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therealvalkyrie · 4 years

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Accidental

CHAPTER ONE

Summary: Our lovely reader gets injured on her morning run and Steve comes to her rescue, leading her into a life she never had the courage to dream of.

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: injuries, mentions of blood and head trauma, fluff, eventual smut.

AN: So. This is the first fic I’ve ever put on the internet and I’m actually vv nervous lmao. But I’m proud of it and I plan to write more of this story and inject some ~plot~ and ~romance~ and things, so yeah! It’s set vaguely pre-Infinity War-era, in New York with our regular cast of Avengers, plus some (eventual) special guests. Hope you enjoy:) ~val

The early morning sun casts a pale light on the running path ahead of her, although it does little to warm freezing fingers. She’s lost in her head, breathily humming the lyrics of a song she heard last night as her feet pound on frost-covered dirt.

She feels good. Light. Unburdened from the usual stress of city living. Early March means the pond next to the trail glistens in the sun, half iced-over, as she picks up the pace coming around a corner.

It happens fast, with a sharp jab to her side from the handlebar of a passing bike and a hot, sharp pain to her knee. She’s stumbling, clutching her side, one hand out to catch the fall, suddenly stopped short as head connects with tree. She slams against the hard ground and rolls to her back, eyes wide and panicked against the pain in her knee and head. Breathing fast, too fast, the frosty air no longer makes her feel alive. Instead, it constricts the lungs and makes her head feel light.

“Hey, are you okay?” A face appears in her field of vision against a canopy of leafless boughs. It, too, takes her breath away. Piercing blue eyes and flaxseed-blonde hair stun her into silence for a moment. When she doesn’t respond, he utters a soft “hey” again.

“Oh, I, uh, yeah, I think I’m good, I just, uh, what happened?”

“You were hit, and then you fell. Here, let me help you.”

Words won’t go in the right order in her mind as he helps her sit up with large, gentle hands. Immediately, she cries out against a sharp pain in her skull, pressing palms into her eyes. “Ow, fucking fuck!”

“Whoah, there, no need for the language,” he chuckles. “I think you hit your head.”

“Yeah, no kidding.” As the pain dulls, she squints her eyes open to look again at her savior. Her brain hadn’t been deceiving her; the man kneeling by her side is undeniably gorgeous, dressed in a muscle-hugging workout shirt and running pants that show off his incredible physique. Focus, she thinks, shaking her head and wincing when it brings a tidal wave of nausea. “Did, um, I mean, is the biker okay?”

The man glances over his shoulder and she follows his gaze to where the biker is brushing dirt from his pants. He appears unscathed and casts a guilty look in her direction before darting across the path to join them.

“A-are you okay? I am so, so sorry, I must not have been paying attention.” He leans halfway down, hands on his knees, as though he doesn’t really want to be part of their little group.

“Yeah, I, um, think I’ll be fine?” What’s meant to be a statement comes out as a question.

“She hit her head,” inserts blondie, who’s eyeing the biker with some contempt. “And it looks like the chain caught her knee, too.”

Confused as to what he’s talking about, she looks down at her leg and gasps. The blonde man is holding what looks like a formerly white, now blood-stained, sweatshirt to a pretty significant gash trailing from her kneecap down her calf.

“Noooo,” she moans. “Those leggings were on sale. And your sweatshirt! ” She’s frustrated and starting to register the pain in her leg and side. With a groan, she slumps back against the tree and tenderly feels the growing lump on her hand. The rough tree bark must have broken skin because her fingertips are red with blood when she pulls them away.

The two men are talking to each other, saying something about responsibility and police report. She doesn’t tune back in until the biker walks away back across the path.

The blonde man turns back to her, tucking his phone back into a pocket. “Don’t worry, I got his information. In case you want to file a report. I’m Steve, by the way.”

“Oh, thank you.” She gives her name and sticks her hand out. He awkwardly shakes it with his left one, as his right was still holding the fabric to her bleeding leg.

“So, how bad is it?” She winces in anticipation of the answer and peers at her wound.

“You’ll be alright, but you should go to the hospital. Your leg definitely needs stitches and I think you have a concussion.”

“Fucking hell,” she sighs. “I don’t have insurance, I can’t afford a hospital trip.”

Steve looks concerned, glancing down at the bloodied leg and back up to her face. He seems to make a decision. “Well, that’s alright, you can come with me and I’ll get you patched up.”

“What are you, a doctor?” she jokes, disbelieving that this man would go any more out of his way than he already had.

“No, but I have a friend who is. It’s not far from here, and I promise he won’t charge you.” His blue eyes twinkle like he has something hidden, but he looks trustworthy nonetheless.

She takes a moment to weigh her options: go home and try to deal with it herself, risking infection and almost-certain brain damage, or go with this strange man, risking waking up two days from now in an ice bath in some warehouse. Fuck it. “Well, okay, that sounds alright. Are you sure your friend isn’t going to chop me up and sell my organs on the black market?”

He breaks out in a wide grin and openly laughs. “No, no, I can promise you he’s legit. Don’t worry, you’ll see. Can you stand?”

“I think so, let me just--” she cuts off her sentence and gropes around in her pockets for something to tie the sweatshirt to her wound. “Got it!” She produces a rubber exercise band from a jacket pocket and passes it to the man, who carefully secures the sweatshirt to her wound.

“Alright, here we go.” Steve crouches next to her and winds her arm around his shoulders, securing his around her waist. With his help and one hand on the tree, she finds herself suddenly standing.

“I’m not sure I can bend my knee, so just don’t let go,” she warns in a nervous almost-whisper and grips him tighter. He is reassuringly solid, and she takes a moment to mentally thank the stars that someone was around to help her.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got you, sweetheart.” The pet name makes her flush, and she focuses on the path in front of her rather than acknowledging it.

Slowly and patiently, the pair hobbles all the way to the end of the trail, which abruptly leaves the peace of Central Park and opens onto the busy New York streets. By this time she’s sweating and uncomfortable and somehow also freezing, the pain alternating between stiffness in her leg and nausea in her head.

“Why don’t we take a rest. I can call someone to pick us up.” Steve awkwardly guides her to sit on a bench at the edge of the park.

“Grand idea,” she grunts and stretches her injured leg out in front of her. She breathes a hot breath into her fingerless-gloved hands. “I feel like I’ve been run over by a train. Are you not cold? I kind of stole your sweatshirt.”

Chortling good-naturedly, Steve takes a seat next to her, lounging more gracefully than one would expect for someone so lengthy. “I’m okay, I run naturally hot.”

You sure do, she silently agrees, turning back toward the street. As Steve pulls out his phone to call a ride, she closes her eyes and absorbs the sounds of the city waking up. The day is starting out strange, but at least she’s still in familiar territory. He’s talking to someone he must know well, as he’s teasing whoever’s on the other end of the line. After a moment more of listening to the half-conversation, she sinks back into her thoughts.

Please, god, don’t let him be a serial killer, I’m too young to die. I’ll do anything, I’ll donate to charity or adopt a dog or stop being a slut, anything, I swear, as long as he doesn’t --

“So, do you live near here?” The question jolts her out of a reverie, and she scrambles for the answer.

“Oh, uh, yeah, just a couple blocks that way.” She gestures in the direction of her apartment. If he’s a serial killer, I’m dead, she reprimands herself. “And you said you’re not far from here?”

Meeting her slightly hesitant gaze with a steady one, Steve answers, “Yeah, not far, not far. Although I grew up in Brooklyn.”

“No kidding,” she exclaims, a smile finding its way to her face. “Me too! Don’t know what possessed me to move uptown, but here we are.”

He nods in agreement. “I know what you mean. I moved for work, I guess, but I’ve always intended to move back.”

“What do you do for work?”

This time, he looks at her curiously. “Not to be conceited, but I’m actually surprised you haven’t recognized me yet.” She raises her eyebrows. “But, I suppose you’ll find out soon enough anyway. I’m Steve Rogers, er, Captain America.”

Her head jerks back in surprise and she blinks away another confusing wave of nausea. “Oh! I guess I’ve been so out of it I didn’t notice!”

He laughs at her reaction. “That’s completely fair. But, yeah, that’s why I can get you a doctor.” “That makes a lot more sense,” she nods sagely. “Plus, there’s a significant decrease in the chances you’ll chop me up and sell me for parts.”

“A significant decrease, for sure, I would have to agree.” He mimics her nod and after a beat they both laugh.

Just then, a sleek black car pulls up to the sidewalk and a man steps out and around the front, and it can’t be, can it? Oh my god, it is--

“And just who might this be?” Sam Wilson quips, making eye contact with her, a mischievous smile playing on his lips. Steve rolls his eyes affectionately and stands, moving to open the back of the car

She gives her name with a smirk of her own and moves to stand, but Sam steps forward before she can.

“Please, don’t, Steve tells me you’ve hurt your leg. The name’s Sam.” He takes her hand and kisses the back of it lightly, making her giggle like a schoolgirl.

“I know,” she quips. “The Falcon, right?”

“The one and only! I feel honored, Stevie told me you didn’t recognize him at all.”

“I was preoccupied at the time, as it happens.” You steal a glance at his outfit and stifle a giggle at his Captain America pajama pants. “Nice PJs.”

“I’ll have you know I crawled out of bed an hour early for you,” Sam joked, pointing an accusing finger at her. “But Steve says he met a beautiful woman in need of assistance and my inner gentlemen overpowered me.”

“Sam, stop flirting with the lady and help me.” Steve is smiling as he returns to her side, but she thinks she can see a hint of envy in his blue eyes. “Can you stand again?” he asks her lowly, stooping down to wind an arm around her waist again.

“Yes, I think so,” she replies and grips Steve’s broad shoulders and Sam’s outstretched elbow. “Oops, nope, I regret that.” Her head swims and swoops, good knee buckling as soon as she’s upright.

“It’s alright, I’ve got you.” And in a heartbeat, Steve has scooped her into his arms and against his chest, one arm around her shoulders and the other beneath her knees.

“Oh,” she breathes, instinctively gripping his shoulders and blushing. He crosses to the car and gently maneuvers her into the back seat.

“Now, I’ll be right up there and it’ll only be a few minutes. We’re not too far away,” Steve reassures before closing the door and sliding into the passenger seat. “All right,” she says to no one in particular, settling her bad leg across the seats.

The ride to Avengers Tower isn’t too long, and it’s spent listening to the two super-soldiers’ easy banter as she leans a cheek against the cool window glass. The low hum of what must be one of Tony Stark’s luxury vehicles lulls her into a half-stupor. She can feel her eyes drooping, heavy, heavier until she slips uneasily into unconsciousness.

The two men don’t realize their passenger has stopped adding in the occasional witticism until a direct question goes unanswered.

Steve calls out her name, then, “You all right back there?” He twists to look back at her and is seized with panic when he sees her pallid form slouched uncomfortably against the door.

“Sam, floor it, she’s out!” He turns fully and reaches back to shake her shoulder, but she only flops limply back.

“Cool it, big guy, we’re here,” Sam coolly reassures but pulls into the garage fast and haphazardly.

The wheels have barely stopped turning and Steve is out of the door, throwing open the back seat. He is panicked and shaky and guilty, thinking she must have lost too much blood and definitely has a concussion, should have kept her awake.

“Hey, hey, wake up, I’ve got you.” He pulls her out of the backseat and into his arms, carrying her bridal style to the elevator bank.

Sam is a step behind him, jamming the “up” button while barking orders in a phone, hopefully to Bruce.

Steve is shaking with anxiety, willing the elevator to hurry the fuck up already. It arrives, and the men slip past a confused intern and into the sleek elevator.

“FRIDAY, medbay,” Steve orders the omnipresent AI.

“Of course, sir. Doctor Banner has asked that you meet him in emergency care.”

