I backed away from the crowd and towards the exit. Representatives from the Academy were yelling about how they were searching every nobleman's house, every school and every business for children in that age range. I slipped out the door and into the much quieter hallway.

Running down the hall, I speed past butlers, maids and whatever other staff worked on Academy grounds and out the front doors. Finding my horse stilled tied to the fencing was a huge relief, especially since so many servant tried to convince me to allow them to put my horse in the stable.

I swung onto the horse and galloped off the campus and down the road. They know the heroes are children. Hooves pounded against the compact I can not let them find the heroes. I can not let them find my students.

#writblr #writing prompt #writing #writers #fantasy #constructive critism welcome #constructive criticism #feedback

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qqueenofhades · 3 years

Note

... Remember the Russian Revolution au? Which ended with Fedyor's sister very sick and Fedyor searching for Ivan in hopes of getting help for her from him? Fedyor finding Ivan and offering to do "anything" in exchange for his sister's medical treatment? Ivan secretly wanting Fedyor, but refusing to take what he wants like that? Soooo... I would also like the big the big 3 of your coming projects to happen, but... y'know... just.... wanted to bring this au up again... ;)

Behold, the oft-requested follow-up to the first two Russian Revolution au ficlets. Ahem.

Fedyor does not sleep that night. He does not even think about sleeping. He only leaves the army headquarters long enough to think hard about what he is proposing to do, wonder if it is worth it, and decide that it is. Katya needs the medicine, he has no other recourse, and he is categorically unwilling to return home to his family as a failure, when they have placed all their trust and hope in him. Ivan has hinted that he might be able to obtain it, and so that, no matter what it takes, is what Fedyor will have to get him to do. And for that…

He knows that he is not unattractive. He has dark eyes, dark hair, a dimpled smile, a personable and friendly manner that, in happier times, attracted the attention of many an eligible young lady who wished to ice skate or promenade around the park or take a carriage ride, as courting Russian couples are wont to do. However, while Fedyor was perfectly happy to chat with ladies, or escort them to a ball, or fulfill his essential chivalric duty, he was not otherwise interested in wooing them. It was partly for that reason that he signed up to the military, where an enterprising young man can have other opportunities in the darkness of the barracks. So long as his family was kept conveniently unaware.

For all that the Bolsheviks have overthrown the government without a clear plan as to what to do next, and accordingly plunged them all into this miserable civil war, Fedyor does secretly sympathize with certain of their beliefs on the remaking of family life. They say that marriage is outdated and bourgeoisie, that monogamy is unnatural, that women should not be subject to patriarchal systems, and that homosexuality is an equally valid state of nature. Such a possibility of sexual classification and divergence is much discussed in Europe these days, and there is even a small but growing scholarly literature, written by eminent scientists. Sexual Inversion by Havelock Ellis, published in 1896, argues that the man-loving man is indeed even a possibly improved form of human, associated with superior intellectual and artistic achievement, and that nothing about his attachment is wrong or abnormal. Two years before that, Edward Carpenter wrote Homogenic Love, and in 1900, the German Elisar von Kupffer published an anthology of homosexual poetry, Lieblingminne und Freundesliebe in der Weltliteratur. Such texts are relatively easy for an educated, French- and English- speaking young Russian intellectual, such as Fedyor Mikhailovich Kaminsky, to lay his hands on. He is not sure what can come of it, but at least he knows that he is not alone.

The question remains as to Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov’s proclivities. Unless Fedyor is very much mistaken, Ivan was at least considering the possibility of accepting his offer, and turned it down for honorable, moral reasons, feeling it unjust to sexually extort a young gentleman in exchange for his sister’s care, rather than physical horror at the idea of such a coupling. If he’s a Bolshevik, he’s probably acceptably tolerant of their philosophy on an abstract level, but it’s less clear as to whether that extends to its personal practice. If Fedyor turns up in his bunkhouse – which, come to think of it, is probably shared, curse these Bolsheviks and their dratted communality, highly inconvenient for a midnight seduction attempt – scantily clad and willing, will Ivan’s objections hold out then? Or… or what?

Fedyor doesn’t know, but the uncertainty adds to the frisson of shameful excitement, rather than detracting from it. He searches through the streets of Chelyabinsk for some bread (it does not seem in much greater supply than in Nizhny Novgorod) and waits for the sun to go down. In March, the days, though getting steadily longer, are still short and chilly, and it’s bitingly cold when it gets dark. Then he pulls up his muffler, tells himself not to be unduly precious about it, and heads for the makeshift army quarters on Kirovka Street.

The buildings in downtown are beautiful, built in the Russian Revival style of neo-Byzantinian splendor, though the onion-domed Orthodox churches have all been converted into stables and armories, and anything that whiffs of an ideology contrary to the Red one has been economically discarded. Fedyor reaches the door, knocks, and when a disgruntled sergeant comes to answer it, expecting him to be a soldier out too late and in line for a ticking-off, Fedyor raises his hands apologetically. “I’ve come to join up,” he says. “The great socialist cause of the world’s workers is the only true one for a patriotic Russian man, and I vow it my full allegiance, if you will have me. I was speaking to my friend earlier, Ivan Ivanovich, and he suggested it. Is he still here?”

The sergeant eyes him squiggle-eyed, but they cannot afford to look gift horses too closely in the mouth, or turn aside willing recruits. It takes a while, but he shouts for someone who shouts for someone else, and this finally produces the startled personage of Ivan Sakharov, who clearly thought it was for the last time when they parted several hours ago. Upon sight of Fedyor, he stops short, looking alarmed, angry, and wary all at once. “What are you – ?”

“Can we talk?” Fedyor is resolved to do this, he truly is, but he feels it best to get it over with before that wavers in any degree. Whether he wants it too little does not seem like the problem; on the contrary, he fears that he wants it too much, and if he stops to reflect on it or delude himself with any nonsensical notions of it being more than once, that can only hurt the cause. “Somewhere… private?”

Ivan hesitates, as if asking to commune out of sight of the others is tantamount to heresy (though it’s not as if these damn hypocrites didn’t plot in secret, away from their own countrymen, for months and months, Fedyor thinks angrily). Then he jerks his head. “Fine. Five minutes. This way.”

He leads Fedyor up a few narrow, creaking staircases, past closed doors that echo with snorting and snoring and coughing, the cacophony of his comrades, none of whom seem to be enjoying their glorious victory quite as much as they thought. Ivan, however, appears to be sufficiently high-ranking in the Red Guards that the room they finally arrive at, though not much larger than a closet, is at least private. It reminds Fedyor forcibly of Ivan’s room back in St. Petersburg, the one they slept in together, that first night after the Winter Palace. It sounds more intimate in his recollections than it actually was. Nothing happened, of course. But Ivan was kind to offer it, kind when he did not need to be, when a young tsarist soldier alone in the ferment of riot and revolution, such as Fedyor was, would not be likely to see the new red dawn. It is that which Fedyor keeps in mind as he shuts the door with assumed casualness, then turns around, meets Ivan’s eye in a significant fashion, and shrugs off his coat, cap, and muffler. Then, unmistakably, starts to unbutton his shirt.

He has almost gotten to the bottom by the time Ivan, who is staring at him as if he’s lost his marbles (it is unclear if this is an encouraging fashion or not) finally recovers his sense. He strides forward and covers Fedyor’s hands with his own large, callused rifleman’s fingers, sending a shock of attraction burning through Fedyor from head to toe, along with the death of any more illusion that he could continue to be casual about this. “What are you doing?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Fedyor’s throat is as dry as a bone, but he forces himself to speak. “I said that I would do anything for my sister’s care, if you would help.”

He lingers suggestively on the word anything, just as he did before, in case there was any doubt (as if the undressing wasn’t enough) what he means here. Ivan looks like a cornered bear, but as his eyes catch Fedyor’s and flick across the lean, muscled torso thus revealed beneath the shirt, he swallows hard and has to glance away. The attraction trembles silently in the air between them, tense as a piano string, tuned to snapping. In the old days, that is, when people played pianos, and did not burn them for firewood, as Fedyor’s parents were preparing to do with theirs when he left home. It chokes raw and painful in his throat. He is attracted to Ivan – desperately attracted, in fact – and yet he still hates what the Bolsheviks have done, even if the Romanovs and the Provisional Government were no better. The deposed Tsar Nicholas II is under house arrest with his wife and five children, the four tsarevnas and the tsarevich, in Yekaterinburg. Little sick Alexei Romanov, whose hemophilia opened the door for Grigori Rasputin to control the queen, the royal household, the government of Russia, and so bring about the end of their house. He was like something from a fairytale monster, that Grisha. The rumors of his death, not quite two years ago in December 1916, is that it almost did not happen, he was so hard to kill. A demon. A beast.

“You cannot do this,” Ivan says, his voice too rough, his eyes still struggling to remain decorously averted. “It is not – it is not right.”

“Not right?” Fedyor flares. “So a little spot of armed treason and overthrowing the man who, however deficient he might be, was the heir of one of the oldest and greatest empires in the world? That part was entirely aboveboard, but this, when you want this – don’t lie to me, I’m well aware you do – to help my sister? That would be a sin?!”

Ivan backs up a step, glancing around shiftily. These walls are thin, and he clearly does not want his beloved brothers-in-arms to hear this. “Fedyor Mikhailovich – ”

“Have me.” Fedyor is done playing games. “I’m here, I’m yours for the taking. You can do whatever you want to me, as long as you give me the medicine at the end.”

For a long, spellbound moment, he thinks Ivan is on the brink of agreeing. Then once again, he shakes his head. “No,” he says. “I could not in good conscience consent to this. But I will fetch you the medicine. You do not have to give me anything in return.”

Fedyor gawks at him, shocked – and, it must be confessed, more than a little disappointed. “I thought it was fair trade,” he says. “Tit for tat.”

“It is…” Ivan shakes his head, eyes once more straying to Fedyor’s bare chest. “Button your shirt up,” he says, half-laughing, not angry, breathless and soft. “It is very distracting.”

“Good.” Fedyor takes another step. “I think you deserve it, you obnoxious bastard.”

“Be that as it may.” At least Ivan has the good sense not to dispute it. “I cannot do this,” he repeats, more gently. “You are a fine young man, Fedyor Mikhailovich. Perhaps in another life… but it would not be honorable to trade your virtue for this.”

“My virtue?” Fedyor has to laugh. “What makes you think I have that?”

Once again, Ivan wavers. But to give him (loathing) credit, he will not be swayed. “Button it,” he repeats. “I will arrange to have the money and medicine sent by your lodging by tomorrow, if you give me an address in the city.”

“I don’t have one.” Fedyor folds his arms. “Only here.”

Ivan looks even more startled. His lips part, he takes a step forward, and for a brief, wild, exquisite yearning of an instant, Fedyor thinks he is actually going to kiss him. They’re almost close enough – not quite, but almost – for it to happen. Then Ivan says, “Your family must be very proud of you.”

“I…” It catches in his throat. “I don’t know. I hope.”

“I would,” Ivan says. “I would be.”

And that, somehow, is all that seems to matter. Even as Fedyor spends a night in Ivan’s narrow camp cot of a bed, Ivan insisting on taking the hard floor out of an excess of gallantry, an echo of their first night in St. Petersburg. Ivan does as ordered, gives Fedyor some rubles and some medicine and a train ticket back home to Nizhny Novgorod. He personally escorts Fedyor to the train station to make sure he does not come to grief, then stands on the platform, staring after him like Vronsky watching Anna leave one more time. The train begins to huff and puff, spitting soot and embers, and Fedyor keeps his nose pressed to the glass, leaving a smudge, until long after, as it seems he is never destined to do anything but, Ivan Ivanovich Sakharov has vanished into the mist.

#heartrender husbands #fivan #fivan ff #ivan x fedyor #russian revolution au

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whereflowersbloom · 3 years

Text

Sealed Fate

The Western horizon was on fire: hot pink turned into mauve, wild orange into gold, the bright colours fading into paleness, then darkness. It was the day they whisper their vows before the gods, both Raven and Damian believed that love was not what stood at the foundation of their pledge, at least not the kind that fate had in store for them. No, that’s what they want to believe, what truly mattered most at this point was peace, peace through political marriage rather than an overwhelming affection. Peace. Damian, the youngest son of King Bruce and the noblest of all of Gotham’s princes, living or dead. As King Bruce was only left with Damian and Richard. Raven, a demigod, sired by Trigon the Terrible and mortal Arella.

The fragile truce between Gotham and Azarath balanced on the tip of a blade, depending on this union of convenience. Kon-El was wearing a scowl that would freeze unquenchable fire from the House of Hades. She could feel Trigon’s dark eyes burning into her face, the harsh, singeing heat of a desert behind it. She wanted to run, but she was also afraid of him giving chase. What was the point anyway. Before coming to Gotham, she knew how to fly, wings spread wide, flying away, her shoulders have borne heavy burdens, heavy burdens of solid stone. Oh she prayed to fly away from them, and roam the freedom of the sky, but her father had cut off both her wings and left her rooted to the ground. There would no longe mountain's peaks with the promise of wondrous views to keep. It all came to an end the day her father told she had been promised to Damian: Prince of Gotham, the great. Gotham the glorious. Gotham the magnificent. She should be honored, but her thoughts and feelings on the matter were inconsequential as the advice of a woman in wartime.

A week later she found herself at her wedding feast. Wearing a silver attire, a veil, a lilies and myrtle garland, and a golden headband. The Brothers and sisters her husband had in plenty, raised to be warriors they fought during war to lose their short lives. Helena and Timotheos had fallen. No body of Jason had been found after the last battle with Crete. She only met her husband her wedding day. He was reserved but polite and not overly perfumed, and when her eyes fell on him she thought of Narcissus. Narcissus, who had been unable to pull away from his own reflection in the pond, enchanted by his own beauty until death claimed him. Although the way her tutor had prattled on and on about Damian’s innumerable virtues, Raven had not expected him to be as radiant as a god. The sun-kissed skin stretched to wrap around muscles built from years of practicing complex military skills, broad shoulders and powerful arms, displaying strength and virility akin to a noble lion, movements of disconcerting grace for one so large. His facial features had a frank and honest quality to them, bright and deep-set eyes, as green as spring leaves with the touch of Persephone, a Greek nose, full lips. He was a God in beauty and stature. Reluctantly, tore her gaze from his beautiful face and focused on her new family. They have been so impeccably polite, specially Richard. ‘Welcome my good sister. We are all so blessed to have you.’ Blessed. Blessed child she had been called once long ago.

Do you feel blessed, my dear sister?” Richard asked, passing a golden wine cup into her hand. His wide smile meant no harm nor his words. As she grew up Raven was left to learn how to smile and laugh prettily at compliments that made her skin crawl, feign the innocence of any maiden her age.

Blinking several times, she looked back at him and smiled weakly. “Of course, brother.”

Richard was all dancing, light and lean seduction, dark myrrh hair and flushed red lips, rosy cheeks and aristocratic arched eyebrows, adorning himself in a blue and gold tunic. Her new brother appeared to be content to sit in the shadow of his younger brother and watch him gleam in all his glory. Cassandra did not speak with her, she was the only calm in the midst of a storm of abrupt adjustment. She tried to pay no heed to the murmurs of gossiping women at the feast, eyes green with envy as she had married the godlike prince. Foreign seductress. Demon spawn.

Bruce and Olivier discussed vehemently about warfare and politics with Kal-El and Kon-El. Diana and Artemis were carrying an excited conversation about traveling and Shiera’s recent journey in Egypt. She caught no sight of Trigon to her relief.

Trigon. Other gods might have roared their pleasure at the skills and intelligence of their offspring, praised their achievements for all to hear whilst filling themselves to the brim with nectar. Not Trigon, who wanted to sire no child but found himself infatuated with Arella, bedding her out of enjoyment.

If she were godly, truly a deity, in all of its ways with fantastical unlimited power, then one could not help but ask: Would Trigon praise her then? Did he not want her because she bled red as earthlings. As I’d guessing what she was thinking her husband finally spoke.

“For a deity to come down on solid ground isn’t seen many times. For her to wed a mortal willingly is even more ambiguous.” Damian exhaled softly, standing right next to her. His voice was so deep, so soothing and alluring as she had imagined.

