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cordeliawhohung · 9 months

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Some Other Life

Simon "Ghost" Riley x fem!Reader - part five of "soft spot"

The Ghost himself is haunted. Not just by the past, but by what could have been. But he's not the only one running.

warnings: canon typical violence, descriptions of bodies/death/all that, reader is getting a bit of back story (so if that's not your thing... sorry ig lmao), angst/hurt/comfort, it's pretty light, though

wc: 5.6k

“Faster! Faster!”

Joseph always loved airplanes. Whenever he was out with his parents, or stuck in the back seat of the car, he always watched the sky just in case he saw one. Even if it was too high up in the air to make out any details, he would cheer and point and exclaim to his parents, demanding their attention to the aircraft traveling thousands of feet high above them.

No one knew where his fascination with the big hunks of metal had come from. The boy had never been on an airplane before, and he had never seen one up close. Perhaps it was on some cartoon that they hadn’t taken note of. Either way, for the time being, his Uncle Simon was the closest thing he’d get to flying in one. The man held Joseph up in the air who had his arms spread out to mimic wings. He was a giggling mess, asking his uncle to move him through the air faster and faster. Simon grinned as he looked up at his nephew, supporting the young boy's body with just his hands alone.

“Go easy on your uncle, Joseph.”

It was his brother’s voice. Tommy. He sat next to their mother on the couch with the lights of the Christmas tree illuminating the soft strands of his blonde hair. Joseph was a near spitting image of Tommy, and it was almost strange to see. It was like he had been transported back in time, though Joseph was considerably more kind than Tommy had been at that age.

“It’s alright,” Simon assured his brother as he placed his nephew back on the ground. The boy giggled once more as he kept his arms straight out and took off running around the small living room. “You’re a lucky man, Tom. I’m proud of you.”

And he was. He really was. Between the addiction and wasting his life away couch surfing, he was turning out to be just like their father. A mindless drunk and druggie that had no care for anyone else around him. But he pulled himself out of that hole. Married a beautiful young lady, and had a dashing little boy. It was the life he always dreamed his brother would have.

“When are you going to stop saving the world and settle down?” Tommy asked.

Simon could only smile at the floor as he sat back on his haunches, watching Joseph carefully as he zoomed around the room. When would he settle down? Would he ever? Could he ever? After everything he had seen, after everything he had been through; was a life like that meant for him?

“Ahh… I couldn’t do better than you and Beth,” Simon admitted softly, unable to look his brother in the eyes.

“Simon,” a soft voice came from the doorway.

He looked up from the floor and his eyes found his sister-in-law. A beautiful woman with glowing auburn hair. She smiled kindly at him, like she did with everyone else she was around. Truly the angel that some high being sent to fix up his wreck of a brother.

“There’s someone at the door for you,” she continued, her hand raising to scratch at her arm. “A yank.”

Simon raised from his spot on the floor and weaved past Beth as he walked to the front. A figure stood in the door, illuminated by the light of the entryway, but it was wrong. It was smaller than the figure he had expected and it made his stomach churn. The person at the door wasn’t a yank; it was you.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Simon said lowly. It was like a warning; a threat.

Despite his menacing tone, your cheerful smile was unwavering. It was freezing outside, but you didn’t wear a coat, and it didn’t even look like you were shivering.

“You were the one who brought me here,” you retorted wittily.

Your eyes looked past Simon and down the entryway where Joseph still ran around the living room. How long had he been running? He was going to get tired, or trip and hurt himself. But Tommy sat there, next to their mother, still smiling as he watched his son zip around the room.

“You can’t stop it, you know,” you spoke up, eyes locked onto the scene playing out behind Simon.

A hand absentmindedly raised to your neck where you played with the bead necklace around your throat. It was the one he had gotten you. Or, well, Johnny had. But you didn’t know him. Had he even met the man yet at that point? No…

But the necklace was wrong. Where was the green? Why was it red? Why was it so close to your throat, constricting so tight it looked like it was choking you? The beads were too big. It was wrong. All wrong.

“I can. I have to. They didn’t deserve it,” Simon said, and his voice felt weak. Like he was sick. Like he couldn’t get his vocal chords to resonate loud enough to make a difference.

“No, silly,” you said with a patronizing giggle. “I’m not talking about them.”

You wouldn’t look at him, and it felt like his chest was about to collapse in on itself. You always looked at him. He wanted you to look at him, needed you to. Desperate hands reached out to cup your cheeks and he tilted your head up, but no matter how firmly he held you, your eyes strayed. Side eyeing the wall next to you, glancing up at the ceiling; your eyes would land anywhere but on him.

“Look at me,” he said, his grip becoming so firm he felt as if he was about to crush your skull. Still, you refused. “Look at me!”

“It’s okay,” you assured him, voice soft. The light in your eyes seemed more dull than normal. That shining glimmer that was normally there had been replaced with something else. Some sort of cloudiness he couldn’t peer through. “Ghost, it’s okay. You’re okay.”

Liar. He wasn’t okay. You were there, standing in front of him, and you shouldn’t be. And you refused to look at him, or say his name, and your eyes were wrong, everything was wrong and he wanted to shatter it. To break it beyond recognition.

“You can’t hold onto me forever,” you said, voice distorted and slightly gurgling.

Your eyes finally landed on him. He thought it would make him feel better. He thought it would feel like home, but it didn’t. Instead, he felt sick, like his stomach was twisting in knots, like the breath had been ripped from his lungs, never to return. Why did you look at him like that? Like you were forgiving him?

“Come on, you have to let go,” Tommy spoke up from behind him with a chuckle. Suddenly, a pair of arms had snaked their way around his torso, constricting his chest so tightly he nearly coughed. “You can’t do this forever, Simon.”

But his arms weren’t right. That was all wrong, too. Where was his skin? Why was it all just milky bone; a skeleton dragging him backwards? Simon’s hands let go of your face as he went to try and pry the skeletal arms off of him, but it was no use. It was an iron grip.

“I told you, Ghost,” you spoke up, still standing in front of him. Except now, he really got a good look at you. At the blood soaking your shirt, how it dripped onto the floor in thick, viscous splatters. How had he not noticed before? Had you been like this the whole time? Broken? Bleeding? “You can’t stop it.”

He tried to scream. He wanted to scream. But when he opened his mouth, nothing would come out but a simple, pathetic push of air. More hands and arms came down on his body, dragging him back, and he was helplessly frozen in place as he watched the blood continue to spill from your body. Disgusting, slimy, rotten bones ripped at his skin while voices cooed in his ear. Tommy’s voice, his mother’s, Vernon’s, Roba’s… they were taunting him.

“You knew what would happen.”

“Did you really think it wouldn’t go wrong?”

“Everything you touch ends up like this, kid.”

“You killed her the moment you entered her life, Simon.”

When Simon woke up, he could still feel the bony fingers clawing at his chest, ripping the skin from his body, torturing him slowly. His breaths were labored, but not enough to wake you up in your shared bed. A thin layer of sweat covered his body, and the fabric of his sweatpants and the bedsheets clung to his skin, suffocating him. He laid on his back for a moment, staring up blankly at the ceiling as he willed his body and mind to calm.

It didn’t take him long to settle his nerves, as it was something he was well versed in by that point. He was a soldier, afterall. There was no time for emotions or panic. But once he did calm down, he knew he couldn’t stay in that bed.

His movements were slow as he twisted himself upwards, setting his feet flat on the floor. Darkness swallowed the room with the only light illuminating the room coming from the hallway through the ajar door. He glanced over his shoulder where he found your sleeping form nestled under the comforter. Vague features of your face shone through the darkness, and he found himself swallowing a harsh lump in his throat at the sight. Reaching behind him, he grabbed the comforter and pulled it up over your shoulders before standing.

With quiet and careful precision, Simon rummaged through his dresser where he pulled out a shirt to cover his bare skin and a pair of jeans to change into. Once he was fully dressed, he slipped out of the room as he meandered down the hall. The entire apartment was frigid and drafty, as if someone had left a window open all night. He would have chalked it up to just his nerves if it wasn’t for the fact that it got like that every night. Both you and him had a suspicion one of the windows in the living room wasn’t sealed properly.

He tried not to think too hard about it as he grabbed his boots from the entryway before meandering into the living room. Slumping onto the couch, Simon leaned down to lace up his boots, his fingers knotting the strings expertly. But he had only gotten one boot laced up before he heard the soft patting of your feet from down the hallway.

“Simon?” you asked as you peered around the corner. Your hair was frizzy with sleep, and you wore nothing but an oversized sleep shirt. He took note of the way you tried not to shiver. “What’re you doing?”

He made quick work of his second boot before he pushed himself off of the couch. Simon was a tall man, that much was obvious. But whenever he wore his boots it made him appear a good inch or two taller, which only made you feel smaller, especially as he walked up to you.

“Just going for a walk, love,” he said softly, his voice deep with a heavy tiredness to it. “Didn’t mean to wake you.”

You shook your head as you stepped closer, closing the gap between the two of you as you leaned into his chest for a hug. He returned the movement in kind, wrapping his arms around you. He hadn’t realized just how tense his body was until you touched him, as if your very presence melted that away from him.

“I wasn’t sleeping. I was trying to, but hadn’t quite gotten there yet.” You leaned back, hands still resting on his chest while his arms stayed firm around your waist. “Mind if I join you?”

Simon quirked an eyebrow up at you. “It’s freezing out there, sweetheart.”

“Well, it is December,” you teased while tilting your head to the side. “I don’t mind the cold, though.”

You made a move to leave, but Simon wouldn’t let you pull away. His arms stayed firmly wrapped around your waist. It wasn’t trapping or demanding, just lonely. His eyes drank you in. Not lustfully, but not like he was admiring your beauty, either. What was that in his eyes? Some hint of distance? A fogginess you couldn’t quite peer through.

“Everything alright?” you questioned softly.

Things were quiet between you for another beat as Simon couldn’t seem to tear his eyes away from you. Eventually, he gave you a small nod as his hands slowly pulled away from you, fingertips lingering on your waist like he’d never get to touch you again.

“Yeah. Go get changed. You’ll freeze your arse off wearin’ that,” he said, earning him a playful eye roll from you.

“Shit, and here I was hoping to get a little frostbitten,” you said sarcastically as you turned around to walk back to your shared room.

Shared room. Simon was still getting used to saying that. Living with you had easily been one of the best choices he had ever made. Seeing your quirks, sleeping next to you at night, it was all different and something he was trying to adjust to, but welcomed nonetheless.

As he waited for you, Simon looked around the living room. It was still pretty much the same as the first time he saw it, more or less. Same old sofa, side table, and Ikea lamp he had put together for you. The only major difference was the small Christmas tree that sat on one of the side tables. It was only about a foot and a half tall, and was a pathetic looking thing. Full sized ornaments meant for larger trees weighed down the synthetic branches. It was something out of a cartoon, really. Still, despite the fact the poor tree was crying for help after you placed the ornaments so carefully on it, you insisted that Simon was the one to place the little star at the top.

“So much for tucking in early,” your voice carried down the hallway as you made it back to the living room. A thick winter jacket swaddled your body in a warm cocoon, and your fingers were busy pulling a beanie over your head and ears as your eyes landed on Simon. “It’s just past ten. We pretty much napped for an hour or so and now we’re gonna be awake all night.”

It wasn’t long before you slipped into your shoes and you and Simon were out the door. He was right, it was freezing. Not that you were surprised. When night fell over London in winter, the absence of the sun made everything twice as cold, and the moisture in the air from the rain didn’t help either. It wasn’t as bad as it was in November, but you still found you shoving your hands deep into your pockets anyway.

Despite the fact that the moon was out to play, the Christmas lights adorning the streets nearly drowned out her beauty with their own. Glittering, golden lights hung loosely over the streets and swirled up every lamp post. You found that if you stared at the pavement long enough, you could almost convince yourself it really was daytime.

Every now and then you would glance up at Simon. With the colder weather, he donned a plain black balaclava and shoved his hood up over his head, almost fully concealing his face. If it was dark outside, he would nearly blend in if it wasn’t for the whites of his eyes. But something was on his mind. It was pretty obvious with his quietness and downturned gaze. But Simon wasn’t a talker. Not about himself, anyway. So you just walked with him in your own silence, enjoying his company, and the lights that surrounded you, hoping your presence offered a bit of comfort.

Eventually the two of you stumbled upon a square of sorts. A massive Christmas tree stood in the center of it, bundled in a blanket of lights that twisted upwards, entangling in the tree’s thick branches. Someone had taken great care to put giant golden ornaments on the tree not just at the base, but all the way to the very top. An equally large and fitting star sat at the top of the tree, and it was a miracle that the thing wasn’t bending underneath the weight of it.

A fair amount of people gathered around the tree, and their chatter could be heard echoing down the street. There were several small stands set in random places around the square where people seemed to be exchanging items. Upon taking a closer look, you realized it was a charity event; an organization gathering donations of either money or toys in order to provide presents for children who otherwise wouldn’t be able to get them. They had already gathered a small pile of toys, anything from Barbie dolls to toy airplanes or art kits.

You and Simon walked through the square, as it was along his normal walking route anyway. Everyone was smiling, and really trying to sell the Christmas joy with their Santa hats and warm wishes. Yet as the two of you walked through, a familiar scent wafted through the air.

“Is that hot chocolate?” you wondered out loud.

At your question, Simon looked around, dark eyes carefully scanning the stands until he spotted the one closest to the Christmas tree. An electric soup warmer sat on a table, and volunteers dipped a ladle into the pot to pour rich, thick hot chocolate into styrofoam cups. Apparently all proceeds from that stand went towards the donations too, according to the sign on the side.

“Want some?” he offered, hand already fishing in his pocket for his wallet.

You bit your lip in thought for a moment while you looked at the small line of people. It really did smell delightful, even from your distance away from them. There was even a bowl of butter mints to throw into the cup to give the chocolate a hint of peppermint.

“Maybe,” you said, adjusting your beanie on your head.

“Come on, then,” he urged as he took a step towards the stand.

Grinning, you followed along after him, hopping in line behind the other hot chocolate enthusiasts. Without them having to make each cup as ordered, the line moved fairly quickly. Cash would be exchanged, they would talk a little bit about where the money was going towards, they’d get their cup, and they’d go along with the rest of their night.

Something was different by the time you and Simon got to the front of the line, though. One of the women serving the hot chocolate seemed to recognize you, and even called you by name. A pit of worry instantly formed in Simon’s stomach, as he remembered what happened the last time someone had exclaimed your name like that in a public setting. But this girl seemed nice enough. Her curled blonde hair blew in the slight breeze, but her own winter hat helped to keep it mostly intact. She looked at you with a dazzling smile. He couldn’t help but wonder if she whitened her teeth.

“Ness?” you asked in disbelief. “God, it’s been a minute!”

Simon stayed silent as he looked at the other woman at the stand. While you chatted away with someone who he assumed was a friend, he exchanged the needed cash with her for the drink and waited while she dished it out.

“It’s so good to see you!” Ness exclaimed with a grin. “How long has it been since we last saw each other? Had to have been right before we went to Uni, huh?”

You nodded your head while your fingers played absentmindedly with the buttons on your coat. “Yeah, it feels like forever ago. How’ve you been?”

“Good! Things have been great. Graduated, got a job as a social worker. That’s one of the reasons why I’m here, actually. Helping to raise some extra cash for our kids,” she said with a bubbly chuckle. “What about you? How was The States?”

Though he didn’t say anything about it, Simon couldn’t help but quirk an eyebrow up at that comment. You? In America?

“Uhm, it was good! Enjoyed it a lot. Liking it much better here back home, though,” you explained, your fingers continuing to twist the buttons on your coat. The sound of the thread struggling was audible.

“Bet your mum’s glad you’re back. I remember her being nearly in tears during graduation. Couldn’t believe her little girl was going off to see the world,” Ness joked. “I remember you were the talk of the school for a bit because of that. Going off to America, I mean.”

The other lady at the stand handed Simon the styrofoam cup, and he muttered a quick thanks before turning his attention towards you. Though you were smiling, the small quiver at the corner of your mouth wasn’t lost on him.

“How is she, by the way?” Ness continued.

You coughed.

“She’s alright,” you said stiffly. “Been a bit since I’ve visited her, though.”

The button snapped off of your coat. Really, it was amazing it hadn’t broken earlier with how you kept twisting and twisting it. The thread could only take so much before it frays. You looked down at the small item in your hands and swallowed hard as you quickly shoved it into your pocket.