#steve rogers x reader #marvel fanfiction #fanfic series #captain america #captain america x reader #reader insert

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claitynroberts · 6 years

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A Tale of Two Alphas: Chapter 2

Summary: (A/B/O alternate universe) After running from her family, (y/n), a female Alpha, turns to a life of hunting. Answering a call from Bobby to assist Garth and two other hunters on a vamp mission in Branson, she meets Sam and Dean Winchester. Determined, independent, and sassy as hell, Dean can’t control himself around her; causing him to become a not-so-smooth wannabe ladies man. When her family comes after her determined to make her take her place in the familial hierarchy, will (y/n) allow Dean to help out? Or will she give into her family’s wishes?

Word Count: 3471

Characters: FemaleAlpha!Reader, Alpha!Dean, Beta!Sam, Beta!Garth, Beta!Bobby

Pairings: FemaleAlpha!Reader X Alpha!Dean, all other pairings platonic

WARNINGS: strong language, canon violence, a woman not taking shit from anyone, smut (inevitable), A/B/O dynamics (heats, ruts, scenting, claiming, etc.)

(In my A/B/O au all genders are the same as the typical A/B/O rules/dynamics, except female alpha’s, in which mine are not hermaphroditic nor do they experience ruts. Instead they have typical lady parts and also experience heat cycles.)

Read Chapter 1 HERE | Series Masterlist

Chapter 2: Badass Barbie & Zoolander

After a few hours of arguing and bickering and reviewing all the collective case information, the four hunters finally came to an agreement. The vamp nest was located in a derelict house on the outskirts of the city. With the numerous amount of vics that had gone missing over the last few weeks, discovering a pattern was difficult. Without a specific victim demographic to go by, because both young and old, male and female, had gone missing, discovering where to begin the stakeout was damn near impossible.

Currently, the four hunters were gathered in a circle behind their vehicles. Each hunter was gearing up, pocketing extra stakes and syringes of dead man’s blood while strapping on machetes. (Y/n) removed her leather jacket and rummaged around in her duffel looking for something, completely unaware Dean was watching her as she did. After a moment she pulled out a black vest and slipped it on over her Bon Jovi t-shirt. With a flick of her wrist she zipped its short zipper and began sliding her own stakes and syringes into the loops and pockets covering the front. By the time she was done, six stakes wrapped around her rib cage, three on each side of the middle zipper of the vest. Above them six syringes of dead man’s blood rested in a similar fashion, causing Dean’s eyebrows to quirk up.

He’d been trying to get a read on her standing since he met her this afternoon, but something was blocking her scent. Dean thought she was probably an Omega, but something about the way she carried herself and travelled alone made him dismiss the thought quickly. If Alpha females weren’t so rare, that’s what he’d peg her as; no, she was more likely a Beta.

Still going about the process of gearing up, (y/n) pulled a total of four machetes out of one of the motorcycle’s saddlebags. With the help of a couple sheaths, she strapped two to her legs, one on the outside of each thigh; two more rested across her back, with the handle of each in easy reach behind her head. Cracking her knuckles she slipped on a pair of black fingerless gloves, slipped her leather jacket into the duffel, and picked up the forty-five caliber pistol, tucking it into the waistband of her jeans at the small of her back. Better to have it and not need it, she thought.

As she turned around she noticed Dean was staring at her, an unreadable look on his face. The other two men finished gearing up and turned toward the group. Clearing his throat Dean spoke up, attempting to redeem himself from earlier in the afternoon. “Okay, we pair off. Two go around back and two come in the front. Guns blazing from two directions...figuratively, of course. Hopefully we’ll catch ‘em unaware and get this over with. Wham, bam, thank ya ma’am.”

Squinting her eyes and pursing her lips (y/n) looked him over. “Sounds doable,” she said. “How we gonna team up?”

“Me and Garth will go in the front. You and Dean, go in the back,” Sam offered.

She glanced up at Dean, a strange feeling beginning to bloom in her chest. He looked incredulous, as if Sam had asked him for a kidney...or maybe a testicle. (Y/n) scowled and pushed that strange feeling far from her mind.

“Wh-what if I wanted Garth?” Dean stammered.

“Is it really that big of a deal?” Sam asked, confused at his brother’s reaction.

“I don’t want to be stuck with Zoolander over here,” (y/n) Said derisively, crossing her arms and popping a hip. Fuck it, if he didn’t want to team up with her, she didn’t want to be paired up with him either.

“Oh, so you think I’m really, really ridiculously good looking?” Dean quipped with a smirk. He was playing it cool, but her hostility was beginning to grate at his nerves. Though his body and his brain obviously weren’t on the same page, he noted, as his jeans became a little tighter and a foreign feeling stirred in his belly.

Rolling her eyes, (y/n) retorted. “No. I’m calling you dumb, Shit-for-brains.” She crossed her arms and rounded on him, bowing up on the man a foot taller than her.

Dean looked aghast, and (y/n) had to smother a self-satisfied smirk. “Would you idjits quit bickering.” Garth broke in. “Look we have a job to do, y’all can fight later. Y’know after we gank these beasties.” He broke away from the group to find a twig, which he broke into three pieces differing in length. “We’ll draw straws, or I guess in this case twigs, for partners. Shortest straw will go with me in the front of the house, the other two...you’re on your own with the back.” He shrugged.

Sam, Dean, and (y/n) each grabbed a piece of the broken stick, revealing them a few seconds later. As eyes scanned the piece of wood each hunter held, it turned out Sam had drawn the short stick. He grinned, waving it around. “Oh c’mon!” Dean exclaimed. “I’m stuck w-with…Badass Barbie over here?” He stammered.

“Them’s the breaks, Deano,” replied Garth as he and Sam turned to leave. “Oh,” he said, turning back around. “I uh—I wouldn’t piss her off too bad,” he finished with a wry smile at (y/n) and Dean.

“Be ready to storm the nest in five minutes,” Sam said as they walked away.

Snorting and rolling her eyes (y/n) turned on her heel and began tromping toward the woods. “Wh-what are you doing?” Dean hollered after her.

“Heading toward the back of the house, Winchester.” She rolled her eyes as she walked on.

“But wouldn’t it be easier to—“

“Do not finish that sentence. We skirt the edge of the forest around to the back of the house. The foliage gives us extra cover from the vamps’ eyes.” She said as she marched forward pushing low-hanging limbs out of her path. She stopped just before another much larger and bushier limb, a wicked glint in her eye. Spinning around she looked at Dean, storm clouds in her eyes and a steely exterior. He looked taken aback, though whether it was by her previous words or the sudden about-face, she wasn’t sure.

“Listen here, Winchester,” She began. “This is a pretty cut and dry case. If you can’t be more intelligent than this you’re going to need to go sit in that precious Impala of your’s. I’ll be damned if you pull a wrong move and get me killed tonight,” she seethed. Too many emotions for him to name swirling in her eyes as they stared at each other.

Dean’s mouth gaped like a fish out of water. Leveling a finger at him she continued, punctuating each sentence with a sharp jab to his pec muscle. “When we’re finished here, I’m going to eat some dinner, get shit-faced drunk, and pass out in a plush bed at the ritziest hotel in this hellhole of a tourist destination. Capice?” She cocked her head to the side and studied him for a moment, waiting for a reply. With a chuckle she lightly smacked his cheek and turned around, pushing through the limb and letting it fly back in Dean’s flabbergasted face. When the foliage made contact, she giggled to herself.

Dean was left pulling leaves from his mouth and rubbing a hand over his very sore pectoral. A snarl ripped out of his chest as he followed her through the woods. Damn, the more time he spent with her the more he wanted to put a fist through (y/n)’s teeth, and the more a certain body part wanted to insert itself in a completely different hole. God, he had to get himself under control.

A couple minutes later (y/n) and Dean were crouched in the flora on the edge of the woods about thirty yards from the back of the house. “T-minus thirty seconds,” (y/n) said as she glanced at her watch.

“Listen, we need to talk,” Dean replied.

“Unless we can have the conversation in, oh, about twenty seconds, ain’t happening, Winchester.”

“I just wanna make sure—“

“As long as we are all making smart decisions we will all walk out of here alive. Simple as that.”

He looked at her incredulously. Sammy’s safety was always foremost in his mind, and how she picked up on that he didn’t know.

“It’s go time,” she said as she watched the hands tick down the last few seconds. Rising from her position she walked toward the house, a woman on a mission. Dean trotting along behind her trying to catch up.

As they approached the back door, Dean moved forward giving it a solid kick right above the lock. Breaking it inward and allowing them entry. (Y/n) unsheathed the two machetes at her back and slipped in first; blades raised and at the ready, taking in the scene around her. The kitchen was clear, as was the dining room to the side. A crash came from the front of the house as Sam and Garth forced their way in as well. A moment later a larger commotion broke out. Exchanging looks, Dean and (y/n) rushed through the house and into the living room where the other two hunters were squaring off with eight vamps.

The dingy floors and peeling wallpaper lent itself to the sinister atmosphere of the dilapidated house. “You take Asshat and Buttface,” (y/n) motioned to two vamps on the left. One was a college frat type and the other was just...ugly. “I’ll take Swazye and Pimple-face,” She motioned to the two on the right. Making eye contact with Dean, the two nodded at each other and jumped into action.

With a guttural snarl, (y/n) leaped forward swinging the machetes in an arc toward Swayze. Before he knew what was coming, his head was rolling on the floor and his body slumped into a heap. Flinging the hair out of her eyes she smiled down at the corpse. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” she grinned to herself at the joke. A second later Pimple-face came flying at her, fangs bared, knocking her to the ground. Her blades flying away. The vamp was on top of her in a flash, a hand at her throat squeezing hard.

“That was my boyfriend, bitch,” Pimple-face growled at her, threading her free hand in (y/n)’s hair and yanking her head back, forcing her to look at her. “I’m going to take pleasure in gutting and feeding on you.” She snarled with a face splitting grin. (Y/n)’s hand slipped between the two of them, reaching for her vest of munitions. Grabbing a stake from its spot on the vest, she shoved it cleanly up between the vamp’s ribs and into its heart, effectively incapacitating it. Kicking it off her, she stood to her feet and drew another blade.

“Guess I beat you to it,” she panted. Looking around (y/n) noticed there were a total of four vamps dead, her two, one of Dean’s, and one of Sam’s.

Sheathing her blade and picking up the two that were knocked away during her fight, she ran over to help Garth. He had already depressed a syringe of dead man’s blood into the vamp’s neck, and (y/n) took that as an opening to swing her machete through the air, slicing through flesh and gristle, separating its head from it’s body. “Garth, you alright?” She asked, panting as the body hit the floor with a dull thud.

“Yeah, I’m good. Nice slice,” he replied near breathlessly.

Together they spun on the remaining three vamps. Dean and Sam were each grappling with one, the third looked between Garth and (y/n). Realizing she was outnumbered she bolted out the door. “I’ll go after her, you stay and help the boys,” Garth called as he took off into the night, quicker than she thought he was capable of.

As she turned from the door, Sam was thrown across the room into a half-rotted wall, causing it to crumble down around him as he lost consciousness. As she swung the machete at the vamp, aim perfect for decapitation, it threw up a hand to parry the attack. The metal of the blade made a clanging noise as it landed on the time-worn hardwood floor across the room. She slid another stake from the vest spinning it lengthwise in her hand as she circled the vamp.

“You hunters and your need to save everyone,” he laughed darkly. “You’ve no idea what you all walked into.” Grinning he started moving in tandem with (y/n), both waiting for the other to make a move. “I’ll make it easy on you,” he said. “I’ll kill you first, then I’ll take out your boyfriend and gigantor over there. When the little squirrelly one comes back from chasing down Beatrice, I’ll end him too. All your deaths will be painless, of course.” A Cheshire Cat grin splitting his face.

