#on the bright side I’m getting better at parries but the openings are far and few in between second phase

[gravity-knight]

Stepping away and taking some times usually yields positive results for me in this game

But this green monster…

I feel like my issue before was the decay but now it feels like the moves are faster and longer

I don’t know where my ampoules have gone and my ergo is shit so buying more is annoying

I’ve been managing first phase easy, second phase is a decent adversary but the onslaught + decay it literally eating away at my mental state rn

#on the bright side I’m getting better at parries but the openings are far and few in between second phase #lies of p

[scapegrace74-blog]

New Ways of Turning into Stone, Chapter 3

A/N As promised, Jamie returns in this chapter.  He has an appointment to keep, after all.   Because I can’t think of anything more creative, this chapter is entitled “Second Appointment”.  For previous chapters, your best bet is to check out the story on my AO3 page.

The week both crept and flew past, like one of those dreams in which she ran until her lungs burned, but never managed to get anywhere.  Kinetic motion trapped in amber.   Claire never did tell Geillis about her excursion to Corstorphine Hill over the weekend, embarrassed by how it had ended.  

And now it was Thursday.  She’d opted for a protein smoothie for lunch, a meal with no chance of leaving leafy residue between her teeth.  It was likely wasted vanity.  As two o’clock drew near, she bargained with herself to abandon any hope she may be harbouring.  Jamie Fraser had shown no interest in participating in the psychiatric process during his first appointment.  Fraternal obligation had brought him to her office once, but he didn’t strike her as a man who yielded the reins of his life easily.  It wasn’t likely he would return.

When it came his distinctive knock, crisp and insistent, caught her unawares, even though she’d just been staring at his name in her planner.  She hastily pushed the items on her desk to one side, patted uselessly at her curls, and called out for him to enter.

“Good afternoon, Doctor Beauchamp,” he greeted cautiously.  “Miss Duncan told me tae come straight in.”

There was something different about him today.  His clothing, certainly.  Instead of casual wear, he wore trousers and a button down, wet splotches over the shoulders attesting to the fact that it had begun raining again.  And while he still took up an inordinate amount of space in her small office, he seemed... diminished, somehow.  A paler echo of the fireworks display of his first visit.

“Of course.  Please have a seat, Mister Fraser.”

“Jamie, if you will,” he corrected as he settled gingerly into the armchair.  “Mister Fraser was my Da.”

Something about his tone and the fact his laser blue eyes wouldn’t meet her own as he spoke the words caused her to lean into his statement.

“Did your father pass away recently, Jamie?”

A moment, an indrawn breath of panic, and then it was cleverly masked with a wry glance.

“Aye, last year.  An’ yer no’ very subtle, doctor.”

“I didn’t realize subtlety was called for,” she parried.  “You made another appointment, and I specialize in grief counselling.  Why else would you be here?”

Despite the fact that it wasn’t productive from a psychiatric point of view, she enjoyed his reluctance to hastily expose his inner demons.  Too often, her practice required her to work carefully in order to avoid shaping the pliable emotions of her patients.  While obviously hurting, Jamie had an unflinching, unalterable quality that she admired.  Not to mention that the intellectual game of cat and mouse they were playing was wildly stimulating.

“I suppose I enjoyed our conversation,” Jamie teased.  “An’ Miss Duncan’s shortbread.”

With an awkward squint that she imagined was meant to be a wink, her patient rose to investigate the current offerings on her tea table.

“Och, petit fours!” he exclaimed with childlike glee and perfect French pronunciation.  “There was a café none too far from my flat in Paris tha’ made these.  I’d often grab some on my way tae the office.”

He returned to the desk with a small plate of the pastries, pushing it towards her as he settled into his seat.

“No, thank you.  I’ve just eaten.”

Like a searchlight, his bright eyes didn’t miss much.  He glanced significantly at the half-empty plastic smoothie container to one side of her desk.  Rather than chide her for her austerity, as Geillis frequently did, he instead made a show of biting into each of the four little squares until there was nothing left but crumbs.  Her stomach muttered in complaint.

“What did you do in Paris?” she asked as he finished his snack with a contented sigh.

“Oh, a wee bit of this and that,” he demurred.  In response to her exasperated look, he continued, “I started out at the Bourse.  Futures, options, arbitrage, that sort of thing.  I have a good ear fer languages, sae from there I went into foreign exchange.  Import export, and the like.”

“You’re a financier?” she asked, somewhat more incredulous than she ought to be.  She wasn’t certain what she had pictured James Fraser doing for a living, but greasing the wheels of capitalism definitely wasn’t it.

“Was,” he corrected.  “I quit an’ came home tae Scotland last year.”

“When your father died,” she guessed.

“Aye.”

She once again had the sense of standing in front of a locked door that Jamie had no intention of opening.  Rather than hammer uselessly on its stubborn surface, she nimbly diverted the conversation sideways.

“What do you do for work now?”

A slow blink followed by a dawning smile indicated he was aware of her stratagem.

“I’m a carpenter.”

It was rare for Claire to be truly surprised by people.  She made a living reading their unspoken cues.  Twice in the same conversation was unheard of.

“A carpenter?” she repeated as though she hadn’t heard him perfectly well the first time.

“Aye.  Like Jesus, ye ken?”

With a quicksilver grin, Jamie launched into a description of his current occupation, which involved the making of reproduction antiques and custom pieces for clients around Scotland.  She realized with a start that she’d read an article about his business in a popular local magazine.  

International financier.  Self-made entrepreneur.  Tall drink of water.  James Fraser had a lot of things going for him.  And yet here he sat, paying her by the hour to listen to him avoid talking about whatever hardship had befallen him.

She mentally composed a list of the topics he was deftly avoiding with his charming anecdotes.  His father’s recent death.  The reason behind a radical change in career.  Living in the city on account of unspoken ‘family obligations’, even though his verbal reminiscence of the Highlands was so poetic it damn near made her cry.  There was something raw just below the surface of his nonchalance, and her innate curiosity cried out to find out what it was.

“You told me last week that your sister, Jenny, insisted you attend counselling.  But you said that you’re handling matters fine on your own.  Can you tell me why your sister believes otherwise?”

It might have been amusing to see such a large man squirm in different circumstances.  His left hand furrowed through his hair, setting the autumn waves on end.  His mouth, so recently relaxed and mobile as he eagerly shared the details of his craft, froze in a pained frown.  She considered whether she had pushed too hard too soon.

“I gave a lot of thought tae what ye said when we parted last week,” Jamie began at last.  “Tae be honest, it haunted me.  Jen kens me better than anyone, an’ while I like tae complain tha’ she meddles where she doesna belong, the truth is she’s truly scared fer me.  An’ even if I dinna agree tha’ my lifestyle is cause fer concern, I owe it tae her tae try tae sort myself out.  I owe her far more than that,” he finished with a rueful shake of his head.

“What kind of lifestyle has your sister so worried?” she probed.

“Whisky, women and song,” he quipped, before adding, “Weel, I canna carry a tune, but twa out of three isna half bad.”

He tried to smile away the awkward tension that descended on the office, the air ripe with unspoken words.  Claire felt disappointment whirlpool in her gut.  Just another charming rake, after all.  It really shouldn’t matter, and yet somehow it did.  More than she dared to admit.

“Yes, well, the road of excess leads to the palace of consequences, ” she sniffed at last, angry at herself for sounding like a schoolmarm.  What a bore she must seem to him, with her regimented behaviour and rigid morals.

Jamie rose abruptly, and for a half-second she imagined he might lunge at her, or storm from the room.   Instead, he spun around to face the door.  Without a word, he untucked his shirt and began to expose his lower back.

Claire was momentarily stunned silent.  Just as she managed to draw a deep enough breath to censure Jamie for his highly inappropriate strip tease, the golden velour of his lower back transformed without warning into a furrowed landscape of scar tissue, ripples and craters left by some massive trauma.  The air left her lungs on a questioning sigh.

“I ken all about consequences, Doctor Beauchamp,” he stated.  “I live with them every moment of my life.”

Her fingers found the knotted skin, surprisingly warm and mobile beneath her touch.  A shiver shimmered over the unmarred muscle of his flanks.

Before she could find any appropriate words of apology, the office door opened and Geillis stuck her head in.  She barked a cough upon seeing Jamie’s state of undress and Claire’s position, leaning across her desk.  Doctor and patient jumped apart like opposing magnets.

“Sae sorry for the interruption, but yer three o’clock is here.  Should I tell her ye’ve been... delayed?”

Jamie muttered an obscenity under his breath which Claire whole-heartedly seconded.  There was no way Geillis wasn’t going to be utterly insufferable about this.

“Mister Fraser was just leaving, Geillis.”

With a lewd wink and a nod, the door closed.

“Look, Jamie...” she began just as he apologized.  “I’m sae sorry, lass.”

They both laughed nervously.  Jamie finished tucking his shirt into his pants and turned to face the desk.

“I hope this willna cause ye any difficulties with Miss Duncan,” he began, eyes wide with concern.

“No more so than usual,” she sighed. “Geillis is a good friend.  She just... doesn’t know when to quit, sometimes,” she explained.

“Sounds jus’ like my sister.  Perhaps we should introduce them.”

She smiled, struggling to find something else to say to move past the moment.  She could hear Geillis and her next patient conversing just outside the door.  There was no time left for subtlety.

“Will I see you again next week, Jamie?” she asked, giving up on finding a more oblique way of phrasing the question that was reverberating through her mind.

Jamie’s bashful smile dipped towards the floor, causing his hair to fall in front of his eyes.

“Aye.  I’ll even keep my clothes on, if ye ask nicely.”

It was that smile, that hair, those eyes, that carried her through the rest of her week, aloft on the anticipation of something utterly forbidden.

#my writing #outlander

[janetbrown711]

"you've always been strong for me. let me return the favor." Angelina 2 to William 🥺

To say William woke up feeling refreshed would be the most obvious lie of all time. 

His first thought in his painfully groggy head of his was of his location. From what he could sense, it wasn’t familiar. The beds felt cheap, nothing like the royal silk sheets he had gotten used to at the palace. 

His second thought was of Lena. He couldn’t feel her presence, which caused him to snap his eyes open and look for her. 

This third thought was remembering what had happened. 

Freeing Wakko. Hurting his arm. The attack. 

He tried sitting up but a wave of pain shot through his whole body and he was forced to sit back down. However, he looked across the room and saw her. 

Lena was in a bed across the room from him, and it hurt his neck to look at her, but he couldn’t look away. He had never seen her with so many bruises and bandages around her in his life. It broke his heart.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” The familiar voice of his childhood best friend, Helloise Nerz, spoke softly. “How are you feeling?”

How was he feeling? Almost every inch of his body ached and hurt, his wife somehow appearing worse than him, and he was miles and miles away from his children, who he already missed terribly. 

“Right... poor question,” She apologized. “How much do you remember?”

He thought a moment. 

“Last thing I remember is passing out on your doorstep,” He said. She nodded. 

“Good, because that was the last thing that happened,” She said. 

“So... what’s wrong with me, doc?” He joked a little. Helloise chuckled. 

“Nurse. Scratchy is the real doc, I’m just the assistant,” She remarked. 

“Don’t sell yourself short, Helloise. I’m sure you could run this place if you had to,” He said. She snorted. 

“You’ve got a terribly sprained arm that I noticed was already bandaged, but you’ve made much worse, I presume from carrying her highness. You also have a torn ligament in your right ankle, minor frostbite, and numerous pulled muscles throughout your legs,” she read off of a chart. 

“And Lena?” He asked. 

“Broken rib, a minor concussion from what we can tell, fractured fibula, severe bruising on the face, minor frostbite, and blood loss from a severe wound in the right shoulder we cleaned and stitched up.”

William looked at his wife again. 

“How long have we been asleep?” He asked. 

“Three days,” She said. William blinked. 

“Th-three days?” he asked.

She sighed. “William...” she sat on the edge of his bed. 

“The whole kingdom thinks you two are dead, and honestly, you two are lucky to be alive.”

“What? Why? How? What about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they alright?” He tried sitting up, but the wave of pain reminded him not to. 

“Well, her majesty the queen threw a funeral two days ago. They said attackers stormed the castle in the night and killed the two of you,” She explained. 

“But what about Yakko Wakko and Dot? Are they okay?” He asked. 

“I haven’t heard any news of the three of them, so they should be alright with the queen.”

“If you could consider being with the queen alright,” he muttered. 

“Right... She wasn’t the best mother, right?” She remembered. He shook his head, sighing. Just then, a low grumble came from across the room, and Lena began to stir. 

“What... where... Will..?” she mumbled as her eyes slowly opened and she took in her surroundings. William wanted nothing more than to rush to her side, but the numerous injuries Helloise had informed him about kept him where he was. Instead, the good nurse went over and started evaluating and explaining the situation to her. 

“D-dead..?” Her face went pale as a ghost. “That means... They’re with... we have to go. Now,” She looked at William, and started climbing out of her bed, nearly collapsing immediately if it hadn’t been for Helloise catching her. 

“Your highness, you can’t. You need to recover,” She said, laying her back down. 

“I can’t leave them with her- I can’t,” She shook her head.

“Lena...” He said softly. She looked at him for a moment, before lying back down and looking away, her expression mostly unreadable. Just then, the doctor came in. 

“Oh goodie, you two are awake,” He said, but he quickly read the room. 

“Er... how are you two feeling?” He asked. William shrugged, while Lena remained silently looking away. 

He then pulled the nurse back outside to talk for a moment, promising it wouldn’t be long. William nodded and let them go, and his eyes went to Lena. 

She wouldn’t look at him, even when he said her name. Something was deeply, deeply wrong. William wished he could read her mind, though he did have a few guesses. For one, the kids. 

William knew they were resourceful and clever, but he honestly had no idea what Angelina was going to do to them now that they were out of the picture- especially if she thought they were dead. 

It sent a shiver down his spine just thinking about it...

“So... your highnesses... what can you tell us about the attack?” The doctor reentered and asked. 

“Oh god... where to start?” he chuckled nervously. 

“If you aren’t ready, it’s totally fine,” Helloise sat on the edge of his bed. “We just... well... the people are curious. You are supposed to be dead after all.”

“Of course,” William said, before taking in a deep breath and beginning. 

.o0o. 

It had been a tense week. William had been mad at himself when he had sprained his arm. He was a knight, dammit, he was supposed to be trained to be better than that. Now it meant he had to postpone any of his own mini training lessons he was giving Wakko and Yakko until later, which he knew Yakko would be suspicious of. He always had a habit of picking up on their anxiety and carrying it with him like it was his responsibility too, which was upsetting for multiple reasons. 

Some of Angelina’s lessons were extremely difficult to try and undo. 

At least Wakko was trying to be optimistic about things. After he had broken him out of the tower, Wakko was spending a lot more time with them as a family, suddenly talking to them a lot more than he used to, which William took as a good sign, seeing as he desperately wanted something to look on the bright side about. 

Dot was happy too, of course, as she was just glad to have Wakko back too. She could hardly tell everyone else was anxious, she was only four after all. 

When the first window broke, William had been up in a flash, and despite his injury, he grabbed his sword anyway. 

“William? What’s the matter?” Lena had asked. 

“Go back to sleep, my love. I’ll handle this,” he kissed her head, leaving their bedroom. 

He walked through the halls, surprised at just how silent everything was. Still, he kept his guard up, not allowing himself to relax for even a second. 

“...this castle is huge! Even with the map she gave us,” a disgruntled, not-too-far off voice said. William ducked behind a curtain for cover. 

“It’s a quick mission though: grab the king, grab the queen, and grab the kid if there’s time to spare,” A lower voice shrugged, and William felt a wave of protectiveness wash over him. Immediately, he burst out and attacked one of the men, and they quickly began a sword fight. 

Unfortunately, William found himself evenly matched by his opponent and realized he was surrounded by allies, some that were even taller than him.

He was kinda screwed. 

Still, he fought and parried and swung and blocked with a valiant effort, though the pain in his arm burned more and more and it was evident he was becoming weaker. His opponent saw this, and got behind, and he brought down the handle of his sword onto his arm, and William dropped his sword and fell onto the ground, growling in pain. 

“Remember, queenie said no blood on her carpets or tapestries,” The tallest reminded his attacker, who was now pointing his sword at his face. “Tie him up. With the strongest removed, we can work on getting that queen and the middle boy,” He ordered, before taking a few and leaving. 

Wakko. 

William growled, and swiped his feet out from under him, causing his attacker to fall to the ground. William then began fighting with his bare fists against the men who tried jumping on and fighting him next. 

However, the numbers were too large, and before William knew it, his wrists were tied and he was captured. 

“Alright, move it, princey,” one of the men kicked him. William gnashed his teeth, but they planned for that, as two of the men held him down, and a third quickly put a muzzle around him. 

“There, now that should get you to behave,” He grinned, pulling William up, and the three men forced him out of the castle, and into the back of a carriage, where he was locked in and left. 

He tried kicking the door open, but it must’ve been solid wood because he got nowhere, and all he ended up doing was exhausting himself. 

William was alone for quite an amount of time, and he tried everything he could to break free of his restraints but nothing was working. He cursed his stubbornness that caused him to sprain his arm- if it hadn’t been for that he was confident he would’ve been able to take down the six men. He was a knight for god’s sake- he was supposed to be able to protect his family. 

He was supposed to be able to protect his family. 

After a long moment of silence and stillness, the door opened and Lena was thrown in next to him, and William caught a glimpse of the outside and noticed it was snowing lightly. 

He didn’t dwell on that, his eyes falling onto Lena, who looked horrible. Tears were streaming down her face as she looked at him, slowly and painfully crawling her way over and lying against his chest. William did his best to hug her with his hands tied. 

Neither of them could say a word, but both knew exactly what the other was feeling, and they did their best to embrace and comfort each other. 

Then, the carriage began to move.

They didn’t capture Wakko.

Despite everything, William sighed a breath of relief.

Silently, the couple rode for hours, not knowing where they were being taken or why or who was behind any of this, though they had a few guesses.

William was just glad he still had her... even if it wouldn’t be for much longer.

He loved her with his entire being, nothing would ever change that, not an evil queen, and not even death.

However, his mind quickly went to his kids.

Wakko was alive- at least, he hoped. The attackers said they couldn’t get blood anywhere, hopefully, that meant they just ran out of time to find him and he was okay.  

But if they were killed, William had no idea what Angelina would do to them. They would have no protection from her now. They could be hurt, or worse...

William hugged Lena a little tighter.

After an hour or two of riding, the temperature inside the carriage got notably colder, the snow outside picking up.

William prayed for a miracle.

They continued riding on, William even drifting to sleep at one point, when they were suddenly jerked awake. there were shouts from out of where they were, and William and Lena sat up best they could, though Lena was in a lot more pain. Suddenly, the carriage lost control, and started to skid and slide, though William and Lena had no idea what the cause was- but it didn’t matter because not before long, it crashed into a tree and everyone was thrown into the air, and landed with a crash and crack. 

William winced at the sound, closing his eyes but when he opened, he saw it-

The doors were busted open. 

Quickly, William scooted out, gesturing for Lena to follow, but she was closing her eyes and cringing in pain, and William realized she had injured her leg in the fall. Knowing they didn’t have much time to run, he carefully got her out, having her arms go around him with the tie, and having her hold herself up best she could with her remaining upper body strength as they ran into the woods, as far away as they could manage, also while looking for something they could use to untie their hands- and also a hiding place for when the attackers began to search. 

Luckily, William was well trained in tracking so he did his best to make sure his footprints in the snow made zero sense and were misleading at best, praying they wouldn’t be able to follow, but he didn’t know who or what they were, so it was hard to be certain. 

Eventually, William and Lena made it to a cave and they hid in there for a while, With William finding a particularly sharp rock he used to untie his hands, remove his muzzle, then untie Lena, and remove her muzzle. 

“William,” she said with teary eyes. 

“Lena,’ he replied, becoming overwhelmed with the desire to hug her, but noting her injured state, he instead just pressed his forehead against hers, and she did the same, placing her soft hand against his face as she cried softly.

“We can’t stay here for long- a bear probably lives here,” she said. 

“Just for a moment, we need to rest- figure out where we are, and what our next move is,” He said. 

“We’re so far from home... how are we going to get out of this?” She asked. 

“I... I don’t know, Lena,” He admitted. “But we will, I promise.” 

They stayed hidden for quite some time, having only one close call when one of the tracker’s voices was close enough for them to hear, but William was ready with the sharp rock in case he got too close, but he never did, so they were alright. 

Well- alright, considering everything that just happened. 

Eventually, the sun started to rise in the woods, and it slowly dawned on William that the coast was clear, and they were free to go. 

But... free to go where? They had no idea where they were- were they even in Warnerstock? They could be in foreign lands for all they know- a place where they didn’t even speak the language and they could be killed for sneaking in and-

Wait. Lena was the Princess, and knew all the languages of the neighboring kingdoms, and would likely be given aid. William was panicking over nothing. 

However... Lena was looking rather weak. She lost a lot of blood, and her injuries were only pilling up. 

“Where do we go?” Lena asked as he was looking at her.

“Well... I don’t think we can go home... as something tells me your mother was behind this...” He stroked his chin. 

“You’re telling me,” she huffed, before wincing in pain. 

William snapped. “I know a place where they can’t refuse us,” he grinned. 

Lena blinked. “William... Acme falls is in the middle of nowhere and perhaps one of the first places they’d go looking for us if we were missing,” she frowned. 

“Well- not unless your mother wants us to be dead. Then she wouldn’t have to or want to look anywhere,” he said. “It’d be just like it was when we had just gotten married.”

“When we just married...” Lena trailed off into the memory, a look of sad nostalgia written on her face. 

“Look... I’m going to go and try to figure out where we are, so we can head to Acme. Will you be okay if you stay here?” he asked. 

“I don’t think I have a choice,” she tried to joke, but William knew she hated it. He kissed her forehead. 

“I love you,” He said. “I won’t be long.”

“I love you too, Wiliam,” she replied, and William ran out of the cave. 

It took about an hour, but eventually, William discovered that yes, they were still in Warnerstock, and found the direction they were to go to if they wanted to go to Acme Falls. It would be quite the trek, especially if this snow continued to fall, but he had determination on his side. 

He was not going to die here, nor was he going to let Lena. He would carry her in his arms if he had to, simple as that. 

.o0o.

“So... yeah. We hiked for hours to reach here, the strains and pulled muscles and frostbite are from trekking through the snow, and that’s how we got here,” William finished his tale. 

“Oh William... that’s terrible,” Helloise looked at him sadly. 

“That does explain a lot... you two should really be getting rest now, yah?” Scratchnsniff remarked, reading over their charts one more time. 

“Rest, yeah...” he nodded slowly, though sleep was the last thing he wanted. He wanted to go back to the palace asap, and kill Angelina, and get his kids back. He was confident Lena felt the same.

Though...  they wouldn’t be able to do much good in this state... especially without a plan. 

“We’ll leave the two of you alone... you’ve been through a lot,” Helloise said.

“Thanks,” he gave a weak smile, which she returned. 

His eyes then went to his wife, who still wasn’t looking at him, staring intently at the ground and wall. 

“Lena, my love, what’s the matter?” He asked. Lena snorted. 

“That’s your first question?” She snarked. 

Okay, that was on him. That was a pretty dumb question. 

“What are you thinking about?” he tried again. Lena crossed her arms.

“It isn’t fair...” she said. William sighed. 

“I know it’s not fair that-”

“I’m not talking about my mother o-or the attack- I-i’m talking about you,” she snapped. William paused. 

“What do you mean?” he asked. Lena sighed, wincing at the pain. 

“Damned broken ribs...” she muttered. 

“I meant... It’s not fair. Time after time after time I end up hurt or crying or abused- it isn’t fair. You’re always so strong William, it pains me. When is it my turn to be strong for you?” she said, wiping away tears and trying her best not to cry. 

“Lena...” William reached out to her as much as he could, his arm nearly touching her pillow. Lena continued to look away. 

“I’m serious. No matter what happens, you’re always so strong and so brave and comforting. I just- I feel so inadequate,” she whispered. 

“Lena, you aren’t inadequate,” He said softly. “You’re just...”

“Damaged?” she said, matter-of-factly. “Don’t pretend it isn’t true- I know what my mother has done.”

“Lena, I don’t care. I love you,” He said. 

“And I love you- but... I just... you’ve always been so strong for me William. I want to return the favor, just once...” She looked at him. 

“Lena, we’ve both lost so much... this shouldn’t be something we measure or keep track of,” He said, and Lena placed her head where his hand is on her pillow. 

“I miss them, William,” she whispered. 

“I miss them too, my love,” he whispered back. Lena kissed his hand. 

“We’ll get them back, Lena. I promise,” he said. Lena nodded, kissing his hand again and closing her eyes.

“I promise too. No matter what it takes, we are going to get our babies back.” 

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 8 Part 9 Part 10 Part 11 Part 12 Part 13 Part 14

#my fics #angelina 1 lives au #queen angelina ii #william warner #angelina warner #hello nurse #dr scratchnsniff #tw blood #tw kidnapping #tw muzzles #angst #feels #long post

[xiaomomowrites]

so mean, xiansheng

Genshin Impact | ZhongChi

Summary: “You still refuse to yield?” Zhongli taunts, digging the ball of his foot into his chest. “After all that, you still persist? You’ve reached for your delusion, you’ve summoned all the weapons in your armory, and now you’ve resorted to crawling away? Frankly, when Tsaritsa had explained to me that she’d send her strongest diplomat my way, I hadn’t expected this level of...incompetence.”

The blunt end of his spear makes contact with his navel, and Childe’s face burns red. Fuck, why does he want it so much lower—

"Pathetic."

Or, Childe figures out Zhongli is Rex Lapis. He challenges him to a fight, anyway.

Find it on Ao3!

This story has nothing to do with the series! I just got the urge to write Zhongli being the badass he is. 

A/N: Okay I wrote this immediately after I finished my draft for act VI, so that should definitely be coming very soon! But my evil beta, Peaches, implanted this horrible idea of Zhongli being a little more mean and a little more malicious in my head, and I had no choice by to write it. One of these lines is actually hers, and I just adjusted it a bit, but it really inspired me to write a whole damn fic. Oh, the power she holds.

Let it be known that I did NOT expect this to turn out the way it did. I wanted angst, not sexual tension! But hey, sometimes fics really do write themselves. Thank you, Peaches, for helping me scratch an itch I didn't even know I had. Anyway I hope you enjoy!

Find me on Twitter where I'm very chatty and talk about Genshin too much! -u.n

--

What the fuck.

What the fuck.

In all fairness, Childe didn’t expect to win this fight. He really didn’t. Tartaglia had just pieced together that Zhongli was the Rex Lapis, and he had gotten ahead of himself anyway. Really, challenging a six thousand year old God? Childe has done many, many reckless things, but this has to be his stupidest trick yet. And still, still, he found himself in the Golden House, surrounded by the walls of ebony, and feeling like he was getting swallowed whole by the golden hue of the mora beneath his very feet.

Well, he was on his knees, now.

Childe pants from where he is hunched over. Somewhere in his fight against his precious Xiansheng, Zhongli had managed a good hit to his abdomen with the butt end of his weapon, and he was only mildly aware of the fact that he was bleeding internally. But on the bright side, the dull throbbing kept him from passing out right then and there; every jolt of pain that spread through his core has kept him awake and mildly aware up until this point. Childe grunted and cradled the wound with his left hand, his right one occupied with his bow. It came back stained red. Well, shit. It wasn’t so internal anymore.

Footsteps sounded behind him. Even though he knows he isn’t in immediate danger, and that Zhongli would never actually harm him, Childe’s heart still sinks terrifyingly low into his stomach. Childe whips around and ignores the burst of pain and the pressure building behind his eyelids at the sudden movement. He draws his bow, summons a hydro arrow and gets a clear shot of Zhongli’s ridiculously sexy face and—

The Archon closes the distance by twirling and tossing his polearm forward, disappearing into thin air, and warping right in front of him again in a flash of blinding gold. With a flick of Zhongli’s wrist and the slightest nudge of his spear against Childe’s weapon, the bow goes flying. It clatters somewhere far away from him, skidding until it hits one of Zhongli’s geo pillars. Childe panics slightly, using his feet to try to scoot away while frantically summoning his water blades.

Zhongli is quick, though. He never misses a beat, never leaves an opening, never lets Childe get a single hit in. And, well, maybe Childe could have worded his challenge better. The Harbinger should have known better than to hit him with the classic “hit me with everything you’ve got” because apparently, he didn’t know his own damn limits. And looking at the way the Archon hasn’t even broken a sweat, it would be safe to assume that Zhongli is only exerting maybe half of his energy. Possibly even less.

Childe, on the other hand, was already haggard from the effects of his delusion. He had summoned his stronger form sometime during the fight, reaching for the electricity that crackled within his bones for a boost in strength. Tartaglia had felt confident, then, upon seeing Zhongli looking so tiny from where the Harbinger stood. He had held himself tall and proud in that moment, all strength and lethal lightning surrounding his body. But of course, the Archon did not budge. If anything, Tartaglia remembers him smirking, looking smug from where he had stood. His eyes had flashed a brilliant gold, and the tips of his hair burned a brighter amber. Childe remembers lunging and Zhongli parrying effortlessly, countering his every attack like it was nothing but a mere dance to him. Tartaglia had even kept contact with him! Each swing he sent had touched Zhongli fair and square, but each bludgeoning hit was redirected with ease, and it slid right off the Archon like water off a duck’s back.

It had infuriated the Harbinger to no end.

But then he let his guard down, blinded by his own anger, and Zhongli had met a fist swinging wildly with his own open palm sliding against Tartaglia’s arm. The Archon had formed an invisible wedge that steered Tartaglia off course and away from his vital points. Zhongli had tilted his head slightly to the right then, lunged forward, and took his opponent down in one fell swoop.

Tartaglia didn’t remember much after that. All he remembered was that he was in pain, his joints were croaking pathetically, and he was back in his normal human form. The lingering effects of his delusion danced along his fingertips in the form of purple electricity.

But it doesn’t matter what form he takes, because Zhongli derails his train of thought as the bottom of a boot is suddenly pressed against his chest, forcing him down, and not stopping until he hits the floor. Childe wheezes, the obvious fracture in his ribs making itself known. Those geo pillars getting summoned from hell really did not do the ginger any favors, especially the one that rose up beneath his feet and slammed against his chest, sending him tumbling away and coughing.

“You still refuse to yield?” Zhongli taunts, digging the ball of his foot into his chest. “After all that, you still persist? You’ve reached for your delusion, you’ve summoned all the weapons in your armory, and now you’ve resorted to crawling away? Frankly, when Tsaritsa had explained to me that she’d send her strongest diplomat my way, I hadn’t expected this level of...incompetence.”

The blunt end of his spear makes contact with his navel, and Childe’s face burns red. Fuck, why does he want it so much lower—

Childe whimpers like a wounded animal. Because the worst part is, he’s not even wrong. And Zhongli isn’t even trying to sound mean. He simply is .

“Pathetic.”

Childe’s toes curl at the degradation.

Oh, fuck.

What is going on?!

“Stop,” he pleads. Gods above, please, please keep going, his mind betrays him.

“Oh?” Zhongli taunts, dragging his foot down until it reaches his abdomen. He uses his polearm to nudge Childe’s legs apart a little further and oh he might pass out. He digs his heel into Tartaglia’s stomach, purposely avoiding his injury. Not because he’s being nice, no. He’ll just get to that later. Childe grunts at the contact. “I don’t think you want me to, though.”

Zhongli’s eyes flicker down to Childe’s crotch, and watches with sick satisfaction at the way his hips squirm in anticipation. Zhongli waves his hand and in one motion, the weapon disappears.

“Oh Celestia,” he laughs. He laughs, and Childe’s cock twitches at the sound. It’s empty and hollow, and not at all filled with the usual joy he’s used to hearing. Childe suddenly gets the inexplicable need to swallow it. “You like this?”

Childe opens his mouth to speak, but nothing comes out. Barely a squeak, if anything. Oh Tsaritsa, what is wrong with me?

Zhongli moves his foot a little to the left, applies the slightest bit of pressure, and—

“A-Ah-!”

The god smirks. “That’s what I thought.”

Childe croaks, “W-what are you—“

Zhongli stares at him with eyes that somehow became a shade darker, a shade meaner. They were filled with a hunger that was almost inhuman; an aura emitted from him that was otherworldly and frighteningly possessive. It was only in that fraction of a second that Childe was hit with the realization of just who he was looking at. This...this was no simple soldier. This was no flimsy Millelith, that he could dismantle within seconds. This was a whole deity. The oldest Archon, the dragon himself, Morax-

“You know who I am, do you not? Otherwise, you wouldn’t have challenged an innocent consultant to such a grand battle, and in the Golden House, of all places,” Zhongli summons a lone piece of mora and twirls it between his fingers, observing the way the weight felt in his hand. It glimmers faintly in the light. He doesn’t even bother to look at Tartaglia anymore.

“Kings and Gods of all realms have bowed before me,” he states with such nonchalance it makes Childe’s head spin, “whatever made you think you could be an exception?”

Childe chuckles weakly, and finally lets his head hit the floor. His eyes flutter shut in surrender. He supposes that Zhongli is right. Besides, he knows when he’s lost a battle. It was time to end this.

“Alright,” he voices, “I yield.”

“No,” Zhongli states firmly, and much to Childe’s surprise and (reluctant) delight, the Archon drops all of his weight onto him and straddles his torso, pinning his body to the ground. His hands, quick as lighting, pin Childe’s own above his head. Zhongli leans down slowly, condescendingly, until there’s barely a hair’s width between their lips. The Harbinger’s breath hitches.

“You yield when I tell you to.”

#WHOO #childe #tartaglia #genshin impact #genshin #genshin impact fanfiction #zhongli #rex lapis #morax #tartali #zhongchi #childe x zhongli #mean mean zhongli #picking on the mortals smh #childe has a bit of a uhhh degradation kink

[sokkascroptop]

traitor. (sokka x f!reader) pt 11

part 1 | part 10 | part 12

A/N: I’m over here like, “how to write Sokka and Y/N simping over each other, but like lightly simping?” Also, I guess we learn some more about Y/N family? 

Y/N thought back to when she learned how to use a sword. She was young when her father told her she needed to choose something to master. If she couldn’t train to be a firebender, she was going to train to be something. She’d picked the sword because she’d seen him practice with her two older brothers in their courtyard, and spirits, she just wanted to make him proud for once. She worked nonstop and became the best she could be because there was no margin for error. Failure wouldn’t be tolerated.

“And this is supposed to train me how?!” Sokka asked. His arm dropped six inches. Y/N lifted it back up so it was even with his shoulder and straightened out his elbow more. 

“Holding my sword out straight for hours will not only show me that you have the dedication to learn but it will also help you build up strength.” 

“Hours,” he echoed. 

“Look, if you don’t want to do this, that’s fine!” Y/N started to walk away. 

Sokka grabbed her shoulder and spun her back around. “I’ll do it. I’m not happy about it. But I’ll do it.”

Sokka widened his stance and looked out over the water as he settled in. Y/N joined Toph in leaning up against the railing. “Is this really something that your teachers made you do?”

Y/N thought back to when she learned how to use a sword. She was young when her father told her she needed to choose something to master. If she couldn’t train to be a firebender, she was going to train to be something. She’d picked the sword because she’d seen him practice with her two older brothers in their courtyard, and spirits, she just wanted to make him proud for once. She worked nonstop and became the best she could be because there was no margin for error. Failure wouldn’t be tolerated.

“The sword was much lighter but yes, Father said it was essential that I show my commitment.”

“Sounds like a nice guy.” Y/N didn’t miss the sarcasm in Toph’s tone. She also couldn’t refute it. He wasn’t a nice guy, and he was a worse father. 

---

Half an hour and Sokka’s arm was shaking, Y/N could see it from across the deck. 

“Tired yet?” she asked. Even though it was still morning, the sun was blazing. A drop of sweat dripped down his face and the tip of the sword dipped before he corrected it. “Nope,” he grunted. “Just peachy.”

“Sure. Let me know when you’re done?”

“What?!” the sword dipped again. “I thought you were the one telling me how long I was doing this.”

“I never said that.”

“But… that’s what you meant right?”

Y/N shrugged. And Sokka didn’t move. 

“How long has he been at it?” Katara asked as she sat down next to Toph and Y/N. She handed them each a bowl of rice and smoked fish. 

“Three hours,” Toph said around a bite of fish. Katara’s eyes widened in disbelief. “And whenever Y/N goes to check on him, his heart races like he’s afraid she’s going to make him do something else ridiculous.”

“Hey!” Y/N protested. “It’s not ridiculous. He’s training.” Even Y/N couldn’t keep a straight face while saying it. She hopped to her feet and approached Sokka. 

“There it goes again!” Toph yelled.

Y/N ignored her. “You hungry?” she asked Sokka. 

Sokka’s arm seemed to tremble a bit more. He forced a stoic look across his face. “Nope.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N asked. She picked up a piece of fish with her chopsticks and held it out. “If you’re so adamant about holding the sword, I can feed you lunch, if you want.” 

An expression that Y/N didn’t recognize crossed his face and for a moment she thought he was actually going to say yes. But then he looked over her shoulder. “I’m good.” His voice was strained. 

“Oh, for spirits sake, Sokka put the sword down and come eat!” Katara called from where she was sitting. 

Sokka looked back to Y/N, his bright blue eyes drilled into her own. She held his gaze longer than necessary, because this was more fun than she had anticipated. And then Y/N realized what was happening. He was waiting for her to say something. Her stomach flip-flopped.

“Put down the sword,” She murmured. 

She flinched when the blade clattered to the deck and her reverie broke. Sokka’s arm hung limply at his side and he collapsed on one knee. “Tui and La, that was the worst thing I’ve ever done!” He fell sideways on the deck and rolled onto his back. “My arm is numb. I can’t feel it. Is that normal?”

Y/N picked up her sword and examined the edge for nicks. “Sure.” 

He leaned up and snatched the bowl of food from Y/N’s hands. 

“Hey!”

Sokka balanced the bowl on his stomach and shoved the biggest piece of fish in his mouth. “I desermph it!”

“You didn’t have to hold it that long!” Y/N exclaimed. “I told you, you could stop anytime you wanted to!” 

“I thought you were joking!” he shouted back. 

Y/N turned back to the girls. “Is he always this dramatic?” She asked.

“All the time.”

“Always.”

“I am not dramatic!”

---

“No. Do that move again. Your shoulder is flying open too far. You’re leaving yourself vulnerable.” Y/N poked Sokka in the stomach to prove her point. 

Sokka did, lunging forward with his sword but keeping his shoulders turned inward. He looked towards Y/N for any critique. 

She leaned back on the rail with her arms crossed. “Much better.”

Sokka grinned. “Can we spar now?” He was always tired of just practicing new moves. He wanted action. 

Y/N unsheathed her sword. “If we’re careful. Katara nearly killed me when I cut your arm last week.”

They’d been at sea for a few weeks now. Sokka and Y/N practiced every morning and every evening on the deck of the Fire Nation ship. There wasn’t much else for them to do but spar which meant that Sokka was learning a lot, and learning it fast. Only last week had she started letting them use real swords though; Sokka had taken a Jian sword similar to Y/N’s from the ship’s armory. In the weeks before, they had just used broken broom handles to make sure no one got hurt. After days of splintered hands and bruises all over from the “beatings” he said Y/N gave him, Sokka begged to use swords. With great reluctance she’d said yes, as long as he made sure he listened to her. It was an extra precaution for Y/N too, she was worried that if something happened to Sokka, they’d throw her overboard. 

“Arm up, yes!” Sokka parried as Y/N thrusted her sword. She ducked under his sword and landed a punch to his side. “Gotta be faster though!”

She quickly backed away smiling as he caught his breath. “Was that necessary?” He asked with his hands on his knees. 

“Absolutely. How else will you learn?”

Y/N waited a beat before she threw an overhand cut that Sokka blocked, reflexively. He swept at her in a long arc that she knocked away easily. They danced in a few lazy circles, blocking and striking before Sokka got bored. He moved to disarm Y/N, twisting the flat of his blade under her wrist. And lucky for him, she didn’t expect it and the pressure caused her to drop it. He let the point of his sword fall just beneath her chin. 

Sokka’s eyes widened. “I won!” 

Y/N pressed the flat of his blade between her two palms, moving it away from her face and kicking him in the wrist. The sword dropped from his hand as he sucked in a sharp breath. She swung the blade up and caught it by the hilt. She dragged her leg behind his and shoved him to the ground. He fell hard on his back and she pressed a knee to his chest. 

“What did I say about being cocky?”

“It gets you killed,” Sokka grumbled.  

“It looks like you lost!” Bato shouted from where he and Hakoda watched from across the deck. Hakoda laughed loudly and then said something unintelligible that sent them both into fits of laughter. 

She moved off of Sokka’s chest and helped pull him to his feet. She held the hilt of his sword out to him and retrieved her own from the deck. “Again?”

“Will you please let me win one so my dad and Bato will stop making fun of me?”

Y/N looked over at the two men, who were just getting over their fit of giggles. Momo was perched on the chief’s shoulder and Hakoda reached up to pet his head.

She smiled at Sokka softly, he grinned back. 

“No.”

Sokka’s face fell. “Oh come on!”

---

Y/N leaned her back up against the railing of the ship as she watched Sokka put his Fire Nation armor back on. She bit back a laugh as he slid his helmet on over a fresh bruise on his forehead. He caught her anyways. 

“Yeah, thanks for that!” He kicked the bottom of her boot. 

“Sokka, I told you I was sorry! If you’re in a high bind like we were you need to expect that the other person is going to hit you with the hilt to knock you down.”

“It hurt.”

Y/N nodded. “Yeah, I know it does. And I’ve had much bigger people do it to me so you should be happy.”

Sokka sat next to her and tapped her foot with his. “Thanks for teaching me.” He said that a lot. Y/N was pretty sure there wasn’t a day that went by when he didn’t say it. 

His face was covered by the helmet. It made it easier to talk to him when he looked like a nameless, faceless Fire Nation soldier. “Oh you know. The price for my life,” she sighed. 

“You know that’s not how it is anymore, right?”

Y/N blinked up at the sky and fiddled with the clasp to her Fire Nation cape around her neck. It was dark and the air was humid. “It’s going to rain.”

After a minute, Sokka looked away from her and looked up too. 

Just then, there was a crash on the deck. Sokka and Y/N both jumped to their feet and went running towards the sound. 

“Twinkle-Toes, that’s got to be you!” Toph exclaimed. They all created a semi-circle around the airbender, who stood hunched over with Momo on his back. The lemur was furiously licking the side of his face. Y/N was surprised to see the Avatar's head covered in dark brown hair.

“Aang, you’re awake!” Katara moved to embrace him in a hug. 

“Are you sure?” he asked. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not dreaming! You’re finally awake.” She promised. 

Sokka brushed past Y/N to hug him as well. “Aang, good to see you back with the living buddy.”

“Sokka?” Aang muttered. And then he fainted.

---

After making sure Aang woke up okay on the deck, Sokka nudged Y/N and walked her back to her room for the night. 

“So, he’s awake.” Sokka said. Y/N didn’t meet his eyes; just looked back down the hallway to the staircase that would take you above deck. “I’m sure Katara will tell him everything. Nothing to worry about.” Then he did something unexpected. He placed a hand on her shoulder and squeezed. “Don’t worry about it,” He repeated. 

Y/N shook her head, at a loss for words. Sokka had never initiated contact with her when they weren’t sparring. In fact, he actively avoided it. 

“Training tomorrow, before breakfast?” he asked. 

“Yeah.” And then he was gone. Back down the hallway to his room. 

Y/N closed her door and leaned up against it. She was worried. And somehow Sokka had figured out exactly what she was anxious over. Being on the ship with Aang unconscious was one thing. They had nothing better to do other than stay and let him heal there. But now that he was awake, he, Toph, Katara and Sokka were going to complete their mission to save the world and there was no place for Y/N in that story. Her point of leaving was never to join the Avatar’s mission, that just happened to be a side to the same story. 

And she was sure the others didn’t want her to join either. It didn’t matter how nice they were to her, or how friendly her and Sokka had gotten over the last few weeks; she was still Fire Nation. And she wasn’t one of them.

A knock at the door startled Y/N. “Come in.”

---

A/N: I think this might just be my first official cliffhanger!! We got some fightin’, some Sokka, we even got our Boy Aang back!! The next part will be a little short, but very important for Sokka and Y/N’s development. 

Taglist: @myexgirlfriendisthemoon​ @reclusive-chicken-nugget​@astroninaaa​ @aangsupremacy​ @beifongsss​ @crownofcryptids @welovediaaxx​ @littlefluu​ @lozzybowe​ @thebluelcdy​ @ohjustlookalive @sugarmoongey​ @fanficdepot​ @teenbiology​ @13-09-01​ @riespage​ @davnwillcome​ @naanlianid​ @creation-magician​ @lunariasilver​ @vintagerose1014516 @bcifcng​ @rockinearthbending-marauders​ @francesciak​ @thia-aep​ @aphrcditeee​ @milk-n-cheese​

#atla #atla sokka #sokka #atla fics #avatar the last airbender #avatar: the last airbender #avatar #avatar fic #avatar renaissance #sokka x reader #sokka x you #sokka x y/n #aang #toph beifong #azula #mai #ty lee #zuko #katara #sokka fics

[3pirouette]

Fic: Fighting Doesn't Make You a Hero (2/?)

Title: Fighting Doesn't Make You a Hero

By: TriplePirouette/3Pirouette

Disclaimer: They're not mine.

Distribution: AO3 Anyone else please ask first :)

Story Summary: StuntCoordinator!Steve meets Actress!Peggy, who is an absolute menace when it comes to stunts.

Chapter Summary: Steve falls hard for Peggy (figuratively) while Peggy falls hard (literally).

A/N: Here’s some more of the story I tried so hard to write last year when I put this little AU out. Also, this is the “more” that I think only one person actually asked for. Hope you like it, anyway. I’ve always loved this idea, the rest of the story has just alluded me until now. For Steggy Week ’21 Day 3: Favorite AU.

Apparently, there will be more of this, because my brain has FINALLY figured out how this is supposed to go, and it’s not just one chapter’s worth. Sheesh.

Also, if it is not clear (it should be…) I know nothing about stunts or stage fighting. Completely made up. Please enjoy.

~*~

Chapter 2: Thrust and Parry

It was hard to be nice to her when he was waiting for the next injury to occur. He was professional, clear, and concise. They rehearsed for hours straight on Wednesday for a long, single shot of her moving through a room full of stunt men for one of the climatic battles.

Though no one got seriously hurt, there were a few bumps and bruises that shouldn’t have happened.

It was hard not to be harsh with her, not to be demanding. He could see moments of beauty in how she moved, but then she’d go too far and make contact. He had to find a way of breaking her of it, if not for his own safety, for that of the stuntmen around him.

~*~

It was an early call for the shot they’d spent the entire previous day rehearsing. He was bleary and chugging coffee as quick as he could stomach it. Peggy was already on her way out of hair and make-up as he passed the trailer. She gave him a shy half smile as she passed him, being ushered from one trailer to the next to be slid into her ridiculously tight costume.

On one hand, he got it. He couldn’t deny that she looked absolutely gorgeous in that costume. (How long he’d spent thinking last night about her in that costume and what she might be able to do with that Lasso of Truth absolutely was not relevant…) But from a practical standpoint the costume wasn’t realistic at all, and she wobbled horribly on the stilettos. They had to stop rolling often to keep her taped into the thing.

The stuntmen around him were warming up, and he even heard a few near him joking about wearing cups. He gave them a sharp look, waiting until everyone was quiet before he reviewed timing and patterns while they waited for her to come out to set.

The director wasted no time once Peggy was on set. They made minor adjustments to the cameras and rolled on the first run through. He was proud as he watched them all, every move was timed right and it looked fantastic. He waited, with a smile, for the director to give his notes.

There wasn’t much for his team, but the director took Peggy aside and gave her quite notes and reset the scene quickly. He shot it over and over, from new angles and with different lenses, and by the time it was over, there were three black eyes and a cracked camera lens.

Peggy’s assistant ushered her off set as soon as they cut the last take, the star unable to look him in the eyes as she walked past.

~*~

The director decided, after a short break, he wanted another go at the capturing the pattern. Steve reluctantly went off in search of Peggy, hoping to figure out where she’d gone wrong that morning. He couldn’t find her in her trailer, and her assistant only pointed vaguely towards the parking lot.

He found her in a far hidden corner of the lot, sitting on the edge of a flower pot, crying. He was startled by a side of her he wasn’t prepared to see. He thought maybe he’d be coming out here to find her sneaking a smoke or a flask of rum. He’d heard she was dangerous, a bitch, a tough broad who didn’t care about the stunt men that she hurt. This didn’t really fit with all the stories he’d heard. “Peggy?”

She moved to wipe away her tears, manicured fingers moving swiftly and carefully around the fake lashes and caked on make-up. “I’m sorry. I’ll be right there. He wants another take, right?”

Steve crouched down next to her. “Are you… are you ok?”

She laughed, watery and weary. “Oh, good lord, no, but I’ll be there in a minute.” She waved her hand at him. “I’ll have to stop in make-up first.”

Steve stood hesitantly, astonished at how she pulled herself together so quickly. “Is there… is there anything I can do?”

She looked up at him, taking a deep breath. “I don’t mean to hurt anyone, I promise. I mean, I know I have a reputation, but… I’m not an action hero. I’ve never been physical. I’m not good at it.” She shook her head. “I’m a Shakespearean actress.” She stood, wiping at her mouth and pacing. “Give me Ophelia or Bianca or Beatrice. Hell, even give me a sword fight. I can fence, you know. But one time I get a tiny part in an action film and all of a sudden, I’m being type cast as some action hero and no one ever even taught me how to do any of this!” She was pacing quickly now, the rant spilling from her lips like a waterfall of words she couldn’t stop if she tried, her weariness evident with each syllable. “Not once was I instructed on the how, just, ‘punch here’ and ‘kick there.’ And it was fun so I kept doing it. I thought it was worth it, you know? But I should be saying no. The sane thing to do would be to say no to all of this but I mean, who says no to Wonder Woman?!” Peggy stopped, her face morphing as she realized all she’d said, her hands coving her mouth for a moment before she forced herself back into a stoic, hard shell. Her chin wobbled, betraying her hidden emotion as she pushed past him towards the make-up trailer. “Just know I don’t mean it. And I’m sorry.”

He watched her move away, stunned in her wake. He didn’t quite know what to do with that information, but he was quickly starting to feel a soft spot for her forming. He moved quickly back to set, relaying that she would be there soon and watching the team of stuntmen around him stretch to perform the scene once more.

She was back on set, looking fresh and happy, in just minutes. He ran them through the pattern again, and watched closer this time.

Once he’s shed himself of expectations, it was easy to see that she really didn’t have any idea what she was doing. She was a natural mover, to the point where he figured she was probably a good dancer, and that went a long way to hiding the technical flaws. But she was jerky when she tried to pull her punches and she wobbled off balance when she held back power in her kicks. She misjudged force when blocking constantly, and it put her on her heels, literally.

She was on her back in a blink when she shouldn’t be, coughing and sputtering. She had the air torn from her lungs with the impact, and everyone froze in place.

Steve bounded over, pushing through his stunt team to kneel by her side. Her eyes were closed, pressed tight. “Peggy, are you ok?” She was gasping, trying to get the rhythm of breathing back. “Slow in through your nose, slow out through your mouth, ok?”

He lifted her hand in his as she nodded, sputtering once more before slowly getting a deep breath in, and then another. He squeezed her hand tight. “Good, good.” He smiled when she blinked her eyes open, her breath starting to come back. “Better?”

She nodded, but he could see the frustration and fear in her eyes, welling tears following quickly.

“Let’s get her checked out,” the director called. “We got what we needed anyway.”

Peggy tried to sit her up, but Steve pushed her back down. “Wait until the medic gets here, ok?”

“I’m fine,” she argued, having tamed the tears quickly.

“Be that as it may,” he smiled, whispering, “You know what the protocol is.”

It wasn’t quite a smile, but it was the closest he saw to one today as her hand held tight to his. “Fine. Just this once.”

He moved away mindlessly when the medic came in and started talking to her, checking for a concussion or cervical injury, eyes still on her face.

Forget about the Lasso of Truth, her smile would be what was haunting his dreams tonight.

~*~

He met her in the rehearsal gym, bright and early the next day. He was on the floor, warming up, when she came in, hair pulled back messily and no make-up on, thermos of coffee in her hands. She was pretty much the exact opposite of the made-up, costumed bombshell from yesterday, but he was no less enthralled with her.

He couldn’t help it: he smiled.

Her smile back was half hidden behind another sip of coffee. “Good morning,” she said softly in her lilting English accent that she covered up for her movie appearances.

“Morning,” he stood, wiping his hands on his pants. “How are you feeling?”

“Bit of a headache,” she replied, setting her coffee down and pulling off her jacket. “Are the rest of the team coming?”

Steve hung his head, bashful. “Uh, no. I had them stay last night and run through tomorrow’s scene with your double.”

“Oh.” Peggy froze, the word slipping out softly. She started putting her jacket back on, trying to hide her disappointment. “I didn’t get the message. I thought I was doing the scene.”

“You are!” Steve corrected quickly, holding his hand out. “I just thought…” He sniffed and cleared his throat, trying to sound as professional as he could. “After I found you yesterday, I watched you do the scene again. I mean, really watched you. And you’re right. You’re missing a lot of the basics.”

Peggy wrapped her jacket back around her, crossing her arms. “Yes, well, like I said—”

“You weren’t taught,” he supplied quickly and gently, eyes kind and open. He shrugged and tried to smile. “I thought we could spend some time on that this morning. You already know the scene, so if we go back in and fill in some of those blanks you have…” He trailed off, hoping she’d understand.

She licked her lip slowly, thinking. “And you told the other stuntmen to stay home because…”

He wasn’t sure what she thought he was going to say, but he could imagine how some of his collogues might have treated her and couldn’t say that he almost expected her surprise. “I don’t want you to feel like they were watching you, or judging you. It’s not your fault no one taught you this, or that whoever you’ve worked with before didn’t take the time to make sure you were doing it right.”

She bent, grabbing her coffee to try to hide the shock he saw. She took a long swing and then nodded, pulling her jacket off again. “Alright then.”

He waved his hand, signaling her to follow him to the middle of the cushioned floor.

She was a quick study, and he’d been right as she eventually reveled somewhere in their discussions of balance and force, that she’d been a dancer before she became an actress.

“ACL surgery,” she replied, pulling up the leg of her legging and showing him the scar on her knee that he was sure must have been covered by make-up every other time he’d seen her. “Retore after the first surgery, and I never danced the same after.”

The melancholy that had started to disappear as they’d been going through their first few lessons returned, and Steve swore he’d do anything to see a smile on her face again. After a moment, he pulled up the sleeve on his t-shirt and showed her the crisscrossing pattern on his shoulder. “Cool scar, but I think this one wins.”

“Ohhh,” Peggy reached out, her fingertips lightly brushing over the flattened lines. “What happened?”

“IED just outside of Fallujah. Caught our caravan off guard.” He turned, pulling the shirt back more to show her the back of the shoulder. “Two bullets, six pieces of shrapnel, three torn tendons and almost a year of physical therapy.”

She let her hand run down his arm in a gentle way that made his heart pound. “Is that why you got out?”

He shrugged, stepping away and pulling his sleeve down. “It’s why they wouldn’t let me back in, so yeah, I guess you could say that.”

“Do you miss it?” Peggy asked, truly interested.

He paused. He wasn’t sure anyone had ever asked him that before. He must have been quiet long enough that she took his lack of an answer as not wanting to answer, because she started rambling, stepping over to get more coffee.

“I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have asked. I only asked because,” she paused to sip, taking a deep breath. “Well, because I didn’t really get to choose to stop dancing, my body chose for me. And as much as I love this…” she paused, her voice growing quieter as she looked down at her coffee, “sometimes I miss it.”

Steve softly stepped towards her. “This can be a lot like dancing, you know.” He held out his hand.

Peggy set her coffee down and took it, a smile on her face. “Really?”

He nodded, giving her a gentle pull that pulled her towards his body. “Think of it less like moves and add beats to it.” He started counting softly in fours, walking them through the pattern they’d just practiced: step forward, step back, parry, swing and miss, swing and block, swing, connect, turn under and sweep the leg.

Peggy laughed with delight as they stopped, standing. “That was… so much easier!”

Steve couldn’t help but smile back, she looked like an excited child on Christmas morning and he wanted more of that. “See? I told you. You just needed to understand it a little more. To figure out how to make it make sense to you.”

She bounced on the balls of her feet, excited. “Can we try the second pass?”

He nodded, stepping in front of her. He started counting again as she squeaked with happiness behind him. Push, pull, drop, jump, punch, punch… they moved through with the fluidity he knew she possessed but had somehow never understood or tapped into before. He smiled at her as they finished the set: her wrists in his hands, held over her head as they stood face to face.

They both smiled, but didn’t move. Steve could feel his heart pounding, and if the look on her face was any indication, the moment wasn’t one sided.

But he was here professionally, and it did no good to lean in and kiss her breathless like he wanted. He started to pull away quickly, but Peggy grabbed his hands, keeping him close. “Thank you,” she whispered, eyes shining with an emotion he didn’t want to think too hard about.

He didn’t understand. “For what?”

“For this.” She shrugged, twining her fingers with his. “For not just believing I’m a dangerous bitch who doesn’t care who she hurts. For taking the time to actually teach me,” she smiled, “and get to know me.”

It was still between them, and he could tell what they both wanted, but he couldn’t give in. Not while they were in the middle of the movie and he knew she’d still need so much more help if she was going to make it to the end of all of the complicated fight scenes and wire work. Instead, he redirected, smiling wide. “Don’t thank me yet. We’ve got to do all that again, but this time, in the heels.”

Peggy frowned, but didn’t let go of his hands. “Bloody hell, I hate those fucking things.”

#steggyweek21 #Steggy Fic #3P's Fic

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Chizuru Town - Killer Instinct

Yoooo, the MC has killed people before Cassell.

“Shouldn’t we hurry?” Even though it was clear that something serious was happening in this Chizuru town, Chu Zihang was only walking ‘somewhat briskly.’ not even a jog. You strolled with him, lightly petting the cat who was nestled tight in your arms. The air was still warm with early summer. The two of you looked like a boyfriend and girlfriend out for a stroll at night and wouldn’t have turned any heads. Were it not for the circumstances it might have been romantic. But your heart held no room for any sort of romantic feelings at the moment. You just wanted to feel safe.

“We need to save our energy. And I wanted to ask you. What’s your connection to the Lenin?”

You glance up at him. “I guess I do owe you an explanation don’t I?”

“Not really. Truthfully, I'm just curious. It pertains to the mission, but only Caesar needs to know. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.” His voice was quiet.

As you continue to walk, you suddenly notice that the sky seems brighter than normal. As your eyes adjusted to the darkness of the power outage in Chizuru, the stars had started to become visible in greater and greater numbers. Perhaps in an hour or so, the sky would start to appear like the one over your old home.

“Looking back, it was truly a dreadful place where I came from. But it was home. It was beautiful in a lot of ways. Life was hard, but that made any level of joy and happiness so secret and special.” Smiling faces float into your vision, one by one, like an old photo album.

“The Lenin came by to resupply the port every Christmas. We always looked forward to it.” Your steps slow to a crawl. “It’s just as Chisei said to you. The Lenin made a stop in a nameless port in Siberia after which it took the dragon from the port and the port was burned. That was the last time I saw the Lenin, until today.”

“Why was the port burned?”

“It wasn’t… just that the port was burned, Zihang. It was bombed. There were people shooting at us from helicopters.” You couldn’t keep the tremble out of your voice.

“The scarring then… you were shot. Was that when it happened?”

“Huh?”

“When you were hurt. I saw the scars. It looked like you were hit by a high powered weapon. A wound that should have been fatal.”

“I wasn’t the only one shot that day… just the only one that survived.” You drop your face to fight the rising sorrow.

“The port wasn’t just burned then. It was specifically to kill the people there. Is that what you’re saying?”

You nod.

“Then I understand Caesar’s words to you much better then. It’s not just the fact of revenge… you’re a witness, MC. You have to live to tell the story. Don’t be so reckless with your life.” Chu Zihang said.

“Senpai, are you caring for me?” You say. “Hmm… what would Little Dragon Lady have to say about that?”

Zihang’s back straightened a little and you flinched internally. But then he relaxes. “I’m not sure if she’s the jealous type. You’re probably fine. After this mission is over, what will you do?”

“Assuming I’m still alive? I honestly… don’t know. I haven’t thought that far.”

“Understandable.” He suddenly stopped walking. A building was being surrounded by cars and motorcycles and from the rumble of the streets nearby, more were on the way. Vans blocked the windows of the first floor and men were making an effort to roll up the security door keeping them from the entrance.

“This way.”

“Is that the Internet Cafe?” You whisper as you’re ushered through the shadows and into a nearby alley. “I thought it was safe!”

He didn’t answer. He was watching people get out of the car with pistols and automatic weapons.

“On my signal… three… two … one…” He darts out of the alley way and sprints behind the people, approaching the building, hiding behind the backs of those in the rear. You follow as quickly as you can into the alley right beside the building. Sure enough there was a side entrance.

Zihang slices off the padlock holding the door closed and it swings open. But no one was guarding here. He motions you inside and you follow him into a narrow corridor. There was no light at all but the moon reflected off the rippling vinyl tile and the shining metal shelving. This seemed to be a storage and maintenance area. Zihang was moving silently and rapidly, not giving you any more instructions. He suddenly paused. There was a vending machine. It was off but Zihang could see what was inside. Clean packaged panties. 

He pointed the sword at the glass and carved a near perfect circle with the tip. Your jaw drops. Was Zihang seriously this sort of pervert? The circle falls from the glass with a quiet tap. And he reached inside. “Here put these on.”

You’re stunned. How could he have known you weren’t wearing … your eyes widen. “You peeked?”

“I couldn’t help seeing when you kicked.” He tossed you the package.

With anyone else you would want to slap their face, and you scowled as you caught the package. “Can’t believe you.”

“It’s not like anything I haven’t seen before. Like I said, I saw your scars.”

“Stop talking!” You hiss. “And turn around. I’m not putting them on in front of you!”

Chu Zihang immediately turns around as you take off your shoes and set the cat down.  Kitty darts under the vending machine as soon as he’s on the floor. Your embarrassment isn’t warranted. It wasn’t his fault but still, you can’t believe he saw that! But when you’ve got one leg in, he starts to run without another word, down the hallway, leaving you behind! You rush to finish dressing and slip your shoes back on. When you get to the end of the hallway, you’re suddenly blinded by bright headlights. The intense glare stung your eyes, but not before you caught the dark silhouette of the person standing in front of the car.

You blinked rapidly to clear your vision. There he was standing, in a leather jacket. That broad back. That blond hair. Your heart leaps in your throat. Caesar! He was alive!

But before you can even call out to him, another shadow darted past him.

Your eyes had just adjusted to the brights of the car only for those lights to immediately go dark. The car's front end crashed to the ground, cut cleanly from the rest of the car. You were blinded by the lights and now you’re blinded by their after image. As you’re trying to blink that away, you hear the crash of metal blade on metal blade and then a sharp sounding gunshot! The sparks hit the car and ignited the fuel lines and once again the space was lit up this time by firelight!

Caesar was engaged in a furious battle with an assailant that was taking advantage of the rapid cycling of light and dark. He was moving quickly, parrying every attack. Caesar couldn’t slow down, flinch or make any mistakes. He was pinned.

Without a doubt, this was the elite fighter of this gang, meant to slow Caesar down. The lobby of the cafe was filled with people with guns but they were all watching this man attack Caesar, like it was some sort of ballet performance. 

No one had noticed MC.

You crouch low, like a panther stalking in the dark, prowling around the chairs that were propped up on tables. You reach the man at the very end of the wall closest to you. His eyes were fixed on the fight. The speed of the two combatants was similar and their strength was almost equal. It was now a competition of swordmanship and endurance. Who could be perfect the longest. It was quite the nailbiter. 

You leap up and wrap your legs around the unsuspecting young man’s waist and your arms around the man’s throat. By compressing the arteries in his neck, he’s unconscious in a mere second! Then you grab his gun. You immediately point the barrel of the gun up towards the ceiling and fire it at the sprinkler system! The combo of the smoke and the damage to the nozzle sets off the entire system and soon everything and everyone is drenched in the heaviest down pour they’ve ever experienced! The fire on the car goes out and the hall is full of shouting. They’re waving their guns and looking for the target! Caesar dove behind a thick heavy wood receptionist counter and you take the gun and follow him in the dark and wet confusion.

"Is it necessary to fight even now? Stop when you recognize me, okay?" Chu Zihang yelled. 

"Damn, how can I be sure it's you? I can't see clearly! It wasn’t like I was practicing. If I stopped you would take my head off!" Caesar yelled. 

"Internal conflicts will be resolved when we escape! Unity! Unity!" Lu Mingfei also yelled. 

“Caesar! You’re okay! I’m so glad you’re okay!” You didn’t care what they were going on about. Your voice brought Caesar around to look at you. His smile was bright but then he looked appalled. He quickly took off his jacket and covered over your white button down that was soaked with sprinkler water and rendered completely transparent. Chu Zihang had given you a pair of panties but not a bra.

“Zihang! I thought I could trust you to take care of her and you’re letting her walk around like an exhibitionist!”

Lu Mingfei’s face was completely flushed. “I didn’t see! I didn’t see!”

“We have more important things to think about! Duck!” Caesar grabbed the back of your neck and forced you to the floor.

It would have been nice for everyone happily to come back from the dead, but there was no time for pleasantries and hugs ...... they heard the sound of short-barreled shotguns being loaded in droves. 

The sound of gunfire was deafening, and the barrage of bullets came overwhelmingly.

"MP7! Lie down!" Caesar yelled. 

Caesar knew the power of such rounds all too well. two seconds after he pulled you and Lu Mingfei down, dense bullet holes appeared in the wall opposite you. The MP7 penetrated the wood and still had energy to pierce the wall. 

"You can't look at them as ordinary punks, they're here to kill us!" Chu Zihang lay on the ground, not daring to look up. "Very well prepared!" 

“Don’t compliment them, Zihang!” You scream. 

All you can think is that the people from Black Swan Bay had come back. They’ve come back to kill you. They’ve realized you’re a witness to Black Swan Bay and they’re here for you! You have a gun in your hands and you can fire back, but it was nothing compared to this level of pressure. They were cheering and reloading, confident in their win. You look up at Caesar. He was wearing a dangerous smile. The wood was turned to splinters but the marble countertop was still intact. He casually tipped the marble counter so it laid more on its edge.

 The boys screamed with excitement, but the screams were soon replaced by screams of pain as the dense lead bullets bounced off the marble countertop, then bounced off the floor and ceiling, covering the boys from the front, above, left and right. 

Ancient chanting echoed in the darkness, as if ancient bells roared. 

The air instantly heated up and the light was almost like a sunrise. The wall of crimson pushed past to cover the boys. The temperature around them rose to five or six hundred degrees in an instant. The boys felt as if they were staying in the sun. The hot air entered their bodies and could even burn their tracheas! 

The black shadow stood where the crimson wall was born, black and red arcs of light flowing over the circular transparent interface around him. 

The Spirit of Speech- Royal Fire, at the most conservative way to explode with instant heat, not enough that it would kill. The gangsters thought they were unarmed, and they were indeed unarmed, but Chu Zihang himself was a Vulcan cannon! 

The high temperature quickly fell back, Caesar stepped on the blazing ground to pick up the short-barreled shotguns and bullet belts dropped by the mob. You hurry over to join him, looking like a child wearing his jacket. “Caesar… I’m so glad…” You were instantly reminded why you needed to stand behind him. While you were perfectly fine on your own, with just a shrug of his shoulders, Caesar had managed to get back at a room full of gloating loonies.

“Save your words.” He waved a hand. “We have to keep moving.” He kept his voice gentle but every muscle in his body was still taut. “Nice shooting by the way. I’ll put that in my report. Is there anything you can’t do?”

“Die?” You respond immediately with a cheeky grin.

Your answer stops him short and he regards you again with an intense stare. “Remind me to invite you to the Student Union when all this is over. Though I’m sure I won’t forget.”

The boys were badly burned on the surface of their bodies, and now the adrenaline was useless. They were rolling on the ground in pain, and Lu Mingfei rushed over to stomp on these little bastards. The youngest of these guys may only be 16 or 17 years old. The oldest is only in his early twenties, but human life in their eyes is not something that needs to be taken seriously, the problem is that they really chose the wrong opponent. 

More importantly, they were too young to know who you were. They couldn’t be assassins targeting you over Black Swan.

“The high heels are really good for kicking people when they're down.” You quip with a little bit of irritation. Lu Mingfei had no clue how ridiculous he looked in that tight dress and heels kicking a guy with second degree burns. You seriously wonder how in the world he ever got on this team being so completely honorless? You wonder if you should tell Caesar what you know about his feelings toward his fiancee and then you realize that its likely that Caesar already knew and just didn’t care. It’s not like Lu Mingfei was any competition.

“Look down on me all you want. Hmph.” Mingfei shot back. “I’d said I’d stomp them and I won't’ be breaking that promise!”

You’re both interrupted by the roar of motorcycle engines coming closer and closer until the noise makes it impossible to hear! Bright headlights shone into the room and the black motorcycle veered around the broken car. The rider was holding a sword in the air. He opened his mouth and shouted a loud cry then dropped the sword forward.

The roar of the bikes was like the roar of the helicopters over Black Swan Bay. It’s not that you weren’t afraid. It’s just that experience told you that running in this situation was pointless. They’d just catch up with you and shoot you in the back. The only way to escape was to kill your opponent first. You didn’t think of yourself as a killer. Experience had taught you there was no other option.

You lift the gun into your other hand and aim directly at the closest motorcycle rushing at you. He was holding a knife, leering at you but his confidence burst at the sight of the gun in your hand. You aimed it right at the center of the forehead but then the wheel of his motorcycle exploded and the young man went flying off. You pull the trigger but the shot misses completely.

“MC!” Caesar snarls. "Don't clash with the madman! Retreat back the way we came!” 

When you catch up to him, he pulls the gun out of your hands. “If you want to criticize Mingfei, don’t use guns against knife wielders.”

“He was on a motorcycle!” Of all people, you thought Caesar would understand. They were nearly killed just now and he was already resorting to gentle tactics?

“Don’t question me.” He wrapped the rifle’s band around his shoulders. “You’re not getting this back. Let’s go!”

“You’re too stunned to speak. You had imagined that Caesar of all people would understand a true life and death struggle. It seemed only weeks ago that your friends’ blood was being soaked into the snow and you were not going to survive unless the enemy died. You stood next to Renata who wielded the automatic machine gun and mowed down a helicopter, killing those inside.

You have to do this to protect the ones you love.

Caesar, the one who understood so much about you, didn’t understand this.

#Dragon Raja

[lethargicsunlight]

'Demon' Chapter 3 : For The Mission Bakugou x Fem!Reader (book 1)

Hello~

First of all, Thank you for reading!

You can also read this chapter and the previous ones here on my AO3.

Or, you can find the previous chapter here.

I will come up with a better linking system soon, but I gotta get back to work real quick :(

WARNINGS: Injury, bodily fluids, angst, SFW

Please enjoy!

👹🖤⛓🔪💣

You knew running was a losing game, as speedy as you could be. He was saving his energy by using his mutation quirk for movement.

You pull loose a throwing knife from the holster on your side, keeping the blade bared outward to defend yourself as you take in your blurring surroundings. You make a turn, decidedly veering away from the direction of the bar you'd just left; the last thing you needed was for your pursuer to call in reinforcements that could teleport.

Despite sliding through sharp turns, you couldn't manage to get far enough ahead to fake him out. With the tough exoskeleton they possessed, he was easily driving his extra limbs into the walls and using them as leverage to fling himself forward--closing in on you much faster than you wanted.

"What is it little Demon?" He screeches, mandibles scratching and gnawing together as his mouth stretches open. "I thought you would be a much more riveting opponent than this!"

...Sometimes, you gotta give them what they want.

Mid-run, you locate a window going into an abandoned office building. Throwing your knife, it punctures the glass and leaves hair-line fractures across the surface--you can see the reflection of Sting's eyes within the shards as you thrust your weight into the opening.

In a circular motion, you manage to unsheathe one of the longer blades at your back and parry  his limbs in the air before you're tumbling over the broken glass. It hurts, but you don't allow yourself to slow down. You roll back up, unsheathing the second blade with your free-hand as you crouch, ready to strike.

Now you at least had one advantage over him. More cover.

"Heh," he seems to hesitate, finally setting his body back upon solid ground as he evaluates you. His gaze is filled with confidence after watching you run away from him. Like prey.  In his pause, you have a few seconds to analyze his structure. The exoskeleton would to be too hard to cut, so your focus had to be the areas you could see flesh exposed. You were aware the legs could retreat into his back, which guaranteed a lack of access there. All you could see was his face and his hands--though peaking out from beneath a tucked scarf, was the smooth skin of a throat.

You had made an oath long ago that you would never kill again. But in defense of your mission... you could manage an exception. It would all be over soon anyway.

Instead of coming at you straight on, he throws another knife at you to get everything back into motion. It has you leaping backwards unto a filing cabinet--and he's charging at you finally with the ferocity of essentially four swords. Due to his extra limbs' reach, you realize you won't get a hit on him this way.

It becomes a tangle of blades as you parry and block and twist around his advances, kicking up papers and folders to distract him as you move up and down over obstacles. The venom in your arm begins to dance through your veins, tingling beneath the skin--you are running out of time.

You can see his face twist into a smile; he's sure he's going to win.

Good.

As he makes the mistake you were waiting for, drawing one of his limbs back for a final attack; his mouth is open to announce his triumph. As the air begins to leave his lungs and form syllables in his mouth, time slows down for you. Your blade held up to parry drops from your hand, sending his stinger forward to scrap across your shoulder; close but not too close to your neck. You grab the knife on his belt that you had been eyeing since his first advance in the alleyway, and slice through the joint.

It brings him to a halt, howling as he moves backwards. Green ichor sprays across your face and drips from his new amputation, his other three limbs curling around his body while his hands grope his shoulders.

You pocket his knife and retrieve your blade from the floor.

"Noo! Nonono..!" He's wailing--it sounds grief-stricken now. While there were questionable 'doctors' among villain society; no one has the ability to bring back a limb. Especially one like that. You had mired him, for the rest of his life.

You prepare for a death blow--but the flash of skin beneath the fabric of his shirt causes your hesitation.

You don't have to kill him. It's relief that floods through your tense and calculating mind; briefly before being replaced with pain. As you had expected, a minute in and his neurotoxic venom has seeped into the muscles of your arm. It feels like a chemical burn--acid turning flesh to sizzling nothing. The arm goes limp, but you force your grip on the blade--you had to appear stable.

"I'm going--I'm going to kill you!" He screeches, and there's a squeal behind it like the voice of the insect part of him was a separate entity.

"...You can't kill me." You say slowly, approaching with your good arm raised. You swallow, then let your voice drop an octave as fear seeps into his eyes. There's a button you managed to press a moment ago, that makes the eyes glow from your mask. A cerulean color--a color that was a remnant of your past. "I'm not human."

From the look on his face--he believes you. Your charade is working. You grit your teeth, forcing your shaking and screaming arm to lift and move to the back of your head. It's a movement that suggests you'll remove your mask.

"N-No, no!" He shifts back again, and unaware of his surroundings he trips and lands among the broken glass. His remaining extra limbs curl in close to his face, leaving his abdomen bare. "You're lying! You can't steal people's souls, you're just--you're like us!"

"Then why are you hiding your face?"

"Wh--" With the distraction of speech, he doesn't block when you throw the hidden blade from your hood down into his abdomen. It's a solemn thwack, and then the harsher crack of his skull when you flip the blade in your good hand and swing it between his stinging limbs to ram into his bare temple.

He's out. He's internally bleeding, and he'll never be the same... but he'll live. Maybe when he wakes, he'll have a different outlook on life. Or, most likely, he'll want to hunt you down.

You suppose that should scare you. But given the note you had received from the hero agency you worked with, your time was going to end anyway. He wouldn't have a chance.

"Hrk--" You crumple to the ground, clutching the arm that felt like it should be bare bone rather than flesh. It's like the nerves are exposed; the grip from your clothed hand sending shockwaves down your spine.

You couldn't help but brood--seeing as how moving was so difficult--at how opposite this situation had been compared to what it seemed.

While you had delivered a blow based on skill--you won the fight by lying. Like an illusion, you'd expertly hidden behind the smoke and mirrors to make him believe you were bigger than you actually were. Like you had won easily, rather than by the skin of your teeth.

You wheeze, tears pricking at your eyes while you force yourself to rise. You needed to get back to base. Especially before he did, and preferably before anyone decides to investigate the noises of your chase earlier.

You stumble out of the building through the window you had broken, and slowly creep through the alleys of Yokohama once again.

---

Every television in the base was alight with the bright colors of the Sports Festival.

You were pretty sure that H.H. kept cameras within those screens, ever watching the faces of his lackeys and agents--judging their actions and expressions. Another advantage to always wearing a mask.

You stood, back pressed to a wall in the shadow of a corner as you side-eye the screen. Watching the students filter out unto the field causes a bitter-sweet fluttering in your stomach.

You remembered the first time you had watched the event. You were much younger, sitting with your knees pressing into the floor and palms crushing a few stray sheets of paper. Really, you had never been all that interested in television, mostly because the other kids at the foster-care center were rambunctious when they sat in front of it.

But this time, the only two souls whose eyes were glued to the flat surface were yours and your new foster brother's, who had been the one to convince you to watch it in the first place.

"You gotta watch it--I'm gunna be on it one day!" He says, arm extending to offer his hand. You stare at it, bug-eyed.

"Oh," you meagerly utter, taking his hand and letting him lead you. He laughs and pulls you along until your both sitting in the living-room floor.

"Don't worry," he leans in towards you, "I'll keep the volume low. Trust me though, kay? You gotta watch it, it's really fun!"

You don't believe him, but before long you're both cheering with the crowd and talking avidly about your favorite contestants. He--

You draw yourself out of the memory as large letters appear in your peripheral. The first game had been announced. A race.

There was a sinking feeling in your chest to know that he should have been there amongst them, maybe a year ago. There wasn't a doubt in your mind that he would have won. Maybe even every challenge.

Even at that young of an age, he had always been so full of righteous fire.

He could have been a hero of heroes...

If not for you.

----

You catch pieces of the Sports festival as you move through the base in search of an old 'escape plan' map. Head Honcho had certainly made modifications since the water-treatment plant had been adopted as his new lair, but you could draw them out if only you had a layout of the place.

Chemical spills did happen, so you could only hope that the escape plans had been forgotten when everything was moving in. In a storage closet somewhere, on the door of an outlet box, above the water control panel--somewhere.

Moving through an old lounge, large screens portrayed the ongoing of the race that had long-since started above the heads of a few agents. They were newer, but they noticed you when you walked in.

The looks in the eyes of those whose faces were exposed was that of mixed admiration and loathing. But, fortunately for you--Head Honcho had made it very clear that you were to be left alone. Treated as exalted, as though separate from everyone else on a holy level. Not that they worshipped you--but that he wanted you to be considered the entity you played as. A demon.

The rumor was as much to his advantage as it was yours.

Their eyes follow you in the dark as you move around them, but something suddenly has their eyes whipping back to the screen as the closer viewers make noises of surprise. You decide to look too, selfishly; and you're rewarded with something familiar.

A freckled green-haired boy. He's flying through the air after a massive explosion, rivaling the two that had been effortlessly charging towards the finish from the beginning. The three of them are suddenly close together, faces etched in the effort to win--and you find yourself openly admiring them.

Beneath your mask, you're smiling. Your heart is pounding and you want to cheer like old times, throwing popcorn in the air and rejoicing--no matter who won. You could practically feel your foster brother's spirit next to you, tugging on your heart. You should be there, enjoying this. You hear him say.

Your breath catches in your throat as there's another explosion--Midoriya had managed to throw the bit of metal he'd carried with him all this way and use another surge of momentum to carry him forward. Everything stills as you wait, holding that breath until finally--finally--it is him that enters the arena in first place.

Adrenaline explodes and rockets around your ribs and your heart--but you're still. You mouth the word 'yes', but didn't dare utter a syllable. Controlling yourself, you make for the exit of the room, intent now more than ever to carry out your mission. To help ensure the safety of those three boys that fought so hard to be recognized as heroes.

For those three boys that reminded you so much of him.

#bakugou x reader #bakugou x you #bakugou x y/n #bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #bakugou x f!reader #bakugou x female reader #bakugou x fem!reader #katsuki x you #bnha fanfic slowburn #deku

[chaseatinydream]

pirate king (14) || atz

Sweat drips from your forehead as you swing the wooden practice cutlass on deck in the same repeated actions Jongho and Yunho have drilled into you.

Left parry, right jab. Overhead swing, side slash. Dodge. Repeat.

Practicing is numb, mindless work. Honestly, you really hate it sometimes, but right now you’re ever so grateful for it. You take the time to organise your mind, your thoughts.

What do you do now?

Jongho, Seonghwa and San now know of your identity as a woman, and what you have learnt ever since your awakening. San is going to tell Yeosang about what the fortune teller had told you yesterday, and you may finally get some answers.

But something lingers on the edges of your conscience.

The sea witch.

The one who Seonghwa warned bargains with the mythical, the bridge between the supernatural and the mortal. And from the looks on San and Seonghwa’s faces, she didn’t sound like a person you’d want to meet.

Underhand swipe, stab.

“I am unworthy of looking upon her face, the one who you have made a deal with, the sea witch!”

Sidestep, lunge.

A deal.

You hunch over on your knees, panting as you take a break for a moment. The sky is still a dark indigo, the stars splattered across the deep purple canvas fading ever so slowly in preparation for the sun to take over their role.

“-a being of immense power that lives on an island that only people in great desperation can find-”

What had you been so desperate for as to turn to the supernatural? What could possibly be worth making a deal with the sea witch?

What had you gained?

You grip your sword tight once more, hate for all the hardships and agony your past self has put you through welling up inside of you.

You had woken up with absolutely nothing. You were completely alone.

Jab, slash.

What exactly had you given up?

Duck, stab.

Why did the fortune teller ask who had made you?

Wetness falls down your cheeks, but you don’t know whether it’s sweat or tears. Something about the word terrifies you. Why made? Why not ‘gave birth’? The way the fortune teller had spoken of you as if you are a piece of craft, not a human…

Why did she call the sea witch your mistress?

You toss the sword to the ground, panting from the exertion and the wild thoughts running through your head.

Did you sacrifice your memories?

“Hey, stowaway!”

You jump at the cheerful greeting, desperately wiping tears from your eyes that you hadn’t known were there.

“Yunho-hyung.” You internally curse the way your voice sounds like you’ve just swallowed a bucket of tar as the tall battlemaster makes his way across to you, his footsteps echoing abnormally loudly on the empty deck.

His hands are tucked into his pockets and his cheeks are apple red from the cold night air. Still, his grin is just as bright as it always is, and he stops next to you.

“Why are you up so early, stowaway?”

“Couldn’t sleep.” You mumble back, shivering slightly. The sweat on your skin has started to evaporate, leaving a chill on your arms and neck. Yunho studies the cutlass on the ground, your puffy, bloodshot eyes and the downcast look on your face.

You open your mouth to explain, to come up with some stupid excuse, but Yunho merely smiles.

“Have you been in the crow’s nest before?”

“What?” You’re caught by surprise by this question, not something you’d have expected to leave his mouth. The lookout merely continues smiling at you, waiting for an answer patiently. “Well, no.”

“That’s good.” Yunho grins at you charmingly. When you frown at him, a little confused, he explains. “That means I’m gonna be the first one to bring you up there.”

Gesturing for you to leave your sword where it is, he takes you by the wrist, long fingers encircling yours completely, leading you to the foremast. Yunho then places your hands against the coarse, thick ropes of the rigging, gently closing your fingers around them.

“Are you scared of heights?”

“Not really.” You reply honestly, but you are a little worried that you might fall like the clumsy fool that you are. You crane your head back, looking upwards.

The crow’s nest is pretty high up.

“Are you afraid of heights, Yunho-hyung?” You ask. The lookout laughs, clearly amused at your silly question and motions for you to climb.

“I am a lookout, you know. Don’t worry, I’ll be sure to catch you if you fall.”

You stare at him nervously, placing a foot on the rigging. “But I had three pastries yesterday. And another chicken drumlet. And some of that pie Seonghwa-hyung baked before I left. And-”

Yunho waves your protests off cheerfully. “No worries, just trust me!”

Just trust me.

Turning back to the rigging, you suck in a breath and begin to climb. You’ve never worked around the rigging and masts like you’ve seen Yunho and Wooyoung do so often, instead staying closer to the deck like San and Seonghwa. The two are in the rigging so often, spending more time among the ropes than on deck, laughing and chatting away.

For a moment, you feel like you’re intruding on their space.

The climb upwards is a little tricky as the rope twists and flexes beneath you, but you’re determined to make it all the way to the top by yourself. Straining with the effort, you finally drag yourself feebly over the lip of the crow’s nest and flop into it, sweat dripping from you every orifice.

“That was a good first try!” Yunho cheers as his mop of brown hair appears at the railing merely seconds after you’ve crawled in. You stare at him in disbelief from below.

“I thought you said you were going to catch me if I fell!”

Yunho cocks his head at you curiously as he perches on the railing precariously, an inch or so from a bad fall back to the main deck. “I was! I only started climbing after you reached the top.”

Your jaw smashes into the ground.

Yunho gives you an easy grin, patting your head in encouragement. Really, what is with all your crew members liking to pat you on the head? You’re about to ask him why when he looks away from you, admiring the horizon with a smile.

“So, why the long face?”

At his question, you jerk a little in shock. He seems to be a lot more observational than you have given him credit for.

“I am the lookout, after all.”

You gulp.

“And yes, you said that out loud.”

“Sorry!” You squeak, but Yunho doesn’t take any offence at your words. Instead, he merely grins at you with a cheeky, boyish smile.

“How about you tell me why you had such a long face as apology, then?”

You puff out your cheeks. You feel like Yunho has just tricked you into coming up here to make you spill the beans about all of your deepest, darkest secrets, but of course you can’t tell him that you’re worried about what the fortune teller has told you. As much as you trust the members of the ship, you don’t know how they’d react if you blurted to all of them that you could hear the sea monster’s voice and that you were starting to get afraid of what the fortune teller had woven as your future.

So you try to keep things as vague as possible.

“Nothing much.” You attempt to play it off light, fiddling with the crystal at the end of your necklace as you close your eyes and lean back against the mast, trying to appear as calm as possible. “I was just thinking about my memories, you know. If I had a mother.” A dry laugh leaves your mouth as you think about the possibility of the sea witch being your mother. “Maybe I could have had parents waiting for me wherever my home is. Siblings, even.”

Yunho is silent for a while. Then he suddenly speaks up.

“Do you know what these are?” He points to the two silver rings braided into his hair. They’ve always just been there, from the very first day you’d met him down at the harbor of Raguza, so you’ve simply assumed that it is some kind of habit of his. Honestly, you haven’t given it much thought, so you shake your head.

“These are rings of victory.” Yunho says, his voice suddenly soft as he fingers the silver bands. You stare at them a little more closely. “I got one for my first victory... And the second one for my hundredth.”

There’s something delicate in the air, invisible but completely tangible. You don’t dare to raise your voice over a whisper.

“What victories?”

“Victories in the arena.” Yunho says the word ‘arena’ with so much bitterness, sadness, anguish that for a moment, you can almost feel his raw emotions washing over you like a tidal wave. “Before I joined the crew of the Treasure… I was a gladiator.”

You’re stunned into silence for a moment.

Yunho has always been so happy, so cheerful, so happy-go-lucky, a literal ray of sunshine. You can’t believe that he could have endured such torment and pain in the past.

“I see.” Is all that leaves your mouth, but there’s so much more you want to say.

“I had a brother. His name was Gunho.” Yunho looks lost in the past, fixated on a dream, far, far away. “He was nicer, kinder, gentler. Always the better one of the two of us.”

You want to argue with that, but he continues before you can say anything.

“We were both sold into slavery by our parents. All we had was each other. I remember the first time he stepped into the arena, he was so scared to the point he kept shaking in his boots. I volunteered to go in his place. That’s how I got this.”

You watch with bated breath as Yunho pulls the collar of his shirt down to reveal a long, ugly scar at his shoulder, dangerously close to where his jugular is, as San has taught you. If the blade had been a couple of inches to the left, Yunho wouldn’t be here with you right now.

And that scares you, for some reason you don’t want think about.

You don’t know what to say. Why is Yunho sharing with you all this, something so close to his heart?

“I did everything I could to keep him safe. It was silly, now that I think about it. He was always a better fighter than me.” Yunho muses to himself in silent mirth, shaking his head as he shrugs the shirt back over his shoulder. “But I was the older brother. I was supposed to take care of him.”

You don’t like where the sound of this is going.

“But he’s gone now.” Yunho’s smile is brittle, as if it might break if you so much as touch it. His voice is nothing above a wavering whisper. “Dead and gone. And I wasn’t even by his side when it happened.”

“Why?” You find yourself asking, even before you can run it by your mind. “What happened?”

Yunho closes his eyes for a moment, clearly fighting to keep his emotions at bay as they play out across his face. Then he speaks, his throat tight.

“A patron admired me for my skill and bought my freedom, but not my brother’s.” Yunho’s words are soft, but clear as water and you hang on to every word. “I joined the Treasure to earn enough to buy my brother’s freedom… but by the time I returned to my hometown, Gunho was dead.”

His voice cracks ever so slightly even though the smile never leaves his face.

“Did you know? My brother died from the same illness as Jongho’s mother did.” Yunho adds on quietly, lost in thought. A heavy, crushing feeling sinks like a stone in your chest and you feel something prick at the corner of your eyes. You blink the feeling away in surprise.

The two of you sit in silence for a moment, and you feel Yunho’s pain as if it’s your own. If you ever had family, like he had, and you’d lost them… The feeling is familiar to you, as if you’ve felt it before.

But something is different.

No… you didn’t lose him…

You left him behind.

Something bubbles in the back of your mind and your eyes fly wide with horror, you jerk upright to stare at Yunho. You try desperately to chase the thought, but when you shut your eyes, all you see is the same thing you always do.

White beach, the waves washing over your legs as you sit in the sand. Rain touching your face, storms at your feet.

Then nothing.

“Anyway, what I intended for you to hear is that there’s always a dawn, even to the darkest nights.” Yunho says quietly, his words gentle. “Even though I thought I’d lost it all when I found out about my brother’s death, I realised I gained a new family. You might have lost your memories, but at least you have us with you. You’re our family. You are someone to us.”

You are someone to us.

His hand closes around yours. You turn to look at him, eyes wet with emotion. He doesn’t face you, instead pointing at the horizon.

“Look.”

The sun is beginning to rise.

The pair of you sit in comfortable silence as the sun slowly emerges from behind the sea. The darkness of the sky flees as the rosy light chases it away, streaks of pink and orange painting the sky.

You don’t know how long you sit there till someone calls for you from below.

“Yunho-ah! Stowaway!” To your surprise, it’s Yeosang, but there’s something off about him. From up on the crow’s nest, you can see him fidgeting nervously hopping from foot to foot as he looks up at the two of you. He looks like he’s literally brimming with happiness.

“What is it, Yeosang-ah?” Yunho shouts back, your hand falling from his.

There’s a massive grin on the navigator’s face, even as he tries to fight it back.

“Captain wants to see us!”

#ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #ateez hongjoong #ateez seonghwa #ateez yunho #ateez yeosang #ateez jongho #ateez san #ateez mingi #ateez wooyoung #ateez pirate king #hongjoong #seonghwa #yunho #yeosang #jongho #san #mingi #wooyoung #w; ot8 #w; pirate king #w; fanfiction

[another-rogue-trevelyan]

I did... something 😂

This is the first attempt I’ve made at writing fic for a couple other than Cullen and Evelyn. Somehow what was supposed to be a smutty one shot turned into a sexually charged sparring match. I think this will end up being the first half of a one shot. No lemons yet, but there will be!

This is untitled as of yet, and I just felt like sharing since this is the first I’ve ever written for Greedfall. Enjoy a preview of my first ever work for Kurt and Corinne De Sardet! Back to your regularly scheduled Dragon Age content soon 😂❤️

Corinne De Sardet hit the ground with a thud. She coughed as the dust kicked up around her and rolled to her side, rubbing gingerly at her tailbone.

“Your footwork is sloppy today, Greenblood. You’re lucky it’s me and not someone who really wishes you harm.” Kurt stood above her, his tricorn blocking the beating sun as he offered her a hand. Corinne begrudgingly accepted, her pride far more bruised than the darkening patches on her skin.

She retrieved her own fallen tricorn and returned it to her head, covering the worst of the mess of her disheveled braid. She did her best to wipe the dirt from her shirt and trousers. Her overcoat and ascot had been removed long prior in the midday heat.

She and Kurt had been at it for hours. Corinne felt stiff and store as she bent to retrieve her rapier, having been disarmed by her Master at Arms again.

He was right, and that only annoyed her more. She was sloppy today, clumsy even, and though it was just she and Kurt in the Coin Guard’s training yard, she felt embarrassed by her poor performance. Though she probably shouldn’t - Kurt was the first to ever put a sword in her hand. He had certainly witnessed worse performances.

That had been back in Serene, however, and things had changed a great deal since then. While Constantin had struggled even prior to his affliction to adjust to his new role as governor, Corinne had proved herself a capable diplomat. She had created allies in unlikely places, thwarted an attempted coup, and faced fearsome beasts without a second thought.

Why, then, couldn’t she concentrate on a simple sparring match?

The truth, though she hated to admit it, was that her mind muddled around Kurt as of late. What had started as an old childhood infatuation had become something else entirely upon their arrival in New Serene. Corinne was no longer the youth he had trained at the behest of her uncle, but the Legate of the Congregation. They had made painstaking discoveries together about each of their pasts, dismantled corruption within the Coin Guard and uncovered the truth of her roots.

Now, as beads of sweat dripped down her face, she knew how she had gotten so distracted. Kurt was looking at her again with that look - the one that excited and confused her and, ultimately, pissed her off.

That look was not the look of a teacher studying his student. When his eyes wandered over her, they were the eyes of a man drinking in the sight of a woman. Eyes that held a hint of curiosity, admiration, and - dare she think it - wanting.

But Kurt always put a stop to things before they could get any farther than uncomfortable stares, preferring instead to revert back to their old ways and ultimately making her feel utterly infantilized.

“Excellency?”

How long had she been staring? Corinne couldn’t be certain, but she was now very aware that she had been standing with her rapier aimed to the ground, staring awkwardly. She lifted the weapon in front of her, preparing to go again.

“‘Sloppy,’ is normally reserved for Constantin,” she said as they began to circle one another. They tested each other with a few swings, metal scraping together.

“Constantin is always sloppy. For you, on the other hand, this is unusual. Something on your mind, Greenblood?”

His sweaty face glistening in the afternoon heat, for one thing. Just what that glint in his eye indicated was truly going on in his head, for another. The ease with which is muscles moved as he swung his blade-

Wait.

Corinne jumped back too late, rapier once again flying from her grip as the point of Kurt’s blade pointed at her throat.

“I’ve… just had a lot to think over lately, is all.” She swallowed hard, trying to ignore the intensity with which he stared at her down his blade.

“I know things have been… a lot for you, lately. I understand why you’re distracted. But you can’t be fighting like this. You’ll get yourself killed.” He lowered his rapier and retrieved hers from the ground, holding it by the blade and extending the hilt toward her. “Again.”

Corinne huffed as she grasped the blade, then took up position for what must have been the hundredth time. Though this time she hadn’t been knocked on her ass, it was still just as embarrassing a loss.

“Kurt, clearly I’m useless today. Perhaps we should try again tomorrow. I’m sure I have enough bruises for one day.”

“Anyone who wants you dead won’t care if you’re distracted and bruised. I’m not letting you get yourself killed because you’re having an off day. I can’t always be there to watch your back. You need to be able to save yourself. Now raise your blade and try it again.”

She lunged toward him, but he easily parried the strike, which had been performed more in irritation than any thought that it may be a good idea.

“Still sloppy.” He advanced on her, and Corinne barely managed to swat away his strikes with her blade, stumbling backward on exhausted legs.

“Kurt…”

“Come on Greenblood, defend yourself! I know I taught you better than this! What would your uncle think of this performance?”

She swung hard, meeting Kurt’s blade with unexpected force and pushing him back. She advanced on the offensive, landing blow after blow as he frantically parried aggressive strikes.

“Corinne-“

His unusual use of her name did nothing to dissuade her assault as she hailed down upon him. She was an indomitable storm, striking mercilessly as Kurt did his best to block without harming her.

“Corinne, what are you-“

“Stop… treating me…. like a…. child!” she panted through her onslaught.

“I’m not!” Kurt yelled as their blades clashed. They pushed against one another, eyes meeting across the steel. “I’m treating you like someone I don’t want getting killed!”

“You’re talking to me the same way you did when I was fifteen! What are you going to do, tell on me to my uncle? Go ahead! He’s months away by sea!”

“That’s not what I meant and you know it!” Kurt shoved hard, both of their blades swinging wildly to the side as they both stumbled backward. “I don’t understand why you’re so angry!”

“Because I am a grown woman, Legate of the Congregation of Merchants, and the only reason Constantin hasn’t destroyed the colony yet, and you’re talking to me like a teenager with her first blade!”

“Because you’re fighting like a teenager with her first blade!”

Blinded with rage, Corinne swung far too hard. Kurt seized the opportunity and used the force to disarm her again, but this time, as the rapier slid through the dirt, Corinne let the force of the motion take her as well. She crashed into Kurt, sending the two of them to the ground.

They tumbled in the dirt, hats flying and struggling for dominance as both refused to yield. Corinne was lighter and quicker and slipped out of his grasp a few times, but in the end Kurt was stronger. He flipped them as they brawled, pinning her wrists with his hands and her body with his own. She writhed beneath him for a few more moments but had no choice but to concede that he had beaten her.

They panted, gasping for breath as the dirt stuck to their sweat soaked forms. Kurt’s bright blue eyes searched her stormy gray ones for answers, confusion still evident on his face. He smelled of sweat and musk, his body readied in case she was preparing to strike at him again.

“What have I done to upset you so much, Greenblood?” he asked, still breathing hard. His hips were pressed into hers. Corinne struggled not to squirm.

“I am no longer a child,” she said simply. Kurt’s eyes flicked from her face to where her shirt had fallen slightly open and back, swallowing hard.

“I… know that, Excellency. I apologize.”

“I may have been your student, and I may be Legate, but I am still a woman.”

“I know.”

“I won’t be treated like a child.”

“I know.”

“After all we’ve been through-”

“I know.”

They remained that way in silence for… seconds? Minutes? Corinne couldn’t be sure, too distracted as she watched Kurt’s gaze wander from her eyes, to her lips, to her chest, still rising and falling deeply from the exertion. Eventually, Kurt seemed to realize the position they were in, and more importantly, where they were in such a position, and clambered to his feet.

“I… can I walk you home?” he asked awkwardly, helping her up and then gathering their hats.

“No. I think I can handle the walk from here up the street on my own, thank you.” She placed the hat on her head, uncaring that it was still covered in dirt, then grabbed the remainder of her belongings and turned to leave the training yard.

“That’s not what I-“

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Kurt.”

“Corinne!”

Though her name on his lips tugged at her heart, she didn’t wait to see if he had anything more to say.

Since this will be my last WIP of the year, I wanted to thank some friends I’ve made! @chaotic-citrus @hawkeish @dreamerlavellan @noire-pandora @kemvee @aspiritofcompassion @cartadwarfwithaheartofgold are just a few of the lovely people I’ve had the joy to find since starting this blog, and I see and appreciate your continued support. Thank you so much, and Happy New Year to all of you!

#greedfall #kurt x de sardet #kurt x corinne #corinne de sardet #greedfall fanfic #de sardet #wip whenever #op #kurt greedfall #another-rogue-trevelyan fanfiction

[dusky-dancing]

What Grows in Winter

Rating: T

Length: ~4500 words

Pairing: Felix Hugo Fraldarius / Byleth Eisner

Tags: Mistletoe, Hand Warming, Kissing, Holiday Tropes, Fluff, Pining.

Summary: Fodlan’s coldest winter and a gruesome war greet Byleth upon waking from her five-year slumber, and while an improvised winter celebration is in the works, she’s more drawn to a familiar stability. Surely, whatever grows in the harshest seasons can survive anything.

This is my Felileth Secret Santa gift for Rex a.k.a Smoke n’ Milk! Check out their art twitter if you’re craving some Felileth. I hope you all enjoy, and have a very Merry Christmas!

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Snow made sparring more challenging. Byleth already knew this, but to do so with Felix only a month after she’d awoken from her five-year slumber was much harder than she’d imagined. 

It didn’t help that the weather had been relentless that year, and missing Red Wolf Moon meant missing wolf-hunting season, which would’ve supplied their soldiers and allies with the pelts and meat they needed to survive the cold. The guilt tugged at her mind at all times. So many from both the church and the Kingdom had quickly joined the cause with her name, yet she had nothing to show for it besides barely fending off an Empire assault. 

Perhaps sparring Felix grew difficult because he’d grown stronger, or that Byleth had just grown weaker. No matter the excuse, her chill-stiffened muscles struggled to stay mobile against her opponent’s relentless strength. 

“You’re slow.” He lunged swiftly, barely giving her time to parry his sword to the side and force an opening. His body pivoted with the movement, however, and their swords clashed before she could move forward on the offensive. 

“It’s called a warm-up, Felix,” she panted.

“Maybe you’ll finally buy a coat, or make actual use of the one you already have,” he smirked and sliced at her sleeves that dangled unused from her shoulders. “Or admit that I’ve finally surpassed you.”

“Nah,” she said. “Match isn’t over, Fraldarius, and I doubt you’d accept victory that easily.”

“You’re right,” he chuckled before assuming a ready stance and waiting for her to move first.

Byleth almost accepted his bait out of spite until she felt something tickle her hair. Old habits kicked in, and she spun towards their intruder, which in turn startled Felix. Her sword swung for whatever had snuck up on them, but met only empty air, then a small fishing line. The culprit, a small tuft of twigs, leaves, and red berries, fell to her feet.

“Woah, woah! Easy!” Sylvain yelled from above. The paladin had somehow managed to climb to the roof with a fishing pole without alerting either Felix or Byleth to his presence. Maybe Byleth really had lost her touch.

“Sylvain, what the hell is wrong with you?!” Felix shouted. 

With that, Sylvain leapt from the roof, dusted himself off, and held his hands up in defeat. “I wasn’t trying to sneak up on you! You two must’ve been really distracted.” He eyed the severed end of his fishing line. “How did you cut this with a wooden sword?”

“What do you want?” Felix asked. “We’re busy, if you haven’t noticed.”

Byleth’s eyes drifted to the small green shrub lying in the snow. “And what is that?” she added.

“Oh, this?” Sylvain smirked and picked it up, twirling it in his fingers. “Glad you asked. Annette and Merci tasked me with getting everyone into a more... festive ...spirit.”

Right, the mages’ mission to lift everyone’s spirits with an improvised winter celebration. The Lions had reunited, as had many of their allies, but Dimitri was far from a kingly state, their supplies ran short, and the monastery’s defenses were unprepared for another Empire incursion. The millenium-old walls had been worse for wear after five years of war and neglect, but their fortress, like their resolve to carry on, held together.

Mercedes and Annette had immediately called for a celebration of Byleth’s return, though she argued they had many more reasons to celebrate. The Millenium Festival marked their reunion, but the decorations, the music, the feasts, and the bright firelight that contrasted with the white snow had been absent. The two women were making up for that now, and most of the Lions had agreed to help. 

“Sylvain, you know you’re supposed to hang up decorations, not flail them around on a fishing rod, right?”

“Ah, but this isn’t a decoration, my good friend.” He tied the bundle to the freshly-cut end of the fishing line and wiggled it between Felix and Byleth. “This, here, is a mistletoe.”

Byleth didn’t know what any of that meant, but if Felix’s reaction was any indication, it wasn’t any good. His annoyed narrow eyes flew open, and his cheeks that surely must have been freezing in the falling snow flushed red. 

“See? Felix knows! I knew you’d-”

“Get lost, Sylvain.” Felix ducked away from the plant as if it was a deadly poison.

“Not until you two follow the tradition.” Sylvain’s unyielding grin told Byleth that he wasn’t leaving anytime soon. Few were immune to Felix’s sudden outbursts, and Sylvain was likely the most seasoned in navigating the swordsman’s temper. 

Despite the dread hanging in the air, Byleth was curious. “What tradition?”

Felix spun around and pointed his glove in Sylvain’s face. “Don’t tell her!” He didn’t address Byleth directly, but nodded to her. “Trust me, you’re better off not knowing our stupid traditions.”

“Great idea, Felix, why don’t you tell her!” Sylvain nudged his friend as his voice nearly sang. Their moods couldn’t be more opposite, but Byleth knew whose taste aligned more with her own. 

Felix grunted. “Let’s just get back to training.”

In their brief repose, Byleth’s muscles had only stiffened by remaining stagnant. And she couldn’t deny her curiosity. “I’m not participating in any weird Faerghus traditions, but I should still know what they are.”

Sylvain’s smile grew all the way to his eyes while Felix scoffed with a look of betrayal. Maybe he wished that she’d push Sylvain to drop it. After a few tense moments, however, he yielded and turned back toward her. Even so, he kept his face turned away from her.

“When two people are caught under a mistletoe, the dumb tradition says they have to...kiss.”

“Oh,” was all Byleth could say in response. If Sylvain was watching her for a strong reaction, he wouldn’t get one. But that was only because her insides were imploding.

Sylvain wanted him to kiss her? Had he chosen them on purpose, or had it just been coincidence?

Did she... want to kiss Felix?

The man didn’t give her time to ponder the sensation any further. “But like I said, it’s dumb, it’s cold, and we’re busy. So get lost, Sylvain.”

“Oh, you’re busy . I see how it is.” He reeled in the mistletoe and swung it over his shoulder. “You two are the first to refuse, you know. It doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just a sign. A mistletoe is an omen of peace and protection from death. They grow even in the harshest winter. The fact that some began sprouting on the shrubs throughout the monastery is good, no?”

Felix’s face flared red, either with seething anger or pure embarrassment. “Then go find more willing participants and tell Edelgard the war’s over because of some weeds. Leave us.”

Sylvain threw his hands up in defeat. “All right, all right, I surrender. Consent is important, anyways.” Before he pushed the training ground doors open, however, he turned and gave them one last of his dazzling smiles. “You never refused, though. All I heard were excuses.” And with that, he shrugged and moved through the doors.

“Don’t waste that fishing line, Sylvain, I’ll need it later!” Byleth shouted before the doors slammed shut. An awkward silence hung in the air for a moment. Byleth was sure her fingers had fused to her sword hilt. “My hands are freezing,” she said in an attempt to break the tension and turn the conversation elsewhere.

When his eyes met hers, however, he almost looked apologetic. He’d never apologized for his outbursts in the past, so why did he look so regretful now?

Oh. 

Oh.

Her attempt to pull his attention away from the awkward situation appeared to work as he strode over to her and removed a glove. Atleast, it worked until his bare hand touched hers, and her cheeks flared with heat. Maybe it was just because his hand was exceptionally warm compared to hers, or maybe it was the sudden close proximity. Regardless, their brief reprieve from recent events was short-lived.

Felix pulled his hand away quickly. “Well, damn, of course they are. You’re gripping a wooden sword in the freezing snow, bare-handed. Will you buy some gloves already?”

“I suppose I’m not used to the cold.” She leaned her sword against a nearby pillar. Relieved that it hadn’t frozen stuck to her palm, she rubbed her now-free hands together for warmth. “It’s worse this year than I remember. Gloves are hard enough to come by, and I can’t...” she paused, recalling how many at the monastery were even less equipped for the cold. “I can’t let myself get comfortable yet.”

Felix sighed, still keeping arm’s distance from her. A moment later, he offered her both of his gloves. She was in the middle of exhaling warm breath against her hands and froze at his sudden gesture. 

“Here, you’ll get warmer faster, then we can get back to work.”

He’d never demanded that she borrow anything of his before - not his coat, his gloves, and certainly not his sword. But she knew better than to leave him hanging for too long.

“Thank you,” she said before taking them. Her hands already felt warmer just holding the thick hide fabric. His gloves outsized her hands noticeably, and she didn’t miss the chuckle that came from him when the tips of the fingers flopped over. 

But they were extremely warm. Instinctively, she clasped her hands together and brought them close to her face, and she inhaled the scent of pine and sword oil.

Was this how he always smelled?

“Felix?” she asked. He was doing everything in his power to not watch her, but his head turned toward her curiously. “You were right. Traditions are stupid,” she smirked. 

His shoulders relaxed, and a half-smile to match her own replaced the scowl that had been present since Sylvain’s provocation. “I get why people have them, but there’s no point to just follow them blindly.”

“Even if they’re just for fun?” she asked.

“Sylvain should know better than to ask me to do something for fun .”

She smirked, “Yes, but he doesn’t know better than to push your buttons. There, I’d say he succeeded.”

Felix scoffed and turned away. As Byleth’s hands warmed, she realized she’d never really taken the time to notice how much her former students had grown. The one before her certainly had. He was taller and stronger, sure. She knew that enough from training with him, but he’d grown in his own mind as well. He’d hardened himself, likely from the war, yet at the same time his gaze had softened towards her and the other Blue Lions, save for Dimitri.

Maybe his vindication, knowing he’d been right all along about the prince, had brought with it a tragic sense of peace. 

Back when the prince’s demons had begun to show themselves, Felix had been the only one she could approach about it without getting excuses or looks of pity. That was five years ago, though it still lived freshly in Byleth’s memory.

Five years. She’d seen the growth of her former students, but how had their view of her changed during her absence? How had Felix’s? If he’d thought her to be dead, perhaps he’d simply tucked away memories of her next to Glenn and sought out another rival to overcome. If he’d thought she lived, maybe he’d searched for her and had become more concerned and angry as time went on. Felix hadn’t volunteered which side he’d leaned toward yet, and truth be told, it didn’t matter to Byleth whether he’d believed her to be alive or dead. The fact that he was sparring with her now was enough of an answer.

She learned one more crucial piece of information - that the thought of kissing her made Felix absolutely flustered, not annoyed or irritated.

Despite how everything had changed, Felix remained a source of stability for her. Training with him brought her down to her humanity again, away from the realm of the goddess, nobles, and crests. A second thing she learned - the thought of kissing Felix made her flustered as well. 

Amidst the realization, her hands had regained feeling. The growing impatience of her opponent made itself known in the way he paced with folded arms and tapped his bare fingers. Or maybe similar thoughts refused to leave his mind as well. 

There was one way to find out.

When Byleth returned to Felix his gloves, she raised herself onto her toes, leaned in, and pecked her lips onto his cheek. He immediately pulled away like she’d just stabbed him, with an eyes-wide look of shock. His cheeks flushed red, and his sword fell from his grasp.

Byleth had seen Felix do many things when caught off guard, but she’d never seen him drop his weapon.

“Wh-what the hell was that for?!”

She retreated a step, doing her best to maintain her calm exterior. “As a thanks, and a way to fulfill that stupid tradition.”

He didn’t respond again, which made her second guess her own judgment. He’d looked like he’d wanted to kiss her, right? She hadn’t imagined the way he let her borrow his gloves, the way he watched her when they sparred.

“I-I’m sorry. I just thought that...you know what? Nevermind. I should go eat. The cold’s obviously getting to me.” She began to back away, but his bare hand caught her wrist. When she looked back in shock, his gaze was still fixated on the ground.

“It-it’s fine,” he croaked and cleared his throat before finally meeting her gaze. “But that’s not how the tradition goes.”

Byleth paused. Why did Felix suddenly care about the rules? 

Unless…

“It doesn’t work with...just that.” He stepped closer, keeping a hold on her arm. “You have to…”

Oh.

Did he actually want to kiss her? The way his eyes held her screamed yes , with a taste of caution and a lingering question floating within them. So she answered with the smallest nod she could muster, afraid that moving too quickly would break whatever trance they’d found themselves in. 

He didn’t move to touch her anywhere else, but heat flooded her every fiber as he leaned closer and tilted his head to the side. Her eyes closed themselves, overwhelmed at the sight, and then a warmth brushed across her lips. It was brief, if a little ticklish, and she responded in kind before the sensation quickly retreated.

Her eyes remained shut for too long, afraid of the image that would greet her. Would he look happy? Angry? She feared that he may have already turned his back and walked away before his calloused grip on her arm reminded her that he was still within reach. 

Finally, her eyelids gained the strength to open, and indeed the sight would’ve made her heart race if it hadn’t been permanently unbeating. Felix watched her intently, searching her for emotions. Her self-expression was still muted, but he’d become one of the few people who could read her subtle changes, and she hoped that his intuition had remained with him after all those years.

What his eyes communicated, on the other hand, was as clear as day to her. Though he watched her, his gaze was soft with his eyelids hanging lightly. She cursed the snow that fell between the few inches of space between them, interrupting her view. She’d never denied that he was handsome in the same way she’d never deny his skills with a sword, yet now he looked to her almost as a lover would. Not quite open and comfortable enough to freely steal hazy glances, but enough to ask another question.

Is this really what you want?

A question that went unasked, as the words that came from him brought her thoughts to a halt. “Now it counts,” he spoke plainly, as if he were commenting on her sword technique. 

They avoided one another's gaze once again, with his eyes darting down and hers upwards. She scanned the roof, suddenly paranoid that their prior company hadn’t completely left, and swore she saw a second, fresher disturbance in the snow that blanketed the roof. Whether the redhead would earn himself a few more weeks of stable duty wasn’t on the forefront of her mind, however, compared to the man retreating from her.

“I thought you hated traditions.” She turned her wrist in his grasp so she could return his hold, telling him he could stay if he liked. 

Or possibly ask for more.

The thought of kissing him again, fully aware and able to better-prepare herself, erupted butterflies in her chest. She wondered if this was the closest she’d feel to a racing heartbeat.

“I do.” He kept his tone, but his expression held the same question as before. His voice dropped when he spoke again. “But I don’t...hate you.”

She tried to stop the snort that escaped from her nose to no avail, so her free hand came up to cover her face. Now Felix just looked offended, but the way his face continued to redden as he turned away told her that he wished he’d chosen his words better.

But she didn’t. Felix wasn’t the type of man to overthink his words. It was one of his traits that allowed him to be honest and insightful, even if his words stung. Regardless, she knew that I don’t hate you from Felix meant more than the words themselves. 

Her grip on his wrist held firm, and she ran her thumb along the fabric of his sleeve. “I don’t hate you either, Felix.”

He seemed to just notice her touch, for his attention turned to their interlocked arms. Facing her again, he made her the flustered one when he slid his fingers down to take her hand instead. It surprised her how quickly he could turn the tables against her.

“Byleth…”

Familiarity hit her as he stepped closer again, only now his other hand caressed her shoulder, his warm gloves discarded somewhere in the snow. The gaze in his eyes, however, had shifted drastically. Where previously he approached her like a stray cat, now his eyes resembled a wolf - hungry and knowing exactly what he wanted. Her breath hitched, and she managed to rest her free hand against his waist. He was warm as always, but she swore he was shivering. No, trembling.

“Felix…”

Whatever words tried to spill from her were stopped, but not with the crashing of his lips against hers like she’d imagined. Instead, the doors to the training grounds burst open. 

The wolf-like expression before her switched from hunger to anger. He pushed her away sharply, but she took no offense as she’d probably have done the same. Her attention turned to the entryway, where she expected to see Sylvain. She was partially correct, but the paladin wasn’t alone. 

Ashe ran to the front and nearly collapsed into the snow, out of breath. “You aren’t going to believe this, Professor! I was scouting and-”

“Slow down, Ashe, you’re hyperventilating!” Mercedes patted his back and offered him water. Indeed, his face was beet red, and his breathing short. He panted as if he’d just run several miles up the mountain, which would be true if he’d been scouting.

“Let me finish.” He took a deep breath and stepped forward. “Professor, we won’t have to worry about blankets and pelts this winter, because a herd is approaching! A herd of...llamas!”

The surprise threw Byleth in many different mental directions. She suddenly became aware of her and Felix’s state. They’d tried to appear as if they’d just been sparring like any other day, yet their bare hands, long-abandoned swords, and fresh shoeprints in the snow gave away their close proximity only moments ago. She quickly scanned the crowd to see if anyone had picked up on those details. Ashe, though a skilled scout, was too winded and had let his senses drop within the safety of the monastery. Mercedes and Annette hadn’t noticed. So that just left-

Sylvain didn’t even try to hide the grin plastered on his face. He stood unnoticed in the back of the group, just so only Felix and Byleth would catch his gaze. Byleth felt heat rise to her face, but retained her well-practiced stoic facade. Felix, however, failed to hide his flustered annoyance, and his face grew brighter with every second. Luckily for him, the other students were only looking for their former professor’s reaction.

“We’ve never hunted those before,” Byleth said.

“You don’t hunt them!” Annette jumped to gain everyone’s attention. “You shepherd them and use their fleece to make blankets! They can even protect themselves and other livestock from wolves!”

“I don’t recall llamas being around when I was teaching.”

“They’re native to south Fodlan, where the climate is a little more friendly to them.” Sylvain finally broke his painfully teasing silence. “I guess the combination of the war in Alliance and Empire territory with the thinning human population around here drove them this far north.”

“That’s great news.” Byleth managed a small smile. One of her burdens - helping her friends and comrades survive the brutal winter - had been lifted. 

“Yes!” Annette beamed. “No one will be cold this year!”

“Does this mean we’ll have to cancel our winter festival?” Mercedes asked.

For whatever reason, they looked to Byleth for an answer. She found the gesture sweet, that they still looked to her for guidance or permission for things she was barely involved in. 

She already knew her answer, yet still scanned their faces. Annette and Mercedes begged with their eyes, and she resisted chuckling at their collective adorable nature. Ashe was beginning to regain his strength, seeming to just notice the other people present. It wouldn’t be long before he’d realize the awkwardness of the situation he’d just barged in on. 

Sylvain looked to her curiously. She and Felix had practically cursed holiday traditions earlier, though Byleth had nothing against holidays or celebrations themselves. He was scanning her to see if she’d prioritize fun or practicality.

Well, why not both?

Finally, she turned to the man beside her. Felix waited for her reaction as well, though he’d probably only taken in half of the conversation. The flush of his cheeks had begun to subside, and he shot her a half-smile with folded arms. He knew the answer she was about to give, and was savoring the wait as much as she was.

“Of course not.” She could practically feel the collective sigh and smiled before facing the rest of her audience. “There are plenty of hands looking for busy work. I don’t see why we can’t handle both. Marianne is good with animals, so I’ll appoint her to lead.”

“We should clear a pasture for them, so they’ll know where a safe place is,” Annette added.

Ashe just laughed, seemingly still in disbelief of the day’s events. He definitely wasn’t the only one.

“Oh this is wonderful!” Mercedes clasped her hands together. “I hope they’ll come back next year, and the year after that! Imagine if it were safe enough to let children see them!”

“If they do, we’ll make it a-” the last word caught in Byleth’s throat, and her attention was immediately drawn to Sylvain’s smirk, somehow even larger than earlier. She swallowed and cleared her throat, looked to Felix, then back to Sylvain, and finished her thought, “-a tradition.”

Sylvain snickered, which confused everyone but the swordsmen. Felix’s flush quickly returned. It really wasn’t that hard to get a rise out of him, was it?

“Changed your mind on traditions, Professor?” Sylvain asked with his hands on his hips. “Could it be because some of them might work-”

“We got damn lucky,” Felix interrupted, letting loose his thoughts for the first time in this conversation. “You said it yourself: the war, the low population - that drove them here. Not your stupid mistletoe.”

“Oh, you took out the mistletoe!” Mercedes exclaimed. “You’re the best, Sylvain!” 

“Just doing my duty.”

“Wait.” Annette tapped her chin. “Did Felix actually kiss someone!”

Byleth had done her work to keep the attention off of Felix thus far, but now he’d thrown himself to the wolves. Even Ashe’s eyes lit up. Byleth couldn’t help her amusement.

“No!” Felix shouted and stomped off to gather his sword. No one stopped him.

Sylvain, despite the endless dancing on Felix’s thin ice, came to his friend’s aid. “Alas, even I cannot get Felix to kiss anyone.” It wasn’t technically a lie.

“What about you, Professor?” Mercedes asked. “Did you kiss anyone?”

“I’m not kissing anyone who still calls me ‘Professor.’” Also not a lie, since Felix hadn’t addressed her by that title since their reunion.

“Good point,” Mercedes giggled. “I just can’t bring myself to call you by your first name yet.”

“Yeah,” Annette said. “You’ll always be our professor, first and foremost.”

“Well, someone’s kiss brought survivability to the monastery, that’s all I’m saying.” Sylvain shrugged his shoulders and shot both Felix and Byleth winks from the back. 

Byleth could practically feel the heat radiating off of Felix, compared to the chilled falling snow around them. Luckily for them, Sylvain pushed it no further. Unluckily for them, the rest caught on.

“Felix, are you okay?” Mercedes asked. “You look like you’re catching a cold.”

“I’m fine,” he grumbled. “Just want to get back to training. In case you haven’t noticed, we’re in a war.”

“I suppose we should go count the herd’s numbers,” Ashe said, “and start learning how to use their fleece.”

“Oh! I’ll come!” Annette skipped after him. 

Mercedes eyed Felix suspiciously, not in the way Sylvain had, but like a concerned mother. She looked to Byleth, almost to communicate, make sure he takes care of himself , and Byleth affirmed her with a nod. Sylvain was the last to leave, simply offering the pair one last wink and a salute before closing the doors to the training grounds.

Being alone with Felix once more, they couldn’t ignore what had happened. Her exposed skin suddenly forgot all about the cold, and the supposedly fearless Ashen Demon couldn’t bring herself to look in the eyes of the man who’d kissed her.

“I should go, too,” she said. “I need to ask Marianne to take on her role and...other things.”

Felix was silent as she retrieved her training sword and hung it on the weapon rack where it would be protected by the roof’s overhang. 

Perhaps he was still as flustered as she was, or he’d lost his courage to act. Or perhaps...he’d regretted it all.

Before she reached the large double doors, however, a firm hold pulled at her wrists and spun her around. Amber eyes met hers again, with a familiar hungry expression. 

“Before you go,” he hummed, only audible by their proximity, “just know that I…”

He took a moment to search for the right words, his darting pupils betraying his thoughts. In the end, he gave up on talking and simply kissed her. Damn him for catching her off-guard again, but she wouldn’t hesitate a second time. She pulled her wrists free in favor for grasping his fur collar. Soon she felt his hands at her waist, and knew he wouldn’t retreat.

So warm. He was so warm, and suddenly surviving the harsh war-torn winter didn’t feel so improbable.

#fire emblem: 3 houses #fe3h fanfic #felileth #felix hugo fraldarius #byleth eisner #sylvain jose gautier #felileth secret santa 2020 #mistletoe #kissing #fluff #pining #my writing #dusky writing #long post

[whumpthisway]

Huck and Stephen - Unwanted

This is a series - link to 01. Masterpost here <3

A/N: This one is set directly after Repentance, with Huck being taken away from Alyse by some nasty, drunk men. Huck is in a very bad place, mentally and physically, here. Please do ask me for specific tags or warnings if you need them or I miss something, and if you have any opinions, questions or thoughts, feel free to send me an ask :3

Huck and Stephen’s story can now be read on my AO3 here, and this new chapter is here.

Content warnings: abuse, mention of broken bones, drunk people, borderline suicidal thoughts, low self-worth

Huck/Pet POV

*

Pet was conscious as the men hauled them carelessly down the street, slung between two of them with their paws dragging over the abrasive ground, the leash dangling from their collar. They whimpered in pain, lacking the strength to stay awake, let alone walk.

There was another car, and Pet was shoved into a dark compartment at the back and the door slammed down so fast they almost didn’t tuck their broken tail away in time. As far as they could remember, they’d only been in a vehicle a handful of times but Pet was beginning to loathe cars; nothing good ever happened in them, or at the other end.

But it could be worse. At least here in the dark, Pet was left alone and could mewl softly to themself without fearing a kick to the side, or strangers’ hands in their fur. The car juddered and shook beneath them and Pet whined. The leftover taste of alcohol, stomach acid and blood in their mouth was making them feel ill, and they were as bruised as if they’d been pushed down a flight of stairs. The side of their head ached where Harrison had smacked it into the car console, their ribs were throbbing from the men’s’ boots, and every tiny motion jarred their tail. Their ears were sore from being tugged at and their throat raw and chafed by the leash still hanging limply from their collar. Pet just wanted to be home.

Master, I’ll be better, I’ll be better- they pleaded silently, as if Master Parry could hear them. Would he even care they were gone? He’d been so glad to go away on business, and get away from them. But he’d told Harrison to give Pet back in one piece, so maybe Master hadn’t given up on them. Not entirely.

They slid, somehow, into a half-wakefulness, which they were painfully jerked out of by a too-bright light shining at them out of the dark and a hand grabbing their arm. They were dragged roughly out of the boot and Pet flinched, whimpering. Dropped onto damp concrete, they were too exhausted and pain-ridden to even consider running.

It was completely dark except for the blinding torchlight, with no bright signs or buildings or too-loud vehicles in sight. Pet pressed their eyes tightly closed and whined, trembling as a cold breeze threaded its way through their sweat- and blood-damp fur as the ground dug its cold fingers into them.

I’m sorry, Master, I’m so so sorry. I’ll take the cane, the crate, anything, Master. Anything. Just please come. Please take me away from here. They tried to fix Master’s face in their head, tried to picture his response to Pet being returned. Maybe there would be just a little relief in his stern expression, and maybe he’d rub Pet’s head between their ears, even for just a moment. He’d be angry, too, of course, but maybe- maybe-

A hand slapped them hard across the face and Pet yelped, jerking away before they froze, curling themself down into the smallest shape they could manage with their damaged ribs.

“Still with us, beastie?” The male voice came from the too-bright light being shone in their direction. It could have been Kieran but Pet wasn’t sure.

They squinted against the bright light, unsure whether an answer was needed. They nodded shakily after a second, ears pressed down.

“It understands! Not so dumb as you look.” The voice chuckled. Pet just hunched down, struggling to keep their eyes open, even as terrified as they were. Everything seemed slightly out of focus and blurry at the edges and the way the bright light was swinging around didn’t help how sick they felt.

“Alright, dump it in the basement.”

Pet was wrenched up again and the sharp movement made their stomach roil. The alcohol surged up and they retched painfully, the acid scouring their throat. The hands that had grabbed them dropped them roughly, so that Pet landed hard on their sore paws and swayed, coughing. Their tail felt aflame with pain. They coughed, whined softly.

“Disgusting. It reeks of booze.”

Another kick in the rib and Pet was knocked sideways to the dirt, their claws scrabbling weakly, eyes streaming. The flashlight was jerking around sickeningly, illuminating men’s shoes or boots and the ground but not much else. Pet’s faceless torments hung over them as shapeless, threatening, evil.

Then a hand touched their head and they flinched. Leave me alone! they wanted to yell. Please please please-

But the hand smoothed down their furred back and shushed them. Like Master Parry did or used to do, when they were being too loud while he was trying to work, though Master barely touched them anymore. Pet managed to suck in a shallow breath, whining softly at the pain in their sides. They pulled in a breath, and another. A new light appeared and moved over them, making Pet cringe, their eyes narrowed.

“It’s not worth anything if you fuck it up even more,” a new voice said from above them, low and hard. Pet tensed, hunching down in the dirt like they could burrow right under the surface and disappear.

“You carry the filthy thing then, Ry.” It was definitely Kieran’s growl that came from the left and Pet cringed away. “Killjoy,” Kieran muttered, before the sound of his boots crunched away into the blackness, taking his torchlight with him. Several others went with him, so that it seemed to just be Pet and this new man, Ry, left alone. Pet couldn’t stop shaking. Exhausted, cold, in pain. Terrified.

The man, Ry, sighed. “Alright, beastie, c’mon then. And don’t think about clawing me, ‘kay?” The light was shined on Pet again and they flinched away. “Hey, nod or something if you hear me alright?”

It took Pet several seconds to both understand what the man wanted and to force themself to nod. They wouldn’t claw a human- well, they never had before tonight. No wonder this new man, Ry, didn’t trust them. Pet would’ve reassured him that they wouldn’t do that, but talking wasn’t really for the likes of them and they’d been bad enough already tonight, so they kept quiet.

Being picked up hurt so much that Pet was left crying and breathless with it, squirming helplessly, but they were beyond grateful that Ry wasn’t rough with them. When they moved out of the open space and through a narrow door, he was even careful not to knock their limp, twitching paws into the doorframe.

The darkness out here was absolute, with only Ry’s torch lighting the way, and Pet had never felt anything like it. It scared them, that there weren’t lights in the distance, signalling the presence of other lives going on around them. Even when they’d been locked in Master’s houses for months, there was always lights out in the dark they could look at through the window. Here, they felt terribly, achingly alone.

Ry took them into a huge building, bigger than anything Pet had ever seen, though it felt completely abandoned. The parts of it that Ry’s light illuminated were thick with rust and dust, and there seemed to be a number of strange metal contraptions and machines, which loomed eerily over them as Ry picked his way through. The wind keened through the space and the metal creaked, making Pet flinch. They huddled slightly closer to Ry’s warm solidity.

By the time Ry shouldered his way through another door, their silent crying had dried up. It wasn’t that Pet was in any less pain or any braver, but exhaustion had taken over, and their mouth felt grossly sticky and parched. They could still taste blood, and alcohol, and longed for nothing more than to scrub the lingering foulness away, scrub it all away until Pet felt clean and good again, rather than filthy and broken and worthless. Ry descended a flight of steps, each one jolting Pet and making them whimper.

“Here we are.”

Pet sniffed and wrinkled their nose. It stank like damp and bodily filth and they didn’t want to be here. But even as they tried to curl their paws in Ry’s jacket, they couldn’t stop Ry from putting them down and gently tugging himself free of their grip. He straightened up once they were on the dirty concrete, lying on their side beside a wall, and they couldn’t see Ry for the brightness of his torch, pointed as his feet.

“You’ll be fine. Just be good and stay here, understand?” Pet didn’t react. “Understand?” Ry pressed.

Pet gave a tiny. Painfully, achingly cold and scared, they couldn’t even get up to follow Ry when he walked away, taking his light with him. All they could do was whine, soft and desperate, wordlessly pleading with him not to leave them here. Ry’s footsteps stopped half-way up the steps and Pet’s hopes lifted briefly, soaring when Ry returned, his torch light bobbing.

There was a rustle of fabric and Pet flinched as Ry came close to them. They braced to be picked up but no, a jacket warmed by Ry’s body was laid over them.

“It won’t be long.” Ry almost sounded apologetic.

This time, Ry walked away for good, no matter how much Pet whined. They flinched at the sound of a door clunking shut at the top of the stairs, and then the silence was unsettled only by their soft whimpers and pained breathing. The jacket was a blessed warmth but the concrete’s cold seeped through their fur and they trembled, fighting fear so thick they could taste its sourness.

When Harrison and his friends had taunted and tormented them, Pet had wanted nothing more than to be alone. When Master was in a truly foul mood and Pet couldn’t get out of his way, they’d sometimes wished Master would disappear. When they’d been caught by Kiaran’s men, all they’d wanted was for the men to go away. Now Pet had gotten what they wanted, and the emptiness was more awful than anything.

Curling up as tight as their damaged ribs would allow, Pet succumbed to the never-ending darkness and cried themself to sleep.

*

Pet didn’t know how much time passed. A slither of murky light poked under the door at the top of the stairs in daytime, and disappeared at night. It didn’t matter. Pet was in too much pain to get up, let alone climb the stairs, and so they just lay there. The door was locked, anyway. Breathing was exhausting, their ribs a sharp, stabbing pain.

The man, Ry, had promised to return soon, but Pet was used to humans lying to them. And only their growing, aching thirst told them how much time had passed. Strangely, they didn’t long for Master Parry anymore. Instead, they thought of Alyse and her kindness and imagined her finding them, imagined her fussing over them, allowing them to curl up at her feet somewhere warm and cosy while she petted between their ears. It was a wonderful fantasy. Pet just tried to think how they’d never see her again, might not see anyone again. Sliding into unconsciousness was their only relief from their sandpaper-throat and swollen tongue.

*

The next time they were awake, there was movement around them and Pet groaned. Their head swam groggily and when a hand was put under their head, they could barely flinch, let alone pull away.

Wetness at their lips stopped them from trying to curl up and protect themself and instead focus on drinking as much water as they could. But they were barely given a few mouthfuls before the bottle was withdrawn and Pet could’ve cried. They whimpered, pleading wordlessly, and forced their eyes open.

A man knelt over them as he screwed the bottle lid back on. Pet stared at it, licking their cracked lips. But the man, who had a mop of unruly brown hair and weathered skin, just tucked the bottle away and smiled thinly at them.

“You can’t drink too fast, you’ll get sick.” He spoke like Pet was a pup. “Do you understand me?” Pet made themself nod and the man seemed pleased by that. “Good. Hold tight, we’ll get you out of here soon.”

The man stood up and Pet cringed back when they realised how very big he was. But the man just walked away, his torch’s beam bouncing in front of him, and Pet swallowed thickly. Their thoughts felt sluggish and seeing a number of people with torches flashing around didn’t alarm them as much as it probably should’ve, nor did they feel any great sense of relief.

Maybe they’d finally accepted that they could do nothing. That humans ruled their life; always had and always would, and Pet controlled nothing, no matter how good they were or how goddamn hard they tried. But they knew that being bad, being useless and ugly and injured would make everything so much worse.

So Pet couldn’t find it in themself to be grateful to these people for finding them. Master Parry wouldn’t want them back when they looked like this, and nothing good ever happened to unwanted creatures.

~

So this chapter is the end of what I’ve got written, so i need to get writing again lol, fingers crossed it won’t be too long till the next one <3 my inbox is always open for thoughts, requests, feedback and ideas!

If anyone wants to be added to the taglist or taken off it, pls do send me an ask or DM! :D

Tagging (tagging people I love u all): @smolnarwhal @free-2bmee @ffaerie-dustt @mortifiedwhump @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @whumpity–whump–whump @quirkykayleetam @oracle-of-maybe @whumpersworld  @quoththeraven-what @halibellecter @usernames-suck-but-i-like-whump @castielamigos-whump-side-blog @pennsss @whumpqhs @whumpzone @deluxewhump @haro-whumps @redstainedsocks @gimmethatsweetwhump @redstainedsocks @newbornwhumperfly <3

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#whump #fic #whumpee #mi #huck and stephen #unwanted #beaten #abuse #nonhuman #nonhuman whump #nonhuman whumpee #prisoner #suicidal thoughts tw #mine

[depressedhatakekakashi]

Game Time Flirting

Words: 1300

Pairings: Hatake Kakashi/Tenzou Yamato

Warnings: Shameless flirting, bad flirting, NSFWish flirting.

Summary: The goal? Win the challenge and prove that he's the ultimate breath of the wild player. The strategy? Distract Tenzo with the worst pick up lines he can think of

A hero does not retreat.

When Kakashi had offered to let Tenzo pick the challenge that they would be taking part in for their next youtube video, this was the last one he had been expecting the man who refused to fight a lynal or a guardian to throw at him.

“You know what you’re getting yourself into, right?” he asked, looking towards the other man, watching as he set everything up on his computer for the stream. “If you run into a guardian or even a lynal-”

“I read the outlines of the challenge, yes,” Finishing with his setup, Tenzo fell back into his chair with a groan. “I can fight them, that’s not a problem. I just prefer to avoid them when I can. They eat weapon’s and I only get one sword in return from a Lynal and nothing from a Guardian. It’s just not worth the exchange.”

“But today you’ll-”

“You asked for a challenge,” Tenzo rolled his eyes, forever exhausted by whatever Kakashi said. “This is a challenge. Is it my favourite challenge? No. But would I like to see you die first and lose because you have an overinflated ego in this game that needs to be taken care of? Absolutely.”

“I do not have an ego.”

“You have the biggest ego, Kakashi. Don’t lie to me.”

“It’s not ego if it’s backed up by fact, and it’s simply a fact that I’m fantastic at this game and will end up winning. You’re going to have to buy dinner, and then you’re going to complain about it the whole time and it’s going to be adorable.”

The scream Tenzo let out was ear piercing, but worth it. Kakashi would never allow anyone to doubt his skills in his favourite game, and he was going to prove that he was the best with their challenge.

Then he’d get teasing rights for the rest of the year, and he’d make sure to remind Tenzo of his victory every time they were in bed together. Just to make sure he never forgot.

“I can’t wait to wipe the smirk off of your face,” Falling back into his chair, Tenzo swirled around once before stopping to face Kakashi. “Anyways, do you remember the rules we set?”

“We’re going to start from the end of the great plateau so that we’re not wasting time with the beginning. Drop all of the weapons, bows, and shields that we already have so that we start from the beginning, there will be a death count and whoever dies the most by the end loses, and the challenge ends when we have all of the divine beasts and have defeated Ganon.” Receding the rules was a breeze. Tenzo had only repeated them to him a hundred times over the last few days, cementing them in his mind for eternity.

“And?”

Rolling his eyes, he turned to face his own computer finally. “And just focus on the main story,” he repeated Tenzo’s words with a hint of disgust in his voice. “No having fun.”

“The purpose of the challenge is...you know what, you run around all you want. Just means you’ll run into more lynals and guardians,” Turning to face his own computer, Tenzo picked up his controller and started up the recording program. “This video ends when we defeat the first divine beast. You can choose whichever one you want.”

“Mmm, in that case, I think I’ll go for Vah Naboris,” The look Tenzo gave him was priceless. Somewhere between utter disgust and disbelief. “What better way to prove to you that I have the skill to back up my talk than beating the toughest divine beast first?”

“I hope you die.”

“If I die, you don’t get-” A hand reached out to cover his mouth and silence the next word.

“In the game,” Tenzo clarified. “I hope you die in the game.”

Ahhh right, the game.

Focusing his attention on the game, Kakashi started up his own recording and immediately opened the pause screen to drop all of his weapons. It wasn’t a problem of course. One quick visit to Hyrule castle and he’d have all of the top-tier weapons he needed to get through the game. While he did that, Tenzo took care of the intro. Not that Kakashi didn’t have his microphone on, it was just that Tenzo had a ...nicer voice. A voice that people actually liked listening to when he was playing his games.

Once he was done ridding himself of all his equipment, he headed off towards the castle. It was a risk of course. He’d have to run fast and pick up some sub-par weapons on the way to perry guardian beams, but once he was in he’d have his pick of weapons.

“Damn it!” Glancing towards Yamato’s screen, he chuckled when he saw Tenzo struggling to climb up the side of a mountain in the rain. It was moments like this that reminded a gamer to be humble and appreciate the little gifts the game gave them, like Revali’s gale. “Don’t say a word, Kakashi.”

How rude, calling him out like that while they were recording. Kakashi could already see the comments rolling in on Tenzo’s screen. No doubt some of them were making fun of Tenzo for dating a ‘bully’.

“I would never make fun of you,” he lied, reading some of the responses on his own screen telling him to be nice to his boyfriend. “You’re my princess. I’m supposed to save you.”

Tenzo’s ears burned a bright red for all his viewers to see. The downside of him choosing to show his face in his videos.

“Are you going to try to win through flirting?” He huffed. “Because it’s not going to work.”

“Mmm,” finally reaching Hyrule castle, Kakashi made his way through the front doors and immodestly parried the first guardian that tried to attack him. “Have I ever told you that you complete my heart container?”

Tenzo paused what he was doing and slowly turned to face Kakashi, a stern look on his face. “You know that’s the absolute worst pickup line I have ever heard.”

“I’m sure I can do worse,” Challenging himself, Kakashi made his way through the castle as he thought up another line. An evil smirk pulling at his lips when he remembered one he had heard Gai using on Iruka once. “You know, I think I’m going to call you Epona from now on,” his comments blew up with ‘no’s’ and ‘don’t do it’s’, but it was too late. He was in too deep. “And then I can ride you all day.”

Tenzo’s controller hit the desk, his mouth agape as he stared at Kakashi.

This was it.

Today was the day Tenzo was finally going to dump him, and he deserved it. That had been too far.

“You know,” picking up his controller once more, Tenzo turned back towards his own game. “You make me wetter than the water temple.”

At this moment Kakashi was glad his viewers couldn’t see his face. His cheeks and ears were burning with embarrassment, and his eyes were glued on Tenzo.

Which was how he got his first death. Too focused on his boyfriends and the words that had just left his mouth he allowed himself to be hit by a guardian beam, killing him instantly.

“One death for you,” a small, satisfied smirk made its home on Tenzo’s face. “You sure you’re going to win this one, Kakashi?”

Cruel. Tenzo was absolutely, completely ruthless in his assault on Kakashi’s pride, and he loved it. His heart had made the best choice when it told Kakashi that Tenzo was the one for him, and every day he thanked it once again.

Even if he was currently losing.

#Modern Gamers Au #Kakayama #taryn's birthday fics #taryn's birthday celebration 2021 #Hatake Kakashi #yamato tenzo

[rex101111]

💍 - catradora

Adora’s day was...confusing. A real up and down and back again affair. It started out a bit trying, with her falling out of bed...on top of Catra who had also fallen out of bed earlier but was too tired to get back up and was very unhappy when Adora landed on her with all the grace of a Hoard battle ship running out of fuel mid-flight.

(Catra’s words and not Adora’s, obviously.)

Once they both calmed down and Catra sheepishly finished putting Band-Aids on the scratches she gave Adora in her sleep addled panic, the morning went on a bit better when Catra decided to make Adora breakfast. Insisted, even. 

She had roped Bow into teaching her how to make his dad’s pancakes, and claimed she had gotten pretty good at it. Catra showing interest in baking (as well as subjecting herself to Bow’s sometimes overly strict way of teaching) was surprising enough, what was even more surprising is that she had in fact gotten better at it.

Now, instead of her attempts producing a fire that nearly consumed half of Bright Moon, or unleashing a miasma of noxious pancake gas (nicknamed “Catrium Cyanide” by Entrapta), she simply presented Adora with a lump of...something that might have once been a pancake. If you tilted your head a certain way and squinted.

Since Adora loved Catra more than anything in the universe, and did not want to ruin that precious face of hope she sported, she did not divulge that opinion and instead stuffed her face full of the...pseudo-pancake lump with a smile. “Wow! It��s...really something!”

Catra took a bite herself and frowned, “nice try Adora, never thought I’d miss Hoard rations...”

“H-Hey, at least it’s better than the brown rations!”

“Adora, Swift Wind could make something better than the brown rations.”

A beat of silence passed and they laughed for a minute at the image, before they scrapped that attempt at breakfast and went on with their day.

 And the day just couldn’t seem to decide on whether or not it would be a good one; one second she and Catra were sparring in the training room, blows and parries thrown between flirtations, and then just as Adora had pinned Catra down and dove for her victory kiss a guard that was carrying a mop and bucket slipped and poured them both with muddy water.

Once they washed up they decided to walk in the gardens, holding hands in quiet compony in the early afternoon. They took a seat on a bunch flanked by two massive bushes sculpted to look like a soaring Pegasus, the sun shining in Catra’s eyes as she fumbled with something in her pocket. When she opened her mouth to say something when Perfuma called out of a sudden, having decided on a surprise visit to Bright Moon.

Adora talked with her for a while, side-eyeing Catra who fumbled with her pocket again and shock her head with a smile. 

That was how the rest of the day went, Catra would take Adora somewhere private, fumble with her pocket, and just as soon as she was about to say something someone would come out of nowhere to interrupt them. It kept happening all the way to dinner, Catra looking more and more morose as it did, with Adora unable to really talk to her about it before something else came up.

As they made their way to the dinner room, Adora put her arm around Catra’s waist and brought her flush with her, Adora enjoying the warmth of her girlfriend’s fur against her. “We’ll talk after dinner, okay?” She kissed the side of her head when Catra simply shrugged her shoulders, “hey, I promise, okay?”

It took a moment but Catra turned to her, kissed her lightly with a smile and said, “yeah, alright, it’s just...” Again, fumbling with her pocket, “...i-it’s something kinda...big.”

Hearing Catra stumble over her words was one thing, but Adora was completely stumped as to what the magicat would consider “big” enough to be this cagy about it.       

Deciding to let it go they went to dinner with Bow and Glimmer...and the rest of the princesses, who had also decided to show up for some odd reason, though the sight of them wasn’t unwelcome to Adora, having not seen them for a while on account of all the responsibilities they had in their own kingdoms.

Seeing the large crowd seemed to make Catra a bit green around the gills, but she seemed to quickly shake it off, the rest of dinner going off rather pleasantly. Adora caught up with the rest of her friends, but in the back of her head she couldn’t stop thinking about what Catra wanted to tell her.

Her wondering ceased when Glimmer got up and tapped her spoon to her glass (properly queen like, Adora was torn between crying and laughing, Angella would have been proud) to get everyone’s attention. 

“Everyone! Thank you all for coming here today,” Glimmer grabbed Bow’s hand as she directed a smile at all of her gathered friends, “it’s been three years since we finally brought peace to Etheria, and I can’t think of a better way to celebrate it than with all the people I love.”

Everyone gave a warm cheer at that, Seahawk being the loudest followed closely by Frosta and Scorpia.

“And...since we’re all here, there’s something I want to say...Bow.” Suddenly, Glimmer motioned for one of the guard to bring her something, a small box, which she then handed to the confused archer.

Adora was confused herself, though the rest of the table, a suddenly tense Catra included, seemed to understand right away what was happening.

“You’ve been with me...pretty much my whole life,” Glimmer’s smile was warm and her eyes shone with tears as she presented Bow with the small box, “through my victories, failures, tragedies...I can’t fathom living a single day with out you, so...” she opened the box, an inside was a small, silver ring adorned with a gleaming pink and white jewel. “...will you marry me?”

A tense moment passed before Bow gathered Glimmer in his arms and kissed her, followed by the whole room bursting into loud applause and cheers. The room mobbed the newly made fiancés, and Adora was going to join them when she noticed the chair next to her was empty.

Giving a quick apology to her friends, Adora went out to search for her. Thanks to years of experience of hunting down upset magicats in the labyrinth that was the Fright Zone, it didn’t take her long to find Catra sitting on a balcony, staring out at the moon.

“Catra?” She called out carefully, not really knowing what was going through her partner’s mind and not wanting to scare her. “Is everything okay? You just disappeared.”

“I’m fine.” The dismissal was quick and sharp, a shadow of who Catra used to be before she got ahold of herself, before she let out a frustrated breath, “...sorry, just...it’s nothing.”

“No. it’s not.” Adora placed herself next to Catra, reaching out an arm to rub her shoulder, “you’ve been trying to tell me something all day, and then after Glimmer proposes you just run off? Catra what’s eating you?”

“What’s eating me?” She snapped, glaring out at the far distance instead of Adora, though she was starting to snarl. “I have this big stupid day planned, I practice for weeks, and then her majesty just-!” 

Adora was just getting more confused, “Catra-?”

Another frustrated growl left the magicat, who shoved a hand into the pocket she was fidgeting with all day and pulled out a...box. 

A small, brown box.

Like the one-

Before she could contemplate it further, Catra shoved it at her, nearly knocking her over, “here! Take it!” She buried her face in her knees with a tired huff, “today’s busted anyways, might as well just ...”

“Catra...this is beautiful...” Adora could only stare in amazement at the ring Catra gave her, a golden band with wing-like embellishments that resembled her sword’s hilt, with a blue gem standing proud in the middle. “Where...where did you get this...”

Catra looked at her for a moment, a bit surprised, before she blushed and scratched her nose, “Bows...Bows dads helped me look for stuff in a First One’s ruin. Found the jewel there, made sure it wasn’t anything crazy or whatever, and got Entrapta to make the band so...” she shrugged, “y’know, no big deal.”

“Yes big deal!” She gave Catra a playful punch on the arm, wiping the tears of joy from her eyes, “you were trying to ask me to marry you all day!” She couldn’t stop grinning, her face was starting to hurt but she didn’t care. “How is that not a big deal!?”

“Because the whole day went to shit!” Catra jumped to her feet, “I planned it all out, but it went to shit! Wake you up with a kiss, but I fall out of bed like a moron! Make you breakfast, and it’s not fit for that stupid horse of yours! Walk in the park, and the whole of fucking Etheria decides to show up!” She rubs her face in despair, “and just when I think the day couldn’t get any shittier, Sparkles decides to steal my idea! Wonderful!”

After letting out a breath, Catra collapsed back on her seat and leaned against Adora, “...today was supposed to be perfect, I messed up...so much, and you deserve something going right...I wanted to give you a perfect day Adora, that’s the least I owe you after...everything I did.”

Adora put the box with the ring aside for a moment, and placed Catra’s face in her hands, “Catra...c’mon, you should know by now you don’t owe me anything,” Catra opened her mouth to protest but Adora stopped her with a kiss on the nose. “You don’t, and we both messed up plenty so there’s no point in sorting out who owes what anyway.” Another protest, this time stopped with a kiss on the forehead. “Also, today may not have been perfect...but it was a day I spent with you, so no matter what I still had a good one.”

Catra let out a scoff, “so cheesy...”, but her cheeks were dusted pink.

“Says the one who planned to propose today.” she grinned as Catra giggled quietly, reaching for the box at her side and handing it back to her love. “Speaking of...”

Catra fumbled with the box for a moment, “...just...just like this?”

“Just like this.” Adora nodded, “just like this, or any other way, would make today perfect.”

Catra looked into Adora’s eyes, took a breath, and stepped from the balcony they were sitting on to kneel nearby, offering the open box and her heart to Adora, “...Adora.” Her voice was quiet, but warm as a spring breeze, “I love you more than anything, I nearly lost you a million times because I was angry, or scared, or selfish...I never want that to happen again, you made me a promise that you would stay with me forever...so now, I want to make you a promise too.”

Catra took the ring out, Adora reaching her hand as the ring was slipped on,

“I promise to always have my heart open to you, I promise to trust you when you say you love me, I promise...I promise to stay, to stay always, so...” Catra swallowed a lump in her throat, “will...will you marry me?”

“Yes.” The answer was swift and sure, tears falling without restraint from her as she smiled and fell in love all over again, “I will, yes.” 

She pulled Catra into a hug, and the two kissed passionately under the stars, Catra’s tail wrapping around her leg.

After a while they separated, and Adora laughed, “hey, maybe we can have a double wedding with Bow and Glimmer?”

“Oh hell no.”

“Why not?’

“Because Rainbow will want to have a matching suit with me, and I would rather brush my teeth with the horse’s breakfast hay than wear a pink and purple suit.”

“Oh come on he wouldn’t-wait, what makes you think that you’d be wearing the suit?”

“Oh, I dunno, the metric ton of drool you make every princess prom when you see me?”

“...Touché...” 

And so it went like that, the two laughing their joy the the cold and calm night, hand in hand and heart in heart.

#imbeccablee #answers #she-ra and the princesses of power #Catradora #fuck this was supposed to be short! #stuff rex wrote #thanks becc!!

[echoes-of-the-clockwork]

Book Four: War (Gladiolus x Reader) Chapter Twenty-Two

It had been three years since Noctis was absorbed into the Crystal. Darkness had descended upon all of Eos as the sun was vanquished by the starscourge. Daemons wandered the land and forced many to fear for their lives. Hunters wandered the darkened lands of Eos to hunt down the daemons while others acted as escorts to protect civilians from town to town. The only thing keeping the daemons at bay were the bright fluorescent lights surrounding the settlements located across the Leide, Cleigne, and Duscae regions.

For the past three years, Gladio has been a hunter to assist with slaying the daemons. Of course, (Y/n) was by his side. They took up hunts together and fought daemons side by side. The two hadn't seen or heard from Prompto or Ignis in the past few months, but they weren't worried. Famine was with Prompto and Pestilence was helping Ignis with healing. Death was in Hell, protecting the daemon king from his subjects.

Today, Gladio and (Y/n) were heading to the Vesperpool to slay a horde of red giants that were wreaking havoc in the area. The two were riding together in a truck Cid provided them a couple years back. The old man had installed powerful headlights that kept the daemons from attacking their car while on the road.

War glanced out the window, watching the darkness as the daemons prowled the land. She crossed her legs and didn't realize one was shaking. Her gaze was torn from the window when Gladio places a hand on her thigh and squeezed gently. "You're getting antsy as usual," he said.

"Why wouldn't I be? It's been almost an entire week since we hunted down daemons," she said.

"Nothing's stopping you from going out there and slaughtering them when we don't have a mission."

She purses her bottom lip. "What's the fun in doing it alone? I have you now."

Gladio smiled at her for a second before returning his gaze back to the road. His relationship with the Horseman was going well. (Y/n) wasn't as fiery-tempered as she was three years ago and she's learned to speak her true feelings. She had more patience and was more welcoming to strangers. She even made friends with some of the hunters at Meldacio HQ. Like with any relationship, they had their ups and downs. Whenever an argument did arise, they'd calmly think through it together.

After an hour of driving from Hammerhead to the Vesperpool, the couple arrived at Capitis Haven. They pulled out the camping gear and set up everything. Gladio sat down in one of the chairs around the fire while (Y/n) strolled over to the edge of the haven. She watched the daemons in the distance, searching for their targets.

However, she was promptly torn away from her position at the edge of the haven by Gladio. He'd snuck up behind her, tossed her over his shoulder, and marched her into the tent. She blinked in surprise when realizing she was now laying down on one of the sleeping bags inside the tent. Her (e/c) eyes locked with Gladio's amber ones when his hands grabbed her hips and dragged her towards him. "What are you doing?" She asked.

"Remember what Dave said? We've still got some time before those damned red giants appear," he said.

"Of course I remember what Dave said. My question was what are you doing?"

"Recharging my batteries before we hunt some daemons."

She eyed the way he sat between her legs. "In this position? No way."

"You weren't complainin' yesterday when I was-"

She jammed her heel into his back, silencing him. "That was yesterday. Today is today. Putting it in Prompto's term, we aren't gonna "do the dirty" while we're camping. There's no way in hell that'll ever happen, especially with these damned daemons everywhere."

He grinned down at her. "Whatever you say, (Y/n)." He removed himself from between her legs and laid down beside her.

Once he was comfortable, she snuggled into his side and rested her head on his chest. One of his arms wound around her shoulders, his fingers trailing through her crimson locks. "This is much better," she mumbled contently.

Gladio chortled. "Y'know, I never took you for a cuddler."

"You learn something new every day..." Her voice trailed off, (e/c) eyes sliding close. She was enjoying his fingers as they combed through her hair, soothing her and bringing a semblance of peace. She knew it wouldn't be long until she fell asleep due to his ministrations.

Gladio has figured out a year ago that if he stroked her hair for a short amount of time, he'd cause her to fall asleep. It's how he'd get her to sleep with him whenever he needed to rest. It worked every time without fail. When she was finally asleep, he pulled out his phone and set the timer. Once he was done, he put the phone down and fell asleep.

It would only be a couple hours later when the phone would go off. Gladio woke up at hearing the device go off, but (Y/n) remained fast asleep. He placed a chaste kiss on her forehead before deciding to wake her. "C'mon, firecracker. Time to get up."

Over the past three years, (Y/n) no longer abhorred the nickname. She tuned it out more than anything, but she soon learned to love it. However, she wouldn't say that to Gladio. "No..." she mumbled.

"Aren't you the one who doesn't need sleep?"

"Need? No. Want? Yes..." She snuggled closer to him. "It's your fault..."

"Can't deny that," Gladio sighed.

When (Y/n) was about to fall back asleep, the sound of daemons nearby caught her attention. Her eyes flew open and she dashed out of the tent. She ran to the edge of the haven just in time to see five red giants manifests in the middle of the road. She turned to Gladio once he joined her and peered at his phone. "Dave was right on the nose. It's 1 A.M. and a horde of red giants have appeared." She held out her hand and summoned her sword. "Let's do this."

"Don't have to tell me twice." Gladio conjured his own greatsword, following (Y/n) into battle. They faced off against the daemons, swinging their weapons around. War tossed her sword, piercing one of the red giants' heads as she performed a warp-strike. It tried to grab her, but she quickly dislodged her blade and landed back on the ground.

Gladio defeated one of the five red giants while (Y/n) dealt the killing blow to another. Now only three remained. Because of their attention being focused on two other red giants, they failed to see the third one maneuver behind them. The Horseman was the to realize what it was doing when it targeted Gladio. She shouted his name, warning him of the red giant that was about to bring its sword down on him.

The brute turned around just in time to block and parry the red giant's blade. Using the katana gifted to him from Gilgamesh, he dual-wielded it and slashed widely at the daemon. His quick swings caused the enemy to fall to its knees. (Y/n) switched from her sword to a halberd and used it to decapitate it. Two red giants remained.

Teaming up, Gladio and (Y/n) performed a linked attack. She leapt onto the flat side of his greatsword and he tossed her into the air. Once reaching high enough, she activated the armiger and sent a barrage of spears, javelins, swords, halberds, and daggers towards the two remaining red giants. Each weapon pierced the daemons' bodies, killing them both. Landing back on her feet, the Horseman stretched her arms up to the darkened sky. "Looks like our job here's done." Her hands fell back down to her sides when she finished stretching.

"We're a pretty badass team, if I do say so myself," Gladio said. He replayed their current battle in his mind until a frown appeared on his face. Every time (Y/n) warped or activated the armiger, his mind races to his memories of Noctis.

War noticed his expression, already knowing what was going through his head. "I know you, Ignis, and Prompto miss Noctis dearly. He won't be gone forever."

"And how do you know that?" He asked with a hint of hostility.

She knew Noctis was still a sensitive subject even after three years. "Because he succeeded where I failed. He will return when he's ready."

"What're you talking about?"

"Every 500 years, Vanaheim's ruler would be absorbed into the Crystal in order to receive the knowledge of the Astrals. After some time, they'd return to share such knowledge with the rest of the kingdom. I was supposed to be absorbed into the Crystal on my 22nd birthday, but that day never came."

Galdio fell silent. This was the first time she ever told him about her destiny as Vanaheim's queen. All he knew before now was how she was a tyrannical ruler due to Gaius' influence and she was able to harness the second Crystal's power. He dispelled his greatsword with a sigh. "After three years, I'm still learning new things about you."

"What's the fun in sharing everything at once?" She grinned. Her sword vanished from her hand. "Let's head back to the campsite. You look terrible."

"I'm not the only one who-" Gladio stopped talking when witnessing her minor cuts and bruises heal. "I stand corrected."

She laughed. "I'll heal you when we get back to camp."

The couple returned to Capitis Haven. There, War provided healing for Gladio. She watched his minuscule wounds heal before sighing through her nose. "Better call Dave and tell him the good news."

She began sauntering away, her hips swaying with each step as she grabbed a towel. Gladio watched her for a couple of seconds before asking, "Where're you going?"

"I'm gonna enjoy a dip in the Vesperpool. I don't like smelling like sweat and dirt."

"I think it suits you."

She glared feebly at him. "That is not a compliment. Don't make me punch you."

Leaving the haven, (Y/n) wandered through the darkness with her flashlight. She headed towards the large body of water not far from the campsite. Arriving at her destination, she made sure the area was clear before stripping her clothes off. She entered the cold water, her heated skin cooling. She lowered herself into the water until only her neck and head were visible. Her crimson locks floated on the surface as she scrubbed her arms and legs.

Once she finished scrubbing away the dirt and sweat, (Y/n) delved deeper into the water. Now, only everything from her nose up was visible. She closed her eyes, sighing through her nose. The sounds of daemons in the distance didn't disturb her one bit. She continued soaking in the waters until she heard a small splash from behind her.

Before the redhead could turn around to see the cause of the splash, two toned arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her body against a bare chest. (Y/n) recognized the muscular form without having to turn around. "So, you decided to join me, huh?"

"May as well. I didn't smell all that pleasant, either," Gladio said.

The couple floated aimlessly in the water in silence for a short while. (Y/n) was the one to shatter the silence lingering between them. "How'd the call go with Dave?"

"Told him the good news and said our payment would be ready when we get back. He also mentioned a new mission for us."

This grabbed the horseman's attention. "What does he need help with now?"

"You know that imperial base in Leide near Hammerhead? Well, apparently there's been activity inside and he wants us to check it out. Iggy and his new sweetheart are gonna be joining us."

She furrowed her brows. "You mean Pestilence? She's not his sweetheart. She's just helping him with his eyes."

"You might not see it, but I've known Iggy a long time. I can tell when he acts differently around someone. It just so happens that someone is your sister. Whether he realizes it or not, he's head-over-heels for her," Gladio said. "He could use a woman in his life."

"Guess I'll have to see it for myself," she replied. "We'll leave once you've gotten some rest."

After a few minutes, the couple exited the water. They dried themselves off and put their clothes back on before returning to Capitis Haven. Gladio rested in the tent while War gathered and packed up the items they wouldn't be needing any longer. When that was done, she sat down by the fire and stared into the flames. Her head was filled with the memories she's made since arriving on Eos, both good and bad. She hadn't realized how much time had passed until she heard Gladio exit the tent. She tore her gaze away from the fire and looked at him. "What time is it?"

"4 A.M. Don't tell me you've been staring at the campfire this entire time," he said.

"Got lost in though," she confessed. "Since you're up, let's pack everything else up. We'll meet Ignis and Pestilence at Hammerhead."

They packed up the remainder of the campsite and traveled to Hammerhead. There, Gladio called Ignis and learned he and Pestilence wouldn't be arriving until another couple of hours. Hanging up, he put his phone back into his pocket and shared the news with his girlfriend. He threw an arm around her shoulders, pulling her into his side with a grin. "While we wait, we can get a bite to eat."

"You can get a bite to eat," she corrected him. "I'll just keep you company."

They walked into the diner and saw the place was packed with various amounts of supplies. Takka still worked behind the counter, providing some good meals for the hunters that passed through. There were only a couple of booths opened due to the large amount of boxes scattered about the diner. They sat down at one and Takka took the shield's order.

While waiting for his meal, Gladio stared across the table at (Y/n). He admired her (e/c) eyes and crimson locks while she glanced out the window. He suddenly felt a foot kick his knee under the table.

"You're staring at me," the Horseman grumbled, tearing her gaze away from the window to stare back at Gladio. "Have something to say?"

"Nope," Gladio answered. "Just admiring the gorgeous woman sitting across from me, and trying to figure out how the hell I got so lucky."

"I'm still trying to figure that last part out, too," she teased with a smirk.

Just then, Takka returns with the dish Gladio ordered. As he ate, the couple discussed their past missions and what they should expect from their upcoming one. While wondering why the imperials returned to Formouth Garrison, two people sauntered into the diner. (Y/n) perked up when seeing one of the figures was Pestilence. She waved at the ivory-haired girl. "Hey, sis."

"My, my, it's been quite a while," Pestilence smiled at the two, approaching the table with Ignis by her side. "You both seem to be faring well."

"You both look like you're doing well, too," War replied. "Kicked any daemon ass lately?"

"We just returned from Lestallum after having dealt with troublesome flans encroaching near the city limits," Ignis stated.

Gladio glanced between the advisor and the ivory-haired Horseman. He noticed how close they were standing to each other and grinned. "So, have you two sealed the deal yet?"

"Gladio," Ignis hissed.

"Fool yourself all you want, Iggy, but you're not pulling the wool over my eyes."

(Y/n) noticed her sister's confusion at what Gladio was referring to and decided to change the subject before she could ask any questions. "How're your eyes, Ignis?"

The strategist removed his visor to reveal his once dull eyes were back to being a sparkling emerald. "Visibility has returned although portions of the scarring remain."

"With one more dosage, I should be able to heal the remainder of the scar," Pestilence explained.

"I am in your debt for you assistance, Pestilence," Ignis said.

The lilac-eyed girl smiled warmly at him. "You don't owe me anything, Ignis. Being your partner throughout the years is a reward in itself."

Gladio gestured to the two, smirking in War's direction. "See? What'd I tell ya?"

(Y/n) glanced at her sister and the tactician. She could see how much they cared for each other by simply analyzing how they were gazing at one another. She didn't want to tease the two and didn't answer the shield. "Anyway..." She scooted out of the booth and got to her feet. "We've got an imperial base to infiltrate. What's our plan going to be?"

"Our first course of action is to survey the stronghold and search for an infiltration point," Ignis explained. "From there, we shall observe the empire's movements to gain an understanding of why they've returned."

"So no killing?" (Y/n) asked.

"For the time being, no."

"Ugh..."

Gladio was amused at her disappointment. "I'm sure we'll get to knock some imperial heads together before the day's up."

"I will try to keep my sword sheathed," she mumbled.

"Then shall we be off?" Pestilence asked.

"Hell yeah. Let's see what those bastards are up to," Gladio responded.

"We best keep the truck here," (Y/n) advised.

"How're you planning on us getting there?" The brute questioned.

"Horseback. If we take the truck, they'll spot us easily. Even though daemons are everywhere, our cover won't be blown if we ride Ares and Erra."

"I second the idea," the ivory-haired girl chimed in. "Although more dangerous, it'll keep our approach from alerting the entire stronghold."

"Then horseback it is," Ignis stated. "Let us depart."

#ffxv #ffxv x reader #final fantasy xv #final fantasy xv x reader #gladiolus amicitia #gladiolus x reader #gladio x reader

[miraculous786]

TimMari: Out Sick

Ship: Marinette Dupain-Cheng x Tim Drake

Prompt: Out Sick

Date: January, Wednesday 15

Other Tumblr Prompt Works  

~*~*~

"So, what you're saying is that you want me to wear the Ladybug miraculous and defeat this akuma?"

Letting out a pitiful sniffle, the other person in the room responded, "Yeah. If you don't transform, the akuma won't be captured, meaning that it will multiply and possess the citizens."

"Okay, okay," Tim agreed. "I'll do it, but after this, you owe me at least a coffee."

"How about I make it a coffee date?"

Eyes whipping to the teenager, Tim questioned, "Are you asking me out?"

Snorting, Adrien replied, "Nope. I meant that I'd get you a date with Marinette to make it up to you."

A pink hue painted Tim's cheeks, as he choked, "M-Marinette? Why h-her?"

"Isn't it obvious?" the blonde said, raising an unimpressed brow. "You have the biggest crush on her."

Spluttering escaped his mouth as an answer, though Adrien interrupted it with, "So, are you going to go save Paris?"

Timothy sighed, gazing down at the earrings within his grasp. Rolling them between his fingertips, he finally raised his hands to his head, clipping them onto his ears.

They felt quite light, to his surprise, as if they weren't even there in the first place. Studying himself in a nearby mirror, he could make out that the surface of the jewellery had adapted, changing its appearance into gold studs.

The metal glinted from the sunlight radiating through the large windows in Adrien's bedroom, that also allowed the two in the room to see the toppled buildings and blurred figure hopping about on the Eiffel Tower in the distance.

"Guess there's no better time than now."

Turning to the floating red kwami, he asked, "How do I transform?"

"All you have to say is 'Spots On'," a high-pitched voice answered, the source being Tikki. "Then I can transfer my power over to you."

"Right."

He exhaled heavily, eyes closing in anticipation and heart beating speedily in fear, along with excitement.

"Tikki, Spots On."

Immediately, a wave of power blew through him, causing his eyes to open wide as pink invaded his vision. Looking down, he saw magic begin to fizzle at his fingertips, starting to move its way up his arms and down his body.

After completely covering him from the torso downwards, a tingle was felt on his temples, reaching all the way to the bridge of his nose. Hesitantly, he brought his hand up, tracing the flat mask concealing his identity.

"Gotta say, the spots suit you well."

Adrien's compliment broke him out of his amazement of the transformation, as he faced the male. He was currently lying down in his bed, covers enveloping his cold body in warmth, tucked up right to his chin.

Sweat clung to his forehead, making the stray hairs of his fringe stick to the skin beneath it. Adrien's cheeks were flushed a light rouge - the colour spreading from his ears to his runny nose.

Every so often, a sniffle echoed in the room, like now, prompting him to reach over to the desk beside the furniture he was on and pluck out a tissue from its box, as he cleaned his nose with it.

"By the way, Timmy," Adrien started, his blocked nose causing a certain stuffiness to affect his voice. "You better treat my sister well when I set up that date."

Furiously blushing, Tim only managed a quick nod before zooming out of the open window, finding himself falling towards the ground straight after.

Reaching down, he grabbed at the object that held a slight weight at his hip, and flung it into the distance, watching as it wrapped itself around a chimney. Tugging slightly, his body was suddenly launched upwards, wind blowing and parting his fringe wildly.

Tim's feet made contact with slanted tiles, that his boots managed to provide a steady grip to stand on safely. A contented breath escaped his lips, as they upturned at the sheer thought of swinging around again.

He walked back a few steps, only a second before he sprinted forwards and off the roof and dived like a swimmer into a pool.

The spotted yo-yo caught onto a pillar high up, that remained sturdy as he pulled again, his form spinning in suspension with the Sun lighting up his figure.

Tim found himself running sideways on a bricked wall soon after, that seemed to almost stick to his feet as a ladybird would to a leaf.

From below, he could make out the confused calls of civilians, as they witnessed someone other than Monsieur Bug soaring through the sky with a yo-yo.

When he finally made it to the Eiffel Tower, a figure adorning mainly jet black was thrown off of the infrastructure of the monument, their body quickly increasing in falling speed the further they fell.

Spinning his yo-yo in a few circles, he watched as it became a blur of bright red, whilst he warmed up his dominant arm. Throwing the weapon up, the cord held on for dear life around a metal beam, keeping him airborne as he leaped in the direction of the woman.

With one hand gripping the yo-yo string, he wrapped an arm around the woman's stomach, pulling her into his chest as he yanked down on the cable line. It caused them to pause in midair, held way up high with them both facing the ground far away.

Slowly descending them, he let her out of his secure grip, watching as she gracefully jumped and landed safely on the tarmac, lightly with her feet.

Now that she wasn't just a distant blur, he could make out the theme of the costume she was clad in, along with the paw-print ring glinting on one of her fingers.

The collar of her neck was lined with a vibrant stripe of chartreuse, that matched the shade of green apparent on the edges of her gloves and boots. The stripe extended down, stopping just before reaching the centre of her chest.

Around her waist, a lime string meaning to resemble a utility belt was settled, that had an attached pompom with her miraculous's logo at her hip. What appeared to be a baton was holstered behind her back, short and light grey.

Lining her startlingly bright eyes was an onyx mask, that was made up of a million hexagons and matched the shade of the majority of her outfit. The irises of her eyes were slit, while the sclera were a dull shamrock.

Marinette's brow raised, taking in the male before her. Unlike Adrien, his eyes were sparkling blue, and his locks were more similar to hers in colour - a midnight black.

"Are you okay?" Tim asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," she assured, shaking her head. "The question should be: Who are you?"

"O-Oh, me? I'm uuhhh..."

Trying to come up with a name, he glanced to the side in thought, with a finger against his chin. Just before he could answer, the feeling of a body slamming into him broke him out of his reverie.

He grunted, as did the person who had pushed him out of the way. Where he was once stood, there was a large dent in the ground, with cracks blooming out of it.

She saved me.

"Thanks," he breathed, taking the clawed hand she had extended out to him after standing.

Flicking the yo-yo back into his hand, he spun it around, eyes narrowed at the shadow visible to be hunched over in the centre of the lingering dust.

When it finally cleared, the form was revealed to be a young boy, pink mask covering his scowling face. His sclera were the same colour as Marinette's, though a more livelier version. His irises were also an unnatural violet, that matched the akuma symbol floating in front of his head.

To Tim's surprise, the villain seemed to be a hulking size, arms bearing weight and superior strength. A soft indigo was what his clothes were, with a bold black logo situated on his torso.

"I am Gigantor!" he roared, "And I will be the one to take Lady Noire and Monsieur Bug's miraculous!"

Several nearby Parisians scrambled away in fear at his declaration, but not the two heroes standing confidently in front of him with expressions of bravery.

Gigantor's confusion was obvious at the new Ladybug miraculous holder, as his eyes darted between the teenagers. The akuma symbol flared again, just before he nodded at Hawk Moth's command.

They readied themselves for his onslaught of attacks, and, sure enough, he aimed dozens of kicks and attacks at them, all skilled thanks to Hawk Moth's influence.

Dodging and parrying, Lady Noire used her staff to hit away Gigantor's limbs, her pinned cat ears twitching frequently as an early warning for any danger.

Though she was faring fine, Tim wasn't - on the contrary, a horde of hits managed to reach his armoured chest, one in particular sending him flying upwards and high into the sky.

Marinette spotted his suspended form, prompting her to extend her staff whilst bringing her own body along with it. She was able to bring Tim into her grip, holding him bridal-style as her padded feet made contact with the ground.

"Falling for me already, ma petite coccinelle?"

His eyes were shut tight, through the question caused him to open them wide. A dark blush overtook his cheeks, making Marinette smirk cheekily.

"What's wrong, cat got your tongue?"

She very much appeared to be that cat that had just caught the canary at his priceless reaction - a tomato red face as he spluttered in surprise.

~*~*~

Pain erupted at her stomach, as the enlarged fist forced her to be sent careening backwards into a nearby boat floating serenely in the Seine. The deck shook with the impact of her body, as she staggered back up with a hand supporting her by holding onto a pillar.

Lady Noire huffed, holding the damaged organ.

"Noire?" a panicked voice called. "Are you okay?"

A chuckle escaped her lips. "Definitely. Never been better," she retorted.

Landing beside her, Tim stressed, "'Never better'? You just got launched halfway across the frickin' Seine!"

Leaning towards him, Marinette pointed a clawed finger at his chest, as she stated, "Well...I'm feline fine now that I've seen you."

Heat rushed to his face again, as he pouted and declared, "Now's not the time!"

A snort caught them both my surprise.

"And I thought Adrien's pickup lines were bad," Luka remarked, arms folded. The amusement in his eyes was clear enough for both of them to see.

~*~*~

"Is it okay if I borrow your staff?"

Raising a baffled brow, she replied, "And have to use a yo-yo? No thanks."

Holding her baton out, Marinette pressed the paw-print button on it, causing the weapon to split into two halves. She handed one over, placing the other in the holster at her waist.

"Are you sure you'll be okay with a much shorter staff?"

Grinning, she answered, "I'd gladly give up all of my nine lives for you."

Tim didn't even have time to be flustered.

A body pushing him aside again made that decision for him.

~*~*~

Eleven more flirts and a defeated akuma later, Tim found himself flopped on the white couch in Adrien's room, sweat dripping down his forehead and chest heaving from exhaustion.

"How do you deal with it?" he breathed, sitting up whilst pink magic melted off of his form smoothly.

"Well, I've had lots of practise at using the Lucky Charm effectively, that's for one. Also-"

"Not that! I meant how you deal with Lady Noire flirting all of the time!" he broke in. "It was so...distracting! Especially since she's wearing a skintight cat suit!"

Tikki patted his cheek in sympathy, before zipping off to search for a cookie to replenish her energy.

"Marinette took my advice?" Adrien thought out loud, abruptly turning to face Tim.

"Huh. But she said that my pickup lines were horrible, though."

The whole room seemed to freeze, as Tim perked up. There was silence for a few seconds, where Adrien realised what he'd revealed.

Covering his mouth, he prepared for the incoming reaction.

Sure enough...

"THAT WAS MARINETTE FLIRTING WITH ME THE WHOLE TIME?! IN A CAT SUIT!?"

Decided to make Lady Noire art! I love the suit they designed in the show!

@maribat-2k20​

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#maribat2k20 #maribat2k20timmari #out sick #maribat #timmari #timinette #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #ml x dc #marinette x tim #tim x marinette #day 3