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alwaysmarveling · 3 years

Text

To Be Seen

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x gn!reader

Warnings: Hints at neglect

Word Count: 3.5k

Summary: All superpowers seem to have a downside to them. Invisibility is no exception.

You got your first pair of glasses when you turned seven. The black frames were a birthday present of sorts. You had your eye set on a transparent blue pair, or honestly any of the many colorful options that lined the shelves, but your mother had grabbed the black ones without a word to you and placed them on the counter. Then the two of you went home, back to the always busy house, buzzing with the sounds of your siblings’ chatter and the television that entertained your constantly preoccupied father. There was no cake, no other presents, not even a “congratulations” or a “happy birthday,” but that was okay. That was okay because you had already gotten the gift of sight.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” you whispered to yourself that night, your younger sister already sound asleep beside you while you looked up at the glow-in-the-dark shapes taped to the ceiling. The glasses turned the green fuzzy blobs into actual stars, their points clear and easily counted as you drifted off to sleep with the lenses still on. “You can see now.”

---

You found out you could make yourself invisible on the day you hit ten years old. When you woke up, the first thing you did was look at yourself in the mirror, trying to see if you looked any different from the day before, when you were nine. Double digits should mean double the change, right? But there was no change from when you weren’t in the mirror to when you were.

At first, you thought it must’ve been a prank from your older brother, but one look in the bathroom mirror told you that this was something else. It took you about half an hour before you somehow managed to become visible again, but when you did, you walked into the kitchen to find everything the same as it was the night before. No one hung streamers around the house or left a card on the counter, but that was okay. That was okay because you had a gift.

---

On your twenty-seventh birthday, you were recruited to be an Avenger. Three years ago on that exact day, you had quit your office job and joined SHIELD, only as a trainee, but you made your way through the ranks. You had the advantage of a mastered superpower—turning invisible came useful on the countless days you wished the world would just swallow you whole—but you still had to learn to use it like an agent. You were never remarkable, never being praised as the top of your class nor critiqued as one of the worst. You were always in the middle. Always just… there.

But Fury had seen something in you, and now here you were, packing your things to move into the Avengers Tower. You honestly weren’t sure what he saw in you; no one did. There were other SHIELD agents with far more useful powers and much better combat skills, yet he had picked you and no one else, making you the third SHIELD agent to join the Avengers since Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff.

You looked around the empty apartment, scanning for something you and your imperfect vision might have missed, but saw nothing. Was that what others saw when they looked at you, thinking they had packed the whole room while you were standing right in front of them, arms waving in their face and voice begging for them to acknowledge you? No matter. Fury had told you Natasha would be picking you up at 2, meaning you had just over thirty minutes before she got here. Life moved on, and so would you.

Just like in years prior, there were no claps on the back, shiny bows, or patterned gift wrapping, but that was okay. That was okay because you had gotten the gift to protect and serve others.

---

You laid into the punching bag, twenty-eight non-stop uppercuts for your new age as of today. You brushed one hand across your forehead to interrupt the sweat droplets that ran from your hair, Bruce doing his best to praise you in the meantime.

“Good work, Y/N, yeah. Um, stronger than the ones you’ve been doing in the past. Better form too. I think.” You were sure you weren’t meant to hear his last sentence, but a roll of Natasha’s eyes next to you was enough to make you laugh it off. It wasn’t like you could blame him. Training others wasn’t his forte. You weren’t even sure if he trained himself.

Fury’s interest in you had been short-lived, it seemed. To be fair, you were lucky he recruited you in the first place and even luckier that he let you stay on the team. Still, you’d be lying if you said you weren’t disappointed in how you turned out to just be a new puppy to him. With your novelty now wearing off, you became the responsibility of people like Bruce, who never quite wanted you in the first place.

You had nothing against the gentle and kindhearted scientist, but Steve, Nat, or even Clint would’ve been much more obvious choices. Yet somehow the scientist was who Fury appointed. Maybe he was just the only one who accepted the task, the only one not bold enough to deny Fury’s orders outright. Strangely enough, Nat always showed up, but you weren’t entirely sure why, seeing as she usually sat there silently for most of it. She’d occasionally lean in to whisper something to Bruce, but she rarely said anything to you.

Much to Bruce’s—and maybe Natasha’s—relief, Tony strutted into the gym, his charisma already filling in the awkward gaps between you guys that never seemed to disappear, no matter how much time passed.

“Bruce, Nat, just the people I was looking for! It was great to see you guys at the party last night.” You pushed your glasses back up the bridge of your nose before going back to the punching bag; obviously, he was not here to speak with you. As you beat into the bag, getting lost in the rattling of the chain and the rhythm of the combinations, you thought back to last night, when you heard the Avengers’ laughter as they prepared for the gala.

You sat in the living room watching a movie with the tiniest but fiercest hope that someone might see you and ask you to come along. This was a party for the Avengers, after all, to celebrate the success of a mission that you had been part of. It had been up to you to cut the power and incapacitate the leader. Somehow the credit had gone to Clint, all the news stations celebrating the archer and his amazing feat. It was fine, whatever, just another chip to brush off of your shoulder—a teeny, tiny chip, really, honestly probably more of a scratch—but you thought you would’ve at least been invited to the party. Yet there you were, your posture slowly drooping as you sank into the leather sofa while your teammates gathered in the elevator to head up to the party. You had taken your phone out and opened the camera app, checking to make sure you hadn’t somehow triggered your invisibility, but, nope, you were very much there. The tears that fell were very much there.

“Alright, Tony, I’ll be there for Movie Night tonight, but you gotta go. I need to get back to my training duties.” It was then that Tony finally seemed to realize your presence, turning around with a surprised look on his face.

“Oh, hey, Y/N. You, um, you should come tonight too.” All of his charm was gone, the relaxed smile only hanging on by the tiniest lift of the corner of his mouth. So you did your best to reassure him with a small nod. The smile came back immediately. All was well; Tony Stark does indeed have a heart.

Later that night, as you sat alone on the three-person couch, you drew the blankets closer to you. The same movie you had watched last night was playing on the TV. The original plan had been to watch Jaws, but Sam was delighted to find the DVD box to Space Jam on the coffee table, insisting that he’d been wanting to watch it again and how it was such a coincidence it was already out. He wasn’t saying that last night when you asked if anyone wanted to watch it with you, but at least you weren’t watching it alone this time. You looked around at the small groups the Avengers had formed on the other couches, some of them even sitting on the floor—there wasn’t enough space, you guessed—before letting out a sigh. There were no party hats or festive noisemakers, but that was okay. That was okay because… A tap on your knee brought you back to the present moment. You looked down to find the outstretched arm of a familiar redhead, a bowl of popcorn in her hand.

There was no time for wallowing in self-pity. That was okay. You were okay.

---

The harsh sunlight woke you up in time for your thirtieth birthday. Or maybe it was the stiff and lumpy mattress that did it. Either way, you were hoping you’d be able to sleep through it. The rational side of you knew that wasn’t possible—what with being on the run from the US government and all—but one can always hope, right?

You’d stuck with Natasha during the Avengers’ split, pushing for the team to stay together even though you’d never really been part of the team. It wasn’t about you though; you’d seen the amazing things the Avengers could do when they were together. The world needed them.

Well, that line of thinking got you here, in a small cabin in the woods with all the Avengers who had followed Steve, Natasha joining the group later. Happy birthday to you. Although to be fair, it wasn’t like any of your past birthdays had been much better. Once your childish naivety had faded away (which probably took much longer than it should have), the day became something you dreaded, something you hoped each year you would forget about but never quite could. This time, though, you had a small plan. It was going to be different this year.