(Y/n) chuckled. “I don’t think you know how this truly ends.” Slicing with the machete she drew the vamp’s block, leaving an opening to thrust up with the stake, catching him off guard. Kicking his knees out from under him she leaned down, covered in the blood of his fellow comrades, and snarled in his ear. “You’ll never win.” Grabbing him by the hair, she forced his face up to look at her. “You’re kind will never win.” She snarled, giving his head and extra jerk backwards. “That you can count on.” Gritting her teeth and raising her blade she made a clean cut through his neck. His body fell limp and his head dangled from her hand, her fingers still buried in his hair. Her chest rising and falling with the nights exertion.

Dean couldn’t help but watch her take out the vamp that threw Sam across the room. As infuriating as she was, he couldn’t help but be impressed by her. She was tough, fierce, and didn’t take shit from anyone, including him. Too focused on trying to discern what the feeling in his stomach and chest was, he didn’t catch the vamp coming at him until he was on the ground, pinned beneath the creature. As he struggled, the vamp brought it’s fangs dangerously close to his neck to rip out his throat. “Killing Dean Winchester. This is the greatest night of my life,” she hissed out with a chuckle. “Well,” she cocked her head to the side studying him for a moment, “at least top five.” A breathy laugh erupted from her chest as she moved back towards his carotid artery.

Attention drawn by the commotion on the other side of the room, (y/n)’s eyes fell on Dean pinned beneath the bloodsucker. A growl ripped from low in her throat as she delivered a swift hard kick to the vamp’s ribs, knocking her off Dean and down to the floor beside him. With a terrifying roar she dropped a knee to the vamp’s chest, raising the machete high above her head and swinging it down with all the force she could muster. The white-hot rage coursing through her imbedded the blade into the floor as the vamp kneed her in the ribs, knocking (y/n) off balance and into the corner.

Rolling to her knees, the vamp looked between Dean, sprawled on the floor cradling his left hand, and (y/n) desperately trying to wrench the machete from its place in the floor. A sneer appeared on the bloodsucker’s face as she spoke to (y/n). “I’ll kill you first, sweetie, so your mate can watch,” she turned toward Dean next, “then I’ll come for you.”

Forgetting the blade in the floor, (y/n) stood, reaching for one of the other weapons strapped to her body. Lightning fast, the vamp was on her; a hand around her throat pinned (y/n) to the wall as she slid her body up off the ground. (Y/n) scrambled, attempting to get purchase on something in order to take the crushing force off her windpipe. Desperately she clawed at the vamp’s hand, wheezing out words as she tried to come up with a game plan. “Go ahead. Kill me.” She choked out. “He won’t care,” her eyes darted to where Dean was struggling to get up. “I don’t know the guy.” Labored breath. “And he’s certainly not my mate.” She ground out.

“You humans are so blind,” she giggled. “I can smell the connection between you two.” The vamp lunged for (y/n)’s neck as a glint of silver metal flashed through the air. Her grip loosened immediately, and (y/n) slid down the wall quickly, her knees smacking the floor as her legs buckled under her weight.

Dean had risen unsteadily to his feet, pulling (y/n)’s machete from the floorboards. Seeing her at the mercy of the bloodsucker fueled a fire he didn’t know was burning deep within him. Once the creature had been executed, he slid down the wall beside her to gather himself. What was that, he thought. The only other people he was this protective over were Sam and Cas, and he borderline hated this girl...didn’t he? She was rude and crass and annoyingly bossy, why would he ever care about her that deeply? Sighing, he thunked his head back against the wall and closed his eyes, taking in deep breaths of musty air to center himself.

(Y/n) knelt there for a moment, breasts heaving and covered in vamp blood, while her emotions began to wind down. As she tried to sort through where the rage came from when she saw Dean pinned to the ground, life hanging in the balance, she looked over to see him sitting against the wall beside her, eyes closed. Could the vamp be right, she thought as she took in his profile. As far as mates go it could be much worse, at least he’s somewhat attractive. He was awfully banged up. A few scratches and some lacerations around his neck and face, an injured wrist, it appeared, but altogether whole and very handsome.

Cracking an eye he caught her staring at him in his peripheral vision as a grin split his face. “Like what you see, sweetheart?” He didn’t miss the softness that had come over her features as she perused his injuries.

Rolling her eyes, she climbed to her feet and allowed her stoic mask to slam back into place. “C’mon, Winchester. Let’s grab Sam, case the rest of the place, and go find Garth,” she said as she reached out a hand to help him to his feet.

“Y-yeah,” he cleared his throat, handing her blade back. “Yeah, I’ll get Sammy up, you check out the rest of the house. The three of us will clear the basement before we try to find Garth and the other bloodsucker.” His demeanor was back to normal, cocky and in-charge, even though he had one hand.

Snorting, (y/n) nodded her head and quietly cased the rest of the building. A few moments later, she came back into the living room, noting that Sam was up off the ground. Wobbly but at least he was awake. “The ground floor is clear, Winchester,” she said addressing the eldest.

“Right, good.” He replied. Together the three of them moved toward the basement door, Sam opening it as Dean led them down the steps, followed by (y/n). The stench of death hit them before they were able to make it to the last step. Fanning out, the hunters walked around the dim, dank basement checking for signs of life.

“All gone,” (y/n) called from her side of the room, a tinge of sadness in her voice.

“Same,” Sam said as he met her at the foot of the stairs.

“Yeah, so were mine,” Dean replied.

Pushing her emotions aside, (y/n) spoke up. “There’s too many to bury,” she said as she looked around the basement turned tomb. “We’ve gotta salt and burn them.” She looked between the brothers.

Breathing in deeply, Sam looked at Dean. “She’s right.” Dean merely nodded at him.

A few moments later the three were back in the basement, spreading salt around the room and across the bodies as they soaked everything in lighter fluid. They climbed up onto the staircase and took a last look at the carnage as Dean tossed the lighter into the pile of corpses. Once the fluid caught, the three hunters hurried out of the house, knowing it wouldn’t take long for the dried out wood to catch fire as well.

Tags: @captainsherlockwinchester110283 @speakinvain @katsanders @shamelesslydean

#A/B/O series #A/B/O dynamics #a tale of two alphas #ATTA #Series #supernatural #spn #fandom #fanfiction #fanfic #writing #reader insert #dean winchester #dean x reader #Alpha!Dean #Alpha!Reader #au

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rain0205-blog · 6 years

Text

Terminal State

Summary: She tried leaving, submerging herself in work to escape the horrors she had seen. The horrors she kept seeing. She never wanted to go back to that life. But when the Empire takes her home, she’s forced to face her past. Can she move on? Can she cope? Or will she require a bit of help? still bad at summaries, still working on it. ever so slightly more than slight AU gadioxoc

Mostly Human

...

The red sky loomed above her. On the ground, the tremors of attacks vibrating through her body. She couldn't move, but she had to save them. As always, she couldn't get up, but she willed herself to, as the fire took over her skin. The azure glow emanated from her body. And then she shook awake. Virum shot up out of her bed, hitting the floor of her bedroom. She was breathing heavily but got it under control much quicker than usual before pushing herself up off of the hardwood, extremely happy that she had taken the time to clean it recently.

The doctor ran a hand through her hair, the light of the sun shining in her apartment windows. She was forced to go home by both Tash and Gin. The two women had ganged up on her, forcing her to take a day off. So she tried it, going home to her messy apartment but she couldn't sleep. Instead, she spent five hours cleaning up the garbage that had festered over the weeks. There were plenty of take-out containers covering all her surfaces that rotted thanks to laziness and inactivity. Virum was exhausted by the time she was done and had collapsed in her bed after doing all the laundry. Her hazel eyes darted toward the clock, noting she had slept for a solid six hours. That was almost a record. Walking into the bathroom, she was impressed that the dark circles under her eyes were hardly visible, not even bloodshot. Hell, she looked completely human, like someone who didn't suffer from sleep deprivation and a sour attitude. Nodding with how impressed she was, she turned on the shower, deciding she might try and make a day of it. It wasn't often that she felt like herself anymore. Virum sighed dreamily as the water turned her skin red instantly, letting it wash over her longer than she needed and soon regretted that she was already halfway done before she thought about having an actual bath. Maybe later.

Virum got out of the shower, turning off the water and drying herself off quickly before walking into her room for clothes, ones that weren't scrubs. When was the last time she wore real clothes? Absently, she thought about it while standing naked in front of her full-length mirror. Living alone meant there was no sense in having modesty, pulling on her underclothes and then wiggled herself into a red skirt with a layer of black lace. It came down to her mid-thigh, with a brighter red shirt donning short sleeves that revealed most of her shoulders. She pulled on a thin, low cut black sweater on top of it, slightly impressed with how she looked. Virum traced her finger carefully over the scar on her neck that was slightly visible before blow drying her hair and letting it flare out. The tips of it just grazed her shoulders, it had grown. She didn't even bother with makeup, looking mostly human today there just wasn't a need, however, she couldn't leave without her jewelry. A small smile found her face as she observed her appearance, satisfied with herself. Mostly human.

The girl walked out of her bathroom and into her kitchen, opening the fridge to see what she had to eat. Beer and various condiments. Right, she didn't spend a lot of time at home, ergo, she didn't have any food to cook. Sighing slightly, she closed the fridge and walked to her foyer. Virum pulled on her black and grey striped fingerless gloves and a pair of boots that zipped up at the side all the way up to her knees. Grabbing her purse, she pulled it on to have it rest at her hip and left her apartment, turning to lock the door after she was halfway to the elevator. Once she got to the bottom of her building she began to walk East. There was no need to take her car anywhere, the place she wanted to go to was close by. There were lots of people out and she put her hands in her pockets as she walked, trying to stay out of the way as the streets were flooded. It really was a gorgeous kind of day, and she was a little sullen that she had slept through most of it. Three blocks down she finally entered the small cafe tucked out of the way. The doctor couldn't remember the last time she ate here, having spent so much time working. Seating herself, she ordered a specialty tea before pouring over the menu slowly. As an afterthought, she pulled out her phone to make sure that the hospital didn't need her and then ordering herself eggs benedict with peameal bacon. She leaned back in her chair, reading local news on her phone to pass the time during the wait.

"Dr. Virum?" she heard a familiar voice call out to her.

The doctor looked up from her phone, surprised to see Prince Noctis and one of his Crownsguard standing in front of her. She recognized him, with green eyes, glasses and a stern look, but she couldn't quite recall his name as it had been a few weeks since she had seen him - though she remembered in a sort of haze that the two of them had gone to the hospital cafeteria and it didn't end very pleasantly.

"Prince Noctis," she bowed her head politely towards him, "I'm sorry, Argentum? Scientia?" she looked at the other man, "I see so many people in a day I'm not trying to be rude."

"Ignis will suffice," Ignis assured her softly, "Though I must say I'm a little wounded I had not made any sort of impact."

"Careful specs or Gladio will get mad," Noctis teased his friend.

"Ah, Mr. Amicitia. Stops by with some sort of ailment at least twice a week," she smiled politely.

"Seriously?" Noctis laughed.

"I was unaware Gladio was spending so much time in the hospital," mused Ignis.

"Oh yeah, he's almost there as much as I am," Dr. Virum said dryly.

"You don't appear to be on your way there now."

"I do get days off. It's just not often I actually take them. But my nurses ganged up on me after noticing my eighteen-day work streak."

"Eighteen days? You're crazy," said Noctis.

She shrugged, "I've gone longer. What's the Prince doing here in this cheap little diner anyway?"

"I love the breakfast here, I live just up the street."

"The building up the street? Three blocks away? Abnormally large?"

"Yeah, that one."

"Are you serious?"

"Quite," Ignis interjected curiously.

"Sorry, it's just, I didn't know all this time we lived in the same building. Small city I guess."

"I'll say," Noctis laughed.

The waitress brought out her food then, and Dr. Virum smiled politely. She then gave menus to the other two, and they took that as an invitation to sit down. The girl looked like she was about to protest but then thought the better of it. This was the Crown Prince, who was she to tell him to go away? Virum sighed as she took a drink from her mug, hoping that no one else would come in to intrude on her day off - mostly that Mr. Amicitia wouldn't stop in at the wrong time and start getting any ideas, or that any onlookers would recognize her either given her present company.