“Here,” Simon quietly interjected.

When you turned to look at him, you noticed he held a cup out for you to take, and you looked at it like you had forgotten it was the whole reason you were even over there in the first place. Still, you reached your hand out, the warmth bleeding through the styrofoam and into your fingers. You looked down at it for a long moment before glancing back up at Ness.

“Well, it was good seeing you again. We won’t hold up your line any longer,” you said politely.

With a quick and somewhat awkward farewell to your old acquaintance, you and Simon were off on the streets again, leaving the square far behind you. Despite the fact that you had been eyeing up that stand earlier, all you could do was stare down at the hot chocolate in your hands, unable to bring yourself to drink it. It was nice to hold at least, but the thought of tasting it made your mouth feel dry.

Family wasn’t something Simon talked about. Just wasn’t his thing. Maybe it was to save himself from the heartache, or maybe it was just to try and preserve the only image he had left of them in his mind. Luckily, you never asked him about family; not his parents, if he had siblings, or anything of the sort. But you never offered that information up about yourself, either. It wasn’t his place to know, and certainly not his place to ask, but he couldn’t lie to himself and pretend that he didn’t know something was off about that conversation.

“America, huh?” he spoke up, shattering the silence that had settled between the two of you.

A soft scoff of sorts left your lungs where it turned into nothing but frosty air in front of your lips. “Yeah. I… got accepted to Yale on scholarship.”

Simon hummed. “Never told me you were smart,” he teased.

This got a laugh out of you, which made both you and him feel a bit better. Still, your eyes were locked onto the drink, unable to bring yourself to taste it. And that fucking button was burning a hole through your pocket.

“I was there for their medical program, actually,” you explained, but you didn’t sound proud of yourself. “I thought it would have been cool. To go out and see the world. Just get out of here for a bit.”

“Not what you expected?” he asked.

“It was… it was amazing,” you said softly. “Just wished I could have stayed there longer.”

Silence. But there was something there, stirring around. He could feel it. It was like blowing up a balloon and waiting for it to pop, or the painfully long time it took for a hand to connect to a cheek in a slap.

“She’s dead. My mum,” you finally let out. It wasn’t exactly the sort of confession Simon was expecting from you, but either way, he already knew the words before they left your mouth. “I, uh… didn’t even get to finish a full year in America before she had gotten sick.”

“You came back to take care of her?” he asked.

“I was the only one who could,” you said a little bitterly. “She didn’t ask me to. She never would. But I knew she needed someone. So I came back, got a shitty job working in finance. I’d take care of her during the day, and work in a money transfer service place at night. I don’t… regret it or anything but…”

He nodded his head. You didn’t need to explain it. It was an odd sort of guilt that only someone put in that position could feel. Choosing between living your life, and helping someone go through the end of theirs wasn’t an easy decision. It was a sacrifice either way. Something you’d go through and not come out whole.

“Doesn’t make it any easier,” he finished your sentence.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly.

Finally, you forced yourself to take a sip of that damned hot chocolate. It was much better than you had expected. For something they were serving on a semi-large scale, you had thought it would have been plain hot water mixed with cocoa powder. But the flavor was rich, and the drink was thick and filling. Perhaps maybe a tad too sweet. It didn’t make you feel any warmer, though.

“Christmas was her favorite holiday,” you reminisced. “Decorating the tree was her favorite part. She’d always put up these god awful decorations I had made when I was a kid. Absolutely ugly, but she always insisted that it needed a little love, like all things do. So she’d put on some old Christmas songs and we’d decorate the tree together. She’d always have me climb up the ladder to put the star on. It was my least favorite part. Always thought I was gonna fall off the damn thing, but I knew she wouldn’t be able to do it herself.”

You sighed as you swirled the cup in your hands while Simon listened to you ramble. Neither of you had ever talked about your families before, especially not in such a way. It felt terrible, but the kind of pain that needed to happen. Like cleaning a wound.

“It doesn’t feel the same without her. Even though it’s been years, I always think about her. It feels stupid. Missing her so much.”

“It’s not stupid,” Simon assured you. He was quick to give you those words, and he said it with such conviction you almost believed him. But he wasn’t sure who he was saying it for; you, or him?

Either way, it got a laugh out of you. The sort of laugh that was just air through your nose, but it was something. Instead of answering him right away, you quickly took another sip of your drink. The freezing air had cooled it down considerably, but the warmth of it still remained on your tongue for a fleeting moment.

“She would have liked you.”

Now that was comedic. Perhaps the funniest joke you had ever told him. Maybe he would have laughed if his mind wasn’t so fried. Instead, he glanced at you from the corner of his eye before shaking his head.

“Was she blind?” he asked facetiously.

“Oh, quit it,” you scolded him. “I’m being serious. She would have adored you.”

But that wasn’t enough to convince him. For all his cockiness and jokes, Simon was someone who always seemed to think he was unlovable. Despite all the time the two of you had spent together, that thought seemed to eat him alive. It always felt like he was holding you in the palm of his hands, terrified that you’d fly away but refusing to crush you in his grip.

“I get it. You’re brooding, and quiet, and a bit of a dick. You’re a military man, and not exactly every mother’s dream guy for her daughter. But you…” You paused for a moment to swallow. Why did it feel like this was a confession? “You won't ever admit it, but you’re kind, and some days I feel like you read my thoughts better than I can. For fucks sake you nearly broke Eric’s jaw. You know what my mother would have done if she was there? She would have handed you a bat and asked you to finish the job.”

A breathy chuckle left your lips in a mist as you grinned down at your feet. Your body was starting to feel fatigued from a mix of the walking, the cold, and lack of sleep, but you pushed forward anyway.

“You take care of me. You’re good to me. That’s all she ever wanted for me,” you finished.

Just when he thought he had pushed all those memories and feelings aside, you brought them rushing back to him. Not just the blood, that sour scent of iron staining his skin. Not just the bodies haphazardly fallen onto the floor. But Joseph’s giggles, the shrill sound nearly bursting his ear drums but he would go deaf if it meant he could hear it one more time. The way his brother looked at his wife, how the two of them would share loving touches and grinning whispers. Or his mothers Christmas ham, with the thick honey glaze and that scent that made his stomach constrict with hunger.

Maybe, in some other life, you could have met them. You could have joined them in their ugly Christmas sweaters, one you would probably bully him into wearing, too. At the table you could sit next to him and he could help dish out your plate. You and Beth would drink wine and maybe get a little carried away, leaving him and Tommy to help you and Beth into one of the spare bedrooms in his mothers house for a nap. Joseph would grin up at the two of you for the model airplane that was gifted to him, and he would promise to help the little tyke put it together.

But he wasn’t in that life. He was in the one where they were nothing more but burnt carcasses with bullet holes riddling their bodies. The one where his childhood home was nothing more but an empty lot. The one where Christmas always made him feel numb. But he did have you, walking alongside him. You, the woman he got to wake up to in the morning. The woman who never minded his odd quirks.

Simon had you, and he knew it was more than he deserved.

“It’s getting late,” he said as his feet dragged to a halt. “And cold. We should head back.”

He was right. Your hot chocolate had gone rather cold by that point, and your fingers were beginning to go numb holding the cup without gloves. You downed the lukewarm, and oddly thicker, hot chocolate before tossing it into a nearby trash can. The walk back home was quiet, but for some reason a little warmer. Still, as you meandered back through the square, neither you nor Simon spared even a single glance at the tree in the center.

✦•······················•✦•······················•✦

You were going to be late. God, maybe you shouldn’t have gone on that walk with Simon the previous night. No, that was a lie. Obviously you were glad you went on the walk with him. Got a lot off of your chest that night. Still, getting yourself out of bed was a hassle, and you were paying the price for it.

So you scuttled around the apartment, brushing your hair, throwing clothes on, shoving your feet into shoes, but as you reached the coat rack, you realized your coat wasn’t there. You double checked that you hadn’t just tossed it onto the floor in the bedroom, but it wasn’t there either. Asking Simon was no use as he had already left to do some sort of paperwork on base, so you were on your own, nearly tearing the place apart as you were adamant on not freezing to death walking to work.

Eventually you caught sight of the damn thing resting on the kitchen counter. It was folded into a neat square. You figured it was something Simon must have done as you had never folded anything so perfectly in your entire life. Either way, you were just glad that you hadn’t misplaced it and lost it.

Throwing it over your shoulders, you slipped your arms in and began to button it up. Once your fingers reached the bottom button, though, you began to struggle. It felt oddly stiff, like the thread was stronger and less forgiving on that one than it was the others. You looked down to examine it, and you quickly realized that it was the button you had accidentally snapped off the night before. You had shoved it into your pocket, but there it was, firmly attached to your coat.

You finished buttoning it up with a smile, and you gave the bottom of your coat a firm tug to adjust the fabric on your body. You had snapped it off so easily the night before. Now, it was the strongest button you had on there.

#simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #soft spot #f!reader

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colourstreakgryffin · 1 month

Note

Hallo again! I am the one who asked about Val, it wasn't a request I was asking if you write for him so here we go!

Could it please be where reader is Valentino's son ( or just child if you don't write for male reader ) and Valentino can't find someone to trust-worthy to babysit his son so he just take him to work since reader is non-verbal anyway and won't be much of a bother?

So reader now comes regularly with him and see the other Vees as family. Perhaps Vox as another dad/uncle and Velvette as a big sister ( or any family role for them ).

Thank you for giving a look to my request!

Ooh! Right! Okay, okay. I can try this out. To be honest, Val is a monster but something tells me he wouldn’t be THAT bad with a kid of his own and yes, I do write male readers. Female, male, transgender, genderfluid(if that’s possible, idk how but I would do it anyway), nonbinary/GN! But anyways. Let’s try Val out as a dad!

Valentino- Silkworm Caterpillar

Everybody who knows the director of the Pentagram City’s Porn Industry, Valentino, is aware how much of a bastard he is; cruel, abusive, exploitative but nobody had ever suspected that he would actually one: have a son and two: treat that son better than he’s ever treated anybody, even his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox

Your dad’s an insufferable man-child but yet, he is actually pretty good with you. He doesn’t really like much things, other than you. He is awful but he feels kinda soft and fluffy whilst he is around you. You’re basically his soft spot

Valentino needs hugs and he will get them, no matter what may step in his path. You are non-verbal and mute so he cannot communicate with you properly, he just acts on his affections for you since he believes it’s fine

Valentino is that type of wingman-father. He always encourages you to get out of your comfort zone and boosts you up to look even better. He’s a close friend to you and you can hang out with him in casual settings where it almost seems like he is just your uncle, not your father

Valentino always offers to get you what you want, he is a father that spoils his seed rotten. Want a drink? He’ll get it. Want a phone? He’ll get it. Want more hugs? You’re getting them rather you want ‘em or not. He likes it when you smile and he does very much have favouritism towards you, where he almost never raises his voice to you

Valentino is actually protective, believe it or not and he is defensive over his son. Rather said son be above ten years old, he doesn’t trust a single being in Hell. Not anybody in Vees, not any under their luck bum he picks up for hire, not any one of his assistants. Nobody. He doesn’t ever want to leave you with somebody who can cause a threat

Valentino doesn’t really want to resort to this but after some more time. He decides to stop leaving you in the Vees Tower. You’re alone and you need him so he begins to bring you to his porn studios but what he does is that he glues you to other devices so you don’t have to be uncomfortable with watching pornography

Valentino is relatively soft and gentle. Even somebody as deranged and sick as him has a moment of love and affection and it’s in his son. He could be the most pissed off and at his absolute worse but when he is greeted by his offspring, he swallows back everything to be doting to you

Valentino calls you his silkworm because you’re a little caterpillar to him. He’s the moth, you’re his caterpillar and he’d pop you on his back and spread his wings for you if he had to. He enjoys your reaction of surprise and awe at his rather beautiful moth wings. He can understand where it comes from, it’s incredible. Isn’t it? He likes it when you’re proud of him or in awe of him

Valentino is aware of your deafness. You’ve been deaf since he had you… back in human life. Believe it or not, but he did and he actually cared to get you hearing aids but after you two died, he lost a hold of hearing aids and he has literally no other methods to help you

Valentino also much prefers you like the Vees themselves and the effort proves worth it since you end up viewing his on-and-off boyfriend, Vox as a stepfather and Velvette, their close friend, as a surrogate big sister. Valentino finds your point of views on his fellow rulers rather adorable and will playfully tease you about them

Valentino is learning sign language, since now of this time, sign language has been fully developed but he is struggling and his temper makes him go from trying to giving up to trying again. He’ll get there eventually, all for you

Valentino out here doing aggressive sign language and failing a whole lot

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missglaskin · 2 years

Text

YANDERE (HOTD) TARGARYEN/VELARYON/HIGHTOWER FAMILY (TOGETHER) HCS PART 6

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Mainly platonic w romantic pairings (mainly Aemond x y/n), suggestive themes beware, starts fluffy but ends horribly; the timeline is inconsistent, Cregan and Aegon will play a big part, later on, don’t worry. Reader is also now done with greens as a whole.

Cutting his lip with a fine blade of dragonglass, you rub a mark on his forehead, and he does the same for you. It is with the same blade that he cuts his hand; you do the same; his hand then reaches for yours and they are intertwined. While keeping your eyes locked on his, you drink from a cup and offer it to him, displaying no signs of discomfort from the cut.

There you pledge to each other that you’re now one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever. With a shared smile, you lay a hand on his cheek and close the distance. The kiss you share is passionate and harsh; everything around you is lost in a blur. Finally pulling away, your foreheads rest against one another.

As she observes proudly while smiling, Alicent notices she is tearing up. Otto, who is standing by her side, is also smiling at the sight. Helaena keeps her head down, holding her twins close to her. In some ways, Criston is relieved as he observes from a distance.

Criston's gaze eventually turns to Aegon, who is standing next to his wife with nothing but misery on his face. Aegon expected you to be miserable, to cry, and to struggle all the way to the altar, but you didn't; instead, you appeared content, and worse yet, happy.

On that day; the prince, Aemond Targaryen, the second-born son of Viserys Targaryen and Alicent Hightower, and Y/N Targaryen, the princess and second daughter of Viserys Targaryen and Aemma, were wed in a valyrian ceremony.

At that moment, so many things crossed your mind; your father, Winterfell, Rhaenyra. But you made the decision that evening that you wouldn't think about anything, not even the impending war. Tonight, it will just be the two of you.

You wouldn't lie if you admit there was self-gain in this marriage, but then again, every marriage has its own motive. Aemond's promise was the reason you married him, but perhaps there can be something else. A marriage out of love was your greatest desire and you may find it in Aemond. You already had a love for him. It’ll only become more intimate.

In the morning, you woke to the prince on top of you; it seemed that the previous night had not yet satisfied his appetite. As you stare at Aemond with his sapphire on display and his hair down, clinging to his naked frame; you find yourself falling for him.

In the afternoon, you’re with Helaena and as much as you wish to discuss your marriage with Aemond, you keep it to yourself, knowing how just ‘loving’ her husband can be. You had Jaehaerys on your lap while Jaehaera was on the ground playing with dragon figures.

You soon notice Helaena seems anxious, so you tentatively put a hand on her arm and inquire as to what's wrong. She waits a moment before uttering the word "bird." When you ask Helaena what of the bird, she turns her head away and says, "The bird has flown so high to the sky that the clouds were near."

Helaena then turns to face you, "And the bird fell." When you asked her why, "Its wings were torn.” Alicent enters the room before you have the chance to ask her any more questions. After setting Jaehaerys down on the ground with his sister, you move towards Alicent. After giving you a hug, she holds you close, placing her hands on your arms.

She questions how marriage has treated you thus far and smiles when you say it’s been going well. Alicent remarks that soon you’ll make her a proud grandmother. "From thy blood, a dragon claims two," Helaena mutters under her breath. Alicent pays her no mind as she directs you out of the room.

Flying to Dragonstone, Rhaenys has informed Rhaenyra and Daemon of the king's passing and the usurpation. While all of this is going on, Daemon questions your whereabouts, and Rhaenys confesses you have stayed with the greens. Rhaenyra feels another jab in her stomach. Daemon insists they must have tricked you and Rhaenys agrees.

Rhaenyra gave birth to a daughter who was born all twisted, and the day she was born, she had to burn her. She wanted nothing more than your presence. As she watched her daughter burn, she wanted you to dry her tears and hold her close.

