#should join combat lessons
Severus Snape’s abilities:
His understanding as a student is so great he made multiple hexes and even curses whilst still in school. And his knowledge as an adult, was so great that even Albus came to him on the subject multiple times.
Severus could use Charms without fail.
Schooled the potions book of Hogwarts itself when he was a student. He also created a resistance potion to a curse invented and cast by Voldy Moldy himself, keeping it at bay for an extraordinarily long time, given that it was an extremely powerful curse. He was even able to give private lessons in alchemy, something not even taught at Hogwarts for it’s difficultly and required knowledge
Created numerous powerful spells and while still in school
He has the ability of unsupported flight. An ability which only The Dark Lord himself possesses. Speaks for itself.
Severus was the only one in Voldemort’s inner circle who was capable of feeling unconditional love, and he was the only Death Eater who could cast a Patronus, he was protected by his ability to *love* Lily.
He joined the death eaters when he was about 19 years old, which meant that he was that good at Occlumency to keep Voldy Moldy from reading his mind. He was 20 when he went to Dumbledore and betrayed Voldemort, he kept Voldemort believing his loyalty for 17/18 years. And Lord Voldemort was considered the most powerful Legilimens in existence. The only people able to recreate this feat are Gellert Grindelwald and Albus Dumbledore. So he had already perfected Occlumency.
Harry states multiple times that it was like Severus could read his mind and during his departure of the astronomy tower he used Legilimency to read Harry’s attempted moves and countered them all before they could be cast. He could even use memory extraction by just using eye contact, no want or incantation needed.
He was seen transfiguring the whirlwind-shaped fire that McGonagall launched at him into a great, black snake. Using his transfiguration, a very difficult form of magic, in the midst of combat. Severus even took it a step further, being a master at conjuration and vanishment. Conjuring ropes so fast with the incarcerous spell that neither Remus Lupin or Sirius Black could respond. Severus was able to conjure objects and animals, and Transfigure elements into other objects with apparent ease.
Defense Against The Dark Arts
His encyclopedic understanding of The Dark Arts made so that Sev taught the class at N.E.W.T level to such an effect that even Harry couldn’t help but be enchanted by his knowledge. His knowledge in healing was so great that Dumbledore once quoted to Harry that Severus was more experienced in healing against Dark magic than Poppy Pomfrey was. Keeping Albus alive for over a year whilst cursed, saving Katie Bell from a cursed necklace and healing Draco Malfoy with ease after he was hit by Sectumsempra by Harry (although it should be noted that Severus himself created the spell and the counter-curse so he would have full knowledge and understanding of it).
Non-verbal and wandless magic
Severus was adept at using non-verbal spells, from the most basic uses (such as instruction-writing on blackboards and clean ups) to the most advanced (such as combat curses).
Severus’ logic and deductive reasoning skills were such that he helped protect the Philosopher’s Stone by creating an obstacle, which was based on logic rather than magical skill.
On top being capable of unsupported flight in his later days, Snape was an able flyer on a broomstick, and sure enough in the rules of Quidditch to take over the position of referee at least once.
My man is too perfect.😢 -dies-
213 notes · View notes
secret relationship // wanda maximoff
summary: you're the daughter of the famous Black Widow, which comes with its own set of hurdles such as revealing to her that you're dating the newest Avenger that she also happens to be mentoring – Wanda Maximoff. What could go wrong?
warning/s: minor (implied) violence and injury
author's note: okay so the request was the reader is Natasha's daughter and is struggling to tell Natasha that she's dating Wanda. All I know is I got excited (as usual) and this happened so yeah, enjoy! Also, Wanda’s age is always a mystery to me since it’s interpreted differently with everyone, so I tried my best to explain the age gap between you and natasha so things made sense.
masterlist | wattpad
"Did you know red onion and red cabbage is called 'red' instead of 'purple' because back in the old days, they didn't have enough words for colours so anything purple was defined as red?"
"The mission, Y/N," my mum, Natasha Romanoff, AKA Black Widow, scolded.
I sighed, my attention still focused on my surroundings and my gun directed ahead. "I know, I know. But did you know that the most common internet password is '123456'?"
"Y/N," Wanda, my girlfriend and teammate said with a laugh. "Stop it."
"Yeah, please, quit it," my mum added with an eye roll.
I smiled at Wanda, admiring how beautiful she looked when she hid her laugh. My mum wasn't aware we were dating, so I settled for sending her a playful wink before looking ahead.
I knew I had to focus on the mission – scouting out this abandoned HYDRA den – but it was boring. And it was obviously empty of any threats, so talking was my only pastime.
"Did you know the inventor of Pringles is buried in a Pringles can?" I said after a moment of silence, making my mum stop walking abruptly.
"Okay, you know what? New plan," she said, looking between Wanda and I. "Everyone split up. Take a look around. Stay alert. Keep in contact. Sound good?"
I quirked a brow. "You trying to get rid of me?"
She narrowed her eyes my way. "Yes."
I frowned, making Wanda crack a smile and nudge me in the shoulder.
"You need to learn to have an off button sometimes," she joked, her Sokovian accent shining through despite the voice lessons my mum was giving her. Honestly, I preferred her Sokovian accent to her American one.
"You love it," I teased, giving her a knowing smile, my mother completely unaware of the double meaning.
"Just do as I said," my mum said, already shooing me away. "Wanda, you know what to do. If you see or hear anything suspicious, use your comms."
"Yes, Miss Romanoff," Wanda said obediently, and I tried so hard to hold in laughter at her seriousness. I mean, it was great that she was respectful of my mother and her mentor, but God it was funny to witness.
"Once again, Wanda, you can just call me Nat," my mum said with a wince, trying to be polite. "Go on."
Wanda nodded and walked off, her gun raised as she'd practiced. I grinned at my mum, noticing the way she massaged her temple with mild agitation before her gaze fell to mine.
"Go. Now." She pointed behind me, and I stifled a laugh.
"Bet you love babysitting duty," I joked.
"It's not babysitting if I'm your mother," she pointed out. "Though sometimes, you make me regret not picking the baby instead of you."
"That baby would have been six years old now," I informed her. "If anything, I spared you the whole diaper thing and the outgrowing clothes thing and the– oh yeah! Not being able to speak thing!"