"What's Gladio come in for?" asked Noctis, putting down his menu.

"Nothing interesting. He had a hurt knee, elbow, sore neck. Your other friend, Mr. Argentum, took a shot to the shoulder, not a week after his ankle had healed," she replied, taking a bite of her food, her voice indifferent.

"So that's what happened to him. He said he ran into something."

"Yeah, a mountain of a man."

"Gladio must really like you."

"Yeah well," she put her gaze towards her food, avoiding the studying look that Ignis wore as he regarded her, "He doesn't understand what the word no means. Maybe you can help him figure it out, you both seem like clever people."

"As I said, Gladio will continue his pursuit and wear down your defences," said Ignis, sipping on his ebony.

"Specs is right. Your only hope is to give him the chance," conceded Noctis.

"I don't date Crownsguard," she insisted.

"And yet here you are," said Ignis.

"Your Prince sat down. I'm pretty sure he can sit with whoever he wants, isn't that kind of a perk of being a Prince?"

"It's not like that, really..." said Noctis, looking down at his hands.

Dr. Virum looked at him thoughtfully, then glanced back at Ignis. The Crownsguard just looked at her sympathetically, and she understood instantly. Sighing, she took another bite of her food before speaking up again.

"I don't mind your company, Highness, you're not a Crownsguard," she said in a light tone.

He smiled slightly, "Thanks. But can you drop the formality? It's not really my style."

She returned his smile, "Sure."

...

Virum parted ways with Prince Noctis and Ignis, asking them to keep their little breakfast date to themselves. They agreed, but only if she would meet up with them again on her next day off. She smiled at the broken promise she gave, Ignis knowing full well that she intended to never do such a thing but choosing to keep it to himself, and so, she started walking away from the diner. The breeze blew, mostly warm and it made her feel at ease once more. She didn't return home, not yet, she was enjoying the outside. Insomnia was huge and it had been a long time since she explored it's streets, especially during the day.

The doctor walked toward the central park, a view she had from her home but never actually spent a lot of time in. Kids were playing with their families, couples strolled hand in hand under the clear blue sky, teenagers skittered about with their friends, enjoying their freedom from school. Insomnia was a peaceful city, the real conflicts living on the outside of the magical wall. Virum kept her hands in her pockets as she strolled down the trail, smiling slightly as she walked past the masses. She walked toward a pond, where small children excitedly threw food into the water for the birds to eat. Standing a few feet from the base, she watched the happy families around her and absently brought her hands to her womb, sadness taking over her. Her hazel eyes were distant as she looked over the rippling water and she smiled sadly at her own thoughts. Virum could hear people laughing around her, enjoying themselves while they were out of the house. No one paid her any mind, they didn't even know who she was, didn't look at her with disdain or fear. It felt normal, something she wished she had more often. Of course, she would never admit that she was having a good day with her time off, she couldn't let those nurses push her into more of them.

"Athenacia," she heard a voice beside her.

"Cor," she greeted the Immortal almost coldly as he approached her. Almost.

Cor wasn't in his uniform, just plain clothes like herself. He was a tall man, muscular build, the Marshal of the Crownsguard. Cor Leonis was much like herself, immersed himself in his work so it was rare to see him outside like a civilian. Athenacia hadn't seen him in nearly a year but he hadn't changed much. There were lines on his face as age progression occurs. His hair was still short and brown, no signs of grey yet which was surprising but his light blue eyes were kind, almost sad as they regarded her person. She tore her gaze from him and looked back towards the rippling surface of the water. Cor walked up and stood beside her, his eyes following her own.

"Surprised to see you outside," he commented.

"Same for you," she kept her voice as neutral as possible.

"Walk with me," he instructed.

Athenacia sighed, walking alongside him as he led her down the cement path. Some people looked at them with curious eyes, as Cor was someone that people knew. It was attention she didn't want on her.

"What's this about?" her face was scowling the more her hazel eyes scanned her surroundings.

"Classified," he answered simply.

"Great," she said dryly, "I doubt you tracked me down just to not discuss anything."

"I need you to come to the Citadel with me."

"For what?"

"Classified."

The doctor grunted angrily at the lack of information he was providing her but she had no choice but to follow him as he led her out of the park and toward the busy road. Athenacia recognized his car as they approached it and he opened the door for her to get in. The scowl remained on her face as she begrudgingly sat down, closing the door herself and strapping in her seat belt. Cor went to the other side, getting in himself and turning on the engine. She kept her gaze out the window, the peaceful tranquillity of the park fading out of sight. So much for a pleasant day.

"You going to tell me now?" she asked, now that they were no longer in earshot of anyone else.

"I need your medical opinion on something," was all he offered her, keeping his eyes focused on the road and his hands on the wheel.

Athenacia put her elbow on the window ledge and leaned her head on it, taking her gaze back toward the city. The roads were manageable, traffic not too heavy headed towards the Citadel. That was rare, but then shift change hadn't occurred yet. She didn't recognize anyone walking along the streets, nor many of the advertisements in the electronics trying desperately to gain her attention. The sun was barely visible with all these tall buildings surrounding them, as finally the biggest one of all loomed in front of her. The Citadel was set in the centre of the city, two tall identical towers reaching high into the sky. The doctor knew that the crystal resided in the middle, the magical barrier starting there and flaring out to the outskirts of the solid cement walls.

Cor drove through without an issue as he was a high ranking officer. Once he parked the car and she got out, slamming his door. The Marshal looked at her, about to say something but the hateful glare she gave him said all she needed it to. He rolled his eyes at her attitude and then led the way into the vast fortress, staying at her side. The two of them largely ignoring everyone walking by them in the corridors. Athenacia saw Crownsguard and Kingsglaives alike, some of them eyeing her curiously. Cor brought her toward what she faintly recognized as the throne room, riding the elevator to one of the top floors. It was quick and she soon realized they weren't going there. The Marshal stepped out of the elevator with her behind him and began leading her toward the royal apartments. She was curious now, seeing as she really had no reason to be here. They walked toward the end of the hallway and Cor opened up the door to the room of King Regis.

Her eyes widened a little as he moved aside for her to step in. The room was far more spacious than her own one bedroom apartment. There was a fireplace off on the opposite end of her, a desk for who knows what he was working on. His own private bathroom with the door slightly ajar. To the left she saw a huge window, arched at the top, letting the sunlight flow into it. The four-poster king size bed was directly in its view, and a television hung on the wall before it. Between the bedroom portion and the bathroom was another lounging area with a giant bookshelf behind the seats. King Regis sat in one of them, looking at her with kind eyes and a gentle smile. It had been quite a few years since she had seen him in person and he had also matured rapidly fast for a man his age. His cane was at his side, a bag on the table near him. Athenacia recognized it, a portable medic bag not unlike the one she carried in the trunk of her car. Cor closed the door behind her and walked over towards the King while she stood her ground, unsure of what she was doing here. Was she in trouble? She thought that she no longer needed to say anything, that her requests were fulfilled and she never needed to step foot here again.

"It is good to see you again, Dr. Virum," he spoke in a light tone, greeting her with a polite nod.

"You as well, your Majesty. Athenacia is fine," she also inclined her head towards him, still unsure of herself.

"Did Cor discuss with you why I've called you here?"

"No, he seemed to leave out a huge gap. You know how talkative he can be," she smiled.

He returned it, "I see."

"Didn't think you'd willingly show up if I told you," Cor grunted, crossing his arms.

"You never bothered to try. I wouldn't ignore a command from his Majesty. Oops-" she was bumped by the door opening, and another man stepping in.

"Sorry miss," he said, closing the door behind her and walking towards the King.

"Clarus, you know Dr. Virum," Regis inclined his head towards her.

"Dr. Virum? Athenacia?" the Shield looked in her direction, "It's been a while."

The doctor smiled politely, though still not sure what she was doing here at all, "I'm sorry I don't mean to be rude, but why have you summoned me? I thought that.. well, you know..." she bit her lip nervously.

"We were hoping you'd be able to give his Majesty a physical," said Cor.

"Why me? Don't you have other doctors around here?"

"Not ones that know how to keep their mouths shut or with your... particular skills."

Athenacia shrugged in agreement with his statement, he definitely had a point. Taking off her fingerless gloves, she walked toward the three men, but first to the rounded table. Dr. Virum placed her gloves in the pocket of her sweater, removing that as well and laying it neatly on the back of a chair. She took off her purse and then opened up the med bag. Rummaging through it quickly, she pulled out the stethoscope, placing it on her ears and walking towards the King. Virum listened to his heartbeat, noting the normal sinus rhythm. His airways sounded clear as well, as she moved the scope into two different places asking him to breathe. The doctor went back to the med bag and pulled out a penlight, shining it quickly over his eyes. Satisfied with the results, she moved on to examine with her hands his abdomen and felt nothing out of the ordinary there, in fact, he seemed extremely healthy. Virum continued her exam, checking blood pressure and everything else she needed to do that wasn't invasive. The King was healthier than most people half his age - but he was ageing far too rapidly. The magic he was using to protect them all was taking its toll on him, he couldn't keep this up much longer. Athenacia could see it residing within him, wearing a thoughtful frown as she finished her examination with the tools provided to her.

"Well?" asked Cor.

"You're healthy," she started, looking at the King himself, "But the magic you're using to keep up the wall is draining your life force faster than you can heal. I hate to say it, but you're past your prime. It's going to be time to move on soon, or you'll die much quicker than you anticipate."

"Noctis isn't ready," King Regis insisted.

"Were you not about his age when you took the throne and put up the wall?"

"Roughly. The tale is altered from what they say inside the city and what you may have heard."

"Well put it this way. Assuming the Empire doesn't launch an attack, you can have another few years. But if they come with their guns blazing as they like to, you won't have nearly as much time. You can't sustain an assault, plain and simple."

"So it is as I feared," he said sagely.

"This is why we called you," explained Cor.

"I'm sorry, your Majesty I wish I could give you better news," she looked at the man sadly.

Regis met her gaze but only smiled, "I thank you for your time, Athenacia. I won't trouble you again."

"You sir, could never be a bother to me," she gave him an assured smile, "It's these other pests around you," she looked pointedly at Cor.

"Thank you. Clarus can see you out."

"That's not necessary, I remember the way. Take care, and if you need anything, you can contact me directly," she nodded at him, putting on her purse and sweater.

Athenacia began to walk towards the door, putting on her gloves again as her back was to the three men.

"Cia," she heard Cor call her just as she touched the doorknob. She turned to face him curiously, "Sorry for bringing you in like that."

"Don't mention it," she smiled at him slightly though still with an icy glare before exiting the room.

The doctor walked back the way she came toward the elevators, quickly getting inside pushing her desired floor, the ground. She pulled out her phone, checking for any messages. There were none. It seems the emergency department didn't fall apart without her. Athenacia was little sullen about that. It was a long way to go down, the elevator stopping on various floors for different people. The girl kept herself in the corner during all these transactions, making herself as small as possible so no one would notice her. They didn't, but she was only halfway down. As she got further down, the lift was emptier and then she was the only one inside of it again. Athenacia checked quickly, and it made one final stop as she put her face back in her phone.

"Hey Doc," said the younger Amicitia, a smile on his face as he recognized her while he stepped into the elevator.

"Uh, Mr. Amicitia," she inclined her head politely, a little startled.

"What are you doing here?" he asked, standing beside her and pushing the ground floor again.

"Leaving actually," she replied, hating that she didn't take the chance to get out of the elevator and take the stairs down the remaining floors.

She observed him, noting that he was standing with his arms crossed over his chest, "I'm on my way out myself."

Athenacia just smiled her response, putting her face back in her phone and moving toward the side of the elevator. She darted out quickly once the door opened, walking briskly toward the exit. Biting her lip in annoyance, she could hear his footsteps following her and he caught up to her quickly, walking beside her. The doctor pretended not to notice him, though it was hard when he opened the door and allowed her to step through it. She smiled slightly at him again and practically ran down the stairs toward the gate. The sun had gone down, the lights turning on all around them. The stars were out, it was a clear night.