“I am no deity. I am the undesired offspring of the god of death.” She said in a choked voice. Not sure if he was mocking the nature of her position. Green eyes alight with amusement.

“You are anything but undesired, wife.” Damian responded, voice low in his throat, and private; a voice she knew in her bones he meant only for her. His face reflected an earnest expression filled with so much pure-hearted sincerity that it stole Raven’s breath away

No man had ever spoken of passion or desire to Raven, and all that she knew of such words she had overheard her tutors speak, or learned from old songs; the glory of being called beautiful in tones, not of cool reason but burning emotion flooded her entirely. She was desired. Biting her lip, her face flushed, and shining starlight hair drooping over her face as if that would somehow hide how obviously close to tears she was.

Damian smiled serenely and Raven felt like he’d seen the sun. Resembling the sun and light, Apollo.

He had a gentleness to him that is completely foreign to her experience, not seen at first sight, discerning the heavy emotions in his eyes. Raven did not know before that it was possible for men to be gentle. One glance and she thought of him kissing her mouth, just as he thought of tasting her skin. Uncertainty lies in her desire for the reciprocal dedication to infallible ardour.

Air. Her lungs were in need of air.

~~~

She went to the garden of Thetis, to sit among the flowers and watch the moon-washed stars. The goddess of flowers must have visited bringing brightness and beauty wherever she stepped, as she appreciated a patch of narcissus, foxgloves, hyacinth, and delphinium displaying tightly clustered flowers upon tall stalks in varied blues and purples, in full bloom, surrounded by the thick chorus of crickets chirping all around. With all thoughts of threats and protecting her homeland, Raven found herself strangely empty. It wasn’t hollowness: it was the emptiness of shock, of disbelief and misunderstandings when everything you’d imagined was pulled out from underneath you and she was suddenly living in a reality where someone admired her? Yearn for her touch rather than fear her.

“Raven.” Kon-El sighed her name as he walked closer to her, fabric softly trailing on the grass and it made Raven tremble. His ocean eyes saddened, darkened, burning through her and reducing anything to ash, to nothingness. There were things that must be said but she couldn’t bring herself to apologize.

“When Morpheus came to me in my dreams. I did not dare look upon his godly figure. But I heard his voice like a thunder from grand Zeus. He promised your hand would be mine to hold.” The words had come bitter and aching with such profound loss that it made her throat tighten with his emotion.

“I have a husband now, Kon.” She mumbled quietly, using his infancy name, casting her gaze downwards. “They were nothing but hollow words, grains of sand carried upon the wind of Aeolus.” His disapproval at the mention of the word husband was obvious.

Attempting to reason with him to not make a claim of a right that was no longer his. She could sense his anger, regret, sorrow. Envy . Why do you look at me in such way? Why do you look at me as if you pity me? Why do you look at me with eyes filled with sorrow and hatred, all at once? Where did her sweet and naughty Kon go? She wished to voice those questions.

With clenched fists, he nodded. “It’s for the gods to decide as our fate lies in their hands.” Kon-El spoke solemnly with unshakable conviction. “You have a husband tonight, but take heed as The Fates could cut his thread of life coming morrow.” He bowed down and left without saying no more.

No. No. He would not dare. Notion spit forth from such a place of hate, fear and confusion like its like a venom small at first or great yet if allowed it to take over fully.

The night was calm, witness of the conversation between two old friends, the stifling hot of the day finally giving way to a coolness which smelled like an approaching storm. Yes, she could feel it, there was a storming coming with the unforgiving and celestial ire of Zeus.

~~~

The feast passed quickly, with laughter and high spirits carrying it along. However, Raven could never quite relax after hearing Kon-El’s threatening words. And there was the bedding ceremony to proceed, not in public. Thank to Merciful Elea.

Torchlight played on Raven’s face as she motioned with her hands like a sorceress, then the royal peplos she wore dropped off her like the skin off a snake and she emerged. Goddess Nyx in human form, her breasts round and ripe and firm, her belly flat and sculpted thighs, the tangle of dark hair between her legs an invitation and a challenge. She was bare before him. So very delicate, so vulnerable, so unlike anything he’d ever laid eyes upon. It intrigued him, that vulnerability, laid bare for him to see under the soft glow of the torches. The daughter of the God of death.

What a curious creature she was. Gifted with the beauty of Aphrodite, the mysterious eyes of Nyx, holding the stars of Orion in them. They had been in his mind on and off at the feast, wrapped up in the hazy, sweetly intoxicating lull of inebriation.

As he looked down then back up her body, to her timid eyes, no challenge in them, though her lips still twisted in a semblance of indecision. Doubt. It was obvious that while she was not truly frightened of him, nonetheless the shadow of doubt and tension was present. Damian swallowed hard. He had avoided looking at her more than necessary during the ceremony but he gave into temptation as Aphrodite whispered in his ear all the ways he could have her. He did not like Gods nor their offspring. The Gods enjoyed tricking mortals for their own merriment. But, she was his wife and there was no escaping now. He cursed quietly for his mortality.

Raven dug her pearly teeth into the fleshy hills of her bottom lip, reminding herself to stay in control, taking a deep breath, fists clenched at her side as she took a brave step forward. “My prince.”

“Damian.” He corrected immediately as he straightened up for a fraction of a second before he bent his head and allowed his lips to graze Raven’s ear. “My name is Damian.”

With uncommon courage, she reached for the clasp holding his jade tunic under his chin. The heavy cloth sighed down around their feet. With a delicate feather-like touch, Raven traced the longest scar on his bronze body that went from Damian’s left shoulder down to his right hip. His breath hitched at the sudden invasion, but relaxed into her touch, his eyes fluttering shut for a moment. No one had ever dare touch him intimately without his permission.

She could see hidden amongst the bright hues an emerald green clouding over with Damian’s lust. Their lips melded together as if they were made for each other and moved in sync as Damian threaded her fingers into Damian’s thick raven locks. Damian gently nipped her lower lip, and when she gasped heavily against his, he slid his tongue inside the warm cavern of her mouth to meet hers.

Her mind temporarily muddled with an electrical charge coursing through her veins making it hard for her to focus on any one part of her anatomy than her mouth against his. Everything tingles, starting at the back of her neck and rushing down, an uncomfortable yet exhilarating heat razing through her nerves only to whirlpool in her lower belly, churning, before continuing down all the way to her toes. He tasted like pure ambrosia.

As they continued kissing, his lips become eager, desperate, feverish. She’s never been kissed like this before. Kon-El had kissed her cheeks out of mischief a few times when they were children. Innocent love. Never with parted lips and tongue, with a hunger that would scare her had the same kind of hunger not driven her own greedy mouth to kiss and suck and nip. And yet she knew with the wisdom of Athena, that even if she’d kissed a hundred men a thousand times, nothing would ever compare to this.

Peppering her neck with kisses and listening to her gasp his name, he carried her slowly to the crimson bed where he laid her down. Dragging his teeth gently downwards, along the expanse of her sweet, alabaster skin. There all shyness was replaced with audacity and devotion. Not being able to resist the urge, he bit into her neck, at her pulse point where he could feel her unsteady heartbeat against his tongue as he laved at it.

Hands that were calloused and large and warm and so very gentle for a warrior, as they find their way roaming her natural curves. They skimmed over her thigh and hip, caress the soft skin of her waist, ghost over the swell of her breasts. His mouth, hot and wet, closed around her breast and sucks lightly, thus making her suck in a sharp breath. Expert tongue swelling around her pink nipple. What in the name of Hera he was doing to her? She wanted more. More. More.

Raven cannot utter a single word. Her mouth too dry, her mind too drunk on arousal, to form any coherent phrase. Calling his name between small whimpers showing her heightened ecstacy. This must be Elysium in all its glory. It was such a sweet torture.

Damian thought to himself she tasted like earth, starlight, like flowers blooming in the night. What was he thinking? She was his wife, no more. Daughter of his nemesis. His young heart hammering inside of his chest, the memory of his mother’s voice haunting him as she vanished with the wind.

Something flared in Damian then, flared up in his chest and his belly like a flaming arrow shot high to signal the start of a nighttime raid, and he seized her hips and pushed up inside her. Raven groaned softly in pain. Fear sent her stomach and chest quaking, her breaths coming short and fast, mind flooded with words of maidens about the pain of maidenhead being taken. At first, his strokes were slow, but his eyes do not look upon her face. The flower garland tumbled off her head and was crushed under their grappling bodies, the scent of a summer noon briefly filling the night.

She opened her legs wider and wrapped them around Damian following her instincts. Her velvet heat encased him, and he had to restrain himself from descending into madness at the pleasure. He felt like he was drowning in the Aliakmonas, the river swollen with melted snow. Raven’s round breasts goaded him, her hands caressed him tenderly, her ripeness clenched around him. As he started thrusting faster, harder, pumping in and out of her at an erratic pace. Damian drops his forehead to her shoulder, an animal like grunt in her ear, and she heard herself moan along with him. She even shifted her hips so that he hits her just right, his pubic bone rubbing against a sensitive spot his hand had touched.

He could tell she was close by the way her walls were fluttering around him, and he brought one of his hands down between them to rub circles onto her bundle of nerves. Damian also angled his hips enough to reach for the deep spot in the center of women that made them cry with satisfaction with each push.

Something inside her tightens, inside her belly where a babe will grow with the blessings of the gods, and then another wave of pleasure washed over her, pulling such a loud moan from her it should leave her ashamed, but she doesn’t care. Sweat beds clouding her vision, and the ragged breath of her husband hot against her moonlight skin, salty with sweat.

He reached climax and came harder than he had ever. His thrusts slowed, hips stilling as he emptied himself, thick, hot, white ropes of his seed filling her up to the hilt. Letting out a weary sigh he removed his body atop hers, carefully. It was done. Fulfilled his duty he told himself. A clear lie. Damian considered cupping her cheek and kissing her temple but he couldn’t do it. No. His features hardened as he turned away from her.

“I will show you respect as my wife. I will please you in all the ways a husband and lover can. But do not ask me to love you, for that is not an oath I can honor.” His voice came out hoarser and raspier than ever in the darkness, before rolling to the other of the bed preparing to fall in the arms of Morpheus.

There was an emptiness inside of her soul, her center she couldn’t describe. Waiting to be full again. Aching. Pulsing. Whirling.

“But I thought…” Raven began, a lump forming in her throat, not wanting to admit that she had hoped he could ever find love with her. Perhaps fondness. What about the gentleness he had shown her? The words died with the quietude of the royal chamber as if Harpocrates had made himself present.

Perhaps coming morrow with the grace of Apollo, he would bring Damian’s gentleness back to her. All she can do is hope and pray tonight. A lone tear slipped down her face as she closed her eyes.

Notes: Hello it’s me again with a new AU. Sorry not sorry. Had to get it out of my system 😂😂😂😂🙈🙈🙈🙈

Do not panic please. This is the first chapter and there will be Damirae fluff I promise. Happy Damirae moments and probably more smut than in other stories 👀👀

Hope you all enjoy. @ravenfan1242 @tweepunkgrl @chromium7sky @deepbreadlover @timid-soot-sprite @kallura-juniblade @shewhowillnotbenamed1 @andthendk @alerialblu

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elle-imagines · 4 years

Note

Madara relationship HCs? Or anything Madara, if you feel like it, I love your writing

Sorry for the wait, everyone! I was a bit demotivated from the 0 notes on my last post, but I just realized getting things back up may take time and that is okay.

Madara truly, truly means well (most times). He is a strong believer in tough love, and will push you your hardest when you think you can go no further. He’s blunt with you when you ask for his advice, but is more than willing to help you since you requested it. He’s the type of man to put the onus on you to make your needs known, and to say what you want directly. When he helps you, it’s in practical ways such as training you, making sure you eat, or having someone check on you when he’s busy working.

“Failing like this will only get you killed.” “Try harder.” “You could do better than that. Again, with fury.” “That’s it. Good!”

Don’t be a brat and eat what I cooked for you.”

Sometimes, he may be a bit ruthless with his words to conceal his worry. When he sees that you’ve hurt yourself from falling, or came home later than usual, it will make his heart lurch in ways he thought he could control. Those bouts of sharp anger has he scolds you, holding you tightly by the arm, are small fractures of his composure and an unveiling of his love for you. Madara would destroy everything he can lay eyes on if something happened to you.

You both have long evenings where you massage each other after a long day. Madara wasn’t open to it at first because he isn’t used to being touched on his back unless in battle. You had to be careful and allow him to predict your movements by going slowly. Overtime, he relaxed into your touch and allowed you to unknot his muscles after his training sessions.

Even if it may go unnoticed, he puts in a lot of effort to make sure you’re safe and happy. It gives him peace of mind when you are secure; it makes him feel secure. Madara’s competence assures you will be fine, and he makes sure he keeps his word with you when it comes to being there when you ask. He never breaks a promise and hopes you return the gesture.

The type of boyfriend to never understand if you wake up past 9:00AM or lounge in the bed all day. He feels each day, you should be doing something important and would definitely pull you out of bed.

Madara will indulge his fantasies and daydreams with you, something he’s only done with Hashirama and Izuna. He comes off as a doer, and he is, but he enjoys fantasizing and daydreaming about a world in an image he created. Madara will share with you how many children he would want, his wish for people to see him as a nicer man, and his distant what-ifs about settling down with you (though still fighting and being headstrong, of course).

“Where do you see yourself years from now, Y/N?” “I see. Very…thoughtful.” “Could you imagine us then?”

Very low-maintenance when it comes to the emotional aspects of things. He is a logical strategist, digesting things in his mind as it comes. If you are more demonstrative of your feelings, it would be a long road for communication between you two. Not impossible, however.

For dates, he’d regularly take you horseback riding, sake tasting, talking military arts and different village cultures over a game of shogi, and taking walks through your favorite hidden areas around Konoha. If there is somewhere you’d prefer, I’m sure he would spoil you as per usual. Never to beat around the bush, he would prefer discussions about the current social climate of Konoha or even debate about the curriculum of ninja teachings involving children. Discussing philosophy is a great gateway into learning Madara’s spirit, because most of his ideology is grounded in his military prowess, the trauma of war in his childhood, and his dreams of changing the world into a place of peace. Since the to of you are in a relationship, I am sure he knows that you stand for something and can keep up with him in these discussion, even outrun him sometimes. He enjoys when you disagree with him; the picking apart of each other’s claims over tea is an enjoyable pasttime for you both.

“A smart point, but a bit moot, dear.” “I will admit that was good judgement.” “Let’s go over there, it’s more private.”

He really values his family and home, they come first before anything. Even if he is in an important meeting with the Hokage, he would leave if notified of your distress. Because of his passion for family, he is a bit more traditional when it comes to the stages of dating. Madara would like to marry you when it comes time, and wants children whether biologically or adopted. Sometimes, you’d find him teaching village children a trick or showing them his falcon. Other times, he saves a piece of his dinner to feed stray dogs in alleyways. His compassion and idealism is not overt compared to his bouts of cynicism and bluntness, yet it sustained an agonizing childhood and unbroken tragedy. It runs deep and will be there for you and the future you two hold.

#uchiha #madara #madara uchiha #uchiha madara #Naruto Shippuden #naruto headcanon #naruto imagines #naruto headcanons #naruto #headcanons #Headcanon #imagine #imagines

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dramaqueeenamby · 4 years

Text

A Day with the Udakus'

A/N: I know we’re all hurting, but I just wanted to maybe try to lighten the mood. I don’t really expect most of you to read this, or anyone, but for me, writing was therapeutic. I love you all, and we will get through this.

Words: 3K

Warnings: NO ANGST. Just shenanigans

Summary: Reader is granted an exclusive interview with the Udaku family, but Y/N quickly realizes there’s more to the Wakandans than she could have ever realized.

You clicked the pen three times.

Once to ensure that it was unsheathed, another to close it again, and the last time for purposeful use. It was a habit you’d developed way back in middle school. You were always the irksome “pen clicker” who elevated everyone’s anxiety while taking an exam. However, for you, it was calming.

And to a certain extent, it still was.

You turned your head to the window only to remember that the coverings were unmovable, an intentional move, you were sure, to keep you from seeing too much.