Your knees cracked as you stood, announcing to no one in particular that you were heading off to bed. Rather than heading straight down the hall to your room, though, you cut through the kitchen and grabbed a few things.

Your shoulders dropped slightly as you closed the door, and you allowed yourself to study the contents of your hands: a lighter, candle, and one of the leftover store-bought cupcakes from Steve’s birthday. The cupcakes weren’t great, but no one had the time, energy, or ingredients to make a cake, and, let’s be honest, most of the people here couldn’t bake anyways. Plus, this one had frosting in your favorite color, so you couldn’t complain, especially since it was more than you’d had for your birthday since you could remember.

The wooden bed frame creaked as you shifted to place the candle in the frosting and light it. For the first time that day, you were grateful the windows had no curtains, as they allowed you to see the stars that dotted the sky.

“Happy birthday,” you murmured to yourself, your eyes never leaving the constellations, instead darting around to watch in awe as more and more of the twinkling lights showed up the longer you cared to look.

Just as you tore your eyes away to blow out the candle, a knock rang out against the door. Were you guys spotted? Did you have to leave? You immediately ran to open the door, running through a list of things you’d have to pack the second you heard the order. You weren’t exactly surprised to see Nat standing outside your door, but you were surprised to see her holding a small rectangular box and a bottle of champagne.

“Hey, um, sorry to interrupt.” Your cheeks immediately heated up when you noticed her eyes dart to the cupcake still in your hand. You must’ve forgotten to put it down in your rush to open the door. At least the candle’s flame had gone out. “I get it if you don’t want to celebrate with anyone, but I figured you still deserve a treat on your special day.”

Natasha’s brows furrowed as your head tilted slightly.

“What special day?”

“Um, well, isn’t it your birthday?” You nodded, still not quite understanding what she was asking. Not to mention, the spy’s continued use of filler words surprised you. Sure, the two of you hadn’t interacted with each other much, but a lack of familiarity didn’t usually make her this uneasy. Were you really that invisible that she felt uncomfortable around you despite having known you for three years? But you couldn’t dwell on it with Nat speaking again, her voice pulling you out of your thoughts. “And, um, I noticed the only alcohol you drink is champagne, so… this is for you.”

You stepped back slightly as she nudged the objects towards you, but the spy misunderstood you, taking your surprise as an invitation to enter the room. Before you knew it, you were asking her to sit next to you on the mattress. It wasn’t like you had much of a choice, though; keeping her standing would be rude, and there were no chairs in your room. The two of you sat at least a foot apart, both of your spines straight and neither of you quite meeting the eyes of the other.

“So, um, do you want to open the present first or have your cupcake? Or we can open the champagne if you want.”

“This is a present?” You eyed the brown box she held in her hand. You weren’t sure what it could be. Based on its size, maybe a watch or a pocket knife? But Natasha laughed, simply pushing the box towards you.

“Of course it’s a present. Open it!” So you set the cupcake down on the unstable bedside table, making sure the dessert wouldn’t fall due to the furniture having one leg shorter than the rest. You cast one last glance at Natasha, who gave you a reassuring yet pointed nod, and with that, you lifted the cover.

It took everything in you to prevent the tears springing in your eyes from overflowing. You lifted the goggles with shaking hands. You had to touch them to make sure they were real, to make sure this wasn’t some sick and twisted dream your brain had forced on you to make you remember how disappointing your past birthdays had been.

“Do you like it?” The blonde asked you softly, her lower lip caught in between her teeth. Had you been thinking clearly, you would’ve been surprised at how apprehensive she sounded, how unsure she was. “I thought it could be something you might want to wear on missions. I noticed your other ones kept slipping down or breaking, and um…” Both of you became antsier as Natasha rambled on, you at how she was being more intimate with you than anyone ever had, and she at how she just couldn’t seem to stop talking despite the fact that, in her opinion, she was digging herself into an increasingly deeper hole. “It’s a lot more sturdy, and there are some other features that I think you’ll appreciate. I had Tony and Bruce make it for you… before, you know, this whole thing happened. And I brought it with me when I left.”

The frames reminded you much of the glasses you had first wanted as a kid, the ones your mother had looked past in favor of the plain black ones. They matched your combat suit, though, even having a small carving of your symbol on the side. You nodded as you choked down a sob, forcing yourself to meet the former assassin’s gaze to try to thank her properly.

“I love it, Natasha. Thank you so much. I- it’s… it’s amazing.” Nat dipped her head as if to nod, but you didn’t miss the way her cheeks flushed red or how a hint of her characteristic smirk appeared.

“Of course. It’s the least I could do.” Your eyes returned to the glasses in your hand. You’d try them out the second Natasha left. “So, cake now?”

“Yes, right, of course,” you nodded immediately, shaking your head at how you had managed to forget about the one thing you had planned to do for your birthday. Before you could reach for the frosted dessert, Natasha relit the candle and handed the cupcake to you as she began to sing “Happy Birthday.” When she reached the last note, you could hold it in no longer, and all the tears immediately began to flow.

“Oh my god, Y/N, I’m so sorry. Is my singing really that bad?” The redhead wasn’t sure whether to pull you closer or move away as she ran a hand through her hair, but she felt slightly comforted when she noticed you shaking your head.

“No, no, it’s just…” Natasha hesitantly began to rub your back in an effort to calm your sobs, “No one’s ever sang that for me before.”

“Ever?” She winced slightly at how her voice cracked, betraying her emotions to you despite her attempts to remain composed.

“Well, there used to be a video of it from my third birthday, but… I was three. So I don’t really remember it.” Natasha thought back to the many birthday celebrations the team had held, none of them being for you. The door to your room was always closed on your birthday. She’d always thought you had just gone out with friends and family, people outside of the Avengers, and who was she to get in the way of you and those you loved? But it had been the opposite. You had been hiding away in your room, and she hadn’t helped matters at all by waiting for three years to do anything. If only she’d gained the courage earlier, she could’ve helped ease your pain much sooner.

But all you saw through your tears was the way her head was cocked to the side, her spy training paying off as you couldn’t even begin to predict what she might be thinking. Your confusion slowed your tears somewhat, but that didn’t last for long as your mind shifted gears. You were ever the fool for sharing something so vulnerable with someone you barely knew.

So it was much to your surprise when Natasha finally reached her hand toward you, using her thumb to brush off the last few tears that made their way down your cheeks.

“You’ve never been invisible to me, Y/N. I see you. Always.” And with that, without responding, you turned away from her with a sniff to blow out the candle. “What’d you wish for?” the spy asked lightly, hoping the joke would help lift your mood.

“Nothing. This was more than I could’ve ever asked for.” Nat nodded slowly, keeping her eyes on you as she reached to take out the candle. Your eyes remained on the cupcake as if it would be ripped away from you if you turned away for a second. With her hand returned to your back, you began to dig into the cupcake, your eyes closing as you savored the taste. A cupcake just for you, on your birthday. Sure, it was a leftover cupcake, the frosting a bit too sweet and the cake itself dry and somewhat stale, but that didn’t matter. It was still the first in thirty years.

That night, you lay in bed with the stars overhead, a smile on your face as you thought about the day’s events, your best birthday ever.

And maybe it was naive of you to believe what Natasha had told you earlier that day—it wasn’t like the thought hadn’t crossed your mind several times in the few hours since she told you that—but then you thought about the champagne and the glasses she’d given you. You thought about the way she’d examined your apartment with you one last time before she brought you to the Avengers Tower, about the way she gave you an encouraging smile during training when you became exhausted with Bruce’s cluelessness, about the way she’d shared her popcorn on movie nights with you and only you.