"You walk here?" he asked.

"Uh, not exactly," she replied vaguely.

"I can walk you home," he offered.

"That's not necessary," she held her hand up in protest, though he kept up his pace beside her.

"It's better if you don't walk by yourself at night, pretty girl in the dark. I don't mind."

"Well, don't you have your car?"

"Lost it for the month. Made a stupid bet," he shrugged grinning, "Look Doc, it's not a date. I'm just trying to make sure you get home safe, that's what we Crownsguard do, protect people."

"I can take care of myself, really. You don't have to trouble yourself."

"No trouble."

"I'm not even going home, I've got to get to work," she continued her argument, though she knew it was futile.

Athenacia didn't actually have to work, she was just afraid that if she walked home he would start showing up there more like he did at the hospital. Not that he wouldn't have a reason to be in the building, she just figured he would find more of a reason to be there. The doctor hated to admit that his hospital visits were the easiest part of her day and did make her feel a bit better - but she would never say that out loud.

"I'll get you there safely," Amicitia assured, continuing to walk with her toward the hospital.

"If you insist," she gave up, internally cursing Ignis for being right.

The Shield smiled, keeping a respectful distance. Athenacia didn't talk much, not about herself anyway. She could only assume that Ignis had warned the big man not to mention her past, so he only asked her about her current work, the infant that she treated while he was there for the accident. The doctor usually turned around the discussion to him and his work. His ego was big enough that he told her all about his training, leaving her to smile at his enthusiasm and the pride he held in his own work. Athenacia could respect it as she took a similar stance with her own patients, especially when she could successfully save them.

The walk was coming to an end as the large tall building of the hospital came into view. The doctor slowed down her pace as they came toward the doors of the emergency department and then she stopped entirely at the ambulance bay. Amicitia stood in front of her, finishing his story and she genuinely smiled at his antics.

"This is my stop," she said, her eyes looking toward the glass sliding doors.

"If you got time we could still grab that beer," he grinned at her.

Athenacia laughed, "Good night, Gladio," she spoke, walking towards the doors without a look back, though a smile was still plastered on her face.

Gladiolus watched her go, kept looking in her direction even as she disappeared out of sight. He still wore that crooked grin, her words ringing in his ears. He was getting somewhere, she called him by name for the first time since they had met.

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queen-scribbles · 6 years

Text

Stress Management

This is 100% @storyknitter‘s fault. I don’t think she minds

Jaaide tapped her fingers against the blank screen of her datapad, waiting for it to flicker back to life. Today has been rotten enough, for the love of the stars, please don’t add to it. The datapad finished restarting and she impatiently tapped through menus to reach the file she needed and pulled it up.

It was completely, totally, one hundred percent blank.

“Damn it!!” Jaaide hissed, fingers tightening on the casing in frustration. That was three hours of her day down the drain. “What’s the point of having a save function if it doesn’t kriffing work?!” she growled, and winged the datapad toward the far wall. It ricocheted off the durasteel and clattered against the floor, momentum still carrying it toward the door.

Theron stopped it with one foot as he stepped into the room. “Bad day, huh? You’ve never thrown one of those before.”

“You don’t know the half of it,” Jaaide groaned, slouching in her chair and rubbing at the beginnings of a headache.

“Enlighten me,” Theron siad sympathetically, bumping the door controls with this elbow so it would close behind him.

“Where to begin?” She pushed out of her chair and paced toward the balcony. “With the new regs I have to review and approve because Hylo caught one of her people skimming? Or maybe the Imperial delegate who refused to join our ‘traitor-helmed’ alliance? Or the extra issues one of Aygo’s mechanics found while tuning up my ship?” She raked one hand through her hair and growled. “How about the report I just spent three hours working on and lost because the datapad decided to reboot?! Why does the damn thing give the option of saving your work if it’s not actually going to do it?!”

Theron let her vent, then gently but firmly rested his hands on her shoulders to stop her pacing before pulling her into a hug. “That is a very bad day.”

“Why are you here, anyway?” Jaaide mumbled against his chest, leaning into the hug.

“Had free time between meetings, was gonna see if you wanna get a bite to eat.” He rubbed her back. “Now I’m thinking maybe there’s something else you need more.”

“Really, like what?” she tipped her chin up to look at him.

Theron grinned. “Come on. Just trust me.”

“That’s what a girl likes to hear,” Jaaide teased. But she did trust him, so she followed when he tugged her out toward the hallway.

-o- -o- -o-

“I do have to admit, this is not what I was expecting,” she admitted a few minutes later when they reached their destination. Jaaide surveyed the sparring mat, the weapon racks hanging from the walls, and then looked up at Theron. “Why...?”

He shrugged, grinning back. “You need to get out some of this pent-up frustration that has you practically vibrating, and I need to stay in practice.”

She raised an eyebrow. “In practice with what?”

Theron shrugged again, pulling off his gloves and jacket. He was still grinning. Oh, it was dangerous, that grin. “Your choice. Commander.”

Two can play at that game, Jaaide thought to herself, trying not to linger too long on his arms before shifting her gaze to the weapon racks. As she scanned over her options, she shrugged off her outer shirt. It would be more comfortable in just the grey tank top underneath. One by one, she discarded the weapon options, finally turning back to Theron with a smirk almost the match of his. “How good are you at hand to hand, Agent Shan?”

“Pretty damn,” he said, crossing his arms. “Why do I feel like you’re about to test that claim?”

Jaaide rolled her shoulders and smiled sweetly. “Because you’re a smart man.”

“Flattery will get you almost everywhere,” Theron drawled, stepping onto he sparring mat.

“Almost?” Jaaide repeated coyly as she joined him. She rocked up on the balls of her feet to test the give. Not enough to trip up boots, but enough to make falling hurt less. Perfect.

“Yes, almost.” He handed her a pair of padded fingerless gloves and pulled his own on. “I’m gonna make you work for the rest of it.”

“Tough talk, Shan.” She smirked and slipped on the gloves. “I hope you’re ready to back it up.”

He matched her smirk, reaching over to playfully flick hair out of her eyes. “Absolutely, Arien.”

“Well, in that case...” Jaaide grabbed his wrist before he could pull his hand back, tugging him forward as she spun so her opposite elbow connected with his side, just below his ribs(not nearly as hard as she could’ve).

Theron grunted and twisted his captured wrist up behind her back, forcing her to let go if she didn’t want to dislocate something. The second she let go, Jaaide pivoted on one heel to face him again, fully expecting she’d need to block a punch. Her instincts were good, but Theron had been anticipating the block, so even as she knocked aside the first punch the second caught her high on the shoulder. She rolled with it to lessen the impact, but could tell it was nowhere near his best shot. She sidestepped, planted one foot behind him, and when he started pulling back from the punch, put her forearm against his chest and shoved.

Theron caught on just a second too late to avoid going down, but he did snap a hand up to grab her arm and pull her with him. They landed in a tangle, Jaaide’s elbow digging into his ribs, and missed knocking heads by a whisper.

“Score one for Imperial Intelligence,” Theron laughed, letting his head fall back on the mat. “I should’ve seen that coming.”

Jaaide smirked, but was nice enough not to concur with the latter part. “Score one right back for the SIS,” she shrugged, lightly tapping the tip of his nose with one finger. “And I have to concede your earlier point; this is going to be a great help.”

“Yeah?” he grinned.

She nodded, mischievous twinkle in her eye. “You’re clearly out of practice.”

“You-” Theron pushed up on his elbows, half unseating her, but Jaaide cut off his protest with a finger against his lips as her other hand rose to answer the comm warbling in her ear.

“What is it, Lana?” she asked, rolling the rest of the way off Theron and sitting next to him as she listened to the news Lana was passing along. “...Thank you for telling me.” She closed the connection and flopped back on the mat. “And here I thought today couldn’t get any worse...”

“What now?” Theron asked as he sat up.

“Councilman Feyl,” Jaaide said, fighting the urge to spit the name of one of the biggest diplomatic thorns in her side. “He’s playing hard to get again; want favors as proof of how it will benefit him--not his people, though that’s how he couched it, him--to tie his planet to the Alliance.” She sighed, let her gaze drifted across the ceiling. “I’m not normally a violent person, Theron, but there are times I want to punch that man in the face.”

“Will you settle for trying to punch me in the face? In the interest of avoiding a diplomatic incident?” he teased, pushing to his feet. “Sounds like both of us need to keep going.” He held out a hand to help her up.

“Try?” she ribbed, arching one eyebrow. She accepted the hand Theron offered, but rather than letting him pull her to her feet, Jaaide pulled him back down. Theron was a bit more prepared this time, and tucked one shoulder, so he would both miss landing on top of Jaaide and roll to a position where he could regain his feet. Jaaide took those few seconds to get to her feet on her own. “I feel I should point out that if I were to try to punch you in the face, I would very likely succeed.”

Theron smirked. “You sure you could reach?”

Jaaide let her hands drop to her sides and sent him a dirty look. “Those are fighting words, Shan.”

He jut grinned and backed up a step or two to ensure she’d chase him. “Then I guess it’s a good thing we’re down here.”

She’d never been one to back down from a challenge, so chase him she did. She managed to land a couple hits on his arms, and a fairly solid one in his gut, but didn’t press her advantage when he hunched over after the latter. “I’m not falling for that, Theron.”

He laughed at the amusement in her voice as he straightened. “Worth a shot.” He blocked her next punch, and went for an arm lock with the one after that. Jaaide read the cues in his body language and managed to twist away and free before he could trap her. “Oh, so they did teach you something useful in Imperial Intelligence.”

Jaaide huffed a breathless laugh at the ribbing. “Several useful things,” she retorted, deflecting another punch with one hand as her other fist made contact just above his hip.

Theron swore under his breath and pivoted away, using his already-raised arm to block her follow up strike. This time when he tried for an arm lock he was fast enough to succeed.

Normally, with someone closer to her own height, Jaaide would have rocked up on the balls of her feet and spun inward to elbow them in the ribs, much like her opening move, or flip them. But Theron was so damn tall, rather than getting him to let go, that move would just give him a greater advantage and have her more off balance. Nor was this Imperial Intelligence, where risking a dislocated shoulder or elbow was an acceptable move. A flash of inspiration struck her, something Kothe had taught her during the Shadow Arsenal assignment, and and she flicked her trapped hand up to dig her thumb into the outside edge of Theron’s elbow. She couldn’t get a good enough angle to fully exploit the pressure point, but she could make him loosen his grip so she could get her arm free.

“Forgot you worked with Kothe,” Theron said wryly, shaking the twinge of numbness out of his arm.

“That’s right, I know your tricks,” she teased, as she bent her elbow a few times to make sure there was no lingering damage or pain.

“Not all of them,” Theron shot back. He threw a lazy punch toward her shoulder again, and this time when she started to roll away from it, followed with another from the other side.

Jaaide saw just in time to dodge, setting her feet and bending backwards at the knees until she was almost parallel with the floor. She smirked to herself, bent even lower to brace one hand against the mat, and hooked one foot behind Theron’s ankle, sweeping forward so he lost his balance and went down again. She’d straightened by the time he hit the mat, and rested her hands on her hips as she grinned at him. “Score another for Imperial Intelligence.”

Theron laughed wryly as he rolled onto his back. “Guess I don’t know all your tricks either, huh?”

“Surprises keep things interesting,” Jaaide said, offering him a hand up. “Very true.” He didn’t try anything as she helped him to his feet. “Though you’d think I would remember how flexible you are.”

She smirked and raked sweaty hair back from her face. “You’d think. You’d also think someone in your line of work would have better balance.”

“You’d think.” He flexed his fingers. “Feeling better? Or do we need to go again?”