The news that you were with the green well didn't go over well with the kids. Jace insisted on bringing you back and had to be restrained from riding his dragon; Baela had to be restrained as well by her grandmother. Luke questioned whether you had really betrayed them, but Rhaena was adamant that you never would.

Later, when Otto appears on Dragonstone, he talks terms with Rhaenyra and Daemon. Then, as he whispers into Rhaenyra's ear, he says that at the very least, she should accept the term for you. Otto informs Rhaenyra in a hushed voice that since you’ve married Aemond, your fate is now aligned with his.

Rhaenyra is stunned. Daemon approaches her and questions as to what it is, but Rhaenyra exchanges a glance with Otto and responds, "It's nothing." Only the Gods would know what Daemon would do if he were to know. She ponders about it while at the council. The marriage is a secret for now, but soon word will get out.

Rhaenys pleads with Corlys to stand by Rhaenyra when he finally awakens. When Corlys asks why you haven't seen him yet, his wife responds you are not in Dragonstone but rather in King's Landing with the Greens. Soon, Corlys goes to the council and swears his allegiance to Rhaenyra. There, he guarantees he will bring her justice and rescue you from the green's grasp.

The Vale, Winterfell, and Storm's end were among the alliances mentioned. The council agrees the Starks will undoubtedly side with them; Rhaenyra asserts that if Cregan won't fight for honor, he'll fight for you. Arguing that the dragons are faster than ships, Jace asks that his mother send them. Luke will be sent to Storm's End while Jace is to travel to Winterfell.

Back at King’s landing, you remind Aemond of the promise. The Baratheon will undoubtedly be Rhaenyra's first choice of allies, so there is a chance that Aemond will run into them there. Before departing, Aemond gives you a quick kiss. However, neither of you notice a watchful eye.

Luke expects a warm welcome when he arrives at Storm's End, but finds scornful eyes and the one-eyed prince staring at him from the side. Borros Baratheon made it very clear about which side he was on. He does offer one of his daughters, but Luke insists that he’s already taken.

When Luke asks as to which daughter Aemond has settled on, Borros replies that Aemond has already been wed; taking you as his wife. Luke is quick to deny this, claiming you’ll never do such a thing but Aemond only smirks.

There, Aemond claims that you have joined their cause, backed up Aegon's claim, and that you were the one to make the marriage proposal. Luke is visibly enraged as he reaches for his sword; Aemond expects him to draw it, but Luke doesn’t.

He recalls the promise he made to his mother; he was a messenger, not a warrior. Even when Aemond takes off his eye patch and demands an eye, he still kept his promise. Turning around and running to Arrax; alarmed when Vhagar is nowhere seen.

Aemond pursues him as he soars through the storm. He circles around the boy; taunting him. He owes him a debt, an eye. When Arrax flies off after firing at Vhagar, Aemond is shocked to see Vhagar trailing after him without his lead. The promise briefly crossed his mind.

When Vhagar reaches the high skies where the clouds are near, Aemond orders her to serve him, but the dragon keeps going. Despite Aemond's repeated cries of "no," Vhagar quickly opens its jaws to Luke and Arrax. Looking down, all Aemond can see are torn wings tumbling down, with Luke nowhere to be seen.

As Aemond moves forward, there is a look of dread. It was said that Rhaenyra collapsed at dragonstone upon hearing of her son's passing, and cries of grief could be heard throughout the castle in king's landing. The Dance of the Dragons has at last begun.

Taglist: @lady-ashfade @littlekoumiss @discowizard88 @westernbaby @athelleen @elsyyie @delicioustomatoes @zgzgzh @rosemarytownescarter @tachibubu @xcharlottemikaelsonx @sweetybuzz25 @solorubyjane @zoethespiritwolf @apollonshootafar

#house of the dragon x reader #yandere house of the dragon #yandere hotd #hotd x reader #platonic yandere #yandere x reader #yandere headcanons #x reader #reader insert #asoiaf x reader #yandere asoiaf #yandere #headcanons #aemond targaryen x reader #house of the dragon #hotd #asoiaf

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jell0buss-37 · 11 months

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Could I ask for a peter b parker x black!fem!reader where maybe Y/N is the prowler in Peter's dimension and he's friends with her and then he finds out she's the prowler (and perhaps she also finds out he's spiderman 👁👁) and he tries to talk to her

If you don't like the prowler idea Y/N can just be any Villian :))

(This is kinda angsty I'm sorry 😭)

I love this idea! I think it'd be interesting if they were more rivals to begin with and had started to slowly grown closer. And as their super-sonas, they'd always have more playful banter. I also thought it'd be interesting if the reader and him started working together on certain cases and such! I'm writing this while waiting for my tires to get looked at, and this gave me a lot of ideas. I hope you like them!

He is so goofy I love him <3

You two had known eachother since high school

Neither of you were exactly over achievers whenever it came to academics, but boy were you guys competitive

Nothing really interesting either of you unless one of you were suddenly better than the other at it

Mathematics? You only took AP to spite him

English Language Arts? He yoinked that from you by winning multiple prizes for his short stories.

You were in Theatre, Art, and Auto shop, while he took over Orchestra, Band, and Culinary

Once the two of you graduated, you thought all of this feuding would finally be over

You and your sister lived together and took care of her son, your sister being a cop. She met her husband in the academy, and went on to join the army

You had your nephew, Miles, who was only 2 at this time

You'd spend many nights taking care of him

He was your favorite little dude

Eventually, times started getting tough, Your brother in law going MIA

He was presumed dead

You had worked at your dad's mechanic shop when you got the news

You were quickly by your sisters side

You had moved in by the end of the month

About a year later, you still worked as a mechanic, however due to how tight money was getting, and Miles getting older, you had to take on another job

You met this guy, a doctor at the University

He took you under his wing, and taught you all about robotics

Soon you became the prowler

You'd get these shady deals to do some crimes, smuggling certain weapons, handling affairs with shady politicians

You weren't proud of it, but it kept the cash flow steady.

You soon we're able to move your older sister and your nephew into a nicer neighborhood in Queens, nothing much but a good apartment with a good daycare down the road for Miles

You didn't, however, count on your new neighbors

"(Y/n)??"

You froze in the door to your new apartment

"Peter..."

It was awkward at first, and so you both held this silent agreement that you just wouldn't talk to eachother

Until your sister invited him to dinner

It was... Awkward

At first

Soon you guys were talking about old times, realizing how stupid it was to be feuding in the first place

And soon it's as if you never even hated eachother

He thought it was cool that you were a mechanic now, admitting he actually knows more about cars because of you in high school

He was very sympathetic to your sister and the loss of her husband, even offering to watch Miles every now and then if you guys needed

He was quick to become a family friend, coming over almost every Sunday now

How you two had met as the prowler and spiderman was a different story, however

You had been stealing out a large corporate bank, your Intel being to take a certain actors bank deposit

However, things were quick to go tits up

It appears that some other guys had the idea to rob that bank as well

Just a bunch of guys wearing Halloween masks

Amateurs.

You were quick to crash into the scene, finding them threatening bystanders and taking hostages

Amateurs.

Suddenly, a certain hero had also crashed into the scene, to find you beating up and knocking out a couple of the crooks, sending away the hostages

He was surprised, unsure if you were friend or foe

Either or, he helped you handle the guys

The two of you worked pretty good together, making a pretty decent team

It seemed you were a friend!

Until you went and just grabbed the bank statements, knocking Spiderman out of the building with an explosive you had planted

Okay, you were a foe.

You were gone before he could even collect himself

These little interactions would continue, him always joking and making smartass comments and remarks, you only staying silent

Although he was pretty amusing

Meanwhile, in your civilian lives, things seemed to be going pretty great

In fact, it appears that something more seemed to be going on between the two of you

It starts turning into more one night, when you come home early from a day at your auto shop, finding Peter watching a movie with Miles and eating some snacks

"Hey! Look Miles, your Auntie is back from being a grease monkey!" "Hey, look Miles, Uncle Peter is always a monkey!"

Miles loves you both so much, and was really excited to be tucked in and read a bedtime story to by you guys

You sang his favorite little song to him, the ABCs (don't ask, it's what my mom sang to me as a kid), and finishing it off with My Little Sunshine

Peter watches from the doorway, staring almost dreamily at you while you comfort the little guy

You close the door lightly, standing outside his door with Peter, the two of you joking with eachother for a bit

Eventually, it's about time he heads out, and you walk him out to see him off

He seems to be contemplating something in his head, and he suddenly turns around to ask you something

But you're right in front of him already, your noses bumping a bit, causing your breath to hitch a bit

"Hah, u-uh, I was just thinking, there's that new movie coming out soon, and-"

Your lips are suddenly on his, a light peck to his own

You pull back with a smile, laughing at his dazed expression

"... So is that a yes? Or-" "Yes, Peter."

You two start dating soon after, finding that the times spent together are so much funner whenever you guys aren't fighting

You were worried at first, due to you having to disappear every now and then because of your Prowler duties, and you were worried he would start questioning you

However, Pete was also worried about the same thing

You two didn't even notice that you guys would disappear every now and then to lead your double lives

It wasn't until about 6 months into you guys dating, when you both had come home around the same time covered in bruises and scratches from your previous excursion together

Peter was so worried, asking a thousand questions a minute

Meanwhile he had a black eye himself, and you two were freaking out at the same time

You both had came up with your own excuses

However, you guys started becoming distant since that event, both of you scared at what would happen if your lives got mixed up in eachothers

The break-up was inevitable at that point

You guys avoided eachother for a month, both as your alter egos and as yourselves

You guys were both obviously hurt from this

You had even started to question your work as the Prowler. You decided to put an end to being the Prowler. You were gonna get your Peter back

You were on the way to see the Doc, to give him his things back, a text sent to Peter telling him to meet up

When suddenly there was a collapse on the bridge, and you see spiderman fighting the very same doctor that you were on your way to see

Except now he had... 8 robot arms???

You were quick to suit up, helping out the vigilante that had become your friend

You help anyone that needs it, and even jump in to help Spidy

You both eventually defeat Doc Ock, and your by his side when he's stopping the bridge from completely collapsing

He gets hit with some falling debris, and he's knocked out, along with his mask

You're quick to go and catch him before he falls into the water below you

You get him to a safe place, only to find-

"PETER!??"

You were quick to rip off your own mask, trying to shake him awake

When he comes to, he sees your tearstained face looking down at him

"Hey pretty Lady... I was actually just on my way to see ya!"

He panics when he realized he was in his spidersuit, but you were quick to calm him down

He was... Shocked to find out that his "favorite colleague" was his girlfriend the entire time

"This is great! Now we can be the ultimate smoke show power couple!!"

Yeah, things were going to be great

#fanfiction #peter b parker #peter b parker x reader #peter benjamin parker #spiderman x reader #spiderman x you #spiderman across the spiderverse #spiderman #spiderman into the spiderverse #headcannons

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lullaebies · 11 months

Note

Prompt: Aegon and Helaena talking about their respectable dragons together.

Setting: 12-year-old helaena, 13-year-old aegon "Was it to outdo me?" Aegon asks her. Helaena lifts her face from her book. She has just claimed the biggest dragon in the dragon pit, only to come back to the Keep and read her index book on aphids. It is laughable, how she wavers from the most remarkable thing to the most unremarkable, but while she leaves her accomplishment behind so easily, he cannot let go of it quite still. "What do you mean?" she asks, and he frowns. She cannot be so oblivious, can she? "Claiming Dreamfyre," he clarifies, still grouchy all the same. "Did you do it to outdo me?"

He only claimed Sunfyre two months back. They had been on Dragonstone by chance, and he had stumbled upon his dragon at it soared above his head, gleaming gold in the sky. He dared approach it on their last day before leaving, and ventured to find it; only to find it perched close by the castle, nibbling on the fish it caught. He threw Sunfyre some flimsy fish he had stolen from the kitchen, and he knew it a flimsy offering even as he tossed it forward to the wet stack the dragon has brought beside him, but yet, the dragon gave out a few squeaks as he gobbled it up, and lowered itself to sit with both its hind legs and wings on the rock. He has never been accepted quite so easily before, and his heart soared as his body did as he took the skies with the dragon. His claiming of Sunfyre was brave, people told him; and he reveled in it, even if bravery wasn't quite suited.

Father was so proud; if for a brief moment. Mother lost half her wits when she heard about it, but hugged him tightly telling him she was glad he was okay. Even grandsire gave a reassuring pat on his shoulder then. It's been a while since, but it had been his pride; that such a beautiful dragon chose him, that all would know and see them as glorious. And now Helaena has claimed Dreamfyre, a dragon of size and history, and all hail it thrice as grandiose as they did him. "No," Helaena answers plainly. He stares her down; that's not enough. "Then why?" he asks. "You never even cared to go the pit before. If it's not because of that, why?" He sounds pathetic, wanting to cling to his claiming so much. But now they'll all forget his successes for a bigger one; just the way the sun diminishes for the moon to rise. Helaena puts down her book, closing it neatly on the table. "I thought... you seem so happy, with Sunfyre," she says. He tilts his head. So it was because of him? "More at peace, too." "And what about it?" Aegon asks, almost defensive. She looks down. "I thought that just like you found a friend... perhaps I could do so, too." She finally says, clutching onto her dress's skirt. Ah.

Aegon licks lips that had gone dry. Yes, his dragon made his days lighter; and for all her oddities, he supposed his sister needed a friend, too. It gnaws at him slightly; they grew apart, but they have been friends, once. Once they were close friends, even. Aegon looks down too. "I see," he says, but the silence is odd, and he doesn't like it. He speaks again. "And Dreamfyre felt like a friend?" "She greeted me with her very own song," Helaena smiles then, pearly whites showing. Only she could interpret some chirps as songs; but perhaps that's why Dreamfyre accepted her altogether. "And purred when I got my hand on her snout." "Dragons don't purr," he retorts. "Only cats do." "She did." Helaena answers decisively, pouting. He bites his inner cheek slightly, as an idea comes to his head. "Prove it to me tomorrow?" he asks. Helaena snaps her head up to him. "We can go riding them now." "Okay," Helaena says, some giddiness to her hand movements as she nods at him. "I'll tell her to sing you a song, then, too."

He hums. Perhaps Sunfyre will enjoy that, too.

#i hope this works for the prompt!#helaegon #helaena x aegon ii #aegon ii x helaena #helaena targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #dreamfyre #sunfyre #answered #my drabbles #my fics #hotd #requests

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peggy-sue-reads-a-book · 8 months

Text

The Garden of Innocence

Summary: Dionysus is not a Joe Goldberg tier weirdo following her around the beach because he would never be so that.

Chapter 5

She waited for despair. But all that came was more anger. Stupid Theseus. Stupid man and his stupid honor, his proud parents, his princely laurel, and all the other things he should have thought of before accepting her help. It was ridiculous.

She wished she’d been quicker that morning on the beach, negotiated with him. Had she been thinking, she might have played on his guilt and convinced him to deliver her somewhere safe. Surely, surely there was somewhere for her. Circe, her aunt might take her.

Perhaps it wasn’t too late. She thought of the fig tree again. She tore through the woods, never tripping, never looking down. Even if she did not find it, there had to be others. She was hungry. And more than anything, thirsty.

…

The argument has been pretty dull. The man moaning about his kingdom and his crown. The woman, indignant. Dionysus was a young god, but already one mortal squabble was the same as the next.

He sighed and tried to leave. He could not. Uninterested as he was in the scene, he had planned to sleep for the entire week and their voices were growing louder.

Will you shut up! he cried. And a flock of gulls squawked overhead. One of them even shat, barely missing the man’s hair. A petulant wave slammed into the hull of the boat, indicating that they really had ought to get a move on. Couldn’t they take their domestic problems back to wherever they came from?

When the man finally boarded his vessel, Dionysus was sure to give it an encouraging little push.

“Zeus be praised,” the man muttered, bowing his head piously.

Zeus, my ass. He wouldn’t notice the likes of you if were to fuck his mother with your hair on fire. Now get out of here. And look where you’re going, would you? Nevertheless, Dionysus drew a breath and released a gentle puff, just enough to fill the sail. It stretched against the wind like the wing of a great crow.

Dionysus wasn’t an expert in sailing, but it looked to him that the man was harried, juggling tasks. Maybe he was just sunburned. That is when he struck him that the woman was missing. Mortals were not generally afforded close scrutiny unless they had very much offended him. For Theseus, he felt only a mere pinprick of dislike. Just enough to draw him from his ennui.