And in the room next to you, Natasha thought about your confusion, your tears, and the way desperation, hope, and amazement filled your face when you looked at her right before you blew out the candle. It was then that she made a vow to herself, to show you that you’d never be invisible, especially not to her.

“Happy birthday, Y/N,” she whispered, “You are seen.”

-----

🏷 : @vancityfire13 @007giu

#natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff x gn!reader #natasha romanoff x fem!reader #natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff imagine #natasha romanoff #avengers x reader #marvel #mcu #I wrote something #alwaysmarveling

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savagetrickster · 4 years

Text

Red.

— BNHA BOOKCLUB BINGO EVENT —

anime | character: bnha | kirishima eijirou words: 2.5k prompt/crossed out: “Last Words” Themes/Warnings: soulmate AU, angst, character death

Inspiration/Song: “I Knew I Loved You” by Savage Garden

“...I knew I loved you before I met you I think I dreamed you into life I knew I loved you before I met you I have been waiting all my life...”

a/n: Imma tag the people who I have shared this plot with on the @bnhabookclub ‘s discord server HAHAH @pixxiesdust (enjoy the angst my dear zeze <3), @gallickingun (who suggested Kirishima and DAMN i was like hell yeah!) and @hawks-senseis (who came out with a crack idea that i’m SO gonna write it soon cos her idea is GOLDDD that i can’t help lmao-ing everytime I think about it XD)

No amount of time or research could ever unravel the mysteries of the world.

Why are the fate of the two people bounded by the words etched in their skin?

Why do these words only appear when one turns sixteen? And why sixteen?

There were so many questions but there were no answers.

Some gazed upon the heavens to find the lost meanings, while some dug for them in the earth beneath.

All these for the mystery etched in their skin.

But for you, you sought the answer through the seemingly endless scroll through forums on your screen.

Digitized words painting enthralling stories of how these sacred marks — dubbed as Soulwords by the millions across the blogs, forums, the news articles — on their skin led to happy endings, love, and happiness.

The common retelling of their stories mentioned the ‘unexplainable rush of warmth’, ‘the boost of bliss and spiritual strength’, and ‘the sense of wholeness’ they thrived upon finally meeting their fated partners.

Many who visited them gushed about their own, and those who haven’t, were longing and full of anticipation.

But not you.

You were shaking with anxiety and...desperation for a sign of hope.

“You’re beautiful.”

—ever since he turned sixteen and woke up to find these two words etched into the skin on his right, curving around his inner wrist like a permanent bracelet, he had waited.

Eagerness and suspense brimmed and shook inside him for the day to come with an intensity that could match a child’s, itching to open their Christmas presents or a puppy’s, sitting by the door with a wagging tail.

He hasn't met them, but he was already in love.

He kept his hands lonely for them.

His lips had never tasted the sweetness of a kiss for them.

It didn’t even matter how long it took.

Waiting was what he wanted to do because his every firsts belonged to them.

Even if it meant watching his friends around him, one after another, find their fated ones through their three-years long of hero education at the U.A. High.

He’d seen the uplifting effect the destined bonds had on them, even for Bakugou — the subtle spring in his usually hefty steps and the blissful contentment behind his scowling faces was obvious to those who had fought and struggled alongside him in the three years.

Even for someone as optimistic as himself, Kirishima often found himself filled with envy and doubts.

Still, he could never be tempted to let anyone else steal his firsts before he met them.

Every waking moment started with his hopes of hearing their first words. That she or even he would be somewhere out there, beyond his front door he was about to venture out from, arranged by fate to finally meet him.

Fleeting daydreams about how he could finally hold them in his arms and give them all his love. Even thoughts of doing things as simple as grocery shopping and taking naps together filled him with so much bubbling warmth.

Birthdays after birthdays, he wished before dancing flames, for the arrival of the fateful day awaiting them to come quicker.

Along with the wish for their safety and health, he never failed to add a silent promise to become a strong hero that could protect them.

“I did it.”

A bashful mumble turned his head away, the razored friendly grin he flashed at the passing giddy gushes of ‘Red Riot’ falling away.

Huh?

His puzzled eyes landed on Bakugou who wasn’t as enthusiastic about the gasps and admiring gazes on them.

Kirishima blinked. Once, twice. “Did what?”

“Were you even listening, shitty hair?” Bakugou’s impatience ripped through his words and faded with a sigh, “I said I proposed.”

His reminder nudged Kirishima in the direction of the phone conversation they had three days ago.

Understanding dawned upon him as soon as he pieced things together.

“....She said yes, right?”

The same razored grin he flashed to the faces on the boulevard they left behind brightened his face once more as his eyes danced excitedly.

“Of course, she said yes,” Bakugou grunted, fighting against the edges of his lips that was threatening to break a smile across his face. “We’re meant to happen after all.”

There was a short pause between them as the brightness in Kirishima’s eyes faltered slightly.

“You’re lucky, Bakugou.”

Kirishima felt the exhilaration he had for his best friend sink with a rising ache in his chest at the reminder.

He knew Bakugou didn’t mean any harm when he said what he said. He could tell it was out of happiness.

“I’m already twenty-four like you, yet I’m not even anywhere close.”

Under the cloudy sky, the dainty café huddled humbly among the huge city buildings, while hundreds of people rushed by it outside on the crowded street.

Half a dozen customers glanced up as the door swung open, announced by a rush of cold wind. Unlike the outside, the interior of the café was warm and cheery, with bright lights and colorful walls.

The customers returned to their conversations as the door swung closed behind the new entrant and the cold breeze was forgotten.

Your shoulders rose and fell as you breathed in the aromatic grounded scent of coffee lingering thickly in the cafe.

Even from the door, the stranger beside your best friend caught your eyes and you couldn’t help the bitter pinch of envy that sunk with your heavy heart.

Your brain instantly connected the dots as your legs brought you over to your friends at your usual corner.

Now, that explained the enthusiasm that seemed to leak through your screen when your phone pinged with a new text from her.

It was her turn.

You didn’t even need to hear the exuberance bouncing off your best friend’s voice when she introduced him to you, to know that those stories you’d read online were true.

Just like what you’d read on the forum, the abundance of happiness seemed to radiate off them; you could feel it the moment you slipped into the seat across them.

You were happy for her, really.

The blissful glow across you was practically tangible enough to be seen from the way their eyes smiled along with their lips.

And you forced yourself to smile too — like how you have always tried for your friends before her.

But the harsh whispers reminding you of your own reality just wouldn’t let you.

Being your best friend who knew where your heart dwelled, she noticed.

“Believe in yours, (Name),” The dull gloom glazed over your eyes disappeared at a snap in time for you to watch your best friend's hand leave his.

“Everyone has met their happy endings and I know you are bound to meet yours too soon.” Her hand slid across the table to squeeze yours. “Stop overthinking, okay?”

You wished you could.

“Don’t worry about me, Yui,” The brightest smile you could muster swept over your face. “We should totally start planning for our double dates once I meet mine!”

Her eyes lit up, the concern in them washed away and was replaced by the enthusiasm you knew so well.

Exactly the way it was, when you felt it with her back then.

Before your sixteen birthdays, the one thing you two always look forward to was double dates once you've met your fated ones. Then, you two had a notebook filled with giddy doodles of words you thought might turn up on your wrists.