“Can I say yes to both?” Jaaide pressed one fist into the palm of the other hand and rolled her shoulders. “It is helping, but Feyl’s shenanigans are going to take a bit more to work past.” She smiled. “We can change it up if you’re tired of ending up on the floor.”

Theron chuckled sarcastically. “You’re very funny. When you say change it up, what did you have in mind?”

Jaaide crossed to a weapon rack and selected a vibroknife, flipping the small practice blade around her hand to test the balance. “If part of this is helping you stay in practice, what say we switch to disarming an attacker with a weapon?”

“Sure,” he shrugged, “but aren’t knife fights all about reach?”

“It is an advantage,” she acknowledged, getting a firm grip on the knife’s hilt. “But I wouldn’t completely discount flexibility if I were you.”

“Oh, of course. That would be stupid.” He smirked. “Which I”m not, according to you.” He raised both hands and gestured bring it on.

Even being a Republic-issue practice model, the knife felt perfectly at home in Jaaide’s hand. She may have specialized in medical training, but there had been ample focus on close quarters combat as well, and she was very good at it. She wondered briefly if Theron remembered that(or knew it in the first place) as she started circling toward him. His stance made it clear he knew what he was doing, and he did have a point about reach. She’d have to be smart about this. And quick.

Settling the knife securely in a forward grip, she made her first move. A feint right followed quickly by a strike left that Theron deflected back toward her before it got anywhere near close enough.

“I’m staying strictly defensive on this, by the way,” he said, backing up a step.

“Fine by me.” That would mean her going to him, and fewer exploitable openings, but gave her greater control. IT was a fair trade off. She made a couple more feints to test, and then went in for real. She got closer this time before Theron blocked it, and even as he pushed her arm out and up, she slid it around the underside of his arm and went in again. The blade just barely brushed his shirt as he backpedaled.

“Oh, you’re good,” he chuckled, circling a few steps to his right.

“Thanks, so are you,” Jaaide replied as she flipped the knife to a reverse grip. That sacrificed a couple inches of reach, but made it far easier to cause damage; another trade off she could live with. Clearly that couple inches wasn’t helping much anyway.

“Gettin’ serious, huh?” Theron teased, shifting his weight between his feet.

“One of us should,” she shot back, grinning as she ran through options in her head. She whipped the knife hand up toward the opposite shoulder in an arc more intended to make Theron back up than actually make contact. IT still caught a glancing blow against his wrist, but so lightly he barely even flinched. He did back up, however, and to the side as well, which gave her more room. She stepped forward rapidly, swinging the knife down along its previous arc.

Rather than deflect or dodge this one, Theron stepped forward as well and grabbed her wrist. He twisted her arm out and then up behind her as his continued his forward path until an off-balance Jaaide was pinned to the wall, trapping their hands and the knife between the small of her back and the unyielding durasteel.

“Told you,” he said, breathing hard as he braced his free hand by her shoulder. “Knife fights are all about reach.”

Jaaide tried wiggling her trapped wrist, but his grip was firm, so she relaxed back against the wall and met his gaze with a spark of mischief in her eyes. “Is this how you impress all the girls?” she whispered, still breathing hard herself.

“Only the ones I really like,” Theron murmured back, that dangerous grin spreading across his face again.

They only held each other’s gaze for another heartbeat or two before they were both moving toward the inevitable kiss, Jaaide pushed up on her toes and THeron bent down, her free hand curving against his jaw as his slid up into her hair. And then their grips slacked and the knife fell to the floor, freeing up their other hand as well. By the time they broke for air, Jaaide’s arms were around Theron’s neck, and his hands were well dug into her hair, the heels just barely resting against the edge of her jaw, both heedless of the sweat.

“You do have very good reach,” Jaaide mumbled in the scant space between them.

“And I”m definitely a fan of your flexibility,” Theron said in return, stealing another quick kiss. “So, am I safe in assuming this helped with your stress levels?”

She laughed, loosening her grip fractionally. “Yes, that would be a safe guess. I can think of something else that might help. But it’s probably best done in my quarters with the door locked.”

“And what would that be?” He punctuated the words by leaning his forehead against hers.

Jaaide grinned and dropped her voice to a sultry tone. “A nice, long hot shower.”

Theron growled and let his hands drop to rest on her shoulders. “You tease.”

“We can take it together, you realize,” she pointed out mischievously, hands tracing down to curl against his chest. “I have a very large shower.”

“Better,” he said emphatically, and kissed her again. They reluctantly parted, straightening the practice room quickly and gathering their things.

As they made their way back to her quarters, Jaaide slipped her hand in Theron’s and gave it a squeeze. “Thank you. For that. It really did help a lot.”

“You’re very welcome.” Theron kissed the top of her head and freed his hand from hers to instead drape his arm around her shoulders. “I’m glad it helped.”

Jaaide didn’t stop smiling the rest of the way back to her quarters. Or in the shower. Or for a good bit after, as the two of them sat on her couch and THeron helped her reconstruct her lost report.

Maybe today wasn’t entirely rotten after all.

#queens fic #otp: straight up truth #jaaide arien #theron shan #swtor

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flusteredkeith · 7 years

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[Voltron]: homecoming

Title: homecoming

Read it on [AO3] Words: 2,608 Pairing: Sheith Summary: The mission is more important than the individual.

But not Shiro. Never Shiro.

Oh man. So I wrote this fic as a way to help process my feelings about S4 because I just can't get over the fact that every time Keith realizes Shiro (and the team, but mostly Shiro) is in trouble, he drops everything at once to rush in and save him, every single season. It's just so touching, no matter what you see their relationship as, and I'm just so emo from the S4 finale and what that instinct of Keith's led into.

So here's a little thing, also inspired by my friend @breeeliss's tumblr post here where Shiro and Keith webcam and catch up while they're apart. Hope y'all enjoy!

special thanks to @ashinan @keith-shiro and @kcgane :D

Also on AO3.

They're letting him go. Keith knows it's for the best.

But just know that we’re here for you whenever you need us.

He pulls away from the hug, content with the way their differences worked themselves out. They want the best for him and he couldn’t be more thankful.

As he heads towards the exit, he looks back at them. Hunk, Coran, and Pidge are tearful but accepting. Shiro, Allura, and Lance are full of hope. They're all smiling at him with pride in their eyes, the kind of pride one would expect from family, the kind Keith's never experienced before meeting Shiro.

His eyes make a final sweep over his team and linger on Shiro. The understanding in his expression is the same one Keith fell for all those years ago: the silent gaze that’s always made Keith feel known. Seeing it now, Keith knows with certainty that Shiro has never needed any further explanations. And after everything he’s gone through to get Shiro back, it’s now Keith’s turn to leave.

I know you are. And I can’t tell you how much that means to me.

He's glad for it. The Blade is important to him — it's where he’s meant to be. Just like Shiro was meant to be in the Black Lion. To be a leader.

They will accept this. They have to.

And even if they don't, Keith doesn't plan on giving them a choice.

So with a smile and one last look, he departs from his newfound home in pursuit of another.

—*—

Although Voltron consists of five different lions coming together to form one whole, Keith is also starting to appreciate the more multifaceted ways of the Blade. Instead of five big parts, the Blade is a vast board of smaller pieces, each individual working together to complete a larger puzzle. It’s more complex, more intellectually stimulating.

But also much less intimate.

“How many times do I have to tell you not to engage?”

Kolivan’s voice is even, firm, but Keith knows a scolding when he hears one.

“We got what we needed and made it out in one piece,” Keith says defensively. “I’m thinking about the larger mission. You know I am.”

Kolivan turns his head away from Keith and faces the front of the ship.

“Set a course for the Blade headquarters,” he commands. It’s a clear sign that the conversation is over.

Leaving his hood and mask up, he walks away from Kolivan. The other members aboard the ship nod at him as he passes by but Keith pays no attention to them. It’s his favorite thing about the design of the Marmora masks. Concealment and hiding. It’s what the Blade are best at and the one aspect Keith needs the least training in.

Taking a seat in the back corner of the ship, his mind wanders over to the castle. They’re getting on fine without him, he’s sure of it. It’s what he meant for to happen. Shiro’s the rightful leader. They need him. More than they’ll ever need Keith. More than Shiro himself has ever needed Keith.

It’s the Blade that needs him more now.

And yet, as much as Keith tells himself he can do without praise or affirmation, the memory of Shiro’s arms wrapped tightly around him causes a small pang to erupt inside his chest, throbbing with each beat of his heart as he sits alone in the dark corner of the ship.

He belongs here, he tells himself. It’s where he was born to be.

—*—

“The Blade training has been going well.”

“That’s good to hear,” Shiro smiles on the screen. “I’m not surprised. Considering your sharp instincts and quick response times, you’re a perfect fit for this kind of thing. Always have been.”

“Thanks, Shiro,” Keith says, smiling back. “That means a lot to hear.”

It’s bright outside on Shiro’s end; they’re probably at Olkarion where the sun is just about to rise. His screen is the only brightness in the dim lighting of the Marmora’s comms room. It’s always dark here — the ships, the headquarters, everything. And it makes sense; there’s not really another fitting way for the Blade to operate.

“So aside from all the side missions you’ve told me about, what else has been going on?” Shiro asks.

“Uh, not much, I guess.” Keith leans back in his seat and tries to think. “Just training sessions with Kolivan and getting more in tune with the Blade. We’ve been working a lot with the rebel fighters and things are going fine. What about you guys?”

Shiro stares at him intently, ignoring the last question. Judging by the way his eyebrows are furrowed, Keith can already tell what Shiro’s about to say next.

“Well, that’s all fine and good,” Shiro says, his eyes trained on Keith. “But what I meant was, how are you doing?”

Keith looks down at his fingers fidgeting in his lap. He’s not sure that a good answer can be put into words.

“Um, great,” he says, keeping his eyes low. “I feel like I’m doing what I was meant to do. With the people I was meant to grow up with. I get to explore a whole half of my heritage I’d never known about, which is cool. So, yeah. I’m doing great.”

Keith looks up and smiles. Anything to clear the worried look off Shiro’s face.

“Are you sure?” Shiro frowns.

“Yeah, I’m sure,” Keith insists. “I haven’t said anything that wasn’t the truth.”

Though he also hasn’t said everything.

Keith is sure Shiro doesn’t fully buy it but as usual, he knows better than to pry, and a tick later, he manages to smile back.

“I’m happy for you, Keith,” Shiro says. “I know how much not knowing the full story about your past has troubled you, even way back when we first met. So now that we’re out here, I’m glad you get the chance to do this.”

“Yeah. It’s for the best,” Keith replies.

Shiro’s looking at him again with that familiar gaze, softened tenfold by the golden glow of the sun. Keith feels a sense of peace he hasn’t felt in a long time settle somewhere inside his chest, but with it, the dull ache of sudden longing to be on the other side of the screen.

He continues to rub his thumb against his index finger in his lap. Keith opens his mouth, then shuts it again. His throat feels constricted, a multitude of unspoken words welling up and threatening to break forth in a torrent of emotions. He has to contain them. If he doesn’t, they would crash over his tongue like waves in high tide.

I miss you.

“Shiro,” Keith tries again, looking up. “I—”

“Is that Keith?” comes an excited voice from the side of the screen. A tick later, Hunk’s face appears behind Shiro, followed shortly by Lance and Allura. “O-M-G it totally is. Hi, Keith!”

“Hey buddy!” Lance says as they all wave at him. “How’s it going?”

“Good, great,” Keith replies. The grin comes easy to his face as the rest of his teammates congregate around the screen. “Everything’s going fine. What about you guys?”

As Lance continues to talk, telling Keith everything from Coran’s crazy ideas to the execution of them and to Allura learning the truth about milkshakes, Keith can’t help but feel a rush of relief wash over him. He laughs at Lance’s bad sound effects, at Hunk’s eyeroll and Allura’s groans. With the team’s arrival, he and Shiro fall back into a comfortable step, shaking their heads at the silliness of the others.