The a wave split against the prow. For an instant, the sun was blistering bright. Dionysus squinted against the sudden glare.

She’ll die, you know.

“Shut up, Apollo,” he muttered.

Theseus startled. Of course, he could not hear their voices but he sensed a threat. They always did. Dionysus decided Theseus was a liability. If he stuck around for long enough for the god’s presence to send him into cardiac arrest, the chances are some other god would be offended. Probably one of his sisters. After all, he was handsome. A little taller than Dionysus himself, actually. Aphrodite’s type, come to think of it.

The god took his leave. Underwater, he allowed himself to take form, if only to feel the pleasure of a cool current against his sides. His body was sleek, with beautiful wrists and jutting hipbones. The salt stung his face where the sun had burned him in its sudden flare. He was glad. He knew why humans occasionally pursued pain in their lovemaking; it rendered pleasure so much sharper, clearer. It was perhaps why the luxuries of Olympus failed to hold his attentions.

When he returned to the beach, the girl was crying. Not loudly. She perched on a rock in the shadow of a larger rock, inconspicuous. Theseus would not see her if he looked back.

Of all things, she was tearing ruffles her skirt. The lovely sandals were gone from her feet. She bandaged them in the strips of linen. Makeshift shoes, he supposed. She didn’t look hurt. Another strip she used to secure her hair in a braid.

With her hair back, he could see she was a sweet-faced girl, despite how sour her expression. Once the boat was out of sight, Ariadne climbed down from the rocks and began walking slowly inland. The beach was full of scrub and yellow flowers. None of it remarkable from the rest. She found a branch jutting from one of the taller bushes and tore another strip from her skirt, marking the branch with a tight not.

Dionysus watched her, bemused. As the forest grew thicker, she snapped twigs from trees as she passed them, leaving them to dangle. And every few paces, she would tie another marker to a branch. Her dress — what was left of it — was brightest blue. The same cheerful aqua as the sea at midday. It looked well against her warm skin. Sometimes, she would stop and frown, with the appearance of listening for something.

At first, he did not understand the pattern of her movement through the woods, until it became obvious she chose paths leading downhill. She was looking for water. Dionysus felt stupid for having taken so long to have guessed. Then again, he needed nothing for mere survival.

There were streams on the island, plenty of them. But where there were streams there were naiads. They might see her pretty face reflected in their own vessels and turn salty out of spite. Worse were the river gods. They would be all to pleased to find a pretty mortal, parched and alone. He knew. This place was rich with divinity- even Theseus had felt it.

Well, she’d been through enough for one day. Apollo had said she would die soon. There wasn’t much he could do about fate. But give her today. Thirst was a terrible way to go. Hidden in the shade of an oak, he shut his eyes.

“Oh!” Ariadne cried, jumping. Where her foot last struck the earth, icy water spurted. As she stared, more water shot from her own footprint, taking the most perfect shape of a small fountain. Dionysus smiled at his handiwork. Dispensing blessings was fun. Usually, they slaughtered a cow for you, maybe even pledged their firstborn to your holy service.

He waited for her smile, her hands clapping in relief. Instead, she was terrified. Ariadne stared at the water, obviously desperate for it. She looked around, eyes large and frightened. She knelt by the fountain. Instead of drinking, she prayed.

“Please. Please, please.” Though barely audible, she was begging not to be poisoned.

Dionysus rolled his eyes. Humans were pitiful. You show them a miracle and still they grovel. Tentatively, the girl reached her cupped hands and drank from them. The water was perfect, as he knew it would be. Colder and purer than melted snow, which even she had never tasted. It would probably sustain her even in her hunger.

She splashed her face in it, her arms, her feet. Watching her joy, it struck him how dirty she was. Sandy and sunburnt. Once she had cleaned up and had her fill, she knelt again and bowed her head. “Thank you,” she whispered.

To his surprise, she unpinned a golden broach from her bodice, dropped it in the fountain like a child making a wish. It was so mortal of her. Attempting to pay you in their trinkets. Probably just afraid of being smote. She took a last sip of water and left. Who knew what she was looking for now. Food maybe. It was anyone’s guess what a human being did when it was lost. He’d never paid much attention.

Dionysus did not follow her immediately. He stopped to look at what she’d dropped in the fountain. The thank you gift. It was no fatted calf but the gold was nearly pure, yellow as a bee. The broach was in the shape of two dolphins. Nose to nose, tails brushing. He felt bad for taking her treasure, and almost left it behind in the fountain.

Then again, nymphs nearly all had sticky fingers and any number of them were running around gossiping already about the fountain in the footprint. The gold warmed in his hand. He took it with him.

@dionysian-daydream @hycinthrt @withlovefromolympus @kebriones @margaretkart @lefty-scissors @human-still-developing @a-world-of-whimsy-5 @axhicleos @shitfacedalways @johaerys-writes?

#greek mythology #the garden of innocence #ariadne #dionysus #theseus #naxos island #love triangle #my writing

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kissedbyaphrodite · 11 months

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"Se zaldrītsos sōvegon toliot se sambar" He hummed.

"Wonderful baby!" Lucerys clapped as he smiled down at his son "Now, this is the last one, then we're over for today." He cleared his throat "The flower blooms under the sun" Lucerys read.

"Se rūklon" Aenon spoke slowly, frowning in a way similar to that of his father, with his lips pouting, his eyebrows scrunching as he focused on his words "sīmonagon gō se vēzos"

Lucerys smiled kindly, closing the book and laying it back on his lap.

"You got four out of five phrases correctly" Lucerys spoke with joy "Sīmonagon means to grow in size, so it would be used when the flower grows taller, like when a rose bush grows in size. To say bloom it would be ūbriljagon. But you did so well! At this pace you will be speaking our mother tongue fluently by the end of the year, perhaps even earlier"

Despite the praise, it was clear it wasn't good enough, for Aenon sighed in defeat as he fidgeted with his fingers, reminding Lucerys not only of himself, but of his mother as well. Leaning down, Lucerys took a hold of the young six year old boy in front of him, sitting him on his lap as Aenon buried his face into Lucerys's neck, his curls melding with those in Lucerys' head, if it wasn't for his son's silver locks, one wouldn't be able to tell where Lucerys' curls started and where Aenon's ended. Aemon was different from his older sisters in many ways, where his sisters were loud and adventurous, Aenon was quieter, spending more time in the garden of Driftmark than flying over the sea or exploring the waters. His older sisters were tall and proud, but Aenon always hid behind shadows, making hinself smaller than they ever were. Even their dragons were different, his sisters' dragons never stood still, flying and hunting all the time, exploring the clouds, diving into the waves and hunting fishes, Aurora was always lurking near Aenon, his long body draped like a shawl around Aenon's shoulders, or coiling around Aenon's waist like a belt. Where Lucerys' eldest daughters had dragons with dark and striking colors, Aurora was pale and light, a pearlescent light pink dragon with lavender wings and chest, reminiscent of the morning sky. His body was completely elongated, just like Caraxes' body, a complete contrast to his fellow dragon siblings, who were bulkier and bigger. Even when

"It's alright my rūklītsos" Lucerys hummed, softly caressing Aenon's hair "Our mother tongue is not easy to learn" He felt Aurora make his way into the hug, squeezing through a small gap between the two and snuggling into Aenon's chest.

"Narra can already speak it perfectly" Aenon argued.

"Narra is two years older than you" Lucerys pointed out "Aenon, your sisters all struggled just like you when they were your age, Maerea struggled with words that had similar meanings, much like you. Asterea struggled to write in our tongue, Sereia struggled to pronounce certain words and Narra would not use connectors. Even your kepa struggled with the language, it doesn't come easy to everyone"

"It did for you" Aenon grumbled

"I spent most of my time with people who wouldn't speak another tongue or couldn't speak it" Lucerys explained "My grandsire took me to many voyages, and I would be introduced to people who could only speak our mother tongue, I had to learn by myself, and I learned through trial and error." He made Aenon sit up straight, his lilac eyes meeting Lucerys' brown ones "I cannot tell you the amount of mistakes I made, I tried to tell a lady I thought her garden was pretty and ended up saying I would pee in her garden" Aenon smiled softly at that. "My grandsire had to fix a lot of mistakes I made, rūklītsos." He tucked a curl behind Aenon's ear "But from mistakes you learn, every word mispronounced, every translation mixed up, is one more step towards learning and succeeding."

Aenon nodded, Aurora snuggling into the crook of his neck, eliciting a fit of giggles from the young boy. The sound of two dragons roaring pulled away the focus of mother and son as they turned to the window. A dark green dragon flew over Driftmark, his wings and crest a near red orange color, similar to the color of the flames in a chimney. Behind him, a smaller dragon, his body a bronze gold color as black markings covered his entire body, in a way similar to that of a tiger. Aenon perked up at the sight of the dragons, wiggling his way out of Lucerys' lap as Aurora chirped happily, flying above his future rider as Aenon ran towards the door, politely bowing to the guards as they opened the door for him, for the boy was too small to push the giant doors himself. Aurora flew ahead of his rider, chirping and hissing in order to warn the maids and servants of the incoming child, allowing them to make space for him to run without tripping him or bumping into him. Lucerys smiled softly, standing up as he used his hands to tidy up his garments, walking softly as guards and maids bowed to the Lord of the Tides and future Queen consort. He saw through the windows as his brother-husband and their daughter jumped off their dragons, Arrax was the first to join them, snuggling Vermax and Terrax as three smaller dragons joined them. Soon, Jacaerys and Maerea were hugging Asterea, Sereia, Narra and Aenon.

"Grandsire Daemon gifted me a dagger!"

"I learned how to shoot two arrows at the same time!"

"Uncle Daeron taught me how to locate myself at sea!"

"I taught Aurora a new trick!"

The four younglings exclaimed, having been separated from their sire and sister way too long. Lucerys chuckled as he approached the two of them, Maerea was dressed in the riding gear that his mother had made for her. Her curly brown hair had been short for many years now, as Maerea made a habit of cutting it with her sword and daggers, copying her aunt Baela. Jacaerys himself had been marked by the years and battles, with a large burn scar covering his neck and the vast majority of his torso and a large gash on his face, and multiple smaller scars left by arrows in one of the battles prior to their mother's ascension to the throne. Lucerys slowly made his way to his husband, knowing they would be able to catch up on lost time later in their bedchamber. Kissing his daughter on her forehead, and his husband on the lips. Maerea was quickly dragged away by her sisters and brother, promising to later catch up with Lucerys as she followed after her siblings.

"How was your journey?" Lucerys asked, turning to face Jacaerys.

"A bit tiring" His husband answered "We were lucky enough to avoid a storm but we couldn't leave earlier due to some complications" He looked around to ensure non of their children were around "Rhaena experienced a bit of a scare and thought she was with child, again" He whispered "Luckily it was a false alarm, but we were obviously scared"

"Well it is to be expected" Lucerys sighed "I cannot believe she didn't even raven me"

"Well darling there was a storm" Jacaerys hummed "The raven would've died"

Lucerys rolled his eyes with a smile.

"How was Aenon?" Jace asked.

Lucerys sighed, looking at where Aenon and his sisters had disappeared to.

"He's just like you" He hummed "Today he got everything right, he got confused with one word and immediately got sad. Sometimes I worry we gave him our worst traits" He looked into his husband's eyes "My desire to either be great or nothing, your inability to allow yourself to fail."

His worries were stopped by Jacaerys' lips on his own.

"We gave them all our best and worst traits" Jacaerys hummed "Just like our parents gave us their worst and best traits. We cannot change them. But we can teach them to live without letting these traits dictate the way they are"

The sky became engulfed in pink and purple flames as Aurora did the trick Aenon taught him. The sound of a window breaking followed the flames.

"Aenon! You made me miss my target!" Sereia shouted.

"So many kids, so many windows" Lucerys smiled "Go make sure nobody was shot, I'll go make sure our children don't kill each other"

"Of course my love" Jacaerys smiled, kissing his brother before rushing into the castle.

#lucerys velaryon #jaceluke #jacaerys velaryon #mpreg

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aparticularbandit · 5 months

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Agatha Meets Scratchy

Summary: Agatha Harkness has never been one for pets.

Fortunately for her, Scratchy can't really be called a pet.

Rating: M for triggering material (see below). TW: Animal Harm and Descriptions of a Burning Human.

AO3

Agatha Harkness has never been one for pets.

If asked, she couldn’t say just when it started. Perhaps it was when she was a child, when she and her sisters looked after the few animals their little farm had. Chickens weren’t pets, sheep weren’t pets, a horse was not a pet. Her brother, Nathaniel, constantly asked for a puppy of his own, like his friends, but by then, Agatha already saw a pet as simply another hassle in their day-to-day life. She had food to cook, animals with an actual use to look after, clothes to clean, babies to look after – not even her own children, who wouldn’t be born until much later. For the most part, she hadn’t resented all that she had to do.

By then, her sisters were training to become leaders of their coven – Charity directly, Prudence just in case something should happen to Charity – which meant most of Charity’s time was with their mother, involved in coven stuff, or with Agatha, teaching her the dark magic that their mother would have forbidden her, the magic that was Agatha’s naturally and that would consume her if she didn’t have any proper teaching. Prudence spent some time with their mother, but she’d also been married to one of the men from Salem and had her own house to look after. It was her daughter who Agatha often looked after, while Prudence followed along with Charity and their mother as needed.

Of course, Nathaniel helped out around the house as much as he could, but he was often away with Nicholas, playing around the docks, looking for their father’s ship.

After she believed all of them to be dead, after Nicholas brought her across the sea to Europe and married her, after Agatha started her own house with her own children – Nicholas, for his father, and Nathaniel, for her brother – she’d had even less time to consider keeping a pet. She was alone at the house most of the time; Nicholas was a sailor like her own father had been, like her brother once planned to be. Sure, she kept a few chickens and sheep as she had in the colonies, but again, they weren’t pets. They were there to provide sustenance and sustainability.

Magic could do the same thing, if she was better at it. It could have kept both of her sons alive, too, if she’d been better, instead of letting one of them die a few months after childbirth. It could have alerted her to Charity’s appearance, it could have let her know Charity’s true intentions, it could have prevented the murder of her still living son—

No, Agatha Harkness has never been one for pets. She’d seen others with their trained birds singing prettily for them in cages with their wings clipped so that they cannot fly away, and she’d felt worse for the birds than she’d felt proud for their owner. And with her own constant wanderlust, rarely staying in any one place for more than a select few months at a time (unless something – or, more often, someone – compelled her to stay longer), having a pet would be detrimental at best. She can’t just lug an animal around everywhere with her. That wouldn’t be fair to the pet, not to mention how much effort she would need to put into finding ways to make sure the pet is okay and will be cared for and safe and. just. no.

All of this, of course, was before she ran over a wild rabbit with a lawnmower.

Now, Agatha Harkness has seen her fair share of mangled bodies. Human, animal, other. So seeing the still breathing rabbit after hearing the chunk of it beneath the blades of her lawnmower isn’t anything new to her. The misfortune is that it is still breathing, that it hadn’t died quickly and with as little pain as possible, that it’s still left like this, dying, in pain, staring out across the lawn.

Maybe, if it wasn’t the anniversary of the day her sister killed her son, Agatha would have left well enough alone and used her magic to end its suffering instead of what she did instead. But her mind is already full of images she doesn’t want to relive, of shoving herself through the walls of a burning building to find her son with scorched and burning flesh, her nose full of the scent of it – they say there’s something of burnt pig to it, but it’s so much worse, an acrid smell that she’s never been able to forget, no matter how hard she has tried (and she has tried a lot, up to and including begging her dearest friend to wipe her memories of her family so that she doesn’t have to live with this anymore (they refused)). So seeing this, too, after everything, on a day when she is already at her most vulnerable and had only been mowing the lawn to give her mind something else on which to focus—

Agatha doesn’t even touch the rabbit. She has no need to do so. Yet she calls on the magic that she now knows, the magic she did not know when she most needed it, and stitches the rabbit’s organs, veins, flesh, fur back together, without leaving so much as a speck of blood on the uncut blades of grass around them.

The rabbit runs from her in a panic.

Of course, it does. Given the choice, she would run from herself, too.