But only hers was anything close to them.

Her comforting words...you wanted to cling onto them so badly. You wanted to believe in them.

You longed to feel the same kind of anticipation others felt waiting for their fated ones. And not dread and fear.

You tore your eyes away from the couple before you with a quiet pain and slipped a glance down to your wrist.

Jumping from forums to forums, glimpses of happy endings were what you’ve been desperately searching for.

For a hint of hope for the ominous words on your skin that spelled your fate.

“Don’t die on me— please.”

Her eyes roamed the chaotic scene before her.

The flashing red atop ambulances, the metal rattling of the wheels under stretchers delivering casualties and some were like her, crying helplessly.

The reassuring squeeze around her hand and his words meant to comfort her did nothing to stop the sobs retching from her.

The waves of angry, gray clouds rolling menacingly in the vast overcast sky over them made her feel so tiny.

“...Someone, please help her.” Her cracking voice could barely rise above the urgent cacophony around her as she begged, her mascara running down her cheeks with her tears.

A sight that she wouldn’t allow anyone to see if (Name) wasn’t buried somewhere under the rubble of what used to be the cafe they were sitting in.

“My best friend…” She cried, pleading left and right as she tried to find someone who could do something. Anything.

“Please—”

She knew it was futile for any civilians here, but she had to try.

“—she’s still in there…!”

Where were the Pro-Heroes?

(Name) may not be her fated one, but she was everything to her. A girl she laughed and cried with...She couldn’t lose her.

Hope widened her eyes as she spotted a distant recognizable figure that had just stepped into the chaos, and rushed forward.

“...Red Riot!”

You didn’t know how it happened, but you knew it happened too fast.

One moment you were staring back at your reflection in the bathroom.

The next moment you were lying on your back, eyes locked onto the hovering block of concrete that could have crushed you if not for the jagged crimson-stained one impaling your stomach.

The sticky warmth on the side of your heads and the throbbing that came along with it told you were bleeding from the head as well.

Even with you floating in and out of consciousness, you could feel the harsh ripple of the damages done to your body, spreading across you like hungry wildfire.

Every breath you tried to take into your lungs was accompanied by shards of stabbing pain.

All these pointed to one path you were heading to, but you clung onto the words on your wrist.

Those words...you haven’t heard them.

So you weren’t going to die yet right?

For once in your life, ever since those inscriptions appeared on your skin, hope bloomed across your chest as you desperately held onto them like they were your lifeline.

You will live.

You will survive this.

And die as you were meant to when time comes.

—you told yourself, repeating them in your muddled head like a mantra.

Then while fighting hard against the darkness dimming around your vision and reciting encouraging words in your head, the block over you was suddenly lifted off.

The burst of light that fell onto you made you wince instantly, your eyes squinting weakly against stark brightness that greeted you.

You heard or more than saw the block being shoved away and what towered over you now was a magnificent figure of hope.

It was a breathtaking sight for someone who was about to be swallowed by the clutches of despair.

Like a reenacting scene of Altas who had finally pushed off the weight of the heavens off his shoulders, that never came to be.

Standing tall and sturdy against the light behind him, the clad of strong red on him made you want to reach out to him so much.

It was like he was life itself, blazing gloriously in the light from the way the red on him seemed to be leaping off him.

Amongst the darkness clouding your vision from the corners, you watched him curl down into you, drawing closer with concern in those eyes.

You couldn’t help the words you uttered through your parched lips.

“....You’re beautiful.”

You saw him freeze, but you didn’t think much of it because you were still marvelling at the sight before you — he was indeed beautiful.

“No, no…”

You were too weak to notice the painful realization distorting his face or hear the panic he muttered under his gasping breath.

”...not like this.”

There was a starburst of pain amidst the red in his trembling gaze as Kirishima lowered himself beside your tattered body.

Red.

They were everywhere on you. Leaking from everywhere they could, seeping out along with the strength in your half-lidded gaze.

He knew what was coming. He knew there was no way you could survive this.

But it didn’t mean he was ready to accept the reality stained crimson red before him.

Kirishima searched around him, eyes desperately looking for someone…

Recovery Girl, a paramedic, a doctor...anyone that wasn’t as helpless as him.

You couldn’t see him that clearly now that everything was dimmed, but you could sense the turmoil in the body beside yours.

“...It’s okay.” Your lips curled weakly with your attempt to comfort him.

“No, no...it’s not okay.” There was a crack in his voice that made you wonder how kind this stranger was to weep so hard for a person they didn’t even know.

“Not yet, you can’t just go like this. I’ve waited for so long...” A choked sob broke into his plea.

“...Don’t die on me— please.”

A limp gasp sifted through your lips at the rush of a strange, honey-rich warmth that immediately flared within you to his words.

You thought you heard him gasping with you when it happened.

It died quickly, fizzling out as quickly it came.

It was only for a second but it was enough for you to feel it in you, enveloping you like the embrace of a gentle sun.

Was that the ‘rush of warmth’ so many talked about?

…But at death’s door?

“So,” A wry smile climbed across your face as a humorless chuckle left you, “....we’ve finally met, huh.”

Whatever hope you held onto to keep your eyes open just minutes ago crumbled.

This was it, wasn’t it?

“I’m sorry,” Tears welled in your eyes. “...I’m so sorry it had to be like this, whoever you are.”

“I’m Red Riot.” You heard him frantically answer after you, “I mean, Kirishima Eijiro.”

His hands clamped over yours and you could only think of how warm they were, mustering the bit of strength you had left to give him a squeeze.

The Red Riot, huh?

Who would have thought…

Another wistful chuckle left you as you tasted the bitterness of regret and sadness.

Tears brimmed over your eyes at the withering light in your vision.

The darkness was callous.

“I’m (Name),” You knew you were close. “...And I’m glad I’ve finally met you, Kirishima-san.”

It was only interested in pulling you in.

Your loosening grip around his hands jostled him into panic.

...and it was the clear victor.

He screamed for you.

He screamed for someone to help.

He cursed at fate.

“Please don’t leave. I beg you, don’t go...I love you.” — was the last you heard before darkness finally took you.

Yui was wrong; not everyone was bound to meet their happy ending.

Because you didn’t.

...And neither did he.

a/n: did you notice how differently they viewed the color red?

#kirishima eijirou #bnha eijiro kirishima #kirishima eijiro x reader #kirishima eijiro imagine #red riot #bnha kirishima #bnhabookclub #bnhabookclub bingo event 2020

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miss-tc-nova · 4 years

Text

Unconventional Wayfinders - Xehanort x Eraqus

I’m not entirely sure how I feel about this one yet. I like the idea, but I’m wary of my execution. Oh well!

~~~~~

Fingers work their magic, gliding through ebony hair. The pampered would absolutely melt into oblivion if he could; instead, he just soaks in the sunlight streaming in through the window and indulges in the feeling of someone playing with his hair. So relaxed is the young man that he begins to drift away—that is, until the magic stops and a digit taps against his nose.

“Eraqus, aren’t you supposed to be reading?” Book aside, silver eyes—sparkling from that afternoon light—peer down at the lap in which the slacker rests his head.

The response is an unashamed grin. “Maybe.” A brow arches at him. “Come on Xehanort. I’m not bothering your studies.”

“So,” the studious replies sharply. “If you don’t study, when the test comes around, you’ll try to get me to cheat for you again and we’ll both get caught and get detention…again.”

Chuckling, Eraqus reaches up to swat silver bangs from the other boy’s face. “Maybe next time you should double check before throwing the most obvious cheat sheet right in front of the Master’s face.”

“Or—” The book snaps shut. “—you could study and do your test without getting me in trouble…again.”

“I thought you liked risk.”

“Sure, but I’m not a fool—you should know; you’re king of that field.” Fingers pinch at a cheek.

The boy in white pushes the fingers from his face, still smiling like the royal fool he is. Then something that’s been dancing through his thoughts for a long time slips past his lips. “Hey, get a piercing with me.”

Understandable is the look of shock on his partner’s face. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Granted, it is a very odd request, but there is certainly a motivation behind his suggestion; he can display his affection all he wants in smooches, snuggles, and sneaky spots, but those are things that can fade in the fleeting moments following said acts. That’s not to say Eraqus will ever forget his beloved’s greedy kisses or the embraces that make him feel like he’s more than just another face in a bloodline of world defenders, but those affections, filled with so much adoration, always leave him anxious that his happiness will one day vanish—all he wants is some physical proof that these moments happened. Having thought long and hard about the decision, this is the solution that emerged.

“Let’s go get our ears pierced,” he repeats, sitting up. “Come on. It’ll be fun!”

“I’m sure it’ll be painful…”

“Only for a while—Urd says it’s not that bad. Even Bragi got one.”

“Okay, first off, Bragi would jump into a hole for a bag of candy. Second, Urd is probably the one who threw the bag down there.”

An attempt to defend his friends is made, “That only happened once!”

“But it happened.”

“Just—come on! Please!”

There’s an initial resistance, but Xehanort cannot withstand his boyfriend’s puppy-eyes for long—Era knows; Era checked. The “simple request” has to be considered a bit longer than an average request but he does inevitably give. “Fine.”

“Yes! Let’s go!” Grabbing his hand, the excited boy drags the other out of the library.

“Now?!”

Yes, he wants to go now.

By the time they arrive at the tattoo parlor that’s been scouted out for a few weeks, Eraqus is sure his companion is only seconds away from reconsidering his life choices. Various art pieces adorn the ruby walls and black furniture is set to accommodate guests. There are tables and chairs behind the show-case counter with a variety of bottles and tools looking ready to torment someone at disposal.

“What can I do for you boys?” the man behind the glass counter.

“Hi.” A wave is added to the greeting. “We’re here to get our ears pierced.”

He’s far more relaxed than expected. “Cool. What do you have in mind?”

And thus they have approached the first obstacle. “Er, actually we haven’t decided yet.”

So the man goes over the variation of ear piercings, shows some example pictures, and explains how to care for new piercings. When there’s still no decision on the type of piercing, there’s a gesture to case, offering a look at the myriad of jewelry they have.

The second his eyes lay on the black bands, Eraqus knows which ones he wants to share with his boyfriend—it seemed like fate to him. His finger points into the glass. “These ones.”

They clink as they fall onto the counter for the two to inspect, but the instigator is already sold. “You sure you want these ones? Cuffs usually go in the cartilage which is a bit more painful than your usual earlobe piercings.”

Xehanort eyes the shorter boy who grins and declares, “Yep. I want these ones—one for each of us.”

“Alright. Who’s going in the chair first?”

Now in the face of imminent pain, Era starts to get cold feet. While he is a key bearer and is no stranger to pain, he’s not exactly a fan of it and prefers to shy away. He’s fully aware his reaction is a little silly, but good ol’ Xe heaves a sigh and announces, “I’ll go first.”

Stone eyes watch on as the first boy speaks with the piercer about placement of the ear décor as casually as talking about the weather on Scala. True to his persona, he shows no apprehensions.

“You wanna hold his hand?” the artist offers the onlooker.

This immediately brings up an objection from the first victim. “Pfft. I don’t need anyone to hold my hand. Let’s just do it.”

A sheepish grin via Era is given; the artist shrugs and turns back on the boy in the chair. The faintest hint of concern finally flashes in those silver eyes, detectable only by the boy who knows him best. Nevertheless, with a simple blink and only the slightest of twinges, the job gets done. Once he’s free, Xehanort looks to Eraqus—ear just starting to react to the piercing.

“How does it look?”

The gleaming metal brings about a strange happiness within the shorter male. In Eraqus’s mind, it’s a mark—a claim—and it makes him absolutely overjoyed. “It looks great…I guess that means it’s my turn?”

The boys swap out and the boy with black hair feels the nerves coil in his gut again. A marker taps against his ear and the placement is confirmed. As the needle is being prepped, his heart beats louder in his chest. His gaze turns on the other boy.

“Guess I’m not quite as brave,” he admits, hand upturned in requisition.

There’s a mock of annoyance but fingers interlock and hold firmly. “It’s not that bad, you wuss.” Nervously, the second victim just smiles.

There’s a warning and the muscles in his body tense, his fist curling tighter around his partner’s. A sharp bite takes hold in his ear but he knows better than to flinch away. Instead, focus goes to the reciprocated squeeze in his hand. It feels like forever but eventually the pain dies down, blood rushing around the spot which is unlikely to die down soon.

Elated and relieved, he hops up. “Phew! I’m glad that’s over!”

“Glad? You’re the one who planned this whole thing,” his boyfriend scolds.

“That doesn’t mean I go around poking needles through my ears in my spare time.”

The good-natured artist chuckles. “Alright.” A mirror is propped up for their viewing. “Wha’chu boys think?”

Once again, Eraqus is very pleased at seeing his shiny, new adornment, but that euphoria is nowhere near the hit he gets from each glance at the matching piece worn by Xehanort. Bleeding through his brain is the thought of how beautiful the mark he’s chosen looks on his dearest.

“It’s perfect. Thanks.”

Xe bounces his shoulders. Several more words of gratitude are given before the couple pays and heads home. The boy in white is more chipper than usual on their trek and his companion’s admiration of the light-heartedness is not missed.

Back at the castle, the pair ambles along the student dorms.

“So we’re supposed to spray this on our ears twice a day?” questions the boy in black, holding up a mini spray bottle.

“That’s what he said.”

A hand riffles through silver hair, only to quickly retract with a grimace; his ear is now notably upset at having been impaled. “Why did you have to pick a helix piercing?”

Despite his beloved’s griping, Era eyes the band with a little smile. “I thought it looked cooler. What? You don’t like the cuffs I picked?”

“Why cuffs?”

This is where the shorter boy feels a bit sheepish in admitting his cheesy reasoning—but if anyone would understand, it would be Xehanort. “Because they have stars in them.”

What Eraqus is referring to is the star-shaped holes in the black metal. Years ago, shortly following the arrival of the non-native boy, he told his classmates about a fruit from his home world that is rumored to bind two people’s destinies should they share one—it grows in the shape of a star. Now Eraqus had no way of finding Xehanort’s home world, let alone this magical fruit; so in hopes the symbolism will be enough—even if it’s just to remind these boys to take control of their own destinies—he chose the jewelry based on a fantasy.

“You’re such a sap.” This is no doubt Xehenort’s attempt to lighten the heavy implications. It’s worth noting the tint of pink bleeding across his nose.

With a childish huff, Era folds his arms and storms ahead into his room. “Fine. Don’t wear it. See what I care. You just had a needle in your ear for nothing.”

Just as he’s shirking off his haori, a pair of arms slips around his waist. “I said you were a sap; I didn’t say I wasn’t gonna wear it,” the taller hums, chin falling on a shoulder. “It’s cute that you believe in such fairy tales.”

Stony eyes roll. “You’re rude.”

He can’t resist the nuzzle against his neck. “You’re adorable.”

There’s little resistance to being pulled around, but Eraqus is in for a surprise when the hands against his shoulders push him down onto the bed. He has just enough time to sit up before the other straddles his lap. It feels like a balloon swelling in his chest as his face is captured and drawn close. However, the normally hunter-like gaze is surprisingly soft and warm.

“Silly, symbolic jewelry or not, no matter where our paths may take us, I’ll always find you in the end.” Even his voice holds that sincere emotion.

Xehanort is not one to blatantly lay himself out for anyone—even his partner sometimes struggles to reach through the indifference. But the moments where he does let his guard down tend to be most cherished by the shorter boy as he knows they are the most important. No matter what happens, he knows Xe will hold true to his words and maybe that’s all Era needed to keep his peace of mind. It’s still going to fill him with happiness to see his little tag on his boyfriend’s ear though.

The sweet instant is short lived, transitioning easily back to the wolfish nature more suitable for the boy in black. With a dangerous gleam, he leans closer. All tension melts in submissive boy’s anticipation.

“On the other hand, if you wanted some sort of proof of your claim, there are certainly other ways you could’ve left a mark,” the instigator whispers against pink lips, putting every strand of black hair on end.

“Wanna demonstrate?” His mind is already lost to the desire for affection.

With slow, deliberate draw of his tongue along the bottom lip, Xehanort lowly replies, “Oh you know I’m going to.”

He pushes his partner down onto the bed and indulges Eraqus in his greed.

#xehanort #eraqus #xehaqus #xehanort x eraqus #young master eraqus #young master xehanort #ymx #yme

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gone-daddy-gone · 4 years

Note

hear me out. so guitarist!kuroo with his longer slander talented flexible majestic fingers. yeah. the fingers can do wonders. my point is, he can finger fuck me all he wants

i’m taking this as a request LMAO ihateyoustopenablingme

Word Count: 916

Rating: Mature. Fingering in public. Hints at public sex.

Pairing: You x Kuroo

Dirty Tune

Kuroo spent not two, not three, but five years to get this record deal. He knew it was serious business, you know it was serious business. The waiter serving you your third glass of lemonade understood this was serious business.

Yet you couldn’t help but feel his fingers begin to drum a tune on your upper thigh. You swatted him away, a silent “knock your shit off before I hurt you”. He, being Kuroo was not one to be deterred by such an act.

“Tetsuro, can I call you Tetsuro? Of course I can we’re partners now!” The loud fat producer in front of you shouted unnecessarily as you two sat a mere two feet away. You gave the boisterous man a small agreeing smile, before turning your attention to your smirking boyfriend. Taking a deep breath you turned right back to the man to hear what he had to say.

Surprisingly it was a whole lot of nothing and you were just about to block out everything in this room and daydream about catching up on My Hero Academia. Then you felt the returning drum on your thigh, inching closer to you more personal spot. You could feel your face begin to heat up before stomping on your boyfriend’s foot, giving him a second warning glance. He obliged, for about thirty seconds before he pushed his fingers onto your panties and started to stroke the outside of them. You closed your legs and let out an “eek!”

Kuroo’s future producer gave you a glance before asking. “Are you ok? Did you choke?” Promptly pushing water in your face so fast you barely had time to think to accept or decline. You smiled and muttered a small “thank you” before taking the water in your grasp and glaring at your boyfriend. He gave you a sympathetic look before leaning into your ear.

“Play along unless you wanna get caught and ruin this deal.” You were about to whisper to him to keep it in his pants before he pulled away and went back to conversing with the large rich man before you two. You fought back the urge to roll your eyes and look like a loving girlfriend in front of the man who was going to take Kuroo to number one.

Kuroo wiggled his fingers, silently telling you to open your legs back up. Reluctantly, you gave him a small opening to do whatever he wanted to your pussy. You felt him begin to stroke the outside and you wiggled, this time with anticipation instead of defiance. Letting out a shaky breath you gripped Kuroo’s large bicep, wrapping one arm around it, digging your nails into his arm with your hand on the other arm. He then pushed aside your panties and began to push a single digit inside. He let his lip curl upwards, very pleased at your apparent arousal. You let out another shaky breath as he began to pump in and out.

His skillful fingers are already wearing you down as they hit just the right spot. All that was on your mind was not cumming in front of the producer, but Kuroo was nothing if not persistent. He added another finger pumping with the same vigor as before. You jumped slightly, in response your legs opened wider giving him even more access to ruin you.You rolled your head onto his shoulder, looking up at him with a pathetic “common stop this isn’t fair” look. You were met with him smirking, his tongue pushing up into his lip, faking interest in the conversation.

“Hey are you sure you’re alright?” This poor bastard.

You gave him one last puppy dog look. “I’m fiNe.” Right in the middle of your reply he thought it’d be appropriate, (like any of this was appropriate), to add draw circles on your clit while still pumping into you.

“Well, anyways Kuroo if you just wanna sign here.” The poor oblivious man said to move the awkward conversation elsewhere.

“Of course!” He picked up the pace making you double over, legs shaking and nearing your orgasm. You wanted so badly to just cry out Kuroo’s name and cum on his fingers then and there. But you had to keep your composure. Just a little longer, you can make it.

Kuroo could hardly keep his big smile down as he put the pen to paper and signed his life away. Once he had finished the man jumped up and yelled. Yelling at the waitress to get this man a shot. Yelling his thanks and promises to make Kuroo the biggest star around. Kuroo laughed and thanked the man bashfully before turning back to you and whispering in your ear.

“You’ve been good.” You moaned out a yes, eager to finally be able to cum. “Don’t be too loud or you’ll regret it.” While the producer was too distracted Kuroo pushed you to your limit, you came, harshly. Yelling out his name, causing the man to turn back to you. Face red and flushed, sweaty and tired. Kuroo still smirking.

“You must be so proud!” You gave a wry smile before replying a small. “Yes of course.” Letting it hand in the air before you spoke again.

“But if you’ll excuse us, we have to call people with the good news…” You gave him a look letting him know your intentions.

“We do?”

“Yes, we do.” With that you grabbed his arm and dragged him in the direction of the bathroom.

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dingoat · 6 years

Photo

The Right Way | Part Fourteen

[ previous | the beginning | next ]

In the timeline where Crow turned right, he turned his bright blue eyes to the co-pilot’s seat, where Ahuska was curled up asleep. It had been a long time since anyone but Nela had been the one to fill that space.

He wasn’t quite sure how he’d let things escalate to this point. It was something about the way she looked at him… those damned big blue Bothan eyes, so honest and hopeful and staring at him like he was some sort of hero. Someone she trusted and believed in… even though it had been mere weeks since they’d met.

He loved the way she made him feel, despite being quite certain he didn’t deserve it.

He’d already stuck around far longer than he’d been planning; Motir’ang were a good clan, lead by good people. He had no doubts Nela would be raised well and looked after there. So why, why, stars above, was he letting himself hang around like this, surely setting things up to be all the more painful when Nines inevitably caught up with him and made him face up to his past cowardice?

Bloody Ahuska Charka.

She was just so full of hope and awe at the galaxy around her. So innocent, so willing to learn, so desperate to be better equipped to serve her new clan. He could help her with that. Help her learn to fight, better equip her to defend herself. To look after Nela. Feth it, but she was so damned sweet she had no greater personal aspirations than traveling to Naboo and seeing its wildlife with her own two eyes. And so he’d taken her. He had his own ship, it was easy enough hook up a contract on the colony planet to make up the cost, even give her a little purpose to be there too. Had that been a date? Had he just taken a bloody Bothan on a trip to Naboo for a stars-damned date…!? He tried to rationalise it as simply giving something back to the galaxy. Doing a bit of good for someone who deserved it before…

He glanced again at the sleeping Bothan, and his heart skipped double-time. No, surely not. He couldn’t. This wasn’t part of the plan. She wasn’t on the verge of changing everything for him, was she? And yet all he could think about was landing at the base and carrying her back into his tent.

‘He was so silly,’ intoned Nela’s voice in the sea of shared consciousness. ‘Dad kept finding any excuse to be around her, he tried to play it cool but I knew exactly what was going on. I knew how much he liked her before he even said anything. I remember all this.’

‘As do I,’ Ulfran responded, his mental tone quite somber. ‘Pieces of it, at any rate. I wish I hadn’t needed to. I wish I could have left you all well alone.’

‘But you did have to. We wouldn’t all be here now if you hadn’t. It wasn’t nice, what you did, but it was important. It was Right. Look! That’s when ‘husky met me!’

Together Ulfran and Nela watched the whirlwind that swept up Ahuska’s life after she met Crow.

There they were on Hoth, after a tauntaun wrangling expedition went sour at the appearance of a half-starved wampa. Crow was buckled in the snow, a sheen of blood across his face from a head wound that had shaken him back to that fateful day the Deserters had been captured; his blaster lay, steaming gently, several feet away where Ahuska had slapped it out of his hands, and now she sat with him, holding his face, begging him desperately to return to the present, to come back to her.

There was Crow, staring at a holoprojection, checking his sources and feeling the weight grow heavier in his heart. “So. The people of Alba are free.”

There was Ahuska, pepped up on stims as she kept herself up all night, too many nights in a row, working on research for her new Alor and taking time out only to try and track down Crow’s old friends herself; he only ever gave hints, was always reluctant to talk about them, but she could see it there, in his eyes, he was so sad and surely, surely if she could find them for him it would mean the world…

There she was again, tied up in a dirty basement. Nines had found her first. “What do you want? Why are you doing this to me!?” “What I want, puppy…” the savage Chiss stated, slamming the chair to which Ahuska was bound to the floor. “Is to know where he is and when he’s due back! I tried calling him, he never picks up, and I think it’s time to end this. And him. So if you won’t help me…”

Nines had Ahuska’s comm. She used it to dial Crow’s frequency, pointing it at the bruised and bloody Bothan lying bound on the floor. “Oh look! Yes you will! Say hello to him for me…”

“She wants to kill you!” Ahuska barely understood the situation she was in, all she could hope was that Crow would understand better than she did, that her screamed warning meant something. “Don’t come out here, I’ll be fine, I can get out of this…!!” But of course she wasn’t, and she had no idea how she would.

Outside, Nines’ troops battled with the Imperials stationed in Mos Ila, who had taken some sizeable offence to a force of irregulars storming in and behaving as though they owned the place. Most of them, recently freed from various prison sentences, were positively itching for a fight and eager for an excuse. And amongst it all, as the firefight wore on, Crow’s ship came roaring in to land and Crow himself came roaring out for Ahuska. He and Nines met, head to head, blaster to blaster; she hell-bent on making him pay for his cowardice and betrayal, he disregarding his life for the sake of pulling Ahuska out of his mess. And there, screaming at one another amid the dust and heat and the blaster fire, they realised that they’d been trying to contact one another on different signals. An error of a single digit had prevented them from getting back in touch, the moment Crow’s comm had cut out all those years ago. And had lead to over a decade of bitterness, guilt, assumptions and a slow burn for vengeance.

There was Ahuska, battered and crumpled, watching Crow and Nines make amends, utterly terrified that now he was back in touch with his old comrades, back with the people he’d achingly missed for so long, that he would have no further need of her. She felt tiny next to them.

There was Crow, with the weight of the galaxy off his shoulders, squeezing Lyrisal’s arm and exchanging a nod with Nines, before turning back to Ahuska and helping her up. “Come on, let’s go home.”

On time went; Ahuska’s new desperation to in any way compare to Crow’s old friends, despite his constant reassurance that she, as she was, was enough.

Hot, bright days and long balmy nights together.

Crow saying ‘I love you’ for the first time, shouted over the comm as he sped through the desert on a hunt.

Ahuska’s frustration at Nines’ increasingly intrusive and meddling nature; Nines’ frustration at Ahuska’s mere existence. Forever butting heads, an endless disagreement about what it meant to trust.

Ahuska, agreeing to go away with Nines and train with the Free People’s Army in a bid to prove herself, to understand her better, to get her off her fething back. Crow, torn and stricken, knowing what she was in for, hoping feverishly that she could make it through, that she would come out the other end not hating him for letting her go.

Ahuska coming out the other side, weary, battered, not yet sure if she was stronger for the experience, ready for a few meager days of blissful peace in the arms of the one she loved before—

‘Ah. Yes. And this is where I come in.’

---

In the timeline where Crow turned left, Ulfran had already been around for a while. Ulfran watched, mortified and fascinated as he courted her, in a way; promises to fill her with hope and make her believe in his cause. Gifts to soothe her mistrust and keep her occupied. He bought her a new Anooba pup when old Rayshe’a passed away; little Sh’ehn was more trouble than he was worth, in Ulfran’s opinion, but Ahuska’a adored the spirited and challenging little creature.

He sourced her a new whip… one not for animal work, but as a personal weapon, more comfortable in her hands than any blaster. A lightwhip, snuck out of the Sith enclave, that she immediately set herself to mastering. He was surprised by how quickly she adjusted to its use, how deftly she wielded it.

He coaxed her out of her armour, into dark, lightweight clothes that flowed with her movements. And every now and again, they coaxed one another out of all their clothing, finding a rough, animal comfort in each other, a connection born of their mutual obsession with the past. Nothing they did here and now mattered, because they were going to change the way it all went. They were going to fix it.

Piece by piece, Ulfran’s plans fell into place. He was as certain as he could be of the Shard’s location, within the vaults of the Ve’loras, a particularly prestigious Bothan family, and he knew getting someone on the inside was his best bet. That would be Ahuska’a.

He couldn’t have her too highly placed; after all, she was well known enough in the dirtier circles of the galaxy that any position that would attract a measure of attention would likely have her true identity found out. But her skill set saw her accepted readily as a stablehand, and nobody cared to look beyond her handful of forged documents. A haircut, a few fur dye tattoos, a change of clothes, and nobody thought to question that ‘Heska Kir’tess’ was anyone other than who she claimed.

Acquiring worthwhile information to further their plans without raising any brows was slow going, but Ahuska’a enjoyed the challenge. The Ve’loras were planning a particularly large and fancy event, and the pair had decided to target it as the time to make their move for the vault. Security would be on high alert, but their attention would surely be on the event itself… and they just had to keep it focused there. Day by day, Ahuska’a returned to their temporary lodging in the tourist sector with more tidbits of information; guard rotations, preferences and weaknesses, security updates, estate layout information. And one evening, she startled Ulfran with a question.

“Do you know any Chiss?”

He shot her a very sharp look. He’d known a handful personally, while working on Dromund Kaas, but of course there had been a single Chiss woman burning through his thoughts for the last few years. Kassandra.

Ahuska’a lifted a brow. “So you do? Good. A woman would be preferable. Think I’ve found a way to turn the cams away from the vault entry for fifteen minutes or so, if you think you can get ‘em to help us out. What… what’s that look for, seriously?”

Ulfran gave only part of the truth. “She’s in prison.” There was no way he was letting any of his Imperial contacts in on this plan.

“Ah. Would she help us?”

He deliberated over this at length. Would she? And more to the point, did he want her to? Could he stand to have her around, her, the woman who, in his mind, was responsible for everything? Eventually he jerked his head in a tiny nod, seeing something poetic about it. “I think we can convince her.”

“Excellent. Where are we breaking her out of?”

#the right way #writing #swtor #swtor fic #ahuska #crow #nines #ulfran #nela #bothan #mandalorian #bounty hunter #star wars #aaaa

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hoodie-lover · 4 years

Text

My Multiverse Part 16

Geno sat down in his chair, it was a black wooden chair with a red cushion on the seat and back. In regards to the long table that every Sans on the Sans council, Geno was near the front, near Ink. Due to his position as an alternate timeline or AT, he had more sway and political power than the average Sans. Though a Sans, or anyone for that matter, could get more sway and power through gaining a reputation or other things. Such as Blue and Red, one being a huge help in terms of battle and Fell being one of the first involved.

Geno knew something was off when everyone sat down in an orderly fashion, no chatter or anything. That never happened, someone was always running their mouth. Taking a quick glance around the room, he saw that Blue, Classic, and Sci were missing. The first two were a given, but Sci’s absence was strange. Red sat down next to Geno, their chairs nearly identical but Red’s having gold and silver studs lining the front and back. Geno have the moody skeleton a friendly and uncharacteristically bright smile, only to not be greeted with a reaction at all. Normally he’d get a scowl or at least an over exaggerated and annoyed sigh.

When Ink and Dream entered their room, everyone snapped their attention to the duo, all in unison. Thoroughly creeped out Geno turned his head to the two guardians, waiting patiently for them to speak.

“I bet you’re wondering why we’ve called you here so suddenly.” Ink stated, looking over the table.

Geno was the only alternate timeline Sans that was there, very few got involved in the matters of the multiverse and even then, Ink rarely let anymore than necessary get involved. Less people to keep in the dark.

“Blue has been kidnapped by the Dark Sanses. They sent a ransom note earlier today and demand out complete and total surrender.” Ink continued, being met with gasps and mummers.

“Where’s Classic? Shouldn’t he be here?” Geno asked, raising a metaphorical eyebrow at Ink. Smirking all the way.

“I went to try and find him, but had no such luck. You often survey his AU Geno, did you see him?” Ink asked, placing a touch of venom of Geno’s name.

“I didn’t see him at all. Hence why I asked you.” Geno replied, staring directly into Ink’s sockets.

“Well, it seems that we have some suspects. As we have had a kidnapping earlier today.” Dream intervened, giving a small glare at Geno.

Everyone agreed with Dream and began to say the usual hateful insults.

“Barbarians.”

“Filthy murderers.”

“Lunatics.”

Geno rolled his eyes as the Sanses spouted the insults they had only heard from other people's mouths. Contrary to popular belief, very few people fought the Dark Sanses, so very few first-person accounts actually exist. Aside from the survivors of their attacks, but those have rarely gone into the double digits. Geno also had often said it was awkward that they were calling alternate versions of themselves monsters, in the not good way, and with himself being an alternate timeline he never really liked saying those things.

People thankfully understood and either kept the insults tame or just stopped them in his presence. Classic and Sci also had this same feelings and when they had joined, which was around the same time, they had chewed Ink out a bit for letting “them” suffer. Pointing out that if Ink has saved the Dark Sanses, they may not have had this situation as bad as it is or even had it in the first place.

That was the end of the overall situation, besides the occasional snarky remark. But Geno’s suspicion was further amplified when they began to whisper amongst themselves as if he weren’t in the room.

“Can we just get on with the discussion?” Geno cried out, hitting his face against the table.

“Sure Geno.” Ink said, irritation tainting the joyful tone he put on.

“We’ll need to try and figure out where the Dark Sanses base is, that way we’ll be able to rescue Blue and Classic.” Dream announced, “I’ll send search parties to the outer reaches of the AUs to try and find hints as to its location.” He continued, taking a glance at Geno.

It was only then that Geno realized Dream’s eye lights were dim, a far cry from the lively hope-filled stars for which he was most known for.

“I’ll patrol my own AU in case they try to kidnap more people from the original timeline. Though we mostly care about the Sans of the universe, we can’t ignore the power that other people have, and how it can be used against us. If the Dark Sanses really are making moves like these, we may need to let down our borders and let other people in.” Geno stated, keeping one eye on Ink and Dream as he spoke.

“We’ll consider it Geno. But only if necessary, getting to many people involved may have unforeseen consequences.” Ink warned, scanning the room.

“Ok. Keep me updated.” Geno said, getting up from his chair.

“See ya later Geno.” Dream waved, opening a portal to the Save Screen.

Geno waved back, not saying a word as he stepped into the black void he called home. When the portal closed, he began to think about what had just happened.

“Ink kidnapped Classic, he blames the Dark Sanses. He also claims the Dark Sanses kidnapped Blue, so he probably kidnapped Blue. That means that Ink is trying to get us to attack the Dark Sanses?” Geno thought aloud, pacing albacore and forth.

“But why kidnap people? He could just tell us to attack them and we’d do it!” Geno declared, unsure as to what to do.

“Ink said to wait before bringing non-Sanses into the mix, but if I have to I will. No matter what Ink is planning I won’t let him hurt people.” Geno declared to the nothingness around him, a determined look in his eye.

Ink was fretting and pacing as he was in the middle of flipping out. “He’s into us! We’re doomed! It’s bad enough Blue’s joined the Dark Sanses, but if Geno joins them we might have to go up against the entire original universe! What are we going to do Dream?!” Ink cried out, gripping the guardian by the shoulders and shaking him rapidly.

“Calm down. We just have to figure out how to control Classic before Geno gets any ideas.” Dream reassures Ink, but took a deep breath before continuing, “Though you shouldn’t have kidnapped Classic so early on, this is your fault.” Dream lectured, unphased by Ink’s puppy eyes of shame.

“Ok. But can I go down to the basement and see how Classic is doing?” Ink asked, a pleading expression on his face, though Dream could tell this wasn’t exactly a question.

With a sigh of annoyance Dream stepped aside and let Ink into the dark basement of the Doodlesphere. The cold air was suffocating as he made his way down the creaking old steps. Ink’s dungeons and basements were all very similar, helped keep him in the right mindset.

Classic was tied up and chained to the wall. His ankles, wrists, and knees were fastened with rope, and his wrists were also chained to the wall. The chain was short enough to where Classic wouldn’t be able to reach out and grab Ink, or anyone else.

Though he was unconscious, Ink overestimating the amount of stuff needed to knock him out, there were ways to wake up the original. With a swift punch to the face Clasics’s eyes shot open and he gasped for a raspy breath.

“Where am I…?” He asked, and upon noticing Ink he froze, hate, confusion, and fear written on his face.

“Hi Classic! How are you?” Ink asked, crouching down on his knees before his prisoner.

“I’ll be better when you let me go and let me kick your a-“ Classic started calmly but he was silenced by Ink placing a finger to his mouth.

“Be quiet. Prisoners don’t speak.” Ink said, standing up. Classic’s face growing more and more fearful and confused.

“I just need to see your code and go from there. Also do be warned, this will hurt a lot.” Ink said as he raised a paintbrush and drew a line across Classic’s face.

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#undertale #fanfic #geno sans #inksans #sans #dream sans #my multiverse

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