There was nothing to be gained in telling Shiro everything. Each of them are right where they need to be.

After all, it’s for the best.

—*—

“I’ve got the intel,” Keith says as his mask wears away. He hands the block of data over to Kolivan, who takes it from him. As far as these missions have gone, it’s the first one Keith’s been in that went a hundred percent smoothly from start to finish.

For a brief moment, Kolivan surveys the harddrive and then looks back to Keith.

“Well done,” he says with a curt nod before turning away to give navigational commands for the ship. Within those two words, Keith understands: You’ve made it. Your training has paid off. You are a member of the Blade of Marmora.

But if there’s supposed to be a magical moment where he finally feels something special upon finding his rightful home, he doesn’t feel it.

And as he feels the ghostly sensation of his fellow paladins’ arms wrapped around him, warm and cozy in contrast to the steely coldness of the ship, Keith doesn’t know if he ever will.

—*—

Whenever Lance or Hunk speak of home, Keith wonders what it’s supposed to feel like. For years he’s been unsure. Having grown up without a solid one, Keith can only piece together from what he knows the things that bring him closest to it. His fingerless gloves. Flying off cliffs. Shiro’s hand on his shoulder. The mingling of everyone’s laughter when the Voltron team is hanging out in the lounge. His blade. Hurtling through space with his hood wrapped around his head.

Home.

Perhaps it’s a medley of all of the above. He wonders whether there’s even a straightforward answer.

“Do you ever miss the Garrison?” Keith asks. He leans his head against his elbow, propped up on the table below the screen, looking down at the control panel.

“If I think too hard about it, a little,” Shiro says. “Why? Do you?”

“Not really. Just wondered,” Keith shrugs. “I think I’m making a lot of headway in my Marmora training.”

“Does Kolivan give you a hard time?” Shiro asks with a chuckle. “I’m sure he’s a much better sparring partner than I ever was.”

Keith’s chest tightens at the thought of their sessions back at the Garrison training room. It feels like lifetimes ago.

“He’s not a better partner than you,” Keith says. “Just more merciless.”

Shiro laughs. Keith’s stomach flutters at the sight of it.

“You were always pretty merciless yourself,” Shiro grins. “It all makes sense now. You were a true Blade of Marmora member all along."

“Yeah, I — I guess so.” His eyes shift back down to the control panel in front of him. “Funny how that all turned out, huh?”

He looks up at Shiro in time to see a worried look flash across his face. Recomposing his expression, Keith switches tracks at once. “So how’s the coalition coming along?”

“It’s fine,” Shiro says. “I think Coran has been taking it just a little bit too seriously but other than that, can’t complain about the results. We’re gaining allies fast.”

If Keith needed any further confirmation that Shiro was the true Black Paladin, this would be it. Of course fans would flock to them if Shiro was a main face of the coalition. It’s like Pidge said: Keith’s the loner. And as much as he’s come to care about this team, his traits and skills are better suited elsewhere.

“Sounds great,” Keith nods. “Seems like everything’s falling into place. You really are the leader that Voltron needs.”

“Thanks but,” Shiro’s eyebrows furrow. “The team’s not the same without you, you know.”

Keith, I want to stop Lotor just as badly as you, but Shiro has a point —

Yeah, I’m with Shiro on this one —

As am I —

Me too —

Yeah, man.

If home is about belonging, Keith’s not sure if he has one at all.

The corners of his mouth twitch. Staring Shiro straight in the eye, he manages a wry smile.

“Yeah. I know.”

—*—

With Zarkon’s troops out looking for Lotor, a new mission arises. One in which Voltron and the Blade have the chance to work together.

It’s strange to jump in with his old teammates from another angle but Keith does what he needs to do. Once the plan is set in motion, they get to work. After destroying the targeted Galra cruiser, Keith contacts Coran for any other targets that need support.

Only to hear the news that a Galra cruiser has stopped in front of Naxzela.

“Perhaps the Galra decided it’s too well-fortified to attack.”

But even as Kolivan says it, the statement rings false in Keith’s ears.

“‘Victory or death’ is the Galra way. They never stop attacking,” Keith points out. And with Voltron on Naxzela, the only reason they wouldn’t attack would be—

Dread fills his stomach like ice. “Voltron.”

“Shiro! Can you hear me?” Keith yells over the comms. “Shiro!”

Something’s wrong.

It’s second nature by now. Shiro is in trouble, and so Keith runs. Hopping aboard the first available Galra pod he sees, he flies off into the atmosphere as fast as he can.

“I can’t explain why, but I know we need to attack that fleet,” he explains to Matt. “We’re afraid it has something to do with Voltron.”

Keith knows he is nothing like Shiro. He isn’t as strategic, as likeable, as inspiring. But in this moment as his sharp instincts kick in, his head is clear and he knows exactly what to do and where to place each moving piece on the board: Coran, Matt, the rebel fighters — all in position, prepared to deal with the worst.

He needs to save his friends. He needs to save Shiro.

“Keith, can you hear me?” Shiro’s screen pops up in front of him.

“Shiro! Where are you? Is everything okay?”

Shiro explains their predicament. Although Keith has done what he can to prepare for anything, there isn’t enough time. The universe is at stake. The cruiser has been firing nonstop at them but they need to take down that shp.

“We’ll never penetrate those shields!” Matt yells as they continue to evade and shoot at the cruiser.

Keith stops. Their shooters are too weak. Even before he realizes what he’s thinking, he knows what he must do.

The mission is more important than the individual.

But not Shiro. Never Shiro.

And if the mission is to save the world, then his path is clear.

His hands tighten around the controls; his fingers have never been more steady. Everything suddenly clicks.

“Maybe not with our weapons.”

Keith flies forward before he can think twice.

How many times are you going to have to save me before this is over?

He's vaguely aware of Matt yelling at him through the comms but Keith can't hear it over the loud pounding of his heart. It beats as fast as he flies, pumping blood throughout his entire body as though determined to squeeze out every last bit of life in full force before the end.

Time keeps ticking. The bomb will blow. But not if Keith gets there first.

No one is ever ready for this. But after everything he’s been through with all of his friends out here in space, Keith knows this makes the most sense.

Perhaps he really does belong to both Voltron and the Blade. Perhaps there’s never been a reason for the two to be mutually exclusive. And despite being an integral part of the two most important groups he’s ever known, only one man comes to mind as he continues to fly towards that shield.

As many times as it takes.

The air inside his pod seems to thicken around him. Sweat rolls down his face and his bangs stick to his forehead.

Saving the world, saving Shiro… perhaps this is right where he belongs.

And with one final glance at his target ahead, he shuts his eyes tight.

It feels like coming home.

#voltron legendary defender #sheith #vld keith #takashi shirogane #keith kogane #justine writes #justinewrites #!mine

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itbeajen · 7 years

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Omorfos Kosmo | Haikyuu x Reader

Chapter 1 - Savior

"Lullaby!" a feminine voice called out, shocking Hinata as the wolves and the giant bear froze in spot. A few "zzz's" above their heads marking their sleeping status and you grabbed Hinata. If it wasn't for your voice, he'd have known nothing of his savior's gender. But you were a female, although your attire did nothing to indicate that. However, from the weapons adorned on you, your character appeared to be built to be a support character. On your back was one of the rarest musical instruments he's only ever heard of and read of in the forums. She must be a high level player too. He's suddenly sent flying into the clearing, and he sees you suddenly equip a large bow that was the length of your entire body. And his eyes widen again, "No way." The signature royal blue bow was something he had only seen very few people with due to the difficulty of the boss and the frequency in which you were allowed to run said boss. As soon as he saw you whip out said bow, the attack you responded with shocked him once more. "Arrow Rain!" you called out. You pushed Hinata into a safe clearing before dashing into the throng of monsters. The sound of the arrows zipped through the air as they crashed down onto the monsters in the field. Hinata looked up, and his eyes widened and swirled. NO WAY! THAT ATTACK WAS AN INSTANT CAST? BUT I DIDN'T EVEN SEE THE CIRCLE ON THE FLOOR THAT INDICATES WHERE SHE AIMED IT. THAT AOE THOUGH!? EVERYTHING JUST WENT WOOSH AND BAM AND. WOAH- Once again Hinata's thoughts are cut off as he hears the whimpers of pain and cries of despair from the field monsters and bosses. Hinata hears the familiar sound of exp points being gained and he dutifully checks his profile, to see that despite not doing much more than blocking and dodging, he had gained a good 2%. "Th-" He's about to thank you, but you turned around, your colored orbs filled with confusion. "What were you doing all the way out here and away from town?" You twirled your bow once before neatly sliding it into place on your back. "I...I logged in here," he admitted softly. Your eyes widened. Here? Of all places? You can't log out at boss spawn areas though. That's considered camping!

"Hmm, maybe they did send us to all different locations," you mutter. You shake your head and offer him a hand. Hinata gratefully takes it and your eyes scan over his equipment. Orange and black? Hmm, what a strange color scheme. I feel as though I've seen it before. Your eyes close and your lips tug into a frown as you try to remember where this color scheme was from and your eyes lit up, "Ooh, are you by any chance a part of Kei's guild?!"

"Kei?" Hinata tilted his head in confusion.

"Ah, my bad, he goes by Yue on here right?" you corrected yourself. Hinata's eyes widened and he asked, "You know Tsukishima?!"

You flinched and stepped back from the outburst. You awkwardly nodded and you swipe your left hand across Hinata's head and his name suddenly appeared, hovering above his character, or well, him. You bring one finger to click on his name, revealing his guild and game ID. Your mouth opens and you smile, "Ah, Karasuno. I see. So that's the guild's name. I never paid enough attention to it... and I normally played with names off." The last part is a whisper, not quite meant for Hinata to hear, but not as though it really mattered. Hinata observed his savior a bit more now that they were out of danger. Your outfit was indeed all boss equipment. Hinata had only ever seen bits and pieces of the Fafnir set and the Tyrant gear, but this was the first time seeing the whole thing in all its glory.

The Fafnir outfit was primarily a royal blue, with trims of gold and gradients of blue to green decorating the entire attire. Sitting atop your petite frame was a beret, with a perfectly placed feather that was pinned down by a black diamond shaped gem against the beret. The feather curls around the gem protectively, and stops right atop your ear. Your hair pools down your back, slightly wavy, but not too much, just enough to look as though it was a river flowing down your back. It drapes over the double layered, majestic snow white Tyrant cape. With your arms to the side, the first layer stops in a wavy pattern with ebbing purple hues and a gold trim just at your finger tips, while the rest pools down to your feet, almost to gracing the floor. Your fingers were clad in a fingerless glove of the same design as the cape, and your shoes fashioned the same way too. The royal blue cowl that adorned your torso was tied off neatly at the chest in a small ribbon with a simple deep blue to teal gradient tunic underneath. The bottom wear was a simple, yet fashionable, pair of royal blue shorts adorned with gold striped blue gradient leggings. The royal blue bow that was once equipped on your back was conveniently stashed in your inventory, which happened to be a solid black bag with shining white trimming that was firmly wrapped around your waist and put off to the side.

You replaced your weapon with your beloved mandolin, and strapped it across your back. A soft smile took over your face and with a friendly hand offered, you basically chirped, "The name's [L/N], that's my game ID at least!"

ID: [L/N] Main: Bard (?) Level: 72 - Exp 98/100% Guild: None Fun Fact: One of the most well-known mercenaries in game and on the game forums. Can use both bows and crossbows.

"But you should probably head back to town and hit the training grounds again. Lots of people have no idea what's going on and are trying to figure out how the game mechanics work." Your voice was filled with amusement and Hinata asked, "Uhm! I-"

he paused, what if you laughed at him? Your head tilted slightly to the side, waiting for him to continue. In the meanwhile you pulled up your equipment list, instantly unequipping your combat gear in fear of losing durability. You nodded at him, gesturing for him to continue, "[L/N]-san, do you think you could show me the way back to town?"