You didn’t take it personal, though. You were just thankful to have this assignment, an assignment that could make or break your career depending on the outcome.

No one, in the history of your country, had been welcomed to Wakanda. The borders were solid as cement. No outsiders.

Yet, here you were, and to spend a day interviewing the royal family.

You began your pen clicking process all over again.

You meant to document how long the flight was, but nerves ate at your ability to keep time. If you had to guess, though, at least twelve hours transpired prior to your arrival.

And what an arrival it was. As soon as you stepped off the plane, you were immediately in awe. Flying machines similar to cars but much smaller than 747’s flew over, the monolithic buildings seemed to eclipse the clouds themselves, and the design of everything, the specific details, it all seemed too ethereal to be real.

But it was.

This was Wakanda.

You frowned.

Where in the hell did everyone get the notion that this country was among the poorest in Africa? From what she could see, it was easily the richest in the continent.

If not the world.

“You’re here!”

You directed your attention to a beaming girl who made a beeline in your direction. She looked no older than 18 and wore her hair in small box braids. Her attire was unlike any you’d seen. You made a mental note of that, as well as the exterior of the nation.

“Welcome….” You supplied your name, allowing her to include it in her greeting before she started bobbing on the back of her heels. “I’m so excited to meet you. I’ve never actually done a real interview before.”

You smiled and pushed a passion twist behind your ear. During one of your naps on the plane, your bun must have loosened. “It’s an honor to be here…..”

Her eyes widened. “Shuri. You can call me Shuri.”

Your eyes too widened. Shuri? “As in Princess Shuri?”

The teenager scowled. “Please, Shuri will do fine.” She moved closer and placed a hand on your shoulder. “Come. I will show you to your room.”

All you could do was awkwardly nod. This was the freaking princess of this majestic place, and she was enthusiastic as a kid at Disney. For you.

Your own parents weren’t even that excited when you told them you’d landed your dream job.

As Shuri walked you from the hangar bay to the inside of the palace, you took note of everything around you, the people you passed. The strong women who wore red, the men who wore shades of blue, black, and gray. They all exuded strength and power. Shuri explained the women were called the Dora Milaje, Wakanda’s all-female sect of the military. However, their first and foremost priority? Protecting the king and royal family.

The uniforms, the staffs, the power. Hell, you were damn near about to start spazzing.

“Ahh, Erik!” Shuri stopped and gestured to a couple walking in your direction. “Come meet-”

“Goddamnit, woman, I told you I wasn’t looking at her!”

“Don’t call me a woman!”

“You a female, ain’t you? You got a pussy, don’t you?”

“You make me sick!”

“Naw, I make you gag, remember?” The man with short locs cursed as the woman he was arguing with grabbed at his hair, giving a good yank. “The fuck!”

“I want you to admit you were looking at her!”

“She was our waitress! Of course, I was looking at her! You asked me to order, damnit!”

“Nigga, don’t play with me, you know what I mean!” The woman paused. “You think she’s prettier than me, don’t you?”

“I don’t even know the bitch!”

“Don’t use that word around me!”

“Fuck this. You are really crazy, you know that?”

She suddenly started to whimper as the man’s shoulders dropped.

“You don’t love me anymore.”

As the woman began to sob, loudly and theatrically, he placed his arms around her and pulled her into his chest.

All you could do was stare in awe at the scene before you.

Shuri must have noticed your surprise. She waved her hand. “That is my cousin, Erik, and his wife--”

“Wife?” You interrupted, looking back and forth between the teen and the couple. “They’re married?”

Shuri nodded happily. “They’ve been together since primary.”

And they fight like that?

You also made a mental note to discuss the interesting dynamic of marriages in Wakanda in your writeup.

“You said it wasn’t big!” Erik’s wife was still crying and now punching on his chest as she angrily jabbed her finger in his shoulder. “You—you liar!”

Before Shuri could introduce you, the upset woman sauntered past and between you two, knocking you to the side.

“It isn’t, baby! You just got a lot on your mind!” Erik called after her, hands up in defeat. “A lot of thoughts!” He sighed and jogged toward you two, grabbing Shuri by the back of her neck and kissing her forehead. “I’ll catch you later, cuz.” He then looked your way, and you prayed he could not see the nervous swallow that coursed down your throat. He was so tall and handsome.

And married.

“Stranger.”

You opened your mouth, but he was already gone.

You sighed. It was better than being ignored.

Shuri shook her head and motioned for you two to continue walking. “We’ll try again at dinner. Come, let me finish showing you around.”

All you could do was quietly agree as she pointed things out, things you probably should have paid more attention to, but you were stuck not only on the volatile argument but just the wonders that surrounded you.

You expected poverty, dire conditions, solemn conversations. You were experiencing the complete opposite.

“Now this is—”

“Die, traitor! Die!”

“Wakanda Forever!”

“Surrender!”

“Never!

Multiple voices filled your ears as you turned the corner of a hallway, only to be knocked flat on your ass seconds later, your purse emptying, the recently purchased bottle of hand sanitizer rolling away from your body.

“Asha!” Shuri shouted with her arms crossed. “You come back here and apologize!”

The little girl with white locs that cascaded down her back, turned her head to look back. You caught her bright blue eyes and gasped. You’d never seen such a beautiful contrast of color. Her milky chocolate complexion, those ocean eyes, the icy white hair. She was easily the most beautiful little girl you’d ever seen.

“I cannot, Aunt Shuri! I must escape!”

“Asha...” Shuri’s voice transitioned into one of unequivocal sternness as she helped you stand up. “Now.”

Asha groaned and stomped over, pouting, she muttered a quiet sorry.

“You know better—”

“Now, Azari and N’Yami are going to win without me.”

“Another game of capture, eh?” Shuri chuckled and pulled the child into her, kissing the top of her head. “Y/N, this is my niece, Princess Asha.”

This time, you were able to watch your facial expressions. The only thing you did was curtsy. “Your highness.”

When you looked up, you saw Asha and Shuri sharing confused expressions. You faltered with your next statement, only for Asha to interrupt.

“What are you doing?”

“We don’t do that here,” Shuri explained with a small smile.

You were thankful for your deep complexion. Had you been caucasian, your embarrassment would have given you away.

You awkwardly looked down. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re weird.”

“Asha!”

Shuri pinched her arm. The little princess scowled and grabbed the assaulted area. “Sorry.”

“Come, little one! We are off for another round.”

A new voice announced as three heads turned to the end of the hall where a group of kids stood amongst a giant. Wide, tall, and with muscles wrapping around bands of muscles, you swallowed again. You didn’t have to be close to see how attractive this man was.

Was every man in Wakanda sinfully handsome?

“Coming, Uncle M’Baku!” She looked up. “May I go now, Aunt Shuri?”

Shuri playfully sighed and motioned toward the other kids. “Go on.”

Without another word, she sprinted off, joining her friends before the group disappeared.

“Everyone is so busy today,” Shuri spoke with disappointment and crossed arms. “I planned to introduce you to the rest of the kids.”

You couldn’t help your interruption. “How many kids does the king have?”

“Four. Asha, N’Yami, and Azari, and Azzuri. Asha is the oldest. The other three are triplets.”

“My God,” you mumbled, then remembering that there were certainly more than three kids at the end of the hall. “And the others?”

“M’Baku’s kids. He was the tall man with them. He’s the leader of the Jabari tribe here. He and his wife Hawla have twelve children.”

Every segment of that sentence sent your eyebrows up in surprise. Yet, you retained more questions, especially after Shuri further explained how the tribes worked. She also mentioned introducing you to the leaders of this Jabari tribe.

It was a lot considering you hadn’t even been there for a whole hour.

“Come on, brother and sister should be in the training room.”

It wasn’t hard to figure that by brother, she meant King T’Challa, and by sister, Queen Ororo.

Where was that damn pen when you needed it?

“Are you sure? I wouldn’t want to disturb them.”

“Nonsense, they’re probably just training.”

“Training?”

“You’ll see.”

Shuri’s coyness didn’t help your nerves. While she seemed to enjoy the madness of the palace, it spiked your discomfort. You’d mentally prepared for almost everything except the madhouse that you were being introduced to.

“Do not let brother intimidate you. His bark is much worse than his bite.”

You found that very hard to believe. King T’Challa, also the Black Panther, had single handedly defeated every member of the Avengers on their own turf, yet you were supposed to believe that he was amenable?

“Really?”

Shuri snorted. “No, he’s an ass.” You gulped. “Sister has helped calm him down, though, that much, I can’t deny.”

You said nothing else as she brought you to double doors that opened without her moving. That’d happened more than a couple of times, yet you could never detect any sign of motion sensors. Another note was made.

You walked into a room where a wall of windows exposed a large area that resembled a training type arena.

“There they—”

“My wife controls the weather itself, while I am just a man.” You weren’t even paying attention to the words coming out of his mouth. All you could focus on was him. He was in the suit, muscles stretching against the fabric. He walked while he spoke, his gait that of a predator, a hunter, a king. “A man who has studied every fighting style in the world.”

Across the room, she rose into the sky, floating high above the ground. The winds whipped around her, her arms raised. Her eyes were completely white, her matching white hair floating from the mass of winds.

Storm

“If I have learned anything, it is that every punch can be blocked.” Seconds later, the queen flew toward him, aiming for a punch, but falling short as he easily moved to the side. “Every weapon can be countered.”

You saw his lips move, but whatever was said was not audible.

His next statement, however, was not.

“Right this moment, above our head, an unmanned drone sprays the cloud with a super-absorbent powdered polymer.” As he spoke, large bolts of lightning were directed toward him. Some hit his suit, but he dodged most of them. “Out on the Indian Ocean, a swarm of nanotech phytoplankton eat the heat from a burgeoning storm.” You noticed how the winds started to lessen in intensity and depth. “Microwaves shoot down from Wakandan satellites, reducing an onrushing snowstorm to a slightly cooling breeze.”

Storm’s brows furrowed as she looked at her hands. The white hues of her eyes were returning to normal, revealing the same blue eyes you’d seen in Asha.

“The winds? What just—”

“I’m sorry, my love,” King T’Challa interrupted. She looked over at him, lowering to the ground. “I just blocked your punch.”

“You….” Her jaw drop and speech faltered. “All this time, you’ve had a plan for how to defeat your own wife.”

The king spoke in a bored voice. “Please remember, my dear, I did not start this fight.”

“Neither will you finish it, my dear!”

Before he could reply, Storm struck him, sending him flying and landing on his ass. What started as a battle of abilities was now reduced to hand to hand combat. You watched in awe as these two incomparably powerful human beings battled each other. The fact that they were husband and wife, king and queen, mattered not even in the slightest.

They looked like two gladiators dueling to the death.

“Do—do they do this often?”

“Train?” Shuri looked at you. “All the time.”

You almost fainted. “This is how they train?”

“You bastard!” The strength of the thunder that emanated from Storm caused the entire building to shake while the lightning causes the lights to flicker.

Shuri sighed and shook her head. “I suppose you’ll have to meet them at dinner.”

“Dinner?” You coughed. “I couldn’t—I don’t want to impose.”

“Nonsense. We’d love to have you.” Shuri’s smile widened. “Then you can meet the whole family at once.”

You suddenly wondered how hard it was to get a flight out of Wakanda.

xXx

The room you’d been given, so beautiful and magnanimous, was now a disaster. Clothes were thrown about while shoes clustered the floor. Underneath your makeup, your face was red and patchy from the two looks you tried, hated, and scrubbed before settling on a simple smoky eye and blood red lip.

Every outfit you tried on seemed either too fancy or too casual. Then again, you’d never had dinner with a royal family, let alone a family of heroes.

You so badly wanted to find a way out of it, but Shuri, the seemingly only normal member of this family was hellbent on introducing you. You also had to factor in that you’d have to communicate with them at some point. You were there to interview them for god’s sake.

Two guards knocked on your door to escort you to the dining hall. You were a bit saddened at the fact that Shuri hadn’t come to bring you. You felt comfortable with her.

Imagine that. I need a teenager to walk me. What is this place doing to me?

As you walked down the hall, you sent up a quick prayer. The voices that were initially faint grew into loud and lucid. The double doors opened and revealed you to the room full of royals. You stood still as a statue.

“Y/N!” Shuri jumped from the table and jogged over. This dining room envied that of one on a college campus. “Welcome.” She smiled while standing in front of you. “You look wonderful.”

“Thank you.” You wanted to compliment her, but you could only focus on the pairs of eyes on you. Almost everyone was staring, but that wasn’t even what stood out the most. It was how they were looking.

Welcoming

“Y/N.” The queen was the first to speak, her smile wide and warm. You’d never seen such a beautiful person. Her white dress had a long split up the right side of her leg and the neckline dipped low, revealing her full breast. It was almost strange to think this was the same woman who viciously attacked her husband just a few hours ago. “It is a pleasure to have you here. We welcome you.”

“T-t-t-thank you, your highness.”

“Man, if you don’t call her RoRo,” Erik interjected. His wife, who stood next to him, slapped his arm.

“Ignore him. I’m Nareema.”

“My woman.” Erik’s hand sunk down to her ass, where he gave a soft slap.

“We welcome you to our home.” The tallest man stood, but not before helping the woman who sat next to him up. She rubbed her round stomach. “I am M’Baku, and this is my wife, Hawla.”

Ororo’s beauty was undeniable, but so were Hawla and Nareema. And the men…..

I wonder if everyone in Wakanda is as—

“Y/N.”

When he spoke, heads turned and ears tuned. He just commanded authority. Hands together and behind his back, he stared directly at you. His gaze nor tone of voice was as friendly as his wife, but you didn’t expect him to be welcoming you with open arms. You could only imagine what it took to even allow him to be willing to have you in his home. Around his family.

“I hope you are finding your visit well.”

“I-I am.” She quickly answered and then added, “your highness.”

“Oh please, don’t call him that,” Shuri corrected. “Brother’s ego is already big enough.”

“That is true,” Ororo chimed with a sly smile, looking at him out the corner of her eye. King T’Challa moved his hand to his wife’s and gave a soft squeeze and wink.

You retained a smile as they welcomed you to the table. When you asked about the kids, a chorus of groans erupted.

“They eat by themselves. We need our time away from those demons.”

“My children are warriors.”

“Your kids are bad as hell.”

“Erik!”

“I don’t know you talking, sis. Your kids even badder.”

“Mind your tongue, N’Jadaka.”

“Spark Jr. Sparky the Third, Sparky Spark, and Sparkle are all savages. I said what I said.” You brought the napkin to your mouth to hide your amused smile. “How the hell all four of they asses end up inheriting both ya’ll’s powers anyway? What kind of fucking ya’ll be doing?”

“Erik, must you be so vulgar?” Hawla complained.

“Aye, the little man speaks truth. How rare it is for all four to inherit such power.”

“Who the hell you calling little man, Mark Henry? This little man will beat the ruff ruff’s right out ya atomic dog ass.”

“N’Jadaka, please!”

“I told you he needed a muzzle.”

“That’s funny, cause I told cuz not to marry you.”

“Speak that way to my wife, again, N’Jadaka, and we shall see how well you can speak with your larynx severed.”

The calm delivery of King T’Challa’s threat sent chills down your spine, but they didn’t last.

“You wasn’t saying that when you was chillin at my crib last week talking about you were sick of her mood swings.”

If looks could kill, Erik and T’Challa would be on life support.

“You said what?”

“What was Ororo doing at our house? Where was I? Why did you not tell me this?”

“We will discuss this later.”

“No, we will discuss it now.”

“I do not answer to you, Ororo.”

“Oh, really?” She tilted her head to the side, staring at him, T’Challa kept their stare for a few more seconds when he grabbed at his throat. His fist banged on the table, causing the dishes to tremble from the intensity. You gasped. She was choking him.

“Here we go again,” Shuri mumbled, stabbing her fork into the plate. You looked around, Erik and Nareema were still arguing. She looked ready to cry. M’Baku and Hawla spoke quietly amongst themselves. You were flabbergasted. No one seemed the least bit concerned that the queen was trying to kill the king.

Again

“Damnit, Ororo!” King T’Challa finally spoke after quick, hearty coughs. “Damn you!”

“Would you like to tell me again you don’t answer to me?”

“This is what I am referring to. You are always so quick to anger!”

“Perhaps if my husband would not do things to make me angry, I would not be angry. Did that ever cross your miserable, self-centered brain?”

“You do hate me! I knew it!”

“Nareema, I don’t hate you!”

“Could we get another round of bread, please?”

“So, what is your family like?” Shuri suddenly asked in a bored tone. All you could do was look around. So much arguing, so many strange interactions, yet you were the only one who seemed bothered. And perhaps that was for a reason.

A good reason.

This was their norm, and despite how dysfunctional it appeared on the outside, it worked for them. And that was more than enough for you.

You’d just have to accept that this was just another day with the Udakus.’

#t'challa x reader #t'challa x oc #black panther imagine #black panther #black panther fanfiction #t'challa udaku #t'challa

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psycho-pass-saiko · 3 years

Text

Wrote another sparring session 😚

https://archiveofourown.org/works/29362230

‘’Focus on your core, Kei!’’

Kei, grunted with frustration to the comment of Ginoza; as Arata kept on analyzing one of the SAD member’s sparring with Kei, pinching his chin without even blinking an eye. Kogami slowly approached to the short inspector, exhaling a smoke from his lips to air casually.

‘’So, what do you think about it?’’ he asked. Arata, startled with his sudden presence next to him, smiled subtly.

‘’Oh, hello Kogami-san.’’ Arata greeted him, only getting a small nod from his superior. ‘’About what exactly? And pardon me but isn’t here no-smoking area?’’

Kogami, not even giving a reaction to his implication, gestured the two men on tatami rink struggling, with a swing of his chin. ‘’About their fighting.’’

Well, struggling part is most on Kei, Arata thought as his friend was captured now by his opponent. ‘’They are strong, i guess?’’ said Arata. Kogami huffed, taking another smoke from his halfly burnt cigar. ‘’Thats for sure.’’

Kei, now caged in Sugo’s steel like arm-lock, one arm over his neck the other pulling it back with his inner elbow, he was unable to move. He was almost same height and had similar athletic frame with this SAD member but somehow he looked bigger than him, now being choked between his muscular arms and firm chest behind his back. Kei, swang his body from side to side, trying to escape from his hold. But Sugo on the other hand, was not planning on letting him go just yet.

With a frowned face, he asked. ‘’Are you going to surrender or faint, inspector?’’ intensifying his hold around the neck. They were both on ground, Kei gasping and struggling over Sugo’s body. Kei, huffed, already seeing colorful dots in his vision, clenched his fingers on Sugo’s forearms, still not giving up. Sugo, with a sigh, opened his legs to cover Kei’s and he arched his body. With sudden pain in his spine Kei made an ‘ach!’ sound but yet again, he desperatly kept on trying to escape.

‘’Release the kid, Sugo. You will give him a whiplash in the neck.’’ Said Ginoza, wiping his sweat with a towel sitting on a bench. With his word, Sugo immediately loosened up his hold on the inspector and gently threw him to his side. Kei, gasped for air, now on all his fours, massaged his throat with his left hand. After letting him go, Sugo rose on his feet, adjusting his gym clothes which was consist of a pair of dark green sweatpants and short-sleeved shirt. He slicked back his dark hair and offered his open hand to Kei afterwards.

‘’Sorry, inspector.’’

‘’No, no, it is okay.’’ Kei, now breathing normally grabbed his hand, stood up. He gulped down, damping his mouth. ‘’Please let us have a rematch.’’ Sugo silently nodded.

Kogami, snorted under his breath, remembering the time when he also asked the same thing to him. Before fainting. No one except Arata heard him in the gym of Foreign Affairs’ headquarters.

Division 1 inspectors were here for a case, which was committed by a foreigner visiting their country, but after they realised they had to wait for a few hours for the case files, they searched for something to spend time with. They decided to explore the big building. Ginoza was the one who called for them when they were just passing by the entrance of the gym. Inspectors saw the long haired agent in his navy blue/black track suit and white sleeveless top, revealing his well-shaped biceps. He smiled at them as they slowly walked towards him. After a small chit-chat of why they were here and what they were doing Ginoza invited them to their exercise routine as an option for their search of distraction. Arata wanted to refuse but as soon as Kei saw the spiky haired agent on the tatami rink inside the gym he agreed instantly and bowed respectfully. Seeing him, Arata had to accept the offer too, rather reluctantly. Then Ginoza lent them some spare gym clothes from the mislaid-goods and all three of them went back to the main saloon.

Their gym was massive. Bigger and wider than the one in MWPSB. There were more then twenty of treadmills, weight equipments, even an indoor pool next to the main gym saloon. Arata and Kei, both in black short sleeved shirts and gray shorts, followed Ginoza to the center of the gym. Kogami and Sugo was having a sparring, but it was obvious they weren't serious, only discussing some tactics since their moves were controlled and calm. Kogami was wearing a simple pair of black sleeveless top and sweatpants. Sugo in front of him, arms crossed to Kogami’s forearms, was with his dark green pair of gym clothes. When they reached to the boxing rink with a tatami floor, both grey and black eyes turned towards them. Inspectors and agents bowed each other after they introduced themselves to both part. Arata was not sure why Kei was glaring at the agent named Kogami, but he ignored thinking Kei had his reason. Besides Kogami didnt look bothered at all. In fact he lighted a cigaratte walking to the edge of the rink. He leaned on the corner pads.

‘’We met again, inspector.’’ he said nonchalantly. Kei nodded. ‘’Yes. I hope we can have a rematch Kogami-san.’’ Kogami with an irritated sigh waved his cigarette holding hand on the air while murmuring silently ‘yeah, yeah’. After a short warming-up, Inspectors stepped up to the link from the small stairs at right side of the rink.

First pairing was Ginoza and Sugo. Arata had to admit, they had a strange chemistry together. Sugo was using his Karate knowledge yet was cautiously avoided a hit by Ginoza’s left bionic arm. They chatted while fighting, almost laughing with the comments they made to each other’s moves. In the end it was a tie, close to Sugo’s victory. At least it was what Arata thought. They bowed to each other and Ginoza jumped down the rink, pointing Kei to take his place. Kei, nodded and entered the rink with confidence.

Well, at least he was sure he would win over Sugo. Yet was wronged once again.

‘’Your partner,’’ started Kogami, next to Arata once again, watching them discussing why he couldnt break Sugo’s arm-lock. Former military captain was patient with him as if teaching to a kid. ‘’he is so confident with himself. This weakens his ability to analyze his opponent. He had plenty chances to bring down Sugo but he went in with the idea of winning in his mind.’’

Arata raised an eyebrow. ‘’Isn’t this what leads one to victory, Kogami-san?’’

Kogami, shrugged. ‘’For tournaments, maybe. But this is real world, inspector. Your opponent goes for your vitals, to kill you. They wont stop just before stabbing your chest. Winning sometimes is not enough.’’ He took one last smoke from his cigar, stubbing out the cigaratte foot in his palm. ‘’He is well-trained but as i said before, he is cocky.’’

Arata grinned to honesty of this man and shrugged. ‘’He is the best partner.I dont care if he is cocky or not. I wouldn't change him to anyone else.’’

Kogami, gave him an amused side look. ‘’Its good to hear.’’ He turned his face to rink where Sugo and Kei were exitting. ‘’So, inspector’’ he beckoned to rink. ‘’what about a match?’’

Arata, knew he had no chance against him. The aura surrounding his body, his calm movements, uninterested expression. Everything screamed ‘’ dont come near or bear the consequences’’. But he accepted. What else could he do?

‘’Why not, Kogami-san.’’ He started to walk towards rink.

‘’Kogami-san, i hope you havent forgetten about our rematch.’’ Said Kei as Arata entered to the rink where Kogami was standing. Kogami, eyes closed sighed looking at the ceiling.

‘’For fucks sake... Okay, i get it, i get it. Wait for your turn.’’

Arata, inhaled calmly. Kei sure was stubborn but it seems Kogami was the one who wounded his pride, thats why he was so persuasive. Otherwise he couldn't remember a time where Kei was so stubborn about a basic rematch.

At least it wont take long Kei, he thought already adjusting his body to a defense position, legs open hands in fists.

Kogami, took one or a two steps backwards, changing his balance from one feet to another,hopping on his toes. Slowly he raised his arms to air as well. Arata, observed his position, planning on how to attack.

Well he was thinking for an attack when he saw a fist stopping just centimeters away from his nose. Arata exhaled with confusion, his breath grazed his solid fist. With shocked eyes he looked up and saw focused grey eyes locked on his honey colored ones.

‘’React fast, inspector. One more time.’’ Kogami drew back his fist and got back to his starting position. Arata shook his head to sides, tried to focus. He knew he was no match to this SAD agent but this didnt mean he should surrender easily. Arata mimicked Kogami’s hopping earlier. He inhaled. But before seeing the attack he felt it.

Kogami, yet again moved fast, aiming to kick his side torso. But his leg found no target as Arata with an extreme flexibility leaned back to a bridge, then he kicked his legs backwards to stand on them again. Kogami narrowed his eyes.

‘’Gymnastics?’’

‘’Profesionally.’’ answered Arata, calmly when he saw a small grin on his lips. But he said nothing as he moved forward to hold one of Arata’s wrist. Arata bent his knees, slided to right. However this was Kogami’s plan as well. He ducked almost near to floor on his left foot, he streched out his right leg and with a twist on his toes he low kicked Arata’s legs. Arata instictively jumped and avoided his dangerous blow. Landing on the tatami he jumped further away from him. Kogami slowly stood on his feet, turning to him. Arata with adrenaline running through his veins, decided to attack at least once. When Kogami dashed towards him Arata threw his right leg to front, turned two rounds on air before giving a kick to his face. Kogami, leaned back, barely avoiding his leg. He still felt the skin of his heel. Arata, landed on his feet, but unfortunately not fast enough. Kogami, found his balance in a flash, grabbed his arm and pulled it towards himself. When Arata’s body bumped into Kogami’s torso, he wrapped his right arm around Arata’s neck, still pulling his left hand to further in front of himself. Kogami’s left hand twisted his left palm to upwards. Arata gasped with pain spreading through his whole arm, bending from his waist to front, he punched continuesly on Kogami’s arm desperately trying to escape from his grip. From afar it looked like a brotherly fight.

‘’Dont be so harsh on my bosses, Kogami-san. I still need my paycheck, after all.’’

A sweet giggle echoed in the gym at the same time his hold over Arata’s neck losened up. Arata had a chance to rise his head and saw a petite figure coming towards the rink. It was no other than Statutory Enforcer, Tsunemori Akane.

Kogami, Arata still whining under his arm, looked towards to the owner of the voice. He knew the second he heard her voice, but seeing her in front of his eyes was still like dream-like event for him. His expression softened as he released Arata, putting his hands to his waist line. Kogami shrugged.

‘’It’s a must for a good training.’’ He grinned at Akane.

Arata, now standing straightly, rubbed his left wrist. First thing he realized was the sudden change in Kogami’s expression. His cool, uninterested look was nowhere to be seen. Instead, shining eyes and a caring gaze took their place. Oh, i see, thought Arata.

‘’Enforcer Tsunemori, have the case files been filled?’’ asked Kei, without thinking.

Arata, felt the sudden tension growing in the air of the gym as three agents got stiff in their places when they heard the title of the woman. Especially Kogami, his chin clenched.

‘’Tsunemori-san, sorry we didnt had the time to tell you where we were.’’ said Arata quickly, trying to soften air.

Akane smiled. This made the agents relax a bit. ‘’Oh dont worry about it. Thought you would be here.’’ she turned her face towards Kogami as she finished her sentence.

‘’Tsunemori,’’ Ginoza turned towards her on the bench he sat. He had a small smile on his lips. Continued as he leaned over placing his elbows on his knees. ‘’It has been a while.’’ Akane’s smiling face turned towards him, nodding.

‘’Indeed, Ginoza-san.’’ She looked left of the rink searching for someone. That was when Sugo stepped forward with a soft grin too. ‘’Hello, Tsunemori-san. Its so good to see you.’’

‘’Hello, Sugo-san. Feelings are mutual.’’ said Akane, slightly lowering her head to left side with a big smile that hiding her eyes.

‘’You looking good.’’ A compliment came from top of the rink. Kogami was now leaning on red ropes of the rink, arms crossed. She was wearing a dark smoke colored two-pieced suit, a pale blue shirt under her jacket. It was rare for her to wear trousers as she would often prefered skirts. But as time passed, like her, her fashion sense changed too. Akane took two steps forward.

‘’Thank you, Kogami-san, you look sharp as well.’’responded Akane, lifting her face to meet with his eyes after her eyes gazing over his muscular arms. Kogami leaned a bit more, his smirk getting more coy.

‘’Want to go for a round?’’

If arata wasnt seeing them in front of his eyes, he would definetely thought they were talking about some other exercise. Something about Kogami's voice gave him this impression. He nodded abruptly to silence Kei’s almost interruption. Blue eyed inspector got the message and closed his mouth, taking his place next to smiling Arata.

‘’Now, it's a time to be alive.’’ Grinned Ginoza. Kogami’s judgemental look found him.

‘’What now, ponytail?’’ he huffed.

Ginoza, not losing his smug face winked at Akane. ‘’Blow him a hit for me too, Tsunemori.’’

Akane snorted, quickly covering her mouth shyly. Sugo, approached to the bench where Ginoza was sitting. ‘’Pardon me, Kogami-san but, it will be fun to see your ass get kicked.’’

‘’Hey!’’ Kogami, held the ropes and stood straigth, his body half-way turned to right, faceing his team-mates. Ginoza and Sugo shrugged, not even trying to hide their smiles.

‘’Dont bully him, you two.’’ said the female enforcer but her voice was full of joy. She took another step to corner of the rink, already taking of her jacket. Kogami, rolled his eyes, turned on his heels to face with Akane once again. She was folding up her blue shirt’s sleeves when they reached just above her elbows she nodded herself with satisfaction. As she quietly took of her flat-heeled shoes, Kogami leaned on the red ropes and held a hand to her.

‘’Do you need any help-‘’ but before he could finish his words, Akane hold the closest rope to her, pulled herself back and with the help of the bounce she jumped on the rink easily. She bend over and entered inside of the rink between two ropes with a smile on her face. Kogami, still semi-leaning down, smirked.

‘’Of course you don't.’’ Kogami, bounced himself back from the ropes and turned to his back, finding Akane already in her defense position. She saw him tilting his head to side a bit.

Akane raised one of her eyebrows. ‘’Hmm?’’

Kogami, shrugged and bent his knees, elbows and fist rising to air. ‘’ Nothing. Grey looks good on you.’’

Akane, clearly blushing, huffed from her nose. ‘’You can’t win without distracting me, can you Kogami-san?’’

Kogami narrowed his eyes as his grin became sinful. ‘’Oh, I can.’’ And he attacked.

For the next five minutes, Arata almost swallowed his tongue with the shock. He knew she was strong. But not she-can-lift-up-an-adult-man-easily kind of strong. He didnt expect to see this scene.

At the beggining, Kogami attacked her as low as he can get. But with a one hand carthwheel on his shoulder, Akane dodged his attack, lending behind him. She was fast. Almost as fast as Kogami. As a result Arata felt like watching two tigers fighting in front of him. She punched mercilessly to his torso, knowing that he would dodge the attack. In fact, he did, only to threw a fist to her which she avoided swiftly turning on her heels. She then grabbed him from his waist-line reversely, lifted him up on air, turned with him before throwing him to ground. Kogami, with a short laugh, did a somersault to front.

‘’I am starting to think you love lifting me up, too much, Akane.’’ Said Kogami, kneeling down on his left knee, one hand on the ground supporting him. Arata, still eyes wide, tried to digest the fact that she threw the agent whereas Arata couldnt even see his punch until it was in front of his nose. Dont make Tsunemori-san mad, he noted in his mind.

‘’What can i say, its an addiction.’’ Akane made a joke before dashing to him. Kogami, pivoted on his knee and rose on his two feet. Just before turning to his right side, he thought of a sneaky move. Quickly wrapped his right arm over Akane’s waist and this time, he lifted her up to air. Akane yelped when she felt the ground under her feet disappear as Kogami’s other arm wrapped over her stomach as well.

‘’H-hey! Let me down Kogami-san!’’ she swang her legs on air, aiming to kick him. Kogami leaned back from his waist, raising up her body more.

‘’You were right. This is addictive.’’ He whispered to her ear, smelling her flowery perfume. Female enforcer turned into a rose petal. She felt his fingers moving around her sides. Akane gasped with panic.

Ginoza with an irritated sigh, face palmed himself. ‘’You two, take your foreplay to a room not on a rink.’’ Sugo laughed under his breath, agreeing with him.

Akane with a groan lifted up both of her legs and with a force she kicked them down. Kogami had to release his arms to prevent himself from falling over her. Akane now on her feet, turned to him.

‘’You know that i am ticklish! That was a dirty move, Kogami-san.’’ she sounded heart-broken however a smile was trying to appear on the tip of her lips. Arata and Kei, for the first time heard Kogami’s deep laugh.

‘’It is not my fault that you have a weakness.’’

Akane lifted her eyebrow. ‘’You too, have your own weaknesses, Kogami-san.’’

Kogami with his softest gaze, looked into her eyes, calmly. Hands inside of his pockets. He didn't even for a second looked away from her eyes. ‘’Yes, i have.’’

Everyone in the room knew what was the meaning of this look.

Arata felt like he was interruping a private moment just then. He mildly coughed, as Akane also woke up from her trance. She cleared her throat as well before tucking her side cuts behind her ears.

‘’Yes. Shall we go then, inspectors? We still have a case to solve.’’ She already started to walk towards the edge of the rink, Kogami following her. This time she let him to help her going down. Kogami, jumped over the red ropes to ground, turned to her. He reached up and gently covered her waist with both of his hand, lowered her down. Akane with his strong arms landed on the floor, she felt a tingling inside her stomach. For a brief second, they both stayed in that position, absorbing the warm sensation between them, eyes locked on to each other’s. Kogami pulled his hands back, when inspectors reached to side of the rink where they were. Akane took the jacket he held out to her with a small thanks, their fingers grazed. She lifted her face up to him. ‘’See you later Kogami-san.’’

Kogami, with a subtle smile, nodded. ‘’Don’t tire yourself so much.’’

Akane giggled, fixing her hair. ‘’Okay, mom.’’ Kogami, frowned to her comment but only flicked her shoulder kindly as a response. She turned to her left, facing the inspectors. ‘’Let’s go.’’

Even though she was an enforcer, neither Arata or Kei felt like disobeying her. Never. They both nodded in sync. ‘’Yes, ma’am!’’

#kougami shinya #psycho pass #akane tsunemori #ginoza nobuchika #shinya kogami #sugo teppei #arata shindo #kei mikhail ignatov

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escxpedes · 4 years

Text

loopholes (cont.)

I literally can’t even begin to tell you how much everyone’s support meant to me on the last chapter. All your comments and tags were so sweet, it was seriously the highlight of my day. I’m sorry for the delay, I meant to get this out a couple of days ago, but I’ve come down with a bad cold. This part, while fun, was so hard to get right. Angus Macgyver is a genius, his mind goes a mile a minute, and I wanted to do my best to replicate that. This part is a little slow in getting to the Macriley stuff, but I wanted to show how much he really thinks about things. He’s such a complex character, that if I didn’t do him justice, I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself. Also, there’s dialogue in this one! Sadly, Jack isn’t mentioned in this chapter, but he’s there in spirit. Clearly, we all love and miss him. I hope you guys enjoy, the last part will be out soon! x

loop·hole

noun | A loophole is an ambiguity or inadequacy in a system, such as a law or security, which can be used to circumvent or otherwise avoid the purpose, implied or explicitly stated, of the system

Riley finally moves into her new apartment, but struggles to adjust after the events of Codex and the realization of her feelings for Mac. When Mac finds her passed out over her keyboard after a late night of coding at Phoenix, he decides a talk is long overdue. Just some slightly angsty soft!macriley to help you cope with this season 5 hiatus.

of lips that i am yet to kiss (and eyes not met my own.)

It's highly unlikely that you'll find Mac walking down the halls of the Phoenix Foundation so late at night. Without the bustling energy of his coworkers fetching important documents or discussing the best way to break down one of the many mysteries the foundation deals with, the darkened hallways and quiet atmosphere can be unnerving.

Sure, he spends nearly every waking hour employed there, but he'd rather be outside the office in different countries, doing hands-on work and saving lives. When you work in his profession, It can be difficult to separate business and pleasure, but that only makes it more important—if only to conserve what mental health he has left.

However, in the haste of putting together last-minute preparations for yet another meeting with the Department of Justice and trying to make it back to his house in time for something Desi whipped up, he managed to forget his cellphone.

It's funny, mainly because of how little the small device truly matters to Mac.

It only goes to show how insignificant material objects, or even human beings in general, are. The idea that something so meaningless can affect someone's life so much when, if they just looked past that obsession and considered its part in the profound scope of the universe, another perspective would take shape.

It's fascinating stuff, really.

There's a concept essential to understanding Japanese aesthetics, otherwise known as an ancient set of ideals important to Japanese society, called Yūgen. When applied in the right context, Yūgen underlines this deep awareness of the universe and the experiences we have within it. It's often the feeling interpreted when you gaze at the stars late at night or watch the sunset dip behind a hill.

Mac wouldn't think twice before breaking his phone, or rather, breaking the phone of his nearest friend, open for an obscure part that might make one of his many homemade devices come together. However, when he's the only person able to communicate the scientific specifications of an unheard-of-until-recently base plan for saving the planet, he's practically on call 24/7.

He remembers having it in the labs earlier that day when he stopped by before his meeting to remind Bozer to come by his house on Friday for the team's new weekly attempt in group-bonding.

After the betrayals that surfaced during the climax of taking down Codex, the team collectively decided to spend more time as a group in hopes of eliminating any lingering doubts.

They used to hang out all the time before the government dismantled the Phoenix Foundation.

Mac still can't believe that, after everything they had been through, he allowed his friendships to dissipate over the year they had been separate.

Bozer is his childhood best friend, and Riley had become a solid foundation in his life. He didn't have anyone outside his team at Phoenix, and while he deeply cared for Desi, their first relationship was proof that too much time—and too little communication—with each other can do severe damage to one's sanity.

If Russ hadn't brought them back together, would they have tried to reconnect at some point?

Mac wants to say they would have but wouldn't blame them if they didn't; they all lost something they cared about, and each served as a constant reminder of it.

It would've been hard, but part of him feels like living without them is a lot harder.

When he manages to access the lab, flipping his shiny new I.D. card over his fingers and into its place in his wallet, his eyes scan the room. It's empty, which isn't unusual at this time, but years of military training have rewired his brain to notify him of threats, even if there aren't any.

Just like he thought it would be, the device sits untouched a few tables behind Bozer's workspace where Mac had been sitting.

Quickly, because he left the house in a hurry and forgot to leave a note, he scoops up his phone and makes his way towards the exit. There's a couple of missed calls, but it doesn't seem like he missed anything too important.

Not that they would let him.

At any rate, they would probably show up on his doorstep if they couldn't get a hold of him. With days off so few and far between, that's the kind of interaction he's hoping to avoid. Hence, why he came to pick up his phone when he realized it was missing instead of waiting until the next day.

He's nearly made it to the end of the hall when a light flashes in his peripheral vision, coming from the I.T. department.

His body is tense with apprehension; his mind races with several different kinds of possibilities and outcomes. He slows his pace, his movements fluid, silent, and controlled from years of stealth practice.

The light is soft, he notices, as if only one or two monitors are in use.

When he gets to the doorway and nudges open the door, hands at the ready, his entire body sags in relief to see the dark wavy hair he's come to associate with one of his closest friends.

"Riles?"

The nickname falls from his mouth before he can stop it, and even though the light from the monitor creates a halo above her head, shadowing her features, it's unmistakably her.

She doesn't move.

It becomes abundantly clear why as Mac moves towards her and notices the monitor's screen filling up with a sequence of letters that look nothing like coding despite his lack of knowledge in programming languages.

Her elbow balances precariously on the edge of the table, her arms creating a makeshift pillow for her head. The weight of her forearm bears down on the keyboard, causing the side of her hand to press down multiple keys at once.

He shakes his head a little, amused by the situation unfolding.

Her cheek rests comfortably on her hand, a serene expression masking the signs of exhaustion that showed on her face.

Mac's lips curved into a soft smile, seeing Riley in any state that wasn't cloaked in layers of worry or anxious determination always washed away any doubts he might have about working in such a stressful field.

The scars that covered his body, the secrets he has to keep, and the pain he has to endure are so unbelievably worth it as long as she out of harm's way and able to sleep peacefully.

Of course, he couldn't imagine anyone else by his side on a mission, knowing they share the same love and passion for kicking ass and saving lives.

However, he also knows that more lies underneath the surface.

He wouldn't wish the hardships of this job on anyone. Seeing it affect someone he cares about, watching it break them down slowly pulls at his heartstrings and fills him with a knowing sadness.

When a piece of hair falls into her face, his fingers don't hesitate to gently brush it behind her ear, lightly tracing her cheekbone and caressing her cheek.

Kneeling, his hand drops to her shoulder in an attempt to gently wake her.

After a couple of shakes, the expressive brown eyes he's come to look forward to seeing begin to flutter open and nearly render him speechless.

She blinks a couple of times, inhaling slowly, "Macgyver."

Her voice is full of sleep and breaks from misuse, but the way she says his name—like there's nobody else she'd expect to see when she wakes up —has him grinning from ear to ear.

"Good morning, sleepyhead."

Rising from her position on the table, she scans the room before meeting his eyes and scoffing, "It's hardly the morning."

He laughs softly, holding back the urge to mention that technically it is morning considering its past twelve. Instead, he focuses on the matter at hand, or more likely, the question at hand.

"What are you doing here so late?"

She's more alert now, sitting back in her chair and lifting her arms to stretch out the muscles that stiffened while she slept, glancing at her work on the monitor.

Her face drops into a grimace when she notices her mistake, "Matty and I were talking about updating the foundation's firewall and spyware," she yawns, "I must have been more tired than I realized."

Mac's eyebrows scrunch in thought, remembering something Bozer said earlier about Riley spending quite a few nights this week working late.

Between going over his mother's scientific data, trying to patch up whatever relationship he had left with Desi, and making sure he didn't go off the rails with grief, his effort to check in on everyone decreased significantly.

"Yeah, you've been doing that a lot lately," his hand returned to her shoulder to emphasize his point, "Everything okay?"

She waves him off, "There's too much work that needs to be done around here before we can get things running the way they used to."

Riley doesn't lie to him—if you overlook the whole situation with her ex, Aubrey, that is, but the movements she's making indicate otherwise.

Her eyes refuse to meet his, flickering down and to the right. When she talks, her head shakes lightly, and she purses her lips in an attempt to give off a careless impression. Maybe someone who doesn't know her or didn't train to pick up on it would believe her, but he knew better.

She was definitely hiding something from him.

Part of him understands that if she wanted to talk about it, she would. However, his instincts urge him to press harder, locate the problem, and bring back her contagious smile that always seems to fill him with warmth.

As much as he doesn't want to admit it, you can't patch some things together by sheer will and sellotape, so instead, he stands up and drops his hand from her shoulder.

"Let's get you home."

#macgyver #macriley #angus macgyver #riley davis #i really hope you like this

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teamlarl · 3 years

Text

Chapter - The Ides of March

Word Count: 6,922

Characters: Adrastia Ennius, Ianus Basilius, Ulixes Ovid, Astraea

TW: Death, Gore, Extreme Violence, Mentions of Child Abuse, Gaslighting

“Do we know what’s causing the riots?”

Ianus Basilius, head of the Mistrali Council, sat among the rest of his compatriots. Mere minutes ago, he and the rest of the council members had been shuffled off towards the executive bunker used for such emergencies. In all his time on the council, the bunker had never been used until now. In fact, the last time that he could recall such a threat to the city that would have necessitated such a thing was the Faunus War, all those decades ago.

To think, that the threat originated from inside the ancient city! From the people themselves, doing the Grimm’s job for them! How galling.

In response to his question, the aides of each council member handed the rulers of Mistral a single manila folder each. Ianus’ stormy gray gaze scanned the reports within, jaw clenching and grip tightening the further down he read.

“Astraea!” Ianus hissed, slamming his palm down onto the round table they all sat around. “That masked bitch!”

“This is what happens when you show too much mercy, old friend.” Intoned the grim voice of Ulixes Ovid, general of the Mistrali Self-Defense Forces. His tan and weathered face crinkled in annoyance. “You should have listened to me and arrested her for fermenting dissent among the populace.”

“She hadn’t done anything illegal!” Ianus shot back. “Not that we could prove, anyway. You and I both know that we couldn’t risk arresting such a beloved public figure and turning her into a martyr.”

“Fat lot of good that did.” The third council member, Sophia Choi, snorted. The wizened old lady folded her hands inside of her long and elaborate sleeves, fixing the head of the council with a glare. “It seems as if she’s set the people loose against us anyway. Do we even have the defenses for this sort of thing? These are people, not Grimm. They’ll be clever.”

General Ovid sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Under normal circumstances, yes, we would. However, there’s an… obvious issue. All this negativity is going to attract the Grimm. We don’t have enough guards to deal with the rioters and the Grimm at the same time. Normally, we’d have a contingent of huntsmen for the latter, but…” He tried very hard not to glance in Councilwoman Choi’s direction.

“But we’ve been losing huntsmen in droves, recently.” Choi spat out. “Something we have yet to know the cause for!”

“There’s an investigation ongoing.” Ianus attempted to placate his fellow council member.

“My daughter was murdered!” Choi snapped. Her parchment colored eyes narrowed, glaring at Ianus directly. “And mark my words, there is going to be hell to pay for that.”

Ianus, to his credit, was far from cowed by the blatant threat. “Regardless,” he continued dryly, “we need to handle the Grimm situation.” Biting the inside of his cheek, as was his habit, the head of the Mistrali Council weighed his options. None of which were very good, but something had to be done. A decision had to be made. “…Send the students of Haven Academy to man the city walls.”

The aide to his side nodded and rushed out of the room to transmit the order. To Ianus’ left, General Ovid looked like he was about to burst a blood vessel.

“Are you insane?” Ovid questioned sharply. It was the sort of quiet that hid a raging storm underneath. “They’re just students, Ianus. They’re not ready for something like this.”

“You’re entirely correct, old friend.” Ianus calmly acquiesced. “However, they’re all we have. Whatever the reason,” he glanced sharply at Councilwoman Choi, “which is being investigated, I assure you,” his gray eyes swung back towards the general, “our huntsmen reserves have dwindled. This isn’t a decision I make lightly, but we need bodies. We need something to throw at the Grimm.”

It was at this point that the fourth member of the council, Shiro Abe, decided to speak up. “They’re going to die.” He said simply, doing nothing to hide the bored expression lingering on his face. The career bureaucrat hadn’t even so much as blinked while he discussed death as if he were discussing budgetary numbers.

“Perhaps,” Ianus responded as his lips flattened into a thin line, “or perhaps they’ll surprise you. They’re more capable of the task than old men like us, at any rate. Besides, my son and General Ovid’s daughter are among that number. I have every confidence in their abilities.”

The room fell silent at that proclamation. What could really be said when their leader had just acknowledged sending their child to their potential doom?

It was a silence that did not last long, however.

“Aww, you know, it’s almost kind of sweet how much you believe in me.”

Every person in the secure bunker, aides and council members alike, snapped their heads towards the new voice that had just filled their chamber. A voice that shouldn’t have been there.

Ianus’ stormy eyes widened in shock as he stood up from his seat. What was she doing here? Before he could open his mouth to demand answers, the figure in the doorway cut him off.

“Uncle Ianus, do sit down.” The violet leer of Adrastia Ennius crinkled in undisguised amusement as she met the gaze of the most powerful man in Mistral. Without missing a beat, the raven haired beauty sashayed into the room, hauling a duffel bag over her shoulder and dragging a crumpling mass of a man by the collar behind her. With a heave and a grunt of exertion, she tossed the unconscious form of Councilman Saturn Vasilius onto the grand council table. “Thought I’d deliver your missing member, free of charge. Caught him about to be dismembered by a mob outside his home.”

The rest of the room relaxed a smidge at the news of the rather unorthodox rescue. Ianus let out a sigh of relief and took his seat once more, making no comment of Adrastia’s breach of their roles. He was the one that gave the orders, not her. Though, considering the circumstances, this was neither the time nor the place to lecture her on the decorum he had drilled through her head.

Though the tension in the room gradually melted away, Ulixes Ovid found himself more concerned than ever. As Adrastia took her seat across from him and met his eyes, Ovid knew something was very wrong. The look in his adopted daughter’s eyes… It was-

Ovid’s train of thought was abruptly caught off as the bunker shook around them. Dust was shaken loose from the ceiling and floated down onto the council members and their aides, but that was the least of their worries. With the reflexes of a military man, Ovid slammed down on the intercom in front of him and barked out a demand for a status report.

All he got in response was static.

“Well, that doesn’t sound good.” Adrastia mused as she hauled her duffel bag onto the table in front of her and began to dig through it. A moment passed and she realized that no one had so much as moved a muscle. Sighing, she turned her attention towards one of the aides. “Someone should really go check on that.” Beat. “That means you.”

The aide in question, sweating in their boots from everything that was going on, glanced towards Councilman Basilius, who gave their nod of assent. The aide scampered out of the room without a second thought.

“She could have checked on it herself, you know.” Councilwoman Choi pointed out. “Rather than some wet behind the ears political aide that often merely serves to make my tea. She’s a soldier, after all.”

“Perhaps, councilwoman,” Adrastia drawled as she picked a pencil up from the table and began twirling it in her fingers, “you shouldn’t talk about people as if they aren’t there to hear you.” She stared at Choi as if she were nothing more than a speck of dirt to be picked out of her boots, then turned her attention towards Basilius himself. “Besides, I assume the esteemed head of the council has marching orders for his most effective agent. Isn’t that right, Uncle Ianus?”

That wasn’t right, General Ovid knew. Adrastia never referred to Ianus as such unless she wanted something. A fact that Councilman Basilius himself seemed to overlook, content with her obedience.

“Indeed.” Ianus replied solemnly. “In light of the current riots spreading throughout the city like a wildfire, I’m sending the students of Haven Academy out to the outer walls to protect against the inevitable Grimm incursion. That includes you, Agent Ennius.”

For a brief moment, a flash of worry crossed Adrastia’s cold, violet eyes… but she was nothing if not a professional. Compartmentalization was a gal’s best friend.

“I assume that includes Renatus?” She asked, her voice softening for the first time during this impromptu meeting.

Ianus Basilius shot her a blank stare in return. “…You know as well as I that that boy would never be able to stomach staying behind while the rest of his peers went out to fight, even if I ordered it myself. Yes, he will be going.”

“I see.” Adrastia muttered. “I suppose you’re right. There’s no denying one’s nature.”

“So,” Ianus continued, “if you want to ensure his survival throughout the next twenty four hours, I suggest you hurry along to the outer wall.”

The pencil that Adrastia had been toying with snapped in her palm.

Taking a deep breath, Adrastia Ennius mustered up the fakest, most obedient smile she had ever given. “Of course, sir. I’ll be sure to hurry along right away. There’s… just one thing, you see.”

“Very well, what is it, Adrastia?” Ianus asked impatiently. There really wasn’t time for this, but she had done well tonight.

The young soldier tilted her head and asked the head of the council, “What do you think my nature is?”

Not a word was spoken as Adrastia tipped her palm over and allowed the broken pieces of her pencil fall. They landed on the ground in a clatter, a soft sound that was almost deafening with the hush that had fallen over the secure council chamber.

“…I’m not sure I understand. May you repeat the question?” Ianus finally replied.

Adrastia let out a resigned sigh as she gave the councilman a disappointed look. “Ianus Basilius, what was one of the first things you ever taught me? Do not make you repeat yourself. You heard. You understood. Do not insult my intelligence or your own by implying you did not. Do not make me repeat myself.”

Even now, there was no reply to her query. Councilman Basilius merely stared her down, as if she were still a little girl that could be brought to heel with just a look. Pathetic.

“Alright, perhaps you need an example.” A sly grin crossed Adrastia’s face as she returned the glare Ianus was giving her. It was like a shark staring down an old lion who ventured too close to the sea. “What would you say your nature is, Ianus Basilius? Ah, ah, ah, don’t answer that. It was rhetorical. I’ll tell you anyway.”

Councilman Basilius turned his head to the left and shared a concerned glance with General Ovid, who merely shrugged his shoulders in response.

“You’re the ambitious sort,” Adrastia began, pointing a finger towards the subject of her analysis. “The type who craves power for power’s sake. You are the kind of man that wishes he were immortal, but since you know that is an impossibility, you settle for cementing your legacy in history and legend. Morality doesn’t even factor into the equation. It’s all about your personal glory hidden behind a pretense of supposedly doing what’s best for the people-”

“I am doing what’s best for the people!” Ianus immediately shot back.

“Then why are they out there rioting?” Adrastia calmly countered. “You’ve been on the council for almost twenty years, but what’s really different now compared to before you joined? You’ve certainly got more wealth and prestige than you did before. And don’t get me wrong! Acting in public like you and father over there are opposed by the majority of the council, when in actuality you’re the one calling the shots? When you’re actually consolidating power behind closed doors? Oh, it’s a stroke of brilliance. A political power play. And really, I think it sums up your nature pretty succinctly.”

By now, Councilman Basilius had had enough of this rambling nonsense. “Is there a point to this, Agent Ennius? Or are you merely here to waste more of our precious time?”

Adrastia looked at the esteemed councilman like he’d just grown a second head.

“Waste your time?” She parroted. “Waste your time?” Her chair clattered to the floor as Adrastia abruptly stood up. With a low, sweeping motion, she gave the Mistrali Council a mocking bow. “Excuse me, oh grand and illustrious councilmembers, for wasting your time!” A sound akin to a gunshot echoed out as the young soldier reared back and slammed her palms against the hard wooden table.

“Agent Ennius!” Councilman Abe shouted. “Show some respect! You are going to put a dent in the finish if you carry on-”

With but a glare from the visibly livid soldier, Shiro Abe backed down and fell silent.

“Waste your time…” Adrastia repeated once more, muttering the words under her breath as she did her best to bore a hole through the wood. “Of all the…” Taking a deep breath, she lifted her head and met her father’s worried stare. Oh, the things she wanted to say to that man, but there were more pressing targets. So she turned her head away and met Councilman Basilius’ arrogant gaze once more. “How about all the time you wasted for me, eh?”

“Excuse me?” Ianus Basilius sneered.

“Yeah, I fucking said it.” Adrastia snarled. “All this talk about wasting your time. Ha! What about my time? What about my entire fucking childhood?! Where do you get off on wasting that!”

“Young lady!” General Ovid roared. “Where do you get off on accusing a council member of such things! Show him the respect he is due as a member of this institution, and show me the respect that I am due as your father!”

With but a flick of her finger, General Ovid was no longer sitting in his seat. He was, instead, pinned to the ceiling, held there by an invisible force controlled by Adrastia.

“Adrastia!” Ovid called out, but his errant daughter ignored his pleas and warnings. She’d heard it all a million times.

Ianus, to his credit, was undeterred by the young lady’s fury and display of power. He simply folded his hands on the table and leaned forward. “Are you complaining?” He asked bluntly. “This is not an attitude befitting the Spear of Mistral. Are you seriously complaining that you’ve been honed into one of the finest huntresses that this kingdom has ever seen? Have you no gratitude?”

“I never asked to be your damn Spear! I never even had a choice!”

“Any choice that you would have made would’ve been a poor one.” Ianus retorted calmly. “An utter waste of potential. Look at you now, child. Your father and I found you and saved you from a life of mediocrity. We forged you into the asset you are now. By all accounts, you should be thanking us. What was the alternative? Letting you waste away in some remote fishing village, barely scraping by, never knowing anything more? Don’t be so pathetic, Adrastia.”

Silence fell upon the bunker once more. Ianus’ words settled upon Adrastia like a poison sinking under her skin. With that dressing down concluded, she found herself gazing at her navel in lieu of meeting Councilman Basilius’ stormy iron eyes. Councilman Abe and Councilwoman Choi shared a baffled glance, neither having the slightest clue as to what was going on. The silence was not long lived, however, as General Ovid fell from his spot on the ceiling and hit the ground hard. A hiss of pain could be heard as the general stood up, but nevertheless he reached for his pistol… Only for Councilman Basilius to raise his hand. His gaze never once left Adrastia.

“What,” Adrastia repeated herself slowly, “is my nature…?”

Ianus let out a breath he hadn’t realized he’d been holding. He sensed that he’d defused the bomb that Adrastia had somehow worked herself up into. “This is a conversation we should have had long ago, child.” He told her softly. “That mistake is my own, and I will forgive this outburst in light of that. It is only natural for a young woman such as yourself to want to explore her role, her destiny, and her very nature in relation to the world around you.”

Adrastia looked up expectantly, curiosity and even a small bit of hope dancing in those violet orbs.

“You, Adrastia Ennius,” Ianus continued, “are a spiteful, selfish little urchin. You do not deserve the power that the gods have seen fit to bestow upon you. Were you given the option, I have no doubt that you would waste it all on frivolous pursuits that benefit only you and you alone. It is indeed fortunate that your father and I took you and made you so much more than you would have otherwise been. We forged you, honed you, crafted you with care. For that is your nature, child. You are a weapon. Mistral’s weapon. My weapon. Is it a pretty truth? No, it is not. But you were not made for beauty, despite your silly attempts to the contrary. You were made to be among the dank and dirty. You were made to be among the shadows, never seen, with a knife in your hand. Everything I have sheltered Renatus from is embodied in you. We have forged you to do what he cannot. He is the pillar that my legacy will stand firmly on, but you must be the one to protect that pillar. Do you understand?”

The girl in question did not answer. Her dark bangs shrouded her pale face in a way that made it impossible to tell what she was thinking. Adrastia stood there, hands clenched into fists, staring into nothing for what felt like hours. In reality, it was only a few minutes before she softly responded, “Yeah… yeah, I understand.”

Without so much as another word, Adrastia bent down and hoisted the duffel bag she had carried in onto the table. She unzipped it and began shuffling through its contents, clearly searching for something in particular. It was a testament to Ianus’ confidence in his manipulation tactics that he did not move to stop her whatsoever.

Finally, Adrastia had finally found what she was searching for. Her gloved hands pulled out simple video camera and a cable, which she connected to her scroll. She fiddled around with the settings for a moment and hummed approvingly once everything was set up to her satisfaction.

“…Agent Ennius, what are you doing?” Councilman Abe questioned.

The violet soldier glanced up towards the councilman in question in blinked, as if they were being ridiculous. “Why, this is for the show, of course.” She answered the question as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

“The… show-” Before he could finish questioning their guest, Councilman Abe suddenly found himself completely unable to move. Well, that wasn’t entirely accurate. It was more like… trying to swim through gelatin. Everything just suddenly felt… so heavy. Abe and the rest of the council slumped over in their seats and face-planted onto the table while the aides in the room collapsed onto the floor. Much to Abe’s horror, even moving his head to look at the obvious culprit was an exercise of herculean effort. It was like someone had just dropped an elephant onto him!

“Girl…!” General Ovid snarled as he glared at his adopted daughter, the only person in the room that was acting like nothing had just happened.

“What’s wrong, daddy?” Adrastia asked oh so innocently. “You’re not looking well. Is old age catching up to you? Should I call a medic?”

“What is the meaning of this?” The hoarse voice of Councilwoman Choi cried out. Sweat began to form on her ancient brow just from the exertion of speaking in this condition.

“I would have thought that the meaning would be plainly obvious.” Adrastia commented dryly. “Then again, it’s not like the council is known for having the best and brightest members.”

It was an insult that Councilman Abe in particular took affront too. “Child, I will have you know that I-!” In what was becoming a bit of a pattern, Abe found himself cut off, albeit this time by the throwing knife that had just soared past his head and nicked his cheek.

“Will I have to gag you?” Adrastia questioned the esteemed councilman, disappointment practically dripping from her lips. “Because I will. I have an entire roll of duct tape right here.”

Wisely, Councilman Abe shut his mouth and did not speak up again.

“Much better,” Adrastia cooed. “Now then, you all must be wondering what this camera is for. Why I’m using my gravity semblance to slowly crush your bodies. Why I’m threatening council members with bodily harm if they don’t shut the fuck up!” She paused, taking their groans of pain as confirmation that they were listening. “The answer is obvious. It’s because, just as Councilman Basilius said, I’m a spiteful, selfish little shit.”

Once more reaching into her duffel bag, Adrastia pulled out three seemingly innocuous items: a large, flowing blonde wig; and a wide-brimmed hat as pale as death itself, topped with several raven’s feathers; and a starkly white, full-faced masquerade mask with black ceramic detailing.

Ianus Basilius’ breath hitched in his throat as he suddenly realized that he’d made a crucial and terrible mistake.

“You’ll have to give me a second, boys.” Adrastia told her captive audience as she began the process of stuffing her dark hair under the blonde wig. “This is always such a hassle… Especially when I have to do it on the fly. But, I suppose all that training you had me do so that I could properly disguise myself is really paying off, eh?” Reaching into her pocket, Adrastia pulled out a small portable mirror, checking her appearance to ensure there were no loose strands of silky black hair showing. “Hmm, stowing it in the bag did the wig no favors, but… it’ll have to do. I’m sure my viewers will forgive me for not looking my best after fighting through all the council’s guards.”

“You…” Ovid groaned, glaring at the woman he had adopted all those years ago.

“Who, me?” Adrastia asked in mock surprise. “Oh, that wasn’t me being facetious. All your guards really are dead. Albeit, I didn’t do it in this wig. Didn’t want any blood on it, you understand. A girl has got to take care of her hair, if nothing else.”

“All this time…” Ianus forced out while pinned to the table. If looks could kill, Adrastia would’ve been dead several times over. “All this time… you’ve been her. Astraea. All this time…” The councilman inhaled a deep, shuddery breath. It hurt so much to talk under all this pressure. This very literal pressure. “…You’ve been turning the people against me.”

“What, like it’s hard?” Adrastia snorted as she carefully placed the rather ostentatious hat on top of her head. “Making the council seem so ineffective might’ve gained you personal power, but it made people resent the hell out of you guys. Didn’t matter who was publicly doing the obstructing. All I had to do was start preaching an ideology that had mass appeal but would be fundamentally opposed by an oligarchic government. It’s amazing how wealth equality and the destruction of social classes really drives the people wild after centuries of neglect.”

Now it was time for the final piece of the ensemble, the final piece of the puzzle that was Astraea. “I don’t particularly care about any of that either way, but…” She picked up her trademark mask and cradled it in her hands. “I wanted a very violent revolution.” The mask was placed on her face, and that was that.

Unless one knew what to look for, Adrastia Ennius ceased to exist, replaced by the lead revolutionary herself, Astraea.

“You.” Astraea intoned, snapping her fingers and releasing one of the political aides from her semblance. “Come hold this camera and point it towards me. And if you say a single word, I swear to the gods that I will gut you like a fish.”

Under such a threat, the aide could only shakily pick themselves up and nod their head obediently. With an obvious terror in their gait, they picked up the camera up from the table and did as they were told.

Astraea nodded in approval. “Good. I’ll handle the controls from my scroll. Now just stand there and try not to shake too much. Especially when things start getting… messy. You’re documenting history, remember that. You’re not going to want to miss a single thing.”

The only response that Astraea got was a single, hesitant nod. Well, they were a good listener, at least. They’d have to be, if they were basically a glorified servant to this sorry lot of fossils.

“All right, you ready? Doesn’t matter.” Astraea opened up her scroll and tabbed over to the program that her dear partner in crime had supplied for her. “Going live in 3… 2… 1…” The masked revolutionary pressed the big red button on her scroll and turned towards the camera. No one in that room but her realized that she had just hijacked every communications device in the city of Mistral.

“So it has come to this… Greetings, Mistral. As I am sure most of you know by now, I am Astraea.” She paused to really let that sink in. No doubt her followers were cheering at the sight of her face- well, mask, and the sound of her voice. “What a busy night this has been! You have done well, my brothers and sisters. Our moment is here and you have seized it masterfully! You have marched through the streets, taking what is rightfully yours from those that would wish to have you continue to be slaves in all but name! All night, you have been chanting the mantra that has sustained our movement these past few years: NO MORE!”

Astraea raised her fist up in solidarity. If she closed her eyes, she could almost imagine that she could hear the frenzied chanting that was reverberating throughout the mountain city.

“No more… I couldn’t agree more, brothers and sisters! I, for one, cannot stomach the stench of this kingdom and its corruption any longer! The moment we have been planning all this time is finally coming to fruition! Some of you not in the know must have been asking, ‘Where is our glorious leader in our time of greatest triumph?’ and ‘Has Astraea abandoned the cause?’ Never! I would never abandon the cause of the Mistrali people! I will never stop fighting for your freedom and equality! While you all were marching in the streets, I was undertaking a far more dangerous task…”

Astraea strode towards the grand council table, the camera dutifully panning to finally reveal a sight that would be burned into the Mistrali consciousness forevermore.

“My brothers and sisters… I present to you the Council of Mistral in all its tepid glory!” Astraea thrust her hand out, giving a sweeping gesture as she showed off her prize. “No, my friends, this is not a joke! This is not a fraud! This is destiny! The council has been subdued! Humiliated! And now it is time… to give them what they deserve.”

Astraea leapt onto the council table, where Saturn Vasilius still laid in blissful unconsciousness. He was never to know the fate that had befallen him. “Councilman Saturn Vasilius!” Astraea declared as she placed her heel on top of his head. “Guilty of nepotism, domestic violence, child abuse, and general incompetence! I sentence you to death.” Using her semblance to augment the weight of her foot, Astraea pushed down and Councilman Vasilius’ skull gave way like a rotten pumpkin in the beginning of November.

One of the aides found the strength to let out a bone chilling scream, but Astraea didn’t miss a beat. She simply moved onto her next target.

“Councilman Shiro Abe…” Astraea intoned like an angel of death. She knelt down on top of the table and grabbed a handful of his graying hair, forcing the councilman to look up into her mask. “Guilty of money laundering, extortion, bribery, and head-in-the-sand policies that have cost far too many people their lives. For all of that, I sentence you to death.”

Councilman Abe’s eyes widened sharply and he valiantly tried to struggle, but it was to no avail. Astraea pulled a knife out of her boot and slit his throat then and there. For a moment, Abe tried to say something, but all that came up was a gurgle of blood. Astraea released his fair and Abe’s face fell onto the table with a dull thud. He did not rise again.

It was time for the old lady. “Councilwoman Sophia Choi. Gods, look at you.” Astraea sneered as she waltzed over. “You’re ancient. You should have retired decades ago. Perhaps you would have been spared this fate. You are guilty of racketeering, profiteering off of the drug trade, and being the best fucking friend of every syndicate and cartel that operates in Mistral.” For that, she gave old Choi a good kick in the face.

Kneeling down as she did with Abe, Astraea grabbed Choi’s face and forced her to meet the implacable gaze of her mask. “You helped to make the Yonghai Syndicate what it was. And what’s more than that, when those old connections stopped proving useful, you and some others plotted to make a little girl an orphan just so you could muscle in on her family business.” Rearing back, Astraea delivered a hell of a blow against Choi’s cheek. A few teeth were clearly knocked loose, with how blood was no spilling from Choi’s mouth. “Perhaps it was karma that you lost your only daughter last year. Too bad that, from where I’m sitting, it’s hardly enough.”

Astraea leaned in and, so quietly that only Councilwoman Choi would hear, whispered, “Which is one of many reasons why I’m the one that murdered her.”

Before Choi could process that sinister revelation, Astraea pulled her pistol out of its holster and placed it inside of the councilwoman’s mouth. The revolutionary cared not for the tears now streaming down the face of the grieving mother, only for her crimes. “I sentence you to death.”

With the flash of a muzzle and a deafening bang, Councilwoman Choi’s brainmatter and blood was sprayed onto the wall behind her. Her body fell onto the floor and was not regarded by Astraea again.

“Then there were two…” Astraea mused as she strolled towards her final two victims. Ianus was glaring at her something fierce. She had never seen him this angry! Gods, it was cathartic. But, it wasn’t his turn yet. Oh, no, no, no. She was saving him for last. So instead she turned to face… her father.

General Ovid did not look as furious as dear Ianus. Oh, the anger was still there, but… Astraea internally winced as she gazed into his eyes. Like Choi at the end, the man was crying, but… she got the sense that it wasn’t for himself. The sheer devastation in his features… Astraea shook her head. No. She needed to focus. She had already come this far, she had already dedicated herself to this. This… had always been unavoidable.

“General Ulixes Ovid…” Astraea began, far more somberly than her previous executions. “I have to admit, you were a tough nut to crack. Your track record is far more squeaky clean than your peers. A dedicated military man, through and through…” A long, shuddery breath escaped her lips. “But that doesn’t excuse the child abuse you were part and party to for the past two decades. That doesn’t excuse you standing idly by and letting such things… happen. You are guilty for being a failure of a man, a failure of a commander, and… a failure of a father.” She paused, and then gave Ovid something she hadn’t given any of her other victims. “…Have you anything to say in your defense?”

Ovid was silent for a long moment… and then his body shuddered. With great effort and exertion, he slowly pushed himself up off the table so that he could sit up straight… so that he could look his daughter in the eyes one last time, even if it was through a mask.

“I’m sorry…” He croaked out. “I am so, so sorry… I am sorry for all the pain I have caused, all the pain that I let happen… But, most of all, I’m sorry for all the pain that this is going to cause you going forward. This won’t bring you the peace that you seek. Trust an old man that has seen more than his fair share of death.”

Slowly reaching forward with a shaking hand, he grasped Astraea’s own bloody palm and squeezed it tightly. “I have a daughter, you know. She’s probably out there on the front lines right now, watching this or fighting against the pack of Grimm that I know in my bones is coming…” Ovid stared into those masked violet orbs knowingly. Even now, even in this situation, he would not give up her identity. He would not rat his baby girl out and doom her more than she was already dooming herself. “I just hope… that she knows her old man loves her. That even with all of my failures, I… I just wanted the best for her. That ever since I picked her up that first time, I knew I would do everything I could to protect her. I’m just… I’m just sorry that I didn’t always succeed.”

Astraea was glad that the aide carrying the camera was at the complete other end of the table. She was glad that she could control the camera through her scroll, so that she could zoom out enough that the video feed wouldn’t see how her body shook like a leaf in the wind. So that it couldn’t hear the sobs that threatened to escape her chest.

“She knows.” Astraea hoarsely whispered. Reaching behind her back, she pulled out the last weapons she had allowed herself to bring, twin tantos with a serrated edge. Weapons she had stolen from one of the many huntsmen she had slaughtered over the past two years. Weapons that couldn’t be traced back to Adrastia Ennius.

She crossed the blades just above the base of Ovid’s throat. “Ulixes Ovid, I sentence you to death…” For a moment, Astraea hesitated. In the next moment, Ovid subtly nodded his head and whispered, “It’ll be okay.” In the moment after that, Ovid’s head fell to the ground, along with the tantos.

They were poison to her now. She could never touch them again. The weapons that had ended her father’s life.

Astraea did not immediately move from her spot like she had with the others. She let herself have this moment. She let herself silently scream over the sin she had just committed.

“You’re a monster…”

At that, Astraea snapped her head to the side to come face to face with Ianus Basilius. The councilman was still pinned to the table, but defiance still shone in those stormy eyes of his. “You’re a monster,” he repeated hoarsely, “and I should have put you down ages ago.”

“Probably…” Astraea responded. “But I’m only what you made me.”

“You’re a fool.” Ianus bluntly told her. “You’ll have your revenge now, but then what? You murder me and this entire kingdom will collapse into chaos. Are you really ready to condemn an untold amount of people to the pyre and to the Grimm just for your personal vendetta? Even you couldn’t be that selfish.”

“You know,” Astraea began slowly, “once upon a time that might have given me pause. But as I have recently been told, my nature is to be destructive, spiteful, and selfish. Do you really expect me to fight against my nature?”

It was now, and only now, that Ianus realized and fully accepted the imminence of his death. There was no escaping this. He would not be let go as he had been oh so long ago. His luck had run out and the bill had come due.

But even in the face of his demise, the councilman’s mind was whirling. It was as the girl had said, it was pointless to fight against one’s nature, and as she had elaborated oh so plainly earlier… his nature was that drive to cement his place in history.

“The people will never follow you now!” Ianus declared, using what remaining strength he had to make his voice project. If he was to die, now was the moment to make himself a legend. “Not after the savagery you’ve displayed here, Astraea! The good people of Mistral deserve better than a monster like you to lead them!”

“Head Councilman Ianus Basilius,” Astraea intoned, completely ignoring Ianus’ prattling, “You are guilty of that which you have always denied.”

“People of Mistral, I am sorry you will have to bear witness to this tragedy and that you will have to weather through the fallout. But stay vigilant!”

“You are guilty of conspiring to overthrow the government.”

“Dark times are ahead, but you must stay strong! You must stay united! For it is unity that is Mistral’s strength!”

“You are guilty of consolidating power in your own hands.”

“I believe in you Mistral. I believe in you, my children.”

“You are guilty of intending to declare yourself Shogun.”

His declaration finished, Ianus glanced up and into the eyeholes of Astraea’s mask. “You too, my child, will have a taste of power.”

“I sentence you to death.”

Grabbing the knife from out of her boot, Astraea rushed forward and stabbed Ianus Basilius, tackling him to the ground. The knife sunk deep into his shoulder and the councilman couldn’t help but let out a hiss of pain. Astraea was not done, however. Pulling the knife back out, she stabbed Ianus once more. Then again. Then again. Each scream of pain, each splatter of blood, was more cathartic than the last. Astraea couldn’t help herself. She had wanted to do this for So! Stab. Damn! Stab. Long!

An unhinged giggle bubbled out of Astraea’s mouth, and before she knew it, she was howling with laughter as she mutilated the corpse of her abuser.

All of this was caught on camera.

All of this was broadcasted.

All of this was being watched by the entire city.

The sheer shock and horror Astraea’s broadcast had produced was enough to lure in every Grimm for a hundred miles.

Not that Astraea cared much. She was too busy stabbing Ianus Basilius over and over and over again. By the time she was finished, she was panting with exertion and breathing heavily. It was done. It was fucking done… And there was no more point of playing pretend.

With the press of a button on her scroll, the broadcast ended. The camera was shut off. Astraea tore off her mask and threw the now bloody wig to the ground, the hat along with it, and became Adrastia once more. She stood up from off the ground, almost stumbling and losing her balance as she did so. After all of that she felt… off-kilter. But the night was still young. There was still so much more left to do.

Adrastia lazily swiveled her head towards the cameraman she had forcibly enlisted. There were tears streaming down their face and they had clearly pissed themselves, but they were still holding the camera steady. Good lad.

“You’re free to go now.” She told them passionlessly. “A promise is a promise. So long as you never tell anyone that Adrastia Ennius was here? You can live the rest of your life in peace.” Beat. “But if you squeal, your death won’t be as quick as some of these assholes got.”

It was probably a testament to how fucking terrified her cameraman was that they immediately dropped the camera onto the ground and sprinted out of the room like she had just cracked a whip at them.

Which left the issue of what to do with the rest of the council’s glorified servants. All of whom had seen her face and knew who she was. She had let one poor soul run away. She wasn’t feeling generous enough to give five or so more the same deal.

Several gunshots later, Adrastia walked out of the bunker and sank to her knees upon seeing the night sky. Half of Mistral was on fire, giving the skyline a flickering orange halo that was… gorgeous. This was it. This was what her life had amounted to. And in that moment, as she watched the embers of falling city float up into the stars above… Adrastia found that it was all worth it.

#;drabble #;chapter #;adrastia #;astraea #;ianus #v; fall (82 to 84 PW)

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yuusa · 3 years

Text

-ˋˏ 𝐔𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭ˎˊ-

-ˋˏ 𝑼𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝑻𝒉𝒆 𝑷𝒂𝒔𝒕 ˎˊ-

✧ 𝑪𝒐𝒅𝒆 𝑽𝒆𝒊𝒏 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕

· · · · ✦ 𝑺/𝒐 𝒊𝒔 𝒈𝒐𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒕𝒉𝒓𝒐𝒖𝒈𝒉 𝒑𝒓𝒆𝒗𝒊𝒐𝒖𝒔 𝒎𝒆𝒎𝒐𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒘𝒉𝒊𝒍𝒆 𝑳𝒐𝒖𝒊𝒔 𝒕𝒓𝒊𝒆𝒔 𝒕𝒐 𝒕𝒊𝒆 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒐𝒔𝒆 𝒆𝒏𝒅𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒊𝒓 𝒑𝒂𝒔𝒕.

𝑺𝒖𝒎𝒎𝒂𝒓𝒚: 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒖𝒏𝒄𝒐𝒗𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒃𝒆𝒈𝒊𝒏𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒖𝒏𝒊𝒗𝒆𝒓𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒚 𝒚𝒆𝒂𝒓𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒑𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒔 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒕𝒐𝒐𝒌 𝒊𝒏 𝒐𝒓𝒅𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒐 𝒈𝒆𝒕 𝒘𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒚𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒕𝒐𝒅𝒂𝒚. 𝒀𝒐𝒖 𝒂𝒓𝒆 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒊𝒏𝒈 𝒘𝒊𝒕𝒉 𝒚𝒐𝒖𝒓 𝒐𝒍𝒅 𝒇𝒆𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔 𝒕𝒉𝒂𝒕 𝒘𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒍𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒂𝒇𝒕𝒆𝒓 𝒕𝒉𝒆 𝒅𝒆𝒂��𝒉 𝒐𝒇 𝑪𝒓𝒖𝒛 𝑺𝒊𝒍𝒗𝒂 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑶𝒑𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒕𝒊𝒐𝒏 𝑸𝒖𝒆𝒆𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒚𝒆𝒓.

Your eyes widened as you watched your former self stand outside the hospital room, their back pressed against the door as they listened to the conversation from the other side. A man and woman’s voice communicating with each other with a loving tone, albeit one sounded much more somber and remorseful than the other. Your old self clenched their fists together before slowly walking away from the barrier between the rooms, making their way down the halls with a grim and bitter feeling left on their heart.

You followed them down the hall until the light grew dimmer, the blacks of your surroundings engulfing your vision as it slowly cleared up once again. Your former self held their head high towards a man of great power, his muscular arms crossed over his chest as you stood firmly in front of him.

“So. . . You want to join the military. . . For what reason?” He asked, raising one of his thick white eyebrows towards you. Your former self restrained a gulp as you brought your arm behind your back, your (e/c) eyes peering up at him.

“I. . . I want to be involved in the Revenant process.” You replied, clutching your fist behind your back, “as a medical student, I would like to be personally there to further develop my research.”

He delivered a faint smile, filled with sympathy, while his eyes softened, “you’re not afraid of leaving anyone behind? Your family? Friends?”

“No,” the faint calling of your inner self wailed in disbelief at your word choice. The air around you grew colder as you watched your other body stiffen with hesitation but pulled themselves together, “I believe that I am more than capable of taking on this job to further help with the Revenant development.”

“I heard you declined an offer to work alongside a research facility for the BOR Parasite, why have you chosen to join us instead?”

The former you eyed him with strict determination, “I believe that this will lead me to a greater path that will benefit me more than that previous offer.”

The man’s smile grew much wider than before, his eyes closing for a brief moment, “you got a lot of courage to waltz into my office for such a demand. . . I’ll see your skills on the research facility and battlefield. Prepare to live up to that bargain.”

He reached out to you with his bulky arm, his hand gesturing towards you as you raised your arm. The two of you shook hands before the scene faded to black. You pressed your lips together at the scene, unable to form any words to say towards your once forgotten past.

You continued to walk through the path that was slowly rebuilding itself, watching the scenes from the sidelines as your old, human body explored the different uses of the parasite. Eventually. . . After the news of your former friend’s death at the hands of the woman dubbed “Queen”, you decided to take matters into your hand by turning yourself into a Revenant. After years of research, you’ve seen your own capability scores well enough to prove to the white-haired man that you were a capable fit.

The memory began to blur and twist into a new one, showing you resting on a medical bed with a peaceful expression. Your eyes widened slightly at the sight of the parasite slowly coexisting with your heart while the man on the other side of the deal loomed over your sleeping body, waiting for your awakening for you to prove your worth.

As time passed, your old body groaned as they lifted themselves from the bed, touching their heart as they looked up at one of the doctors who hurriedly gathered the attention of the others to proceed with your medical check. They winced slightly at the sudden pain they felt within their head, a sudden thirst growing within their throat as they looked up to the white-haired man.

“So. . . This is what it feels to be a revenant. . .” The former you said, looking up to the man in surprise.

“Welcome to the military (Y/n) (L/n) you’ll be placed in Sector 5 with the others. Do not falter when your journey has just begun.”

You wondered about the origin of this memory. It was much different from when you entered the battlefield within your previous vestige, you were much more naive and inexperienced yet your eyes told a much more different story within the old vestige. You wanted to know more about the scene with the hospital, to understand more of the feeling you saw when your old self turned away from the ones she formerly called friends. However, time was short as steps formed at the bottom of your feet, leading you towards the opening door that blinded you with light.

You were met with the face of Io, her eyes filled to the brim with concern as she touched the side of your cheek, a cold liquid coating her fingers.

“Your memory. . . It made you. . . Sad. . .” She whispered, your face showing a hint of grimace as you tried to pull yourself away.

“It’s not that important Io.” You replied, slowly guiding her hand away from you as you forcefully wiped away the remaining tears. You forced a smile while she responded with a blank expression, unsure about what to say to truly comfort you in the situation.

“Sorry, I’m going to the baths to relax, we have a long mission ahead of us.” Io stayed silent as you turned away from her, the sounds of your footsteps leaving the area of her bed as you made your way towards the large door leading to the warm waters.

You brushed back your hair, sinking in deeper into the waters as your hand held onto your white towel. You dipped the lower half of your face under the water, leaving you with enough space to breathe through your nose as you looked out to the broken, ruined city. The lights of burning areas filled the dark skies, the stars shining down as the cries of the Lost echo in the distance.

You inhaled a deep breath from your nose, tilting your head back towards the upper levels of the sky. The memories from your Vestige was still deeply ingrained within your mind, your undead heart pulsating with curiosity as you wondered about the bitter feeling you once experienced. You didn’t know why the dark-haired man felt so familiar to you, or why the woman’s voice from the other side sounded just like the Queen. You didn’t want to assume that it was the memory you’ve experienced with Louis, it wouldn’t make sense for you to be there. . . Would it?

You had once never given thought to the idea of you being a bold medical student, your life on the battlefield was the only one you could truly see yourself living as. Your past was slowly unraveling but you couldn’t believe the sights you were seeing. They were hard to put your faith within but you couldn’t deny the fact that you heard your voice from the shards.

The sound of the water rippling filled your ears as you saw the black-haired man dip himself into the steaming liquid. His bare, lower body was merely hidden away by the same white towel you had wrapped around your (s/c) skin.

“Are you enjoying yourself?” Louis asked, leaning against the stones which were lining the edges of the hot spring.

“My muscles are surely relaxing now after that long exploration we had,” you replied, brushing aside the wet strands of hair that covered part of your vision, “it is nice to have a break here.”

The two of you sat in relative silence, merely a few feet away from each other as you avoided his gaze. Louis silently stared at you, unsure of what to say after his encounter with Io before he came into the hot springs. It seemed as if Io was growing extremely concerned about your wellbeing ever since you asked her to store a certain vestige for you.

He has not discussed with you his complete past as he was nervous to bring up something as irrelevant as his medical school journey. However, the doubt that sat at the pit of his stomach grew with each passing glance at you, wondering how many years it has been since he last saw you during medical school.

He had brought you along to check with Cruz’s medical status but you were forced to stay outside by the other doctors, being told that you weren’t a close figure to Cruz. Although he had the chance to reject the other doctor’s decisions, you merely nodded and watched as they closed the door in front of Louis and Cruz’s bed, locking you away from what seemed to be a friendly visit.

He couldn’t believe that the day he saw the door close, you would vanish. You had pulled out of medical school to be enlisted as one of Silva’s lower level researchers for the military before finally being promoted after your rebirth. Being shocked at your appearance at the cave sent shivers down his spine, it was a mere coincidence that the two of you would cross paths again like you once had in school, your eyes slightly dulled out and an unfamiliar look is given to Louis.

Although he wanted to bring up the memories of the past with you, he feared that perhaps your disappearance was for the better for your slowly decaying heart which was being eaten away by sorrow. Perhaps you had left him for a good reason. . . This thought made him feel uneasy as he continued to watch as you stretch your muscles in the bath, your warm breaths mixing with the steam as they floated to the dark sky.

“(Y/n). . . Can I ask you about what you saw?” He cautiously asked, clutching his fist underneath the hot waters, “if it's not too much to ask that is.”

“Sure. . .” You pressed your lips together as you looked towards him, “I was a former medical student. . . Waiting for a friend I presume.”

Louis stared intensely at you, the air growing slightly tense as you parted your lips, “I left for the military shortly after to work under Silva. . . I guess that's when I became a revenant and I woke up to take a position. . . That was the end of it.”

“Did you see anything about who you were visiting?” He asked, albeit with a tinge of hesitation within his voice.

“Not really. . . Their voices were a bit muffled but it was a male and female so. . . Does that help with what you need?” Louis slowly nodded his head while you responded to his actions with the same gesture. He watched as you rose from the waters, your hair dripping with the warm liquid as they slid down your skin. He couldn’t tell if his cheeks felt hot from the atmosphere or if it was his slowly blossoming feelings for you.

He began to feel guilt for his emotions towards you, especially after his relationship with Cruz which he assumed tore the two of you apart. After meeting up with you at the cave and witnessing your skill, he wondered at first if you retained any memory with him but it seems as if fate was cruel enough to erase those memories of university. Although he knew that parts of his memory were lost, something about your presence never left his visions, it was a strange and surreal experience to meet you after several years.

He desperately needed to bring up the crumpled image hidden away deep within his pockets but he couldn’t bring himself to show you painful memories. He merely watched as you left through the door.

You exited the bath, leaving your room to properly dry off your hair. You dropped the white towel onto the floor and began to change into your dry clothes, using a spare hair towel to wipe away the remaining waters. You didn’t understand what you had done to catch the attention of Louis within the hot springs, but you were beginning to think it was because of your memory restoration. Perhaps he was connected to your memory in a way. . . That hospital room must have not been a coincidence then.

You groaned, throwing yourself onto the bed and burying yourself within your pillow and blankets. You clutched at the area of your heart, still feeling the ache you received during the restoration. You shook your head in frustration, it was simply a memory but it made you angry to see how vague your vestige was. You wanted answers but you knew with time, you will come across another vestige that may provide you with answers, maybe even to the ones you wanted to ask Louis in the hot spring.

You slowly closed your eyes, forgetting the hidden gaze from behind your bedroom door as you fell asleep, your body exhausted and melting into the bed.

Louis trailed behind you, following in your footsteps while Yakumo eyed his body motions, noticing the way his movements have become much more hesitant and restrained, almost as if he was trying to reach out to you. Yakumo reached out to his shoulder, whispering next to his ear as everyone continued down the dusty path.

“What's going with you? You’ve been looking tense lately,” Yakumo asked, Louis’s eyes widening in surprise.

“You. . . Noticed?”

“Obviously, we’ve been as a team for a long time already. What’s on your mind?” The red-haired man leaned his two-handed sword on his shoulders, the weight of his weapon seemingly so light compared to the strength of his arms, “there must be something on your mind if you keep staring at them.”

Louis brushed aside his hair with his gloved hand, keeping a steady grip on his weapon, “I. . . Do you. . . Know how to approach someone you used to know?”

“Hm? Well. . . If I haven’t seen my old buddies for years. . . I’d give them a bone-crushing hug of course, but I guess that’s not possible for you, is it?” Louis shook his head as Yakumo hummed, “I guess you could try to ask them if they remember.”

“But. . . What if they don’t remember at all?” Louis replied, gripping the handle of his sword tightly, “what if. . . They didn’t want to see you anymore? What would you do then?”

“Then I guess you should try to make it up to them or something, does this involve (Y/n)? Did you know them from before they were a revenant?” Yakumo watched as he nodded towards his question, his sharp eyes nearly bulging out of his skull at the realization, “wait. . . So how do you remember them?”

“I don’t know exactly what the reason was. . . But the only thing that was left in my pocket at the time of my awakening was a class photo,” Louis pulled out a thin sheet from his back pocket, Yakumo peering over to see that you were standing with the rest of the class, smiling brightly and happily, “I guess an object like this jogged my memory or something.”

Before you turned around to face the group, Louis snuck the photo back into his pocket, not wanting to reveal to you the hidden truth of your past due to his doubts. He worried that if you were to find out the reason why you left, the relationship that you built with him would change. There will no longer be shared gifts or exchanges, the warmth of your friendship would be replaced by what he assumed to be anger and disgust towards him.

“Is something wrong?” You called out, the rest of the group looking towards you casually while Louis and Yakumo stiffened.

“Nothing, we were looking at the edges to see if there were any spots we missed out on,” Louis lied, covering the tracks of his discussion with Yakumo quite fluidly to the point you merely nodded in response. However, as your group reached the location, a faint voice could be heard.

“You’re really funny Louis. . . Did you already finish your assignment already?”

Yakumo tilted his head around, “(Y/n), are you talking to Louis right now?”

“What? That wasn’t me. . .” You observed your surroundings, noticing the piles of boxes lined up at the edges of the area. The soft voice of your own called out to you, edging you to find it quickly, “it must be a nearby vestige. . .”

Louis remained calm as the rest of the group began to search through the area, breaking through the surrounding boxes to reach the origin of the voice. He didn’t want to outright tell you not to search for your own memory. . . He was simply paranoid about what they were about to witness.

“I’m sorry. . . I can’t do this anymore. . .”

You broke through one of the larger containers, at the center was your glowing vestige, your own voice calling out to you as you reached for it. The shard pulsated slightly, tempting your hand as the voices grew louder. Louis tried to reach out to your shoulder but you had already had a firm grip on the shard before your surroundings became engulfed in bright light.

Everyone was met with the halls filled with only two people, one with black hair and the other with (h/c). The two of them stuck by each other’s side, laughing and smiling in joy as if they had known each other since forever.

“The teacher spent hours cleaning up after one of the other student’s pranks, I couldn’t believe they got away with that kind of stuff,” the former Louis laughed, “it would be pretty nice to play some tricks on some of the older teachers with that level of confidence.”

He and you walked down the halls of a university, textbooks, and notes shoved within your arms as you chuckled. The sounds of your footsteps bounced off of the walls as your group watched you and Louis interact. Your hands felt clammy at the sight of Louis and your old self talking, not once had you believed in the chance that the man who caused this aching pain would be Louis, your own team leader who promised to watch your back.

“You’re really funny Louis, did you already finish your assignment?” The old you waved around your textbook in your hand, “frankly I’m not even done with my paperwork yet, I’m still annotating the document about BOR Parasites.”

“Eager for the knowledge I see. I already finished my assignment but I can always give you a copy of it, just in case your research paper on the parasite gets too overwhelming,” he suggested, “I heard from the other teachers you were getting a recommendation from a research facility. Do you plan on going there during the summer for their course?”

“You’re a real lifesaver, Louis,” they smiled, their grin stretched across their face with visible joy, “can’t imagine a life without you having my back. . . About that research facility offer, I had to turn it down.”

Louis looked back at them as if they had grown two heads, “why? That would have been a great opportunity for you.”

“What do you mean why? We were going to have summer with Cruz, aren’t we? I don’t want to abandon you guys for something like research,” you laughed, “besides, I want to be sure of my own abilities before jumping into something as big as joining a group of researchers.”

“Dedicated aren’t you? Thanks for having our back, I know I could always count on you being by my side,” Louis smiled, a soft tinge of a blush appearing on your cheeks as you rolled your eyes, trying to play the situation coolly.

As the memory faded away and the road in front of you began to rebuild itself, you felt your blood grow cold.

“. . . Did you know about this Louis?” You asked, turning towards him with a shocked expression, “were. . . We really classmates?”

You could see the way his movements faltered slightly, the twitching of his hands proving to you all that you needed to know. You pressed your lips together at his lack of words but continued down the path, trying to piece together the memories you had once forgotten. As you made your way downwards, your memory began to reappear once more.

The former you stood in the same hallway, except it was empty with only your body left. In the distance, Louis walked with Cruz to the next class, laughing and you had once believed that perhaps it was better not to mettle in their long-built relationship. You feared that by expressing your feelings towards the man, it would tear apart your own friendship and might even destroy the one he had with Cruz, especially if they were in a relationship like you assumed.

To be honest. . . I was scared to know that Louis and Cruz were together, the former you monologued, If I were to tell him. . . I found that it might do more harm than what is to be expected.

Maybe is it for the best that I leave them alone, the old you held onto their heart, I don’t want to burden Louis as much as I already have.

So the former you stood alone in the hall, staring at your distant friends laugh together. One’s eyes filled with love and adoration while the other smiled gleefully, the other stared at them with a hurt expression.

“I’m sorry. . . I can’t do this anymore. . .” They muttered, gripping onto their hair in frustration, “I promised to be by your side but. . . I don’t think I can do it.”

“I’m sorry, Louis.” The leader standing next to you gripped his fists tightly.

How could he be so foolish to your own feelings?

You quickly walked ahead, eager to see the next clip of your missing life. Your footsteps echoed in the empty room while the rest of the group followed you close behind until they reached the final part of your vestige.

The old you was sitting in an office chair, exploring and revising many of your documents regarding the parasite until the door burst open with a sweating coworker. In his hands was a new document covered slightly in dust and blood, alarming you greatly to the point you stood up from your chair, knocking it over in the progress.

“W-We have a discovery, a new one! It’s urgent as well!” The man cried out, “the BOR Parasite fused with the host body, she already slaughtered everyone within the hospital facility! It was a genocide I tell you! We should leave now and evaluate our next plan with Silva!”

Your former heart shattered into pieces, tears filling the corners of your eyes as you listened to the man franticly explain the horrific event.

“What? The hospital?!” You grabbed onto his arms tightly, an expression of disbelief mixed with sorrow, “was. . . Was Louis there? Louis Amamiya, he’s 20 years of age, he is a close partner to Cruz Silva!”

The man shook his head, “if he was at the hospital then I’m sure he’s already gone, we need to hurry and deliver these documents to Silva!”

The memory warped once more, showing you standing in front of a grieving man you knew as Silva. He had his arms crossed as he stared down at you.

“You’re making a new proposal. . .” He muttered.

“Yes.”

“What is it that you want to do now?” Silva asked, eyeing your strict form, “where will you go now? Are you going to stay with us or return home to grieve?”

“I. . . I want to become part of the new Operation Queenslayer. I’ll become a Revenant if it means. . . I’ll protect everyone else left behind,” you bit the bottom of your lip, feeling your blood drip from your skin.

I don’t even know if Louis is alive. . . Perhaps there is a chance that he too became a Revenant but it was a slim chance that I was counting on, the group listened to your silent monologue that echoed from within your memory’s mind, however. . . If there is a chance that he is still alive, or at least sleeping as a Revenant. . . It’s best to complete Operation Queenslayer to protect what is left of him.

I’m sorry Cruz. . . I can’t let you go on like this, the old you said, . . . I’m sorry. . . Please forgive me, Louis.

The door slowly opened, revealing the light of the outside world. You stood there, completely stunned at the realization that your former friend and old love would be the man you encountered deep into the caves.

“So. . . You really did know Louis from the past. . .” Mia said, reaching out to touch your shoulder.

You slowly nodded, unsure of what to say in the situation that would soothe your still aching heart. Your eyes turned to Louis with a heartbroken expression, “did you know about this the entire time?”

He spoke no words.

#code vein #code vein x reader #louis amamiya #louis amamiya x reader

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