"At least they wouldn't be annoying me with stupid facts," she retorted, hand on her hip. "Now be a good agent and do your job."
I rolled my eyes playfully, knowing she was kidding. Whenever I annoyed her, she'd bring up the story of how it was between twelve year old me and a six-month old baby at the adoption centre. She was worried I'd view her as an older sister or something, hence her choice of adopting the baby instead. But I never did, as she was always way more mature than any twenty-seven year old I'd met or seen at the time. And maybe, I guess, I was really desperate to have a motherly figure, and she just happened to fit the bill.
"Aye, aye, Miss Romanoff," I saluted, making her raise an eyebrow threateningly. "Okay, geez, I'm going."
I wandered off, exploring the dishevelled HYDRA den with full focus. The brief clearly stated it was an abandoned site, but I stayed on alert anyway in case there were stragglers. As usual, I only got given half the facts because of my clearance level, so I knew we were looking for a hard drive, but I had no idea what was on it.
Being a seventeen year old working in S.H.I.E.L.D. wasn't exactly how I saw my life going when I grew up in an orphanage. I honestly never thought I'd get adopted, as rumours spread quite quickly through the orphanage that once you hit double digits, nobody wanted you. So, when the beautiful, red-headed Natasha Romanoff came in, looking for an addition to her family, I felt like the luckiest kid in the world because she chose me of all the kids there.
I definitely didn't expect her to be the Black Widow, nor to teach me everything she knew about espionage, stealth, hand-to-hand combat and much more. She ensured I was multi-lingual like her, preparing me for the many S.H.I.E.L.D. missions I would have to go on. There were times when I absolutely despised her, particularly when she overtrained me or stopped me from seeing my friends. And there were times when I wished she'd never adopted me, hating that I couldn't have a normal teenage experience.
But when it came down to it, I knew I couldn't have asked for a more caring, considerate and compassionate mother. I learnt early on into our relationship that she was unable to have kids of her own, hence her interest in adoption. And honestly speaking? That was probably the worst thing in the world because if anybody deserved a child of their own, it was Natasha Romanoff. I guess, in that sense, I was lucky to have all of her love to myself.
Now that I was older, I came to appreciate how awesome she was, especially when we got to go on missions together and I saw her awesomeness upfront. The only thing was, she was extremely overprotective, so it was difficult to get sent on the dangerous missions. Though, I guess, whenever I did, she was always there to have my back and I wouldn't have wanted it any other way.
Her overprotectiveness was also a reason why she didn't know about Wanda and I's relationship. Wanda had joined the Avengers a year ago after losing her brother in the battle against Ultron. She was a year older than me, so naturally we were drawn to each other, and before I knew it, our friendship became more. But of course, my mother could never know that. At least not yet.
"Empty here," I mumbled, rounding a corner into an empty room. As I looked through the rubbish on the desk, I continued, "Empty here... and here... and oh, look, here, too. What a surprise!"
"Y/N, I love you, but God help me I will kill you if you don't turn your damn mic off," my mother's voice came through my comms piece in my ear.
For once, I wasn't trying to piss her off, so I smiled sheepishly to myself and replied, "Sorry. Love you."
I could imagine the eye roll she was giving me in response, so continued to look around for the hard drive I saw on the brief. Still, there was nothing here.
My searching was interrupted when I heard a loud crash from a nearby room, like the sound of bricks tumbling against one another. I spun around, eyes widening with concern.
"Y/N? Wanda? What happened?" my mum's voice came through my ear, slightly reassuring me as it wasn't her who was caught up in anything. But then that meant–
"Wanda! What happened?" I replied worriedly, already rushing out of the room and to the source of the sound.
"I'm okay," Wanda's shaky voice came through my ear, which did nothing to ease my concern.
I found the room Wanda was in quite quickly, seeing her sat on the floor as if she'd been pushed. She had a deep cut on her forehead and looked visibly distressed. Running to her side, I kneeled down beside her and cupped her face, studying her head.
"Oh my God, are you okay?" The words tumbled from my mouth so quickly I wasn't sure if it was understandable.
She nodded slowly, accepting my hand and holding it for reassurance. I followed her gaze, seeing a hole in the wall ahead, bricks crumbling and dust beginning to settle. Laying on the floor through the hole and into the next room was a HYDRA soldier, clearly dead from the impact of hitting the bricks.
Wanda's power was magnificent, but hard to control. A year later and she was still learning its limits, but sometimes slip-ups like this happened. I was, admittedly, in awe of her actions.
"I'm sorry, I should have kept him alive like Miss Ro– Nat said," Wanda apologised suddenly, and I looked back at her to see her shaking her head. "He just– he startled me and I didn't know what I was doing until it happened. I thought–"
"Don't apologise," I cut her off, squeezing her hand gently, before looking back to the cut on her forehead. "I'm just glad you're okay. You did good."
Despite my words, I bit my lower lip to contain a frown, worried about her cut.
Wanda and I both turned to the doorway to see my mum, who stopped and took in the sight of the hole in the wall with partial surprise and partial amazement.
"Mum, we need to get her back to the quinjet," I said, pulling her attention away from the wall. She approached me as I said, "She needs medical assistance."
I didn't let go of Wanda's hand as I moved to the side for my mum to take a look. Gently guiding Wanda's chin to the side, she took a closer look at the gash on her forehead, expression showing nothing as usual.
"You'll be okay, honey," she reassured, letting go. Her eyes drifted to our connected hands briefly, but I figured she wouldn't piece anything together, so I didn't let go. She continued, "Let's get out of here. There's no hard drive anyway."
Wanda nodded and my mum and I helped her to stand up, me still not letting go of her hand.
"The hard drive is on him," Wanda spoke suddenly, nodding to the dead HYDRA agent. "I heard his thoughts before I– yeah."
My mum raised her brows with surprise. "Oh. Perfect. Y/N get the drive and let's go."
I pursed my lips, glancing at Wanda with concerned eyes. She gave me a small, reassuring smile, squeezing my hand subtly before letting go.
"Right, yeah," I said, swallowing hard.
I looked back to my mum, who seemed to be studying my expression, so I cleared my throat and left to get the drive. When I retrieved it, I jogged after Wanda and my mum, checking in on her with a small smile, before leading the way to the quinjet.