"Eh?" Your voice came out in pure surprise and Hinata blushed slightly, "I actually don't know my way back from here... I've never manually came to this map, I've only ever used the boss warping system."

"Ah, I see," you nodded and Hinata watches you as your arms and fingers swipe through the menus in the air. Obviously he can't see exactly what it is you're doing, but the fluid movements showed nothing more than mastery of the game and suddenly there is a shimmer of light as a silver thunder dragon appears on the map beside you. Sparks and jolts of lightning and electricity sear the earth around it. Hinata falls backward, stumbling over his own feet in surprise, and onto his butt as he slightly panicked over the dragon.

"Ah! Sorry, I should have warned you. This is my pet dragon," you fondly coo'ed its name, and the dragon nuzzled its head against your cheek gently and you patted its back, indicating it to lower enough for them to get on. "He won't bite, come on."

Your hand was offered to him and a brilliant smile blossoms on your face and he gulps.

It's okay. It's a pet dragon. It's her pet dragon. She won't feed me to him right after saving me... right?

The dragon snorted and huffed, steam invading Hinata's senses. He shook his head, and used his hand to blow the steam away. The dragon's crystal blue eyes looked at him with child-like wonder. Although it was already thrice the size of both of them combined, it was still considered a baby dragon. Which only meant one thing, it'll only get larger. The idea of it caused Hinata to feel slightly scared and you turned around, clearly concerned.

"Hey, you're not... prone to motion sickness right?" you asked, the concern lacing your tone was enough for Hinata to nod weakly and he mumbled, "I was never good with this stuff."

You almost sighed and then you shook your head. With another swipe or two, a potion appears in your hand, and a pair of extra goggles in another and you hand both over to Hinata. "Take that, it'll help."

"But..." This is a game.

Your eyes soften in understanding and you mumbled, "I know, it's supposed to be a game, but..." your voice trails off, and the last part was nothing more than a whisper, "It's different now."

A few minutes into taking off, Hinata had never felt so much joy and excitement in his life. It was almost everything he ever dreamed of when it came to flying. His eyes sparkled with wonder as he watched the harmless avian type monsters fly past them. Although he did fear for his life when there was a flock of Ash Moths aiming for them. The red exclamation mark indicating their aggro all went towards Hinata for some reason or another, and the boy was about to freak out until you gently patted your trusty dragon's side, and called out, "Drihtan, blast 'em!"

The electricity that the was produced from one single flap of the dragon's wings surprised Hinata as the Ash Moths were all fried and Hinata gaped, "WOAH. DID THIS LITTLE GUY DO THAT?!"

Drihtan, the thunder dragon, roared in response. A hint of a smile on its face as it glanced back for praise. You gently rubbed behind its ears and cooed, "Aren't you a good boy? You make me so proud."

"That was awesome!" Hinata cheered. His eyes glittered with excitement and you laughed, "Pretty neat huh? Drihtan's the only pet I have that doesn't have a duration."

"Whaaa? HOW?!" Hinata asked, clearly intrigued. You explained how you obtained him, all the existing Thunder Dragons on the server that belong to a character are all for beta testers only. And you gently rubbed the dragon's neck and you answered, "And I only know one other person that has one though. If you weren't able to tame it within the first week that the game was launched, I heard you couldn't keep it. Isn't that right, cutie?"

Drihtan roared in answer, shaking its head in amusement and you giggled, "Ah! It's so much cooler being able to actually interact with this adorable baby then it was through the computer screen!" You scratched its neck lovingly and you turned to Hinata, "So, what kind of build do you have?"

"Ah! I'm a warrior!" He responded brightly with a grin. You shook your head, "I already knew that part. What's your build?"

"Well, Kenma always says I have an unconventional build," Hinata's voice trailed off and you hear him awkwardly laugh as he his hold on the saddle tightens and he continues, "But I tank. Kind of. It's a bit more like aggro diversion than tanking, but... it works! My guild mates like it at least."

You nod sagely, "I see, I see. Then that's all that really matters. That you're able to use your build to your advantage and to benefit others. That's great!"

"What about you [L/N]-san?" Hinata asked. You hummed, "I'm primarily support. I started off with a violin bow before I switched to my main instrument." You gently pat the head of your mandolin that was slung over your shoulder and Hinata admired the deadly weapon-like instrument. Unlike a typical mandolin, the body of the mandolin was decorated with an intricate pattern of thorns that appeared to stem from where the tailpiece was. The tailpiece appeared to be an eye of some sort, it was certainly ominous looking, and the deep red thorns started there and encompassed the body of the mandolin. Unlike the rest of your attire, the body of the mandolin was black, with the metallic thorn design a deep blood red, as though it's been stained by the life of the monsters it has encountered. The strings looked as though they were liquid silver, with the way they shimmered in the light. And Hinata asked, "How did you get your instrument? I've never seen it before."

"A friend of mine crafted it for me. He's pretty cool, a bit rambunctious and eccentric, but definitely cool. His ID is Guess," you explained and you laughed, "Although I had to fund him to rank his carpentry skill," you shook your head fondly, "I always knew creator skills were hard, but who would've thought it was that expensive to rank them up."

"Hm, never heard of him," Hinata admitted, and then he continued, "But it is really cool looking, your instrument. What's it called?"

"Devil's Crescendo," you smiled and Hinata scrunched his face in shock, "D-Devil's Cr-Crescendo?! It sounds so scary!"

"Yeah, you need to be a Grandmaster Bard in order to even equip it," you laughed, "Thank god I finished mastering my entire music tab before the game turned into this, I don't think I could have sat there for hours on end playing the same songs over and over again."

"You did that?" Hinata asked in awe, and you nodded, "Well, I kind of taped my playing button down..." Your lips were pulled ito a pout. Hinata chuckled, "You're so interesting [L/N]!"

"I can say the same to you Hinata," you laughed, and then glanced back at him, "I guess I'll have to be extra careful to make sure you don't get hurt or anything on the way back to the guild hall."

"We're not going to fly the entire way?" Hinata asked. You shook your head and patted Drihtan's side, "Even this cutie-pie gets tired, we're gonna land in a bit. Plus, there's a certain friend of mine that also needs a lift to town."

Hinata nodded, and he opened his mouth to speak, but the strong gusts of winds coming from Drihtan's wings flapping as they descended made him shut his mouth. The last thing he wanted was for something to fly in. Hinata musters enough courage to look down as they begin to descend and his face bursts into surprise and he shouts out, "Tsukishima?!"

The crowd-control mage immediately scowled and he muttered, "When she said extra luggage, she really did mean extra luggage. Tch." His golden orbs narrowed at the sight of the short warrior clinging tightly onto Drihtan's saddle and you waved cheerfully at him.

ID: Yue Main: Mage Level: 70 - EXP 98.9/100% Guild: Karasuno Fun fact: Dislikes inefficient party runs.

The tall blonde wanted to shake his head at the unnecessary trouble Hinata gave you. He adjusted his glasses, the wings on the temple tips shifting slightly as they adjusted to the slight movement change. Hovering behind the male's head was a silver crescent moon, that had the ends of the crescent facing upwards.

Donning an intricate white and gold pattern, Tsukishima's outfit was more elegant than Hinata's. His typical color scheme was white and gold with sky blue, still rejecting the guild colors that Hinata is so proudly advertising. The outerlayer consisted of an intricate coat, where the sleeves and fabric leading to the tailcoat were white as it seeped into a gold hue. White wing like designs were seen on the gold hues, further emphasizing the precious metal. The coat had a sky blue collar though, that also continued down his back until it covered the tail coat. His shoulder blade area was braced with an intricate golden design that had two sheer white feathered wings attached to them. Whether these were functional or not, only time could tell. Inside, he wore a high-collared white tunic. Unlike the sleeves, the design on the tunic was the reverse, in which the feather-like designs were gold and the base color was white. Over his chest area there was silver, gold-trimmed piece of armor that wrapped around his torso, protecting him from any possible impacts. Black pants are worn underneath, but are unnoticeable due to the outrageously long length of the top he wore. The sunset colored boots he wore reached mid-thigh, and if weren't for the fact that game logic still applied, he swears he would've switched them out for something else.

"Yahoo~ Kei!" you called out. Drihtan landed successfully next to the blonde and nuzzled his side in greeting. Tsukishima's features slightly softened as he patted the gentle thunder dragon's head and he turned to you, "Extra luggage huh?"

"Oh come on, it's your guild mate, don't be such a grumpy head," you teased and you asked, "Did you check?"

"Yeah, it seems they completely deleted our alternative characters," he muttered and he pulled up his inventory, clicking on another remote bank coupon. And his monotonous voice droned on, "Whatever equipment and items we had on them were transferred into our bank... Bank space expanded to 196 spots now, that's an additional 96 slots. And the character that accumulated the most play time on is our main character."

He adjusted his glasses and he muttered, "I confirmed it just now with Akaashi-san."

"Ah, so I guess I can give you my spare equips now," you drawled and Tsukishima's eyes flashed with excitement and you laughed, "Oh Kei, you're so simple."

"Tch," he casually flicked your forehead, or tried to at least. The growl from your pet dragon's throat warned him of the possible consequences, and he settled for scowling at you instead. Throughout the entirety of the short banter between you and the blonde, Hinata merely watched with confusion and he asked, "How do you two know each other anyways?"

Tsukishima didn't answer, instead choosing to pet your dragon. You snicker at the annoyance on the orange-haired boy's face and you explain, "We got partnered together in a raid."

"Eh? You did? But Tsukishima's more of a crowd-control kind of player and-" Hinata's eyes widened when he saw the twinkle in your eyes, "Your music." Upon receiving a nod, you whipped out the mandolin. Hinata's eyes widened as he noticed the darkness that was literally oozing out of the blade that rested against your hip, but you disregarded it as though it was something that was always present there and strummed it lightly before commanding the magical properties of it, "Lullaby!"

There were thuds as the nearby creatures, regardless of their disposition towards the trio, fell to the floor. Fast asleep. Hinata's eyes widened and he stated, "And Tsukishima wipes them out when they're knocked out..."

"What else do you think I do? Stare at them?" Tsukishima responded with irritation laced in his tone. He was still peeved that you had found the hyperactive warrior and even saved him. You noticed his irritation and you shook your head, "You know, Kei, you really shouldn't be so mean."

"Whatever [L/N], how do you plan on getting us back to town?"

"Tch, if someone here had learned how to use Magic Door..."

"I don't specialize in those kinds of skills."

"Right, cause the only support you give are for fellow mages. Sigh, when will you ever be useful to me Kei-ah?" you dramatically sighed and his eye twitched in irritation. However, he knew he couldn't win against you, and he sighed, "Whatever."

You smiled and said, "It'll be fun, walking to town again like the good old days."

Your fingertips hover in the air and you gently tap both Tsukishima's and Hinata's ID, scrolling past the add friend and trade and guild request button to find the 'Add to Party' function. You waited for the familiar tune that announced the addition of another member and you smiled brightly as you saw them join.

Your fingers fall back down and rest on the neck of your beloved instrument. Your fingertips gently glide over the strings before gently plucking a tune. As soon as you felt the familiar rush of adrenaline and thrill you announced, "March Song!" As though it was muscle memory for you, despite your first time playing it since you entered this strange new world, you felt the energy envelop you and your party members, boosting their speed and jump. A warm light appears from the scroll of the instrument, as you can visibly see musical notes in the air as you played your tune. You swing the instrument back around onto your back, the black and red clashing strongly against royal blue and white.

"Let's get going then, shall we?" you said as you climbed onto Drihtan's back, urging the dragon to trudge onward. The baby dragon let out a trill and shook its head fondly before getting off the earth and moving onward. Tsukishima sighed, "Always going at your own pace aren't you?"

Hinata shrugged as he went to jogged lightly to catch up with the long strides of Tsukishima and the even longer strides of the baby dragon.

"Well, I prefer this than having to drink that nasty potion again just so we can fly."

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