Afterwards, Agatha thinks nothing of it. Point of fact, she forgets about it almost immediately, deciding that maybe today is not the best day to mow the rest of the lawn and instead hiding the mower inside where she might never find it again. Literally never, because after far more than one to many shots of vodka that feels like water, she teleports away.

Tomorrow, she’ll blame it on her wanderlust.

Today, collapsing, sobbing, in the arms of the only friend she has ever truly loved since leaving her husband, Agatha speaks only the truth.

(Tomorrow, she’ll pretend nothing happened at all.)

It takes fifty years before Agatha returns to the scene of the crime, and she only returns then to set the house to sell, and she’s only selling the thing because she’s finally realized that she’ll never have any desire to live there again, no matter how much she has convinced herself over the last fifty years that she will.

It takes fifty years, and that same exact rabbit notices her and sits on the rotten welcome mat on her doorstep, waiting.

Agatha stares at the rabbit. She stares at the rabbit and she blinks and she knows it’s the same rabbit because as much as she wants to forget, that image, too, has infiltrated her nightmares. Part of her waited so long before returning because she knew the rabbit would be dead by now, dead of old age or from a cat attack or from something that didn’t mean her.

But here it is. Sitting on her doorstep. Nose twitching as she approaches.

It doesn’t run.

Agatha kneels down and holds her hand out to it. The rabbit hops to her, sniffs her fingertips, and then looks up at her with its ears laid long against its back. “I’m sorry,” she says, meeting its dark eyes as much as she can. “I was trying to fix my mistake, not….”

Not whatever it is she’s actually done.

Her lips press together. She can’t even know for sure if the rabbit understands her or not. On an instinct, she reaches out, touching the rabbit’s mind with her own, and finds only confusion and curiosity and a timid sense of wariness. Her mind communicates warmth and gentleness and a home, if he wants it, provided he allows her one more spell. He hops into her mind, and the spell is set, wiping any and all viruses he might have from him, preventing him from ever getting any of them. It takes more than she’d like to admit – which is why she’s never used it on a person, where it might very well kill her – but this creature, perhaps, deserves it. For what she’d done to him.

Agatha runs fingers along his ears, and the rabbit plops, content, in her hands.

Eventually, Agatha calls him Scratchy.

It’s the closest approximation she can find in human words for the name he calls himself.

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #agatha harkness #senor scratchy #mcu #wandavision #i mean - they aren't SUPER descriptive #but i'm just gonna #slap an M rating on just in case

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luminnara · 1 year

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Flying On Wings Made From Feathers and Wax | Ganondorf x Gerudo OC | Ch 4

Chapter three | Chapter four | Chapter five

Summary: 10,000 years before the events of Breath of the Wild, a little Gerudo vai moves to the desert and makes a new friend in the form of the young Gerudo prince, Ganondorf. The two grow up together, enjoying a worry-free life…but distant memories of a long-dead demon king and a sheikah prophecy nag at everyone’s minds, and tensions between the Gerudo and Hylians are on the rise. As the years pass, it becomes clear that this little vai will play an important role in the shaping of Hyrule. Loyalty and love will be tested, empires will rise and fall, and at the center of it all is that mysterious godly power…

Surviving the desert means becoming even harsher than the ruthless sun and the swallowing sands.

For young Gerudo, that meant survival and combat training. While Ganondorf was allowed the privilege of private tutelage from the best general the tribe had seen in decades—his mother, Mira—Ilula was tossed in with the rest of the vai, donning a training uniform as she trudged across town every morning at dawn.

“Try to at least pretend you’re alive,” her mother joked one day. She still hadn’t told Ilula of her newest assignment from the chief, and as time wore on, she hoped that she might not need to. Ilula was fifteen, halfway through her training, and in a few short years, Ganondorf would be taking over as king. If he—or Ryla—ordered Kiluki to resume her espionage in Castle Town, she would obey in an instant. Of course she would. She was a proud Gerudo, determined to do whatever was necessary to protect and help her people. Her hesitation was not born of disloyalty, but rather an unwillingness to cause her daughter any pain, and the thought of forcing Ilula to abandon her best friend almost pained Kiluki more than the idea of refusing the chief.

Almost.

As Ilula ran off to her morning training, her aunt, Uvira, turned to Kiluki. “Well. She’s certainly dragging her feet today.”

“The other vai still don’t accept her.” Kiluki said.

“I think it’s likely that they never will, at this point.” Uvira sighed, shaking her head. “She’s...different from the rest of them. I dare say Ganondorf doesn’t help her fit in.”

“No, I’m sure he doesn’t.” Kiluki chuckled as she cleaned up the bowls and plates from breakfast. “Though he makes sure they can’t bully her.”

“She makes sure they can’t bully her.” Uvira snorted. “That vai is made of fire and sand seal oil, I swear. Takes after her mother.”

“Oh, please.” Kiluki rolled her eyes.

“It’s true! Why else do Mira and Ryla trust you so much?” Uvira asked.

Her sister glared at her. “Don’t speak on such things so openly.”

“Yes, yes, my apologies.” Uvira said sarcastically. “I am but a humble melon vendor, what do I know about espionage?”

“Uvira…”

“Yes, yes.” she held her hands up in surrender, lips quirked into a smile. “Let us continue speaking about Ilula.”

“I would much prefer that.” Kiluki said.

“I know you still worry, but...well, someone has to be the runt. There will always be someone who’s the smallest, or slowest, or weakest. She seems to be doing quite well, all things considered.” Uvira shrugged. “It is a shame she doesn’t have any other female friends, though.”

“I know.” Kiluki sighed. “I had hoped that she would fit in better here than in Hyrule, but...evidently, I was wrong. If it weren’t for the prince, I fear she would be completely alone…”

“Well, perhaps that’s where her future lies. Being best friends with royalty certainly isn’t a bad thing.”

“No, but she would fare better with more friends. Like us--we both had plenty of friends growing up.”

“And how many of them do you regularly speak with?” Uvira raised an eyebrow.

“Well…”

“I just think that Ilula is doing perfectly fine. Ganondorf has been loyal to her.”

“Loyal to a fault, perhaps.” Kiluki mumbled.

“You know Mira would never let him shirk his responsibilities. Both he and Ilula are proud Gerudo, and that’s that.” Uvira stood and clapped her hands. “Now, are you going to help me open the stall? Now that that sandstorm has died down, we should finally be getting some travelers coming through, and I, for one, would love to actually make some extra money today…”

Kiluki sighed and nodded, and a few minutes later, they were both walking out into the morning sun. As she helped Uvira get ready for the day, though, her mind was elsewhere, constantly drifting back towards thoughts of her daughter, and the prince, and the chief. Ilula was hard at work, focusing on her training, and to burden her with espionage and politics just didn’t seem fair. Kiluki couldn’t speak of any of it to anyone outside the chief’s inner circle, and so she was left to mull it over in her own head, worrying and wondering when she would be sent back to Hyrule.

Hyrule…a lush, green land, with so many more natural resources than the desert had. Yes, the Gerudo managed to thrive out in the sun and the sands, but the Hylians had so much more. They hardly knew what to do with it all, and with relatively good relations between neighboring countries, the royal family was enjoying a long and peaceful reign.

Kiluki knew that the chief wasn’t entirely happy about that.

Though she refrained from telling her sister, Kiluki had received a summons from the palace, in the form of a blank letter, decorated only with Chief Ryla’s seal on the back. She knew all too well that it was serious, and it meant that their happy time in Gerudo Town was coming to an end. As she left Uvira, making up an excuse about finding spices to buy, Kiluki wandered towards the palace and wondered how she was to inform her daughter that they may soon be leaving. It wasn’t fair, and she knew it, though few things were fair when it came to war and politics. She could only hope that Ilula was training hard today, lest the others leave her behind in the dust.

-0-

“Hey!” Ilula snarled, coughing up that very same dust. “That—that was a dirty trick! That wasn’t fair!”

Chani, a young voe at least a head and a half taller than Ilula, stood over her and snickered. “You think fights are always fair? Grow up, Ilula.”

“You tripped me!”

“Our enemies would do worse. You’re lucky that’s all I did.”

Ilula gritted her teeth as she pushed herself up into a sitting position. Training wasn’t going at all well that morning, and the moment she was paired up with Chani for sparring, she knew it was just going to get worse. And of course, it had; Chani was bigger and stronger and had a nasty streak reserved specifically for Ilula, and whenever Ganondorf wasn’t around, she loved to torment the smaller girl.

“She’s right.” their trainer said, looking down at Ilula sternly. “If you cannot survive training, you won’t survive war.”

Ilula gritted her teeth angrily, her jaw clenched as she kept herself from replying angrily. She climbed to her feet, taking up her spear again and facing Chani. “Again.”

The taller girl smirked, readying her own spear as the trainer backed away. There was a terrible glint in her eye, the kind that absolutely infuriated Ilula, and as they began sparring once more, it was nearly impossible to contain her anger. Chani was a good fighter, but only because she cheated–and as she sent Ilula flying to the ground once more with a kick to the back of her knees, she laughed meanly.

“Just give up, pipsqueak.” she sneered. “War is no place for someone like you.”

Ilula narrowed her eyes. She hated it when anyone other than Ganondorf called her names like that. When he did it, it was endearing and fun and lighthearted, coming from someone who was massive compared to her, someone who had earned the honor of teasing her. When Chani did it, the words were laced with malicious intent, always spoken with a cruel laugh. She practically spat whenever she spoke to Ilula, looking down her nose at the smaller girl with a nasty sneer on her face. She loved watching Ilula fail, and sparring was her only real chance to have some fun when the prince wasn’t looming over the runt’s shoulder the rest of the day.

“Shut up,” Ilula spat, standing once again. She didn’t like Chani, but she wasn’t about to shrug all of her insults off. War was for someone like her, runt or not. She was Gerudo, just like Chani, just like Ganondorf, just like all the others. If there was one thing she knew how to do, it was fight.

And she was going to show them all.

She gripped her training weapon tightly as she faced Chani. Ilula didn’t like fighting with spears; even though they were long and extended her reach significantly, she could never get the hang of how they felt in her hands. They felt clumsy to her, and too long to be of any real use. She always used the shortest one available, but unfortunately, they weren’t training with scimitars yet. Ilula had to make do with what she had, and she was determined not to land in the dust again.

“Again,” Ilula growled.

“Again?” Chani barked a laugh. “Look at you! You’re covered in bruises. You can’t possibly spar more today.”

“I can,” Ilula hissed. “Again.”

The taller girl rolled her eyes and readied herself. “Fine. But don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

Their trainer, one of the higher ranking Gerudo warriors, looked on curiously as the two began. Ilula wasn’t the best fighter. Anyone with eyes could see that. But she had to admit that the vai had heart, and no amount of bruising could convince her to sit down and give up. That was worth something in itself; Chani was bigger, and stronger, but she was used to living that way. Ilula wasn’t. She was small, and she was at a physical disadvantage…but anyone who roughhoused with Prince Ganondorf had to be resilient, and even as she fell back in the dirt time and time again, she always got back up.

By the time the sun was high in the sky and everyone was putting their training weapons down, Ilula was coughing up sand. She had been thrown to the ground more times than she could count, but it didn’t matter. She didn’t care. It was the same thing, day in and day out, and while she normally gave up at some point, she hadn’t reached it yet. She wasn’t ready to break. She refused.

“Again.” She growled out, her teeth clenched.

Chani looked down at her and scoffed. “No way. We’re finished.”

“Are you refusing my challenge?”

“Only for your own good.” The bigger girl rolled her eyes. “Face it. You’re never gonna make it.”

She turned, moving to put her training spear back on its rack with the others. Everyone else was hanging their weapons up, grabbing their water skeins and hydromelons as they finished their lessons for the day. Ilula didn’t want to join them, though; she wanted one more shot at Chani, one more chance to win.

And she had an idea of how to make that happen.

“Wow. I didn’t realize you were such a coward.” She said.

Chani froze, looking back over her shoulder. “What did you just call me?”

Ilula shrugged, feigning innocence. “Just seems cowardly to back down from a fight. Especially an easy one.”

“I told you,” Chani growled, “it’s for your own good. I don’t exactly feel like being the one who breaks you in half.”

“But I want to learn from you,” Ilula lied, batting her eyelashes as she looked up at her peer. “Just one more time. Please?”

Chani took the bait and gripped her spear in her hand. “Fine.”

Ilula had to stop herself from smiling as they readied themselves once more.

Up above the training grounds, Ganondorf was watching them with an amused smirk on his face. Normally, he was stuck studying at this hour, but today, the chief had called his mother to the throne room, and he was perfectly happy to end his lessons early. Now, with the desert sun high in the sky, the prince was sitting in the window, sinking his teeth into a slice of hydromelon as he looked down at the sparring vai. He wasn’t really interested in most of them, of course, and Ilula was easy to spot as she brandished her spear and lunged towards one of her peers.

He had been watching his friend train for a while, as he often liked to when he had the free time. She always said he shouldn’t interrupt their training because he was a distraction, and while he had every right to disregard her opinions, he still respected what his oldest (and really, only) friend had to say. So, he tended to stick to the window, entertaining himself with a snack while he looked down at the vai.

Ilula was determined, and she was quick. The spear was too long for her, Ganondorf could tell—why they never gave her something more her size to train with, he didn’t know—but now, after so many failed attempts, she finally seemed to have a real plan. Was Chani slowing down in the heat of the day, after a morning of training? Or was Ilula actually faster than her? Ganondorf couldn’t quite tell, but it didn’t really matter; the smaller vai ducked under her opponent’s spear easily as it jabbed forward, lunging in to deliver a blow of her own.

Chani’s eyes widened in disbelief when she felt the dull spear knock against her side, and she let out a shout as she whirled around in an attempt to catch Ilula with her own weapon. The runt was too fast, though, ducking out of the way, making herself even smaller than Chani was used to. She stepped around the taller gerudo, catching the backs of her knees with the stick of her spear, and when Chani stumbled forward, Ilula gave her a whack across the back that sent her falling into the sand.

“What?!” Chani yelled angrily, flipping over to face Ilula. “That–that was dirty!”

“I thought fights weren’t always fair?” Ilula smirked, leaning on her spear as she echoed Chani’s words from earlier.

The other girl narrowed her eyes, then tilted her chin down in shame. “Shut up…”

Ilula’s smirk only widened. “Come on, Chani. Don’t be a sore loser.”

“Sore? I’m not sore.” she scoffed. “I just can’t believe I lost to you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Ilula frowned.

“That I shouldn’t be losing to the worst one here,” Chani spat as she pushed herself up off of the ground.

“Obviously I’m not the worst, then.” Ilula growled.

Chani’s face twisted into a sneer, and Ilula readied herself to hear any number of biting insults. None came, though; instead, she watched as Chani’s eyes grew wide, the vai taking a sudden step back as she looked above Ilula’s head. She was scared, her lower lip trembling slightly, and after a moment, she dropped to one knee.

“M-my Prince, forgive me,” she mumbled quickly, eyes trained downwards.

Ilula stifled a sigh.

“To what do I owe the honor, my prince?” She asked as she spun on her heel, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

She immediately had to tilt her head back to look up at his face. Ganondorf seemed incapable of pausing in his growth spurts, and while still in the awkward stages of his adolescence, the prince was growing into a fine young voe. A large young voe. Seriously, how tall was he now? Still not finished growing, and already as tall as the guards who stood at the city gates.

Ridiculous, in her mind.

When her eyes met with the planes of his chest, Ilula felt her cheeks heating up in a strange way, and she quickly forced them back up to meet his gaze. More and more lately she had found herself looking at him, fascinated by the angles of his muscles, and she wasn’t sure how to feel about her wandering thoughts.

Gan cleared his throat. “I finished my studies early today. I thought I would come by and see how your training was going.”

Ilula resisted the urge to roll her eyes. She knew he was trying to mess with her. She always told him not to come around and interrupt, because of the way everyone else always acted when he did. Everyone always stopped in reverence, and on the rare occasion that they actually got to continue with their lessons, the others always acted strangely, and all semblance of normalcy was lost. Looking around, she saw that this was no different than any other time—they were all down on one knee, heads bowed for their prince.

All except for her.

“Have lunch with me,” he said. It wasn’t a request, nor was it a blatant order; it was just a statement, one that he expected her to agree with.

And she did agree with it, because why wouldn’t she? Lunch was better than whatever Chani wanted to do to her now, and she wasn’t about to pass up the opportunity to relax with Gan.

Finally, at the thought of food and friendship, a smile tugged at her lips. “I would love to.”

She returned her training spear to its place as the others finally stood again and did the same, their teacher speaking with Ganondorf as he waited for Ilula. When she looked across the arena and saw them standing together, she rolled her eyes. He was already the same height as the instructor, who was a tall, muscular Gerudo with bright pink hair and a severe expression. Normally, she looked absolutely terrifying, but she seemed much less threatening standing next to Gan for some reason, even as Ilula approached them.

“You did well today, Ilula.” She said, looking down at the young vai. “The prince and I were just speaking of your victory.”

Ilula tried to hide her scowl. She knew that she was only being praised because it was Ganondorf. He had no doubt brought it up himself, and the trainer had no desire to anger him by disagreeing. Winning a sparring match was nothing to boast about, even if it was impressive for her, and she was proud.

“Don’t be so bashful, Lula.” Gan flashed her that smile that she had grown to love over the years and she felt her spirits lifting. “It was clever, what you did. And you’re so light on your feet, you make me look like a moblin.”

Her cheeks flushed and she looked down sheepishly. “It wasn’t that great…”

“You are the quickest out of the bunch.” The trainer nodded sharply. “Chani would do well to remember that she is not guaranteed a victory over every opponent.”

At the sound of her rival’s name, Ilula glanced back up. They were really praising her, weren’t they? It wasn’t just Ganondorf forcing everyone to be nice to her. The trainer’s voice was still as harsh as always, her eyes hard, and if the prince had ordered her to be kind or face his Royal wrath, one would think that she would try a bit harder to seem friendlier than she was. As she looked down at Ilula, there was a seriousness there that told her she was being genuine.

A small smile crept onto her face, and as she took the hand Ganondorf offered her and followed him away from the training grounds, she felt like she was soaring.

“You were great,” he said, nudging her.

“So you were spying.” She snorted a laugh. “I should have known.”

“Can’t I watch you from time to time?” He asked. “You do train just outside my window, after all.”

“Some might consider that unsettling, you know,” she smiled.

He paused, letting go of her hand. “…do you?”

“Not really.” She shrugged as she continued walking ahead of him. “Not when it’s you.”

Ganondorf felt his heart leap and he swallowed nervously, his mouth suddenly a bit drier than before. The midday sun usually didn’t bother him much, but…was it a bit hotter than normal today? He felt his face growing warm as he watched his best friend walking away, unsure of what exactly he was supposed to be thinking. This was confusing. This was Ilula! He had known her for a decade. She was his closest companion, someone who was always there for him, tucked right up against his side. He got along with her better than he did anyone else, and at the end of the day, there was nobody he would rather relax with than her.

He was trapped, frozen in place as he watched her and realized that at some point, his feelings for her had grown beyond friendship. He was impossibly sweet on her, more than he had thought, and he had no idea what to do about it.

“Hey, are you coming?” She asked over her shoulder. “You said we were getting lunch.”

Ganondorf shook himself out of his stupor and forced a lazy smile on his face. “Yeah. We are. What do you want? Your choice today.”

“Something refreshing,” she said as he caught up to her once more. “I’m boiling out here.”

“Then let’s get inside and send for some fruits,” the prince suggested, taking her hand in his again.

She smiled up at him and he thought his heart might stop. “I’d love that.”

-0-

Lunch was spent in the palace, the serving staff bringing them platters of fresh hydromelons, cool wildberries from the highlands, and even some volt fruits to snack on. Afterwards, Ilula enjoyed a nice nap while Ganondorf sat next to her and busied himself with a book, though his mind was decidedly elsewhere. He couldn’t focus. He couldn’t do anything. His attention was usually at least partially on her when she was nearby, but lately…lately, she seemed to demand all of it, all while never trying. Gan was, for once in his life, unsure of how to handle his new feelings, and as he pretended to read, he debated keeping quiet. Never one to hide, though, always bold, he made up his mind to do something about it, and by the time she had woken up, he was already pulling her to her feet.

“Gan?” She asked, still half asleep. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see,” he promised.

Ilula offered him a sleepy smile and let him half-drag her away from the bed. She trusted him completely, fully, with every fiber of her being. She was used to the way he so often whisked her away, but this time, he didn’t appear to have the city walls or the fountain in mind; instead, he led her out of the palace and out to the sand seal pens, and soon, they were off, racing through the desert.

Their destination, it turned out, was a small oasis. Lush greenery grew around a clear pool, the leaves of the tall palm trees casting a welcoming shade over the water. As she craned her neck and looked up, Ilula could see palm fruits growing at the tops, a few birds perched among the fronds. It was tranquil, a beautiful, verdant little place amongst the constantly shifting sands that seemed so untouched and so frozen in time.

“Do you like it?” Ganondorf asked as he watched her.

She turned towards him with a bright smile on her face, and it made his heart leap. “I love it.”

He stared at her, just taking in the sight of her for a moment before he smiled as well. “Good. I had hoped you might.”

“How did you find this place?” Ilula asked, walking towards the water.

Ganondorf shrugged as he followed her. “I explored and ended up here one day.”

“Really?” she asked skeptically, glancing over her shoulder back at him. “This is a bit far from town for that…what were you doing all the way out here?”

He wasn’t sure what to say.

“I…” he cleared his throat. In truth, he had no idea why he knew about the oasis. It wasn’t on any maps, because it was so small, and it did sit a considerable distance from anything resembling a settlement. He had never done any exploration. He was far too busy learning how to be a king for something like that, and he was under constant supervision when he wasn’t off with her.

So how? How did he know where to find such a perfect little place?

He just knew. He knew as if he had been there before, just as he knew the desert so well, as if he had lorded over it in a past life. The oasis was familiar to him, and it was comfortable, and he wanted to share it with her and her alone. He wanted it to be theirs.

Ganondorf cleared his throat, searching for an answer. “I just…found it.”

She raised an eyebrow at him. “Really?”

He shrugged a bit sheepishly, and she just laughed.

“You’re amazing sometimes. You know that?”

And he felt his heart absolutely soar.

“It can be a place for us,” he said, catching up to her as she made her way to stand at the edge of the water. “I can bring some supplies out here, and we can come here whenever we want. Just us.”

Ilula slipped her shoes off, setting them aside as she sank down to sit in the sand. “Just us?”

Ganondorf mimicked her, sitting with one leg outstretched, the other bent at the knee. He leaned back on his hands, stretching out some in the shade. “Yeah. No one else.”

She leaned against him. “I’d like that.”

He felt his chest tighten and then release, and he looked down at her. Her, his best friend. The vai he got along with so well that he never wanted to leave her side. The vai he was so completely, incredibly head over heels for.

His Ilula.

#flying on wings made from feathers and wax #ganondorf #ganondorf x oc #botw #gerudo #gerudo ganondorf #gerudo oc #the legend of zelda

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rafent · 2 months

Note

[ 𝐚𝐥𝐦𝐨𝐬𝐭 ] : sender and receiver are finally about to kiss, but are interrupted. don't look at me-

— 𝐢. sender and receiver are finally about to kiss, but are interrupted

From every sky-high roof down to every foundational brick, Firene was no place for a Fell Dragon. An erring creature like Rafal did not belong among the cheerful festivities and delicate flower beds, or the grandeur of a city that worshiped the right side of history, or by the side of its newly crowned king. For the sense of disconnect, for the remainder of the world still waiting to be explored, the time spent here would certainly not be long. As planned he would only say hello. In the next heartbeat, he would be on his way.

"—I must be going. But once more; congratulations," Rafal offered to Alfred, lanky lines molded to the marble balustrade until he lifted his body away, decided that he did not wish to taint that either. He stood stiffly with hands at his sides, gathering his thoughts. Goodbyes had never been this dragon's specialty; if not his sister, if not the Divine One and the Four Winds, and if not Alfred, silent batlike wings would simply carry him away in the dead of night. "You ought to be proud. Your coronation went swimmingly, as expected. Or as deserved. My only regret is that I will not be at your side to observe the remainder."

The formalities were out, but his smile hung quietly between them, hesitant, as if he wished to offer more. Vacillating between even more words and those that couldn't be said, expressed in one language and one language only. He stepped forward, fingertips touched to the brooch on his friend's chest, then fanned across it. Today, a pleasant and pastoral jade. Just like Alfred's eyes seen anywhere from the furthest distance to the closest. When Rafal pressed the rest of himself against him a loop of his arms around his neck tethered them together, like a chain of ownership from one to another.

"The world is an endless place. A cold one. It will be long before I circle back here again. But perhaps I can be kept warm with. . .a memory." The breeze smelled of flowers or perhaps it was merely Alfred. His fond whisper dissolved into thin air as their noses slotted, suspending lips just short of the finish line. A tilt here, a fractional adjustment there, and—

"Your Majesty, there has been a small incident in the western wing—oh."

Talents came in forms far and and wide, least of all, in how quickly an embarrassed Rafal could move from immediate proximity to the furthest corner of the balcony. A whole transformed Fell Dragon length displaced from both the king and his guard in less than a second. The only evidence of near fraternization; bright rosy cheeks. ". . .I am leaving, Alfred. You may pen to Nel or the Divine One in Lythos if anything is amiss. Goodbye."

As prodigious as ever in making himself scarce, his departure happened on one lingering, longing glance. Departure being only the Fell Heir's timeless way - and no, in this particular instance of it, he was not running. He was power-walking.

#◜ ₊ — 𝓡 ˚ ₊ 𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐋𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐏𝐄𝐍𝐈𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 ╱ askbox.#floreix #postgame elyos goes wild #rafal travels the world (check mark)#rafal returns home for nel & divine one (check mark)#rafal visits firene to scandalously hold hands with his rich boytoy- Mind Your Business (check mark)

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blackbat05 · 2 years

Text

The Unblinking

Bucky x Reader

A/N: Wanna thank @wint3r-h3art and @crazycookiecrumbles for giving me amazing ideas that enabled me to bring the crack to the maximum😂 If there's an award for most crack writer please nominate me.

Notes: Bold is Bucky's account. SLIMS for the win!😆 Mentions of other Avengers.

Warnings: When you read this, you feel like you're doing crack.

“Good evening Antlers! Welcome to another podcast of Scott Lang investigates mysterious sightings or SLIMS.”

Scott’s cheery voice is amplified through your AirPods as you shuffled around the kitchen making your favourite snack.

“Boy, you Antlers are in for a spooky treat today! Yes, you guessed it - a mysterious sighting at THE Avenger compound! So grab your hot chocolates on this cold night and saddle up!”

Full time superhero, part time podcaster. Maybe he should add part time psychic for the sole reason of your Ant-Man mug clasped between your hands, piping with the aforementioned hot liquid.

Today’s story was going to be interesting.

“The story comes from none other than our beloved Avenger - Mr James Barnes or the White Wolf as many would be familiar with.” Scott had switched to a more business-like tone, getting the attention of many listeners, including you.

“Today’s story, is the mystery…”

Your breath hitches in anticipation.

“…of the giant penguin.”

What? You grabbed your phone to make sure you were listening to the right podcast and not Discovery Channel. The logo of Ant-Man’s helmet was still staring at you in the face. No mistakes there.

Scott sensed the incredulity radiating off from his thousands of listeners. Like the seasoned podcaster he is, Scott doesn’t leave room for doubt.

“Oh, I know what you’re thinking Antlers. But just indulge me on this one. I’ll be reading the account from Mr Barnes himself and I’ll be taking messages after to hear what are your thoughts.”

Taking a sip, you wrapped yourself in the blanket that you had dragged from your bedroom, ready to let Scott Lang take you down the rabbit hole…

***

The mission in Czechoslovakia didn’t help my already terrible sleeping patterns.

Sam and I were called to investigate a paranormal occurrence happening at the Hluboka Castle. I mean it’s like the Avengers are short on staff - couldn’t they have sent Stephen instead?

But no! God knows where he is piecing bits and pieces of some multiverse jargon and leaves us to deal with a potential mythical creature that could eat my brains alive. I’m not counting Sam’s because he barely has a brain. Anyways -

Turns out that mysterious caretaker who called it in WAS THE MONSTER.

He turned into some ugly blob with flippers for arms that could extend to twenty feet. Don’t even get me started on what was under those nasty wings - some toxic gas that leaves you weak and woozy.

I think Sam could tell that I was on the verge of abandoning him as tentacle tale started throwing him around like some kind of doll my sisters used to play with when they were just kids. I don’t think he liked it very much.

Thank god for Wong’s timely intervention - any longer and the Avenger clean up team would have to scrape both our remains off this old dingy castle.

Scott pauses over the podcast, giving the much needed dramatic effect. You leaned forward, eager for more. But first, marshmallows.

It was three in the morning - I knew because I went to take a piss. And perhaps paste a few more analgesic patches that my friend Yori recommended.

As I was walking back to my bedroom, I could hear the toilet flush by itself - and before you say anything, we don’t have automatic toilets after Ms Marvel’s and Par- I mean Spiderman’s April fool’s joke.

You snort, popping open the bag of marshmallows. Of course the two youngest Avengers would come up with something utterly out of this world that would even make Loki proud.

The whole place was dark so I thought maybe someone else used it right after me.

Then the cabinets in the toilet made a creaky noise and there was this loud slamming noise which couldn’t have been the wind. All the windows are usually shut at night.

Screw that mythical creature. Pretty sure I got doused by the toxin and didn’t even know it. I’m pretty sure it was just good old hallucinations.

I see a shadow down the hallway and it wasn’t a human shadow. It was way bigger than Thor himself and it had sticks for legs?

“Who’s there!”

You flinched, accidentally flicking the marshmallow into the mug.

That was a pretty dumb question and the only response I got was the sound of flapping. I could tell that it was coming closer as it got louder and louder. If only I wasn’t in my boxers.

The shadow starts to become more apparent and a penguin the size of my cabinet is staring straight at me down the dark hallway. A broken light flickers, and I see its unblinking eyes.

That furry beast tilts its large head slightly as if waiting for me to make my move and before I can actually do that, IT STARTS RUNNING TOWARDS ME.

I can’t remember what else I said and even if I did, Scott would have to censor it out. You're welcome, Scott.

I run down the many rooms, banging on any door I could find to at least prove to someone that I’m not crazy.

“Mr Barnes?”

Katy rubs her eyes as she exits her room, looking absolutely confused at the ruckus. “What’s going on?”

“DID YOU SEE THE CREATURE!” I grab her shoulders, forcing her to see the creature that was chasing me down the rooms.

Only to find an empty hallway.

“See what creature?” Katy is now looking at me like I’m some sort of madman. “I hate to break it to you dude, but I think you should see Bruce to get your head examined. If there’s nothing, I gotta hit the sack man - Shangqi and me have a mission tomorrow.” She closes the door in my face.

The flapping sound continues right after and I’m positive I’ve gone mad.

You know the movie <Us> ? I didn’t know until Sam made me watch it. Like that tethered family standing in the driveway, the penguin is just there. STANDING JUST RIGHT THERE.

No way I’m going to be that person who gets killed first in a horror movie just because I’m too dumb not to move.

So I run towards a spare room, locking all the doors including the sliding doors at the balcony . That beast isn’t going to get me.

The next morning, I get Bruce to check the surveillance and guess what?

There was NO PENGUIN. Stark made sure to equip the building with the most advanced cameras that could detect even the slightest movement. And there was no trace of it. AT ALL.

I didn’t see it after that day and Bruce said that there were no traces of toxin in my mind. But sometimes I can still feel someone staring at me…

***

“Well! There you have it folks!” Scott’s voice bought you back to your living room.

“What do you think about this… paranormal appearance that Mr Barnes described? Send in your thoughts to three thousand and I’ll read it right after the break!”

The door opens, revealing your slightly distressed boyfriend.

“Hey, how’s your- are you listening to Scott’s podcast?” He asks the obvious. You shrug, popping a few more marshmallows into your mouth.

“Gotta admit, man’s talented at story-telling. And so are you.”

“God not this again,” Bucky groans. “I can promise you that thing was very real and in the flesh!”

Perhaps Katy was right. The stress was getting to him.

Bucky being Bucky read your mind, his brows knitted into disapproval. “You don’t believe me do you.”

You had to stifle your giggles. “Of course I do Buck. It’s just that it’s been two weeks. Bruce said that even if the toxin had gotten to you, it would have been out of your super-soldier system by now. And that penguin is nowhere to be seen.” You approached the situation rationally to ease his nerves that were starting to bubble again.

"Now, remember those calming techniques you practiced at Ta Lo? Do you want to do that right now?"

Bucky nods, grateful for the idea. Once he was visibly settled, he decides to head for the showers, figuring that the warm water would help him calm down. You tell him that you would join him in the bedroom shortly.

Towel wrapped around his waist, Bucky steps out of the steaming bathroom, prepared to call it a night.

Dressed in his sleepwear, he walks towards the windows, hoping that the night itself would dispel his fears.

And he sees it.

Across the apartment building that you and Bucky shared, he sees that blasted penguin standing on the rooftop, staring at him yet again.

Bucky doesn't need to be told twice. He draws the curtain quickly while yelling your name.

"Babe, I'm telling you. This time it is real! Here see for yourself!" He draws the curtains open like you were a viewing a concert on Broadway.

Instead of that fearsome penguin, you were greeted by a billboard raising awareness of climate change, an image of a cute penguin with its mother swimming in the Arctic.

"You know what Buck? How about we sleep in the spare room today?" You suggested, not wanting to butt heads over the amazing disappearing act by the creature.

Bucky can only nod numbly, as he exits the room as quickly as he can with a knife in hand that he had plucked out from behind the bed.

***

Epilogue

"Did you get it?" The penguin suit starts to deflate, and Captain America himself steps out, grinning widely at the sheer thought of months of blackmail content. He's going to make sure that tin can remembers his mistake of abandoning him to a thousand-year-old demon.

"I think so." Shangqi squints, checking the camera. "Why am I even here? If James finds out he'll kill me and throw me to the coyotes!"

"Because if you don't I'll tell Katy that you purposely bailed on that mission involving Condiment King in Gotham City." Sam reminds him, nose crinkling in disgust. "Plus I can still smell mustard on my wings!"

"Not my fault that I had nausea from interdimensional traveling!"

#bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes #james buchanan barnes #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x reader #bucky barnes crack fic #full of crack #mcu #marvel #so much crack #marvel cinematic universe

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thoughtfullyrainynightmare · 2 years

Text

Prompt: “The way they say ‘thank you’”

Characters: Nozel & Noelle Silva

Genre: sibling fluff

Fanfic type: Oneshot

Length: ~0.6k

Nozel knew that his magic hadn’t been exactly like his mother’s. Though there were similarities there, his was more of a combination of both of his parents’.

He was like his mother, but he was also a lot like his father. More like his father. Or so he thought. Even if it pained him; made his head bow lower and lower, as if pulled by his very sins, when before he had been proud to have grown into a stern man, much like his father.

Now, it was… It just was.

He didn’t know how to be proud of it.

In a lot of ways, Noelle was much like their mother. But it didn’t mean that Nozel couldn’t have taught her a couple of things about magic, the magic that flowed, like the steel of the Steel Princess. Words of… maybe wisdom, about controlling mana, making it bend to one’s will; the very thing that enabled him to be as strong as he was.

And he fully expected her to know the things he had to tell her, at least on some level. He expected her to have a grasp of them, since she was strong. She was capable. She had a mentor in Yami, and peers in … well, the Black Bulls.

But… they had proven themselves to be… capable. Enough.

So, the way she looked at him, eyes widening as the realization of how to grow stronger, sank in, was more than a surprise. He hadn’t expected it; prepared for it.

The smile she wore, filled with confidence and gratitude.

“Thank you Nozel-oniisama!”

She sounded so happy. Like she was accepted.

It made an array of emotions swirl inside of him, ranging from increased guilt to quiet joy. Joy of having done something kind to his little sister.

All of it combined into a mush. A vortex of emotions that made him feel as if there was a lifting, and yet sinking feeling within him.

He didn’t know what to think.

But… she was in no way obligated to train with him. She was in no way obligated to even speak to him. So…. This… being able to… learn to be a family that supports each other; a family that stands by each other, instead of just trying to bear through it alone, within the sanctities of their own rooms, battling demons on their own accord so that the others wouldn’t have to.

It was becoming a thing of the past.

But she didn’t need to be there, try to be a part of the family. They could have gone as they had, being stranger to each other.

“Thank you for letting me teach you,” he stated with a whisper.

The words didn’t sound like his own; but they fell from him, spoken under his breath with a tone that was almost too quiet to hear. And he meant them. Those words were one of the most honest ones he had uttered.

Noelle’s eyes widened with the statement. And all she could do, was hum out something that sounded like an agreement. Because though she knew that they had, as the Silva family, still a long road ahead of them, there was hope. Even if it felt awkward.

And yet… there was a faint smile tugging the corners of her lips up, because Nozel-oniisama had once again acknowledge her, in his own way. Perhaps the hope wasn’t so faint as she had taken it to be. Perhaps there was a much more prominent one for them to leave the shadows into the past, and fly into the future, leaving the sorrows behind.

Maybe they’d all get to spread their wings and fly. Sooner, rather than later.

#nozel silva #noelle silva #black clover fanfiction #black clover oneshots #the things you told

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carrion-carry-on · 2 years

Text

Whumptober No. 17

Alternative No. 12 - Carried to safety

So working on the last few fics I posted got my creative juices really going. This is a fic that’s more connected to my original narrative for Pillar and his friends, Iona and Ace. It takes place in the Transformers: Prime continuity (AKA Aligned) and has mentions from the novels. I hope that anyone who sees this likes what they read lol

AO3 Link

The pain manifested from absence. There was only pain where her right wing should have been. Her arm, similarly, experienced sparking malfunctions. She could see out of only one optic but she could feel everything. The pain was immense. And she did not have the ability to access her pain receptors and tune them down. It must have been a biological function - shut down the ability to turn off the only things telling her, insisting they needed help. But it’s annoying. And painful.

Iona’s processor struggles to put things back together. She had been flying, and- no, that had been earlier in the off-shift. She’d been complaining to her trinemates over evening rations. That’s right. They had spoken often of their distaste for Shockwave. And that night had been no different. The topic of discussion had been rumors of the scientist being behind the most recent tragedy of Tarn. The city-state had been bombed by a salvo of photon missiles. Autobots had supposedly claimed the attack, but some talk got around - mechs were saying Shockwave had ordered the airstrike on Tarn.

Things had gone to scrap not long after. A siren’s alarm rang out for barely a klik before Pitfire rained down on the city of Vos. Some slaggers had actually bombed them. It’s not right - they’re the ones that do the bombing. That might have incensed her more than the actual injustice of the act.

The very air around her is hot and smells horribly of charred tubing and melted metal. It’s the smell of a warzone. She is buried in the ground - perhaps their aviary had collapsed, or she’d fallen in the bombing. Clawing her way out, willing herself to ignore the pain which burned up her struts, Iona called for her trinemates. No answer to be had.

There was a deep, cold emptiness in her spark. One that she had wanted to ignore. But it shoved at her, pushed itself into the forefront of her processor. This vacancy, where her sisters had once been, likely meant one thing. They were gone. And in this sea of carnage and flame, she could not hold hope of finding them.

Sounds not proper for a proud Vosian warrior spilled from her vocalizer. She raged and she cried, screaming her anguish. It was animalistic and no doubt would draw the attention of any remaining enemies in the vicinity. Yet Iona could not bring herself to care.

A proximity alert, having survived her processor’s purge to all but the most essential of alarms, pinged her abruptly. Iona struggled to turn her helm in the direction of the incursion. The sight that greeted her was nothing welcome. A grounder, marked out by the lack of wings in the silhouette, stood not far away from burning ruins. They were short and slightly bulkier than most she’d seen from afar. Then the stranger approached her.

Iona hisses as the mech - an Autobot - comes into full view of her one good optic. Her own blazing red meets deep green, an unexpected color. The mech’s faceplates shift into something akin to concern. It’s an expression she’d only ever seen on her sisters. It’s the only time she’d ever trust that expression.

Wordlessly, the mech kneels beside her, on the right. Her bad side. He seems to be examining her injuries. She wonders why he does not kill her. It would be so easy. All he’d have to do is aim a hit to her helm, or her spark. Autobots are usually just as bad as other Decepticons - despite what they would claim. Both could be vicious, unforgiving, and vengeful. Surely this one has had comrades killed by members of her faction.

Yet, when the mech stalks off, and Iona wants to believe she’ll be left to suffer, she gathers a distinct feeling he is not going to hurt her. It’s a disgusting thought.

He returns with a slab of sheet metal. The edges are warped and it glows faintly with heat. The mech kneels before the slab and sprays some kind of coolant, causing the heat to hiss and retreat like a razor snake. Then he is back at her side, and she tries once again to intimidate. Her remaining wing and kibble flare outwards and she hisses angrily. He is unaffected by the display as he wraps both servos along her flanks. If she could have shot him, she would have. And then shot his corpse ten times over. Just to be sure.

But she can’t shoot him. And so his progress goes unhindered.

He drags her away from the crater her impact had left, and onto the cooled metal which Iona now realizes is to serve as a makeshift stretcher. To her surprise, the mech transforms into a bulky, four-wheeled all terrain vehicle. It’s a working class alternate form - someone she’d assumed would have sided with the Decepticons like the rest. Yet he wore an Autobot badge.

The Autobot backs up until he manages to latch securely to a jury-rigged towing hook welded to the metal scrap she currently rests on. Then, slowly and surely, Iona actually feels herself jerk forward and she is unwillingly following the strange mech. Perhaps “unwillingly” is a bit of a stretch. She could be a nuisance, push herself to roll off of the improvised litter. But that just sounded like more pain and effort than it’s worth.

Just as she’s settled on her decision to do nothing, a voice comes from not-that-far-away. In fact, she doesn’t doubt it’s the Autobot.

“Name’s Pillar.”

#whumptober2022 #whumptober #no.17 #alternative prompt #alt prompt #alt.12 #carried to safety #fic #transformers #macadam #transformers prime #aligned continuity #oc #original characters

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transskywardsword · 10 months

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Spider Meet Fly/Fly Meet Spider - Chapt 8: Intermission Two: Of Lies and Friendships

In which breakfast is eaten and a plot is hatched

read the whole story here on ao3!

The Goron Boss and the Zora Queen arrived early the next morning. Ganondorf slept horribly; the gigantic bed given to him in the guest suite of the royal wing of the castle was too delicate, the silk threads catching on the calluses on his bare feet, feeling slick and waxy under his hardened fingertips. The sheets were nothing like the soft, breathable linens of home, and the mattress swallowed him up, made with fluffy nonsense that refused to hold his weight.

That wasn’t the real reason he slept so poorly, of course. That reason was impossible to ignore—the knowledge that just outside his door were towering Zonai warriors armed to the teeth, ready to barge in and gut him if his snores were deemed too threatening. Ganondorf had intended to stay in the castle when he first set out for central Hyrule; the whole point of the nauseating groveling was to get as close to the Zonai-Hylian royalty and their strange stones as possible, but he had expected to have to sacrifice only his dignity to convince Rauru to grant him access to a guest suite, not his freedom, even if the Zonai king seemed hesitant to call it this an imprisonment.

But that’s what it was. Granted, Ganondorf couldn’t exactly blame the man. He had tried to barrel down their palace with a swarm of molduga. If he was Rauru, he wouldn’t want to give his enemy the chance to slink back to the desert, lick their wounds, and return with an army tenfold. He would want to keep them close by, separated from their soldiers and completely dependent on him. Was it cruel? Perhaps, but it was smart politics. And until he managed to figure out how the royal couple and their swordsman managed to channel enough power to decimate his calvary, Ganondorf was going to have to get used to politics.

Fuck.

The image of the three of them and their hands, risen forward and glowing with magic, continued to stand out in Ganondorf’s mind. It had something to do with the strange stones they all wore; it had to. They had glowed brilliantly, Rauru’s stone the same white as his miraculous light, Sonia’s the same gold as the power in her hand, and Link’s a brilliant golden green that had grown to swallow him in its aura. The stones were connected, though how he did not know. But he would—the question was just how long he was willing to wait.

There was a knock at the main door of the suite, and Ganondorf turned from the mirror that hung on the wall. He was missing much of what he needed to truly put on the face of a king; his hair had been pinned for travel and battle, not court, and he’d washed his face clean of kohl and creams yesterday morning before heading to the castle grounds, hoping to appear less important before Rauru. The folds of fabric and weight of a diadem that he associated with politics had been replaced with simple, traditional colors and patterns. He did not look the part of the king he was, which had been the point; let him seem smaller, more pathetic in front of Rauru, more like the desperate ruler of an impoverished hellscape than the proud king of a beautiful civilization. Now, though, Ganondorf longed for something to remind him of who he was as he stood here surrounded by strangers and foes. The knock came at the door again, and Ganondorf steeled his jaw, pulling himself to his full height and walking to the door. The knock came a third time, and Ganondorf ripped it open before the visitor could finish.

It was a Zonai girl, shorter than others he had seen, with mismatched patches of fur and skin, and short ears. Instead of three eyes, she had two bright green ones. A mixed race Zonai then. It seemed Rauru and his sister really were the last of their kind.

“Hello,” the girl said stiffly, looking nervously over his shoulder instead of at his face. “My name is Luga. I have come to fetch you for breakfast.”

Ganondorf was tempted to say no and slam the door in her face, if only to see her yelp, and tell her to go running back to her king instead, but that wasn’t a possibility now. The time for force, for aggression was gone. Now was the time for politics. In his mind’s eye, he could see his mother, straight-backed and proud as she taught him the importance of every word, every movement he would make once he accepted the crown.

“A king,” she told him, “Must be prepared to be a viper hidden in the dunes as much as a king molduga swimming proudly in the sands. Politics are a cruel, vicious game, but one you must learn if you are to lead our people to greatness. You must learn, piglet, if you are to claim your birthright.”

“There are other guests who wish to meet you,” Luga said, snapping Ganondorf back to attention, “And King Rauru is excited to welcome you to his dinner—er, breakfast— table.”

“Twinrova?”

“Awaiting you at the dining hall.”

“Good.” Steeling himself, Ganondorf stepped out of the suite for the first time, and even with soldiers on all sides, it felt like a victory. A step in the right direction; now, all he had to do was play his cards right, and he could return to Gerudo desert a champion.

The guards led them on a winding trip through the castle, which Ganondorf suspected was to keep him from memorizing any route to any one place, which was smart. Too bad Ganondorf was smarter, easily keeping track of the turns and curves. After learning how to find a path through a sandstorm, a little backtracking was nothing. After passing by mural after mural of dragons and islands in the sky, Hylians and Zonai hand in hand, they came to a wide set of double doors. Standing by them in a fierce argument were two women he knew well—Kotake and Koume.

“It is simple safety—” A Hylian guard said, arms crossed and chest puffed.

“Safety? You’re wearing a mask yourself!” Kotake hissed, and another guard stepped forward, nose to nose with his sister’s golden mask.

“This is part of our uniform as the esteemed guard of His Royal Majesty.”

“The masks stay on,” Koume said, pressing up against him, voice a pounding growl. “Or I shall show you just what the might of Twinrova can do.”

“Do you forget where you are, Gerudo?” A Zonai soldier said, and the twins scoffed.

“What on Hylia’s golden earth is the meaning of all this?” A soft yet undeniably powerful voice called from behind Ganondorf. The guards went silent, snapping to attention, as Queen Sonia of Hyrule swept by, chin raised and eyes hard.

“These are our esteemed guests, regardless of circumstances, and you shall treat them as such,” she said, and the soldiers swallowed, nodding.

“They—they refused to take off their masks before seeing the king.” One soldier said, and Sonia raised a golden eyebrow.

“And?”

“And it’s a safety concern!”

“Is it, or are you taking pleasure in the thought of humiliating them? These women are not our enemies. The Gerudo are not our enemy, and we are above such cruelty.” She turned to the twins, and while the masks were blank, Ganondorf could see their surprise in the curve of their shoulders.

“Are you alright?”

They nodded stiffly, and Sonia smiled.

“I’m glad to hear it. Should you face any more disquiet from my guards, let me know as soon as you can, and I will see that they are dealt with accordingly.”

Sonia turned to him, face open and bright. “And forgive my manners, Lord Ganondorf. Sav'otta.”

Her accent was atrocious, all garbled syllables and too-hard vowels, but she beamed at him all the same.

“Link has been teaching me important words. I know this situation must seem far from ideal, but I want you to feel welcome here. Hyrule is home to all, and I hope that you will come to see it that way. A home away from home if you will. And once breakfast is complete, I’ll have someone gather a list of things you need to feel more comfortable here, and we’ll be sure to provide them for you.”

It took all of Ganondorf’s will not to gape at the woman.

“I’m glad you’re here, your Majesty, is all I mean to say. Now come, let us eat.”

She gestured to the door and the guards rushed to open it, exposing a grand dining hall with a large round table filled with Goron, Rito, and Zora, with Rauru at its head, Mineru to his left, and his wife scurrying to his right. Beside her sat the swordsman, who gave a simple nod in acknowledgment.

“Well then,” Kotake said in Ganondorf’s ear in Gerudo, “that was unexpected.”

“Naïve.” Koume echoed.

Kind, Ganondorf couldn’t help but think.

“Perhaps,” he said instead, “this will be easier than we think.”

“Ah! Lord Ganondorf! Please, sit, we have been waiting.” Rauru said, gesturing to the seat directly opposite him, far across the table.

“Not too long, I hope,” Ganondorf replied, and Rauru waved him off.

“Nonsense. Sit, sit, there is much to discuss.”

Ganondorf sat. The chair was far too small for him, creaking under his weight, and one of the guards by the door snickered. Ganondorf clenched his fists under the table. Accepting the disrespect now meant earning access to the Zonai stones and making sure the Hylian-Zonai never looked in the direction of his desert ever again. It would be worth it, he just had to be patient.

Link shot a glare over his shoulder at the guard, who flushed and straightened. Interesting. Ganondorf wasn’t sure if the boy could be of use to him yet, but he seemed respectful enough, with a base understanding of the Gerudo tongue and some knowledge of the culture. He had bowed to the twins all those days ago, proof that he at least knew how to treat royalty, and had stood by Ganondorf’s side yesterday, defending him against the little gnat of a Hylian that had been traveling with him. And, apparently, he had discussed Ganondorf’s needs with his queen.

Just where was the squirt from? A land outside of Hyrule supposedly, but not one Ganondorf had ever heard of; how had he managed his surprising amount of cultural literacy from so far away? What was he even doing here, with so much influence that he could get the very queen of Hyrule to speak Ganondorf’s language? And why the hell was he acting like this in the first place? He was an ally of Hyrule, and Ganondorf knew Link had seen the destruction Ganondorf had planned. Ganondorf had seen him on the cliff face, hand raised, body alight with green as he helped Rauru funnel whatever magic he had used to decimate Ganondorf’s forces. He was tied to the Zonai and the Hylians, and had no reason not to despise him—yet when others spat at Ganondorf’s feet, Link defended him.

What in Din’s good name was the swordsman’s goal? What reward did he expect?

The doors that must lead to the kitchens opened, out coming miles of lines of food platters—Ganondorf didn’t recognize most of it, but the perfumed fish and caviar was clearly a Zora dish, and the piles of gemstones provided were going down Goron gullets with obvious excitement. Rauru and his wife’s plates were laden with small bites of everything but the said gems, but… did their swordsman have pebbles on his plate? He surely wasn’t eating the Goron food, was he?

The largest Goron Ganondorf had ever had the misfortune of knowing cleared his throat.

“Ganondorf—what a rare sight!” He said, voice booming. Rudania of the Goron, the youngest Boss the Gorons had had in a century. An elected position, the Boss guided the Gorons more than ruled, working beside a counsel, and, being held accountable by a rigid term limit and yearly elections, was a political system that deviated far, far from the norm on the continent. The Rito Patriarch’s title may not succeed by blood, but the previous head of state was still the one to choose their successor, and their term limits were long, often entire lifetimes unless the people found themselves truly despising those in charge. Public opinion might influence power, but at the end of the day, it was the Patriarch who ruled, not the people. Then came the iron monarchy of the Zora; the Zora had a royal bloodline that supposedly stretched farther than recorded time, and rumor had it that inbreeding kept it as pure as it was. Ganondorf made a point to not put much stock in rumors, especially disgusting ones—he knew just how frustrating it was to have others care more about your breeding than they did your capability to rule, given the Gerudo’s gendered culture and outsiders’ refusal to understand it. Regardless, the Zora royalty was known for their iron first that had controlled the Zora’s Domain for generations—something only recently upended by Ruta, their newest Queen.

(And, if the talk in the political scene was that the woman had done away with her mother to take the throne in an underground coup, well, then that was Zora business, not Gerudo.)

(Though Ganondorf could respect a leader who bloodied their hands for the sake of their people.)

“Rudania,” Ganondorf said, inclining his head. “Well met, I hope?”

“Incredibly. I hear you’ve finally made the call to join us. A united continent!”

“It speaks of good things,” Ruta said blandly. “The Zora stand beside your decision.”

“As do the Rito,” Medoh said. His hawk eyes were narrowed, and Ganondorf recalled seeing him flying by the cliff face the day of the molduga attack. Fuck. Just what Ganondorf needed; another distrusting politician.

“I like to think of our flags united as a family,” Rauru said, clasping his hands together. Beside him, his wife smiled, one hand reaching to her husband, linking her fingers around his wrist, and the other resting on the many folds of her dress.

Oh.

How had Ganondorf not noticed? The queen was pregnant, and very, very far along, looking ready to pop any moment. Babies were sacred in the desert; in a land of scarcity and hardship, a child was a blessing unlike any other, and they were raised with reverence. Taken care of by the entire community, the child would have not one mother, but many, all who cherished them, and would raise them together. One mother could love, but a dozen could adore, could raise, could nurse, and bring to adulthood. Was it the same in Hyrule, or would the pressure of motherhood rest on Sonia’s thin shoulders alone?

“A strangely sudden change of heart,” Medoh said, dabbing his beak with a napkin, “though a welcome one, of course. I am… glad… to share a table with you, Ganondorf.”

“I as well,” Ruta said, her face perfectly regal, perfectly blank. “Politics are a difficult theater to act in, and forgetting one’s lines does not mean they cannot learn new ones.”

“I just look forward to a sparring partner who can hold their own!” Rudania said, the gravel in his youthful voice cutting through the tension. “Birdie can move fast, but he’s yet to knock me down.”

Medoh smiled. “It’s not my fault you weigh as much as a mountain. Though I’m not sure our esteemed Gerudo guest could do much better than I.”

“Nonsense! You’ll take me on, wontcha, Ganon?”

Ganondorf bristled and across the table, Link froze.

“That is not my name,” Ganondorf said, fighting to keep the annoyance out of his voice.

“It’s a nickname!”

“You are to use my name or my title. We are not school children, Boss Rudania.”

“Call me Ruddie.”

“No, I don’t think I will.”

“I think Ganon sounds sweet,” Sonia said, voice bright, and Link choked. She thumped him on the back but he waved her off, coughing up pebbles, and Rauru shook his head.

“That is why we don’t eat rocks,” Rauru said matter-of-factly, and Link gave him a wobbly smile and weak thumbs up. Ganondorf could feel the boy’s eyes on him, Link’s gaze lingering in his direction out of the very most corner of his eye. For a moment their gaze met and Link quickly looked away, downing the wine glass in front of him, only to splutter it back up. Ganondorf had to fight to hold back the snort at the swordsman’s wheezing. Rudania laughed, his massive shaking belly jostling the table, and Medoh shook his head at the Goron. Ganondorf felt Kotake squeeze his knee, but he did not look her direction. He could practically feel her frown.

“Brother?” she whispered in Gerudo, barely loud enough to be heard through her mask, but Ganondorf wasn’t paying attention.

Link’s flesh hand was shaking as he wiped the wine from his chin. He was pale, eyes far away. He mouthed something, looking at his prosthetic with wide eyes. Sonia looked over subtly, mouth drawn down, and placed her hand over his, squeezing softly. Link met her eyes, and she whispered something. His face looked strained, and Sonia frowned properly before placing his hand on her stomach. Link held it there, running his thumb over the fabric, and Sonia lifted a hand to his cheek before leaning forward and kissing his forehead.

Then, Link looked away, squaring his shoulders, and the moment of vulnerability was lost.

If Ganondorf didn’t know better, he would say the man looked almost… scared.

Kotake pinched his knee and Ganondorf finally looked to her.

“Are we done?” she said, the beginnings of a whine creeping into her voice, “I’m bored.”

“I swear, you are still a child.” Ganondorf said, and Kotake elbowed him.

“So, Ganondorf,” Sonia said, “Link tells me the Celebration of the Heroines is in a few weeks. Forgive me, I’ve never heard of it before. Would you care to explain?”

Ganondorf felt every Goron, Rito, Hylian, and Zora eye on him.

“Oh, he did?” Ganondorf said. Link met his eyes head-on, and there was still a drop of wine on his chin. Voice purposefully light, Ganondorf continued. “Just where did you hear that from, swordsman? Most outside our borders know little of our religion, let alone one from outside the continent.”

“Such an educated young man,” Medoh said. “I’ve never met a foreigner with such a knowledge of Rito way of life.”

“Link is quite the polylingual,” Sonia said with a beaming smile, and Link flushed. “Now, is there anything we need to do to make sure your festival—”

“I never received my answer,” Ganondorf said, leaning forward on his elbows. The table creaked. “Tell me, Link, just where do you come from?”

“Far from here,” Sonia said. “As I was saying—”

“Can the boy not speak for himself?”

Sonia breathed in and out, face tight. “We weren’t discussing Link.”

“No, we were.”

Ganondorf turned his full attention towards Link. The man’s face was blank, almost disturbingly so, as if someone had blown out the candle inside him. Still, his eyes were filled with a dark, heavy emotion, almost daring Ganondorf to continue.

Very well then.

“Your king—not you, but your king—says you come from far away, yet you speak perfect Hylian and a fair amount of Gerudo, not to mention apparently every other language you can find. You know how to hold yourself around Gerudo royalty, you know of our customs, and you are at ease with Zora and Rito and Goron when you likely wouldn’t have interacted with any so far away. So I ask again—where do you come from, boy, and why are you so very far from home? No escort, no foreign royalty beside you, yet you have the trust of the king and queen of Hyrule. You bare a Zonai arm and a fresh wound, yet there are no reports of any threats to Hyrule currently, other than yours truly. No one likes secrets.”

“That’s enough,” Rauru said, standing. His voice ripped through the room like thunder over still sand dunes, and Ganondorf bit back a smirk. Once again, the Zonai royalty showed favoritism towards their soldier for seemingly no reason. Rauru was hiding something from them all, and Link was in the center of it.

Link raised his hands and Rauru cut him off with a curt look. “Link is more than a guest; he is a dear friend, and he shall be treated with respect while you are under my roof.”

“You placed me under your roof, if you would recall. Whether I stay or go is entirely up to your discretion.”

Rauru’s nostrils flared. Sonia reached for his hand, but he moved it from her reach.

“Luga,” he said, voice tight. “Would you be so kind as to help Lord Ganondorf prepare what he needs to be sent to him from his desert?”

“Brother,” Mineru spoke for the first time, voice low and powerful, even in its softness. “Let us think wisely.”

“No, his Majesty is correct,” Ganondorf said, standing. “Breakfast was lovely. Give my compliments to the chefs. Boss Rudania, Patriarch Medoh, Queen Ruta—it was a pleasure to speak face to face again. Queen Sonia, Lady Mineru.” He looked at Link, whose face was unreadable.

“Swordsman.”

Link nodded to him, then stood.

“Link?” Sonia said, head cocked in confusion. Link smiled at her and gave her a peck on the cheek.

“I’ll escort them.” He signed, pulling his shoulders back.

“That’s not really necessary—” Luga squeaked, and Link waved a hand.

“I find a walk after breakfast to be invigorating.”

Rauru looked like he had bitten into a raw lemon. “Very well.” He said, and Ganondorf could tell the regality and evenness of his voice was a struggle. “But don’t dawdle.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it!” Link signed with a breezy smile, before walking to the door, footsteps bright and easy. “Well? Coming?”

Ganondorf looked to his sisters. The twins looked back.

“Behave.” He murmured, “Stay out of trouble, but see what you can find. I’m trusting you to be useful.”

Both women nodded, though they looked unhappy at being left behind, and Ganondorf turned to the door where Link and the Zonai servant waited.

Link smiled. Ganondorf forced a smile back. It felt wrong on his face, but if Link knew it was, then he kept his opinion to himself.

---

Link was far too comfortable with Ganondorf, and Ganondorf didn’t trust it for an instead. The man had fought off the molduga attack personally and drawn his sword on Ganondorf in an instant yesterday, but now he walked with a quiet brightness, sending the Zonai girl reassuring smiles as she blatantly stared at Ganondorf, hands flapping nervously.

“Luga,” Link signed finally, and the girl squeaked. “I think I’ll take Lord Ganondorf to the library. Somewhere quiet. Why don’t you go let his Majesty know?”

“But, shouldn’t I—”

“Go on, I can handle it from here.” He signed, and Luga gave a thankful, shaky nod.

“I’ll come back quickly!”

And then she was gone, speed-walking back to where they had come from. Ganondorf watched her go with piqued curiosity. Was the man that naïve, that trusting, or just far too full of himself? Was Rauru’s arrogance contagious? The thought almost made Ganondorf smile.

“Are you sure that’s wise, little swordsman?”

“Depends. Are you going to gut me with my own sword or do something equally dramatic?”

Ganondorf snorted. Link barely came to his sternum, looking deceptively delicate in the geometric patterns and gold leaf of his clothes. Ganondorf had been small once, as strange as it was to think of, small and malnourished with too big eyes in an underfed skull. The year of his birth had been at the height of a heat wave, the hottest in recent memory, leaving food scarce and water scarcer. It was a miracle he had survived, spending most of his first year sun sick as his community struggled to feed him, but now he towered, a giant of a man who could never be compared to something so small and fragile. Link was clearly strong, all lean muscles with the gait of a warrior, but had a deceptively soft face, and next to Ganondorf he practically resembled a child. The Ganondorf’s eyes wandered to the elegant sword hilt that hung snugly on Link’s hip, resting in its gilded scabbard. It resembled a gaping dragon head, and the pale green stone inlaid in the dragon’s finger long teeth twinkled in the brightly lit corridor. That was the stone from the molduga attack—it was so close Ganondorf could touch it if he really wanted to.

“Are we really going to the library?” Ganondorf said, and Link shrugged.

“Don’t actually know where it is.” He signed truthfully, “I’m still learning these halls.”

Ganondorf nodded, and for a moment the two walked in silence.

“I can have the tools needed for the Festival provided if you’re partial to that sort of thing. Some better clothes—I doubt you want to keep washing and rewashing your travel clothes—”

“My horse. I need my horse.”

“Gotcha.”

“And some of the women from my court. My advisors, and the royal guard.”

Link nodded. “I’ll see about the guard. Frankly, I have no idea if Rauru will allow it.”

“Of course. This is the king’s home, after all.”

Link frowned, then glanced over his shoulder before stepping in front of Ganondorf and raising his hands, keeping the movements small and hidden by Ganondorf’s bulk.

“I don’t think it was right of him to ask you to stay.”

Ganondorf rose a red brow. “Why? Would you rather I be sitting in the Zonai dungeons? Squeezed into your tiny little hand shackles?”

Link made a face. “No, I think you should have been given the choice. Sure, you’ve given us no reason to want you in the desert where you could raise an army of sand seals or something equally ridiculous, but a Gerudo kept from the desert—that is wrong.”

“Wrong?”

“Yes.”

Ganondorf studied the boy. His face was painfully open and ernest—it would get him in trouble one of these days. He needed to learn to close himself off if he was going to exist in court, to go blank and empty on cue.

Link was far from blank and empty. And that could be useful. Very useful. Surely it was lonely, being a foreigner in the castle. What better person for Link to take comfort in than someone also so very far from home? Link was stupidly trusting, that much was certain, and that was something Ganondorf could utilize.

“Thank you,” Ganondorf said, before letting out the smallest, most genuine false smile he could. “Your words warm me.”

Link stuck out a hand, and Ganondorf shook it.

“I worried I would only have my sisters as allies, being so far from home.” He said, “Can I hope that instead, I have found one here?”

Link smiled. “I’d hope so.”

Ganondorf’s smile was real this time, but its vicious sense of triumph was hidden. Let the boy Rauru was so proud of be his downfall.

“Wonderful. Now, about that list…”

#spider/fly #my writing #totk fanfic #zelda fanfic #loz fanfic #totk au #zelda au #loz au

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