When we boarded the plane, I hung around Wanda and my mum as she helped the brunette to take a seat in the back. I noticed Wanda's momentary dizziness as she sat down and felt my chest tighten.
"Hey, you okay?" I asked, kneeling before her as my mum got the first aid kit.
Wanda gave me an endearing smile as I swiped at the blood dripping down her forehead.
"I'll be alright," she said, holding my gaze with comforting green eyes before they flickered to behind me.
"Okay, Y/N, stop hanging about and start the plane whilst I stitch Wanda up," my mum said, appearing from behind me and kneeling beside me.
I nodded, glancing between the needle, thread and disinfectant in her hands and Wanda's head. Reluctantly, I got up and left them both to it as I started up the plane and got us in the air. Once we were in the clear, I flicked on autopilot before heading back to Wanda and my mum to see how things were going.
"We'll have someone look at it properly when we get back to the tower," my mum was saying to Wanda, who was now stitched up and wearing a small bandage, "but it'll hold up for now." With a playful smile, she added, "You're not dying on me just yet."
Wanda cracked a smile and whilst I appreciated how lovely it was to see their closeness in a way I never usually saw, I was still troubled by her injury. Logically, I knew she'd be okay, but it never felt good to see her injured.
"Plane is on autopilot," I announced, making my presence known. My eyes never left Wanda's bandage as I asked, "Everything okay here?"
"You need to calm down," my mum joked, making me look her way. "It's not that serious. Just some stitches."
I smiled awkwardly, but I knew it was much more than that.
"Yeah, relax, it's not a big deal," Wanda added playfully.
Her eyes met mine and I knew she was communicating the same thing through her gaze, holding a seriousness that wasn't able to be shared verbally because of my mum's presence. I tilted my head, giving her a knowing look; she knew I was aware of how big a deal it was. All I wanted to do was give her a hug and kiss and not leave her side until she felt better. And she knew that.
"I'm gonna go fly the plane," my mum said suddenly, and I almost forgot she was standing there until she spoke up. "We'll get back to base quicker..."
I glanced at her, mildly confused at her sudden change of expression. She headed to the front of the quinjet, leaving Wanda and I alone.
"Seriously though, you should relax," Wanda said, sounding like she did when it was just her and I and nobody else. She had an amused smile on her lips as she watched me worry. "I'm fine. All stitched up."
I licked my lips, sulking, as I dragged myself over to the seat beside her. She laced our fingers together, pressing a kiss to the top of my hand before facing me with an easygoing smile.
"I'm fine," she repeated gently, lovingly, sweetly.
I offered her a small smile, before leaning forward to press a kiss to her bandage. "I know. Just don't worry me like that. Especially in front of my mum. I can't take it."
"It's cute," she noted, amusement returning. "It means a lot to know someone cares."
My shoulders relaxed. "I care too much. So, please don't test that."
She laughed and I felt my heart flutter in my chest, never getting used to the sound.
"I promise not to," she said, looking up at me through her lashes.
I leaned my head on her shoulder and kept ahold of her hand, staying with her until we arrived back at base. My mum flew us the whole way back, only coming to get us once we landed. I knew I should have left Wanda's side as to not raise suspicion with my mum, but I couldn't find it in myself to do so. I just hoped she would interpret it as two concerned friends rather than her daughter having a secret girlfriend.
"You should head to the medical wing to get checked out properly," my mum said once we were back at the tower, looking to Wanda.
"Yeah," I agreed a little too eagerly. "I'll go with you."
My mum gave me a curious look. "I mean, that's not necessary."
Wanda must have sensed my eagerness, as she said, "I'd appreciate the company, actually. I don't mind."
She shot me a subtle smile, eyes bright with reassurance.
"I'm happy to accompany you, Wanda," my mum offered, and I felt my mouth go dry.
"It's okay, mum," I said suddenly, making her look to me with pursed lips. "You can go debrief and I'll make sure Wanda is cool with everything."
Glancing between us, my mum finally nodded. "I see. I guess I'll see you both later then." She paused, looking between us once more, before adding, "You did good today. Both of you."
I looked down to my shoes as Wanda shot her a grateful smile. She walked away, leaving us be, and I immediately intertwined my fingers with Wanda's as the two of us headed to the medical wing.
"You may as well write desperate on your forehead," she teased with a beautiful smile.
"So funny," I said sarcastically, though a smile of my own was present. "Let's just get you checked out."
"If it means you'll stop pouting, then sure."
"Real jokester you are. Hilarious, honestly."
Her laughter surrounded me like a warm hug and I could have listened to it forever.
Since our mission together, I noticed the distance my mum was putting between her and I, and I had no idea why. I thought I was overthinking it and seeing things that weren't there, so I didn't follow up with it until one evening.
It was a rare occurrence for all of the Avengers to be at the tower at once, so when they were, we'd all have a 'family' dinner for some normalcy. Only, this time, I noticed how strange my mum was acting whenever I spoke to her. She'd either act super dismissive or give one word answers to my questions – once again, I wasn't sure if I was seeing things.
After dinner, everyone went their separate ways and Wanda and I stayed in the living-area to watch some TV. Though it was playing, the volume was lowered and neither of us were watching it. We were just talking about random stuff and enjoying each other's company.
"Okay, how about this one?" I said to Wanda, turning so I was facing her, a grin on my lips. "What did the clock do when it was hungry?"
As with all of my other attempts at making Wanda laugh, she stared at me with an amused smile and a quirked brow.
"Say it...," I encouraged, motioning for her to speak with my hand.
She sighed. "Okay, what did the clock do when it was hungry?" Mumbling, she added, "Even though clocks don't eat..."
I slapped her leg playfully. "Sshhh, you'll ruin the joke. And the answer is, they go back four seconds!"
Wanda didn't laugh, but she seemed entertained as she hid a smile. "Seriously?"
"Because of the number 'four' and the word 'for'," I explained. "C'mon, that's a good one!"
"D'you think you're funny?" she asked, eyeing me playfully. "Because you're not."
I shrugged, playing it off like I wasn't fussed. "I mean, I don't know about that... how about now?"
Before she could question me, I moved forward and began to tickle her sides, watching as she squirmed with laughter.
"Stop it!" she shouted, but her smile was as wide as ever as she was unable to stifle her laughter. "P-please! Y/N!"
"But you said I wasn't funny!" I retorted with a grin, practically straddling her as she attempted to push me off her. "I'm just checking if you still think that!"
Wanda was crying now, tears escaping the corners of her eyes as she continued to laugh. "I'm s-sorry! Y/N, stop!"
Before I could think how to respond, the doors to the living-area opened and in walked Steve Rogers AKA Captain America, a confused expression on his face as he saw me sat on Wanda.
"Hey, ladies," he greeted, raising an eyebrow. "You both good?"
I pulled my hands away from Wanda and breathed out, still smiling as I glanced down at her. She blew a strand of hair from her eyes and glared at me playfully.
"Yeah, just talking," I answered Steve, before being thrown off Wanda and to the floor with a thud.
"Just Y/N harassing me as usual," Wanda corrected, and I sat up to see her sitting up, too, fixing her hair.
Steve chuckled as he headed to the fridge in the connected kitchen. Wanda helped me back onto the couch, nudging me in the side as a response to the tickle fest, before leaning on me and stretching her legs across the couch.
"So, hey, what's up with you and your mum?" Steve asked as I continued to annoy Wanda by flicking her face.
"What do you mean?" I asked, not looking up as I grinned down at Wanda, watching as her eyes glowed red threateningly.
"Don't make me hurt you," she said teasingly, lifting a hand and summoning her powers, red wisps of energy becoming present.
I stopped flicking her and intertwined her hand in mine, watching as her eyes faded to its usual colour.
"She just seemed distant at dinner," Steve continued.
I looked up and saw he was leaning against the counter with a water bottle in his hand. Wanda continued to stretch, practically on top of me, probably to annoy me as I had been doing with her. I moved her hands out of my face as I nodded to Steve.
"So, you saw it too? She was being off, right?" I asked him, glad I wasn't just imagining things.
He nodded, gulping his water, before saying casually, "Definitely. What did you do? Finally tell her about you and Wanda?"
It took me a second to realise what he'd said, but when I did, my eyes widened and I spluttered out a terrible response. "What– what about Wanda and I?"
I glanced at Wanda as she began to sit up properly. She looked more confused than panicked.
"You know, that you're together," Steve said like it was obvious.
I cleared my throat. "What? Why would you think that?"
Steve smiled with confusion. "Wait, so you're not? But I thought–" He paused, pulling a face. "No, you are! Everybody thinks you are!"
I shrugged it off, though inside I was panicking. "I mean, even if that was the case, why do you think my mum knows?"
Steve nodded knowingly. "She's been off with you all night. And then I caught up with her after dinner and she wasn't in a very talkative mood. Just mumbled something like 'new girl, her age, pretty, nice, should have seen it coming'. I assumed she was talking about Wanda."
Heat crept up my neck with embarrassment and when I looked to Wanda, I saw her cheeks dusting a red colour, similar to the energy she could summon. She looked as flustered as I felt.
"Has your mum been okay with you before today?" Steve asked, trying to be helpful.
I chewed on my lower lip and shook my head. "Not since we got back from our last mission..."
Steve scrunched his face with sympathy. "Oof. You should probably talk to her then. You know how much she hates secrets."
I groaned internally. "Thanks for the reminder."
He saluted playfully, his stupid smile on his stupid face, before leaving Wanda and I alone again.
"Well, looks like she knows," I said to Wanda, sinking into the couch with hopes it would swallow me forever.
"She might not," Wanda tried to make me feel better, resting a hand on my leg. "It could be something else."
I gave her a knowing look. "She has to know. It's the only thing that makes sense. You heard Steve."
Wanda sighed, sinking into the couch beside me. "Yeah..." She glanced at me and I looked at her as she said, "I did tell you to tell her."
I forced a smile. "Gee, Wanda, that was helpful. Thanks."
Wanda rolled her eyes before leaning her head on my shoulder. "Sorry..."
I rested my hand on hers. "It's okay, sorry. I just– she's gonna be really mad that I kept this from her."
"Yeah, why did you do that again?" Wanda asked questioningly.
I massaged the tension between my eyebrows. "Because she's too overprotective. It gets too much to handle sometimes... Take my last boyfriend for example. He was some tool that cheated on me and, oh boy, my mum wanted to kill him. I had to physically restrain her from doing so."
"I don't blame her," Wanda quipped, a hint of bitterness in her voice.
I smiled a little, squeezing her hand. "I know... she ended up slashing his tyres and egging his car without telling me. But instead of egging the outside, she broke into it and egged the inside. A thoughtful take on a classic, I must admit."
Wanda laughed, her whole body shaking with pure amusement as she listened to the story. I couldn't help but smile myself, remembering it like it was yesterday. Definitely a fun time.
"I appreciated it, don't get me wrong," I added, smile fading. "I just didn't want that to happen again. I wanted to enjoy our relationship without anyone spying on us, y'know? But now she's gonna be super angry."
Wanda let go of my hand and rolled on top of me, leaning down on my chest so she could look me in the eyes. I wrapped my arms loosely around her to keep her steady.
"She only wants the best for you," Wanda told me gently. "You have to tell her you're sorry. Explain why you did what you did, but hear her out, too. She's your mum. Caring too much isn't a bad thing."
I groaned, knowing she was right. She smiled reassuringly, patting my chest.
"You get the caring too much thing from her by the way," she added, before leaning forward and pressing a haste kiss to my lips. "It's okay though because I love it."
I smiled, never really seeing it like that. Raising my hand, I brushed my thumb over the small bandage on her head; her injury was still healing, but she didn't let it bother her. Very Wanda-like.
"Thanks," I mumbled, meeting her gaze. "You always say the right thing."
"Which is why I'm going to tell you to get up and go to your mum," she ordered playfully, pushing herself off me and holding out her hand.
I let her pull me up before straightening up and taking a deep breath. Wanda was right. I just needed to be open and explain my piece. It would be fine.
So, it wasn't fine.
When I entered my mum's living quarters, she wasn't the happiest to see me. In fact, she actively turned her body to face her TV when I came through the door.
"Hey," I started with a small smile, fighting the nerves in my stomach. "Can we, er, can we talk?"
She grabbed the cushion on the couch next to her, hugging it to her chest. Her eyes didn't leave the TV, but the space next to her was free, so I took that as an opportunity to close the door and sit beside her.
The news was playing on the TV – headlines, I think – and they were talking about a new elected congressman in New York.
"Seriously? The news? Even in your free time?" I asked playfully, hoping it would lighten the mood.
She didn't even glance my way as she muttered, "I like to know what's happening in the world."
Losing my smile, I straightened up and cleared my throat. "Right, right..."
It went quiet as the TV played in the background and my mum said absolutely nothing. I grabbed the other cushion on the couch and hugged it to my chest, similar to her. It was a nervous habit that I picked up from, well, from her.
"You said you wanted to talk?" she reminded me. "So, talk."
Having the Black Widow as your mother wasn't something anyone could get used to. She could be the most caring, loving, protective person in the world, but she could also appear quiet, intimidating and ruthless like the trained assassin she was. Not the greatest combination when trying to open up to her.
"I think I know what you're thinking," I started, pinching my hand to distract from my growing anxiety.
Without hesitation, she bent forward to grab the TV remote and turned it off before turning to me with sad eyes.
"That's where you're wrong," she said calmly, and it was way worse than her yelling. I would have preferred her yelling to be honest. The disappointment in her voice was much worse. "You always assume you know what I'm thinking. What I'm going to say or do."
I avoided her eyes guiltily. "Mum, look, I know that I should have told you the truth. And I know how angry you are, but–"
"I'm not angry, Y/N!" she shouted, finally, standing up off the couch and creating space between us.
I winced. "You sound angry."
She put her hands on her hips, looking down to her feet and taking a breath. Her voice at normal volume, she said, "I'm upset. You– you didn't trust me enough to tell me the truth. Instead, I had to put it together when you acted how you did with Wanda after that mission and..." She paused, sighing. "Forget it."
"No, keep going," I pleaded, the guilt piercing through me sharply. "You're right."
She swallowed hard, glancing at me with glassy eyes. "I wouldn't have done anything. I know I have in the past, but this is Wanda we're talking about. I've been her mentor for a year. I care about her and– and– she's good. And she's good for you."
Okay, I definitely misread this whole thing because now my mum was upset, on the verge of tears, and I was the arsehole responsible for it.
"I'm so sorry," I said, standing up and moving forward to hold her arms. "I should have trusted you. I mean, it wasn't even about trust. I was just scared you'd react badly. But it wrong of me to assume that."
She frowned, looking down to her shoes. "I know I can be tough sometimes, but it's only because I care."
I thought back to Wanda's words and gave her a small smile. "I know. I get it from you."
"I am happy for you, you know," she said, glancing at me petulantly.
My expression softened. "Thank you. That means a lot coming from you."
Without another word, she pulled me in for a motherly hug, making me close my eyes and relax in her arms. I still felt horrible for making her feel like I couldn't trust her when it was anything but that.
"I'm sorry," I repeated quietly into her shoulder.
"I forgive you," she said, before pulling away and giving me a small smile. "Now tell me. You're happy?"
The thought of being with Wanda gave me butterflies and I couldn't help but smile in response. With a nod, I said, "I am."
She nodded, squeezing my shoulders gently before fully letting go. "Good. I'm glad you've got her... I know you can take care of yourself, but she's strong, too. She can look out for you when I'm not around anymore."
I shoved her in the shoulder. "Don't joke about that. She isn't replacing you and you're not going anywhere, you hear me?"
She laughed, nodding. "Not yet anyway. But sure, okay."
I relaxed and gave her a nervous smile. "So, you wanna meet Wanda? Like, as my girlfriend and not your student?"
She rolled her eyes playfully. "If I must."
I smiled widely, grabbing her hand and leading her to the door. "She loves you a lot, y'know. She wanted me to tell you about us as soon as we got together. She hated lying to you."
"Yeah because she knows that lying is wrong," she teased me, making me groan loudly. With a chuckle, she added, "I love her, too. She's definitely something."
"Hell yeah she is," I said in agreement, grinning to my mum as I dragged her to the living-area where I last left Wanda.
On the way, we passed Steve in the hall, who took notice of the smiles on our faces and nodded knowingly.
"Glad to see you worked it out," he said supportively.
"Thanks for the heads up," I told him gratefully as we passed him.
When we reached the living-area, I saw Wanda sat on the couch watching TV. When she saw who entered, she straightened up instantly, moving to stand and unsure what else to say or do. It was cute, the respect she had for my mum.
"Did you– I– She told you?" she stumbled over her words, starting to speak to me but eventually looking to my mum.
My mum glanced at me before meeting Wanda's nervous eyes. "She did."
Wanda licked her lips anxiously. "And you're okay with it...? Angry...? Wanna kill me...?"
I watched my mum, nodding encouragingly to her. She sighed before giving Wanda a small smile.
"No killing will be necessary," she reassured my girlfriend. "Unless, of course, you break my daughter's heart. Then in which case, I may have to find you when you're sleeping."
"Mum!" I complained, face falling into my hands with embarrassment.
"I'm just being truthful," my mum said with seriousness, before looking to Wanda expectantly.
Wanda surprisingly took it well, probably used to my mum's personality after training with her for a year. "I understand completely, Nat and I'll hold you to that. I have no intention of breaking Y/N's heart."
A rare, genuine smile appeared on my mother's lips. "I know you don't. Just–" She paused, glancing at me. "Keep her safe, yeah? She's a bit stupid sometimes."
Wanda laughed as my mum smiled with amusement, like it was an inside joke.
"Right here, you know," I reminded them with a wave of my hand.
They only rolled their eyes.
"I will," Wanda promised my mum. "Thank you for being okay with this."
My mum nodded, giving us both a final smile and once over, before saying, "I'll leave you to it. Goodnight."
Wanda and I bid our goodnights, watching her leave before a giant sigh of relief escaped our lips.
"You feel better?" Wanda asked me, grabbing my hand and tugging me to the couch.
She let me fall on her chest easily, snuggling up to her as she wrapped an arm around me and held me close. I inhaled her perfume, a familiar and comforting scent, as my head rested in the crook of her neck.
"I feel better," I answered, closing my eyes and letting her intertwine our fingers.
"I believe this is the part where you say I was right," she prompted, a hint of amusement in her words.
"Don't make me hurt you," I mumbled, making her laugh quietly beneath me.
"You're lucky I love you," she said, kissing the top of my head. "I guess opposites do attract. You're the stupid one and I'm the clever one."
She laughed again, and even though it was at me, I couldn't help the content smile from spreading on my lips.
502 notes · View notes
If you're accepting non-superhell prompts, I'd love to see a conversation between Nora and Emerald! I've been REALLY loving these microfics, I've subscribed to you on Ao3, I'll read whatever else you write
[Gahhh that’s so nice you’re so nice!! thanks for being patient on this one, finding my Nora took some doing]
It’s occurring to Emerald that she’s never had a close female friend before.
You say that like you’ve ever had any friends before, the voice in her head that sounds suspiciously like Mercury needles her, but she brushes it aside. Like—okay, yeah, she’ll concede the point when it comes to Cinder. In hindsight, whatever they’d had going on between them may have been... super intense... but it probably had never been friendship, in the usual definition. But she and Mercury were friends, no matter what the judgy little shitstain version of him who lives in her head has to say about it. They’d always gotten along. Told each other stuff. It’s not like there’s more to it than that, right?
It had always been like that. Been—instinctive somehow, with guys. Before Cinder, on the street, it was always the men who’d been easiest to manipulate; who would empty their pockets for a smile and a sob story. And then she and Merc had been two sides of the same coin for so long, and then... well, Hazel’d liked her enough to die for her, apparently. (Which—that’s a door that she keeps closed, thanks. She shuts it firmly again, now.) Oscar seems fond of her, in a sweet, uncomplicated sort of way that she really doesn’t know what to do with, seeing as he shares headspace with like a trillion year old man and the idea that anything to do with that kid could be “uncomplicated” is batshit. Ren vouched for her once, and then again, and now he keeps doing it, like it’s habit, like she should just be used to the fact that people are going to have her back, to ask her if she’s eaten, to turn to her with a raised eyebrow in conversation like her opinion would be constructive.
Now that she’s noticed the pattern, it seems like the kind of thing she should probably… work on, or whatever. And Nora seems like an obvious place for Emerald to start. They’ve been thrown in together a lot, lately, Emerald and Oscar expected to fill in the gaps of what’s left of the old JNPR by default. Not that they’ve ever really had a conversation about it—Emerald can’t think of the last time Nora said two words to her that weren’t combat warnings like “more Grimm coming” or “on your left,” but. That’s probably just because things have been tense. She remembers Nora being friendly, on the whole of it. Off-puttingly friendly, even, back at Beacon.
How hard could it be?
The answer, it turns out, is absurdly hard. Nora’s barely ever in the temporary barracks they’re all living out of, instead always checking on the refugees, going on supply runs over esoteric requests, volunteering for extra patrols. Emerald used to find that kind of dogged do-goodery gag-inducing, but now that she’s been the helping hand herself a few times, she’s starting to see the appeal. The way people look at you when you’ve been of service, it’s—nice. Really nice. But Nora works utterly thankless jobs, the kind most people don’t even notice, let alone appreciate. And when they have their insufferably long leadership meetings and they’re talking about distribution of resources or whatever, Nora’s a fierce debater—jumping in to advocate for the people from Mantle sometimes even before May can. As far as Emerald can tell, she does this stuff just because... she believes in it. Because it’s the right thing to do, and someone has to.
She can’t imagine what it would feel like, to have the attention of someone like that turned on her. She’s craved it from the wrong people for so long, but now that she has her pick of options... she’s letting herself actually want the right kind, for once. She thinks.
Which is all to say that largely through no fault of her own, Emerald unexpectedly finds herself sitting with a profound, fervent desire for Nora Valkyrie to think she’s cool.
She hates that.
Fighting with Nora is easy.
(—er. Alongside. Fighting alongside Nora is easy. Emerald’s done fighting with these people. Very done.)
It’s weird, because Emerald’s finding working with a full team to be a real adjustment. When battles get big enough to merit it, she’s used to keeping to the sidelines to use her Semblance for nefarious purposes, or, in a jam, used to having Mercury’s six—literally, because all the forward momentum from his feet-first style always left his back wide open. Figuring out where to put herself so that Oscar can use her shoulder as a fulcrum as he dodges, or trying to aim for the Grimm Ren isn’t already shooting (ugh)—it’s taking work.
But somehow, it’s not work for Nora. Nora seems to anticipate with perfect ease how Emerald will move or what she’ll be doing; Nora bobs and weaves around their ragtag little band with her war hammer like it’s breathing.
It doesn’t bother Emerald until it does, and she means to bring it up casually but there’s never a good time. So it just… stews, and stews, until she can’t keep it bottled up anymore.
Which means that instead of the earnest question she intends it to be, it comes out like this:
“Okay, seriously? It’s creepy how you do that.”
It’s just the two of them, plus the handful of dweeby Atlesian tech-types they’re escorting back from their foray installing some fancy hydro-filtration modules on the outskirts of the camp. And it’s not like Emerald had felt outmatched by the half-dozen Ravagers that had decided they looked like lunch—she can shoot Ravagers in her sleep, at this point—but still. The way Nora had moved around her, it was like they’d been fighting side by side for years.
Nora just cocks her head to the side. “Do what?” she asks, like she hadn’t just basically read Emerald’s mind in front of the water nerds.
Emerald does a complicated gesture with her hands, wrist over wrist, and then flicking two fingers—trying to evoke the way Nora had flipped over Emerald’s back and then kicked off, just trusting Emerald would reel her back in with a chain in midair before a Grimm could fly away with her sorry ass. “That.”
“Oh!” Nora laughs and rubs at the back of her neck, looking sheepish. “It’s nothing. I guess it’s just not a big deal for me? Like—I was there when Ren built StormFlower. The cables are newish, but we practiced so much back in Atlas… I dunno. It’s just reflex, when your weapons are so similar. Fighting with you, it’s almost like fighting with him. I don’t even have to think about it.”
Nora swallows, then, and makes a face Emerald can’t interpret—disappointed, maybe, or ashamed. Which: good. She probably should be, taking things for granted like that.
“Well—just—” Emerald’s not even sure what she wants to say. Ask, next time? Don’t? “You shouldn’t make assumptions. I’m not your boyfriend, okay?”
The venom she puts behind the word is directed more at herself than Nora—frustrated, again, that she’s put herself in the position of wanting so desperately to be liked.
Nora just nods, looking glum.
“Yeah,” she murmurs, cheeks pulling in a bitter smile. “You’d think I’d be able to keep that one straight, huh?”
She says it with such pointed irony that for a second Emerald wonders if she’d gotten it wrong somehow, but like—Nora and Ren are a thing, right? That’s—everyone knows that.
“Let’s just go,” Nora says, and Emerald automatically falls into line behind her.
They make the rest of the walk back in silence.
Sometimes at night, when she can’t sleep, Emerald likes to climb up to the roof of the barracks and look out over the refugee camp.
It’s—peaceful, is all. A good reminder of where she is; how far she’s come. The night sky in Vacuo has more stars than she’s ever seen, and being able to watch over all these people who have somehow become her responsibility… well.
A part of her will always be standing on the rooftop at Beacon, looking down on pure chaos as a queasy, frightened sensation twists in her gut and its noxious voice whispers you did this, you did this, you did this. What did you think was going to happen, you stupid little girl? You don’t get to feel sorry for it now.
But she does.
Weird how the only thing that’s helped is actually doing something about it.
She hears a scuffling noise over her shoulder, and she’s got Thief’s Respite drawn and ready before she can even really register what she’s heard. She relaxes when she sees it’s Nora at the other end of the barrels, unarmed and hands raised—a funny little smile on her face, like yeah, fair enough, I should have known better than to try and sneak up.
“Just me,” she says, unnecessarily.
Emerald holsters her guns. “Can I help you?” she asks, and—what is it about her voice, that makes sentences that would be nice if any other human said them come out straight-up hostile?
Nora shrugs, hands dropping to her sides. “I was hoping we could talk; I figured you’d come up here if I waited long enough.”
Well, see—what kind of lesson is she supposed to take from that? She’s been hoping for Nora to talk to her for weeks, and acting like a bitch is the thing that gets her what she wants? Good guys are supposed to know better.
And there’s the way she said it, too. Like everyone knows Emerald comes up here to brood; like it’s a big open secret. The knowledge sits uncomfortably in her stomach, makes her feel watched. Even now, even here, she can’t get a moment alone. Not really.
“What, so you’re spying on me now?”
Nora’s eyes narrow. “I have a pretty bad track record when it comes to losing people. Makes a girl want to put in a little hustle when it comes to keeping tabs on her friends.”
And Emerald would snark at that, or maybe apologize, or something, only—
Nora thinks they’re friends?
“Well, take a seat, I guess,” she mumbles, scooching to the side as though she needs to make room on the massive, empty roof.
Nora walks over and joins Emerald on the asphalt, letting her legs dangle over the edge. Seemingly unsure of where to start, she stares at her hands. Emerald stares too, but her eyes can’t help but wander—tracing the way scars, silvery in the moonlight, spiderweb up Nora’s bare wrists and forearms to fetter her shoulders, clavicle, neck. Like cracks in a pane of glass, right before it shatters.
(Only that’s not it at all, is it? It’s not a sign of weakness, but a warning of strength. I care this much, her scars announce to the word. You wanna try me?
Hazel’s arms always looked like that.)
Emerald doesn’t want to be the one to break the silence, sure that whatever she’d say would be incredibly stupid.
Luckily, Nora has no such qualms, and opens with: “I really admire you, you know?”
Emerald stares, jaw slack, certain she’s heard wrong. “I—what?” She’d say something defensive, like yeah right or you don’t have to make fun of me, only Nora’s eyes are so wide and so guileless they don’t leave any room for argument.
“I mean it,” Nora adds. “I know we don’t know all that much about each other, but… here’s what I do know: I can’t remember a time I saw you without Mercury right behind. Just like me’n Ren. And the way you fought for Cinder…” Nora smiles a sad, private little smile. “You don’t fight like that unless it’s personal; unless someone means something to you. Just like me’n Ren. And now you’re here. All on your own. And you didn’t have to be. That’s—don’t you think that’s crazy brave? I sure do.”
Of course she fucking doesn’t. Crazy brave would have been walking away the first, tenth, hundredth time she had a flash of panic about what she was doing. Or, better yet, doing something about it. Crazy brave is taking thirty thousand volts to get to your friends; it’s flooding your veins with pure crystalline power and saying Go, I’m doing what Gretchen would have done, it’s—
She closes that door.
“It’s not like I really had a choice,” she sighs, dodging the question.
“Oh, you know that’s not true,” Nora scoffs dismissively, tilting sideways to nudge Emerald with her shoulder.
And Emerald jolts, because—look, it’s not like no one touches her. They have to manhandle each other all the time in battle, and… and Oscar gives her high fives sometimes, which makes her embarrassingly pleased. But what Nora’s offering now, that kind of buddy-buddy casual contact…
… it’s been a while, is all.
“So, why did you want to talk to me?” Emerald asks, overwhelmed and suddenly desperate to find a way to get this conversation over with. She feels like she’s sprinted five miles; like she’s had the crap kicked out of her and she has to go somewhere to lick her wounds. Too much, too fast.
Nora laughs—a chuffing, cynical noise that doesn’t sound at all like her. “Looking for pointers? See, I’m trying this thing where I do things on my own, but I just—I suck at it. Like today; you saw. Even when I’m not with Ren, all I do is… is act exactly the same way I do when I’m with Ren. Like I literally don’t know how to exist without him, whether he’s actually there or not. And I know that’s not fair to anyone; I didn’t mean to treat you like—” She shakes her head, biting her lip. “You’re not just some stand-in. It’s not you at all. I’m just—broken, or something. One trick pony.”
“But you figured it out,” she barrels on, which is good, because Emerald doesn’t actually have a clue what she would have said there. “You don’t have anyone and somehow you’re just, like—good to go!” Nora says it cheerily, like it’s a compliment, but has the grace to balk a little when she hears how it sounds. “…sorry. That’s—sorry.”
Emerald shrugs, drawing her knees to her chest and resting her chin there. She feels like an idiot; building it up for weeks like spending time with Nora would solve all her problems when, surprise surprise, Nora’s just as fucked up as she is.
“Hate to disappoint you, but I don’t have any hot tips,” she mutters into the crooks of her elbows. “I don’t have a clue what I’m doing. Like—you want to know the really sad part? I was just following your lead.”
“My…?” Nora can’t even finish repeating it, which: Emerald can’t blame her. It’s so dumb. “Huh?”
“Come on. You know.”
“I don’t,” Nora says, voice thick with exhaustion. Like she’s sick of herself. “Ask anyone—I’m not the brains of the operation.”
Hearing Nora talk about herself that way makes Emerald’s chest feel tight; like her ribs have locked in place so her lungs can’t expand. She doesn’t know how to explain it; not without sounding like a starry-eyed fangirl or a moron with a crush and that’s not what this—it’s only that—
She chooses to start a different way.
“You wanna know why I switched sides? Like, really why?”
Nora softens, and reaches out to touch the back of Emerald’s left hand, where it dangles over her knee. “Sure,” she says, but Emerald barely hears it; it’s taking all of her concentration not to clench her fist or pull away in response.
“I overheard Oscar—or, Ozpin, I guess, I don’t know—talking to Hazel about Salem, about her goals. And… listen. No one joins under Salem because they’re trying to kill the world, okay? I mean, no one but Tyrian, anyway. We were all just trying to… find ways to get by. And when Cinder found me, she—” Emerald swallows, hard. This cuts too deep, too close. It’s not something she can just say. “I wasn’t trying to be some big villain, or something. I was just—looking out for the people who were looking out for me. And why wouldn’t I? No one else ever seemed to think I was worth it.”
“Of course you are,” Nora cuts in, quiet but vehement. “Everyone is.”
“See, the worst part is that you mean that when you say it,” Emerald grumbles, scrubbing at her face until smears of color kaleidoscope behind her closed eyes. “I figured people like you didn’t exist, and then Cinder and Merc were glad to prove me right, and—I let them. You know? And maybe if I’d just held out a little longer…”
“You’re not the only one here who’s ashamed of her past. Harriet tried to blow up Mantle, like, a month ago.”
“That’s not—forget that. I’m talking about you. Nora.” It’s the first time she’s ever said her name like that—addressing her, in conversation. It feels… astonishingly intimate, for so small a thing. Emerald powers past it. “Every day, I see you do something ridiculous, like double back on a patrol because you forgot you promised some kid a candy bar, or something, and that—matters. To me. It’s so stupid, but it’s not, because… argh! I want—it’s—” She tries to get her mouth to form the words, that’s the kind of person I want to be, but they stop in her throat.
Still, Nora seems to get the message. Her eyes seem suspiciously shiny for a moment—but when she blinks, it’s gone. “I… thank you.”
“Don’t mention it,” Emerald grumbles. Saying it like she means it: seriously. Don’t mention it.
“I understand what you mean, though. For years, the only person who looked out for me was Ren. And if he’d said…” Nora trails off, then, cocking her head to the side as she works through something. “Huh.”
“Nothing, just. I remembered something. I was about to say that if Ren told me the only way for us to get by was a life of crime, or something, I would’ve taken his word for it, but—the opposite happened. We decided to enroll at Beacon. And that wasn’t his idea; it was mine. I always wanted to be a Huntress. To… to be the one strong enough to help people, instead of always needing the help. He wasn’t sure if we would make it, but I was. We were together, right? How could we lose?” She chuckles, a little, shaking her head at herself. “Get a load of that. He followed me.”
They smile at each other, then. Like they’ve figured out something profound. Maybe Nora has; Emerald hopes so.
“I’m glad you’re here, Emerald,” Nora says, and—there it is again. The frisson of electricity that comes with being referred to by name.
Of course, then Emerald ruins it by blurting out:
“Of course you are, all your other friends are dead.”
Which—“Fuck!” she sputters, because she didn’t mean to say that. What is wrong with her? “Sorry! Sorry.”
Nora only grins at her, feral and incisive. “Yeah, well. Yours are evil, so. Pick your poison. At least I’m proud of mine.”
“Still glad I’m here?” Emerald jeers, because her first instinct is still to press on the bruise to see how much it hurts.
Nora laughs, and gets to her feet. “Believe it or not, yes. If putting your foot in your mouth was all it took to get booted from Hero Club, I’d have been kicked out a long time ago.” She reaches down to offer Emerald a hand; Emerald takes it, letting Nora pull her to standing. “Now go and get some rest, huh? None of us can ever sleep when you’re up here thinking so loud.”
“That an order?”
“Advice. Friends give it, from time to time.”
And—yeah. Maybe they do.
320 notes · View notes
Orc Boyfriend: Silvestrov 2
Written with and artwork by @celestialkiri. So send her lots of love.
Female Reader x Male Monster
Autumn is barely a blink, before winter seemed to make itself known. Harsh ice storms have already blocked the roads, and heavy snows are quickly sealing them up. You open your hot springs to the men and women who are trying to chop through the ice to let in suppliers from the south. Since the winter is coming in a hurry, not many people have a chance to finish stocking their cellars. The cold is harsh, but the hot springs offer relief from the pain, and help the workers’ aching hands and joints. Silvestrov has been joining them, but he never takes advantage of the hot springs. Instead, he goes and sits by the fire, showing Severnova how to properly use an ice pick.
One evening, after Silvestrov has tucked Severova to bed, you’re crushing dried herbs to rub onto the chicken you bought at the market. Silvestrov sits by the fire, warming his hands. He’s having trouble closing his fist as he slowly works his fingers. “You work hard, but you do nothing to heal up after.” you complain. “What sort of lesson is that to teach your daughter?”
“I must work hard to regain what I have lost.”
“You’ll lose a finger or worse if you do not take care of yourself!” you scold him. “Working at the ice all day, then doing nothing to repay the limbs that worked so hard! Why do you think I offer the hot springs to those chipping away at the ice?”
He smirks up at you. “To glimpse their firm and naked bodies?”
Your jaw clenches and you stare him down with daggers in your eyes. “I would slap you if I did not think you would shatter like glass.”
Silvestrov licks at the corner of his mouth, where the scar begins. “Go ahead, slap me. I would welcome the touch. It’s been a long time since I was struck in combat. I do miss it sometimes.”
You roll your eyes. “Combat! You really are idiotic. Thank the goddess that Severova is smarter than you.”
He leans back in the chair, gently working his fingers until they can form a fist again. “I am grateful for that too. She will make a worthy adversary one day.”
You nearly drop the pan with the chicken in it. “Do you want to fight her?”
“Having fights with young ones is both cathartic and bonding.”
You slam the pan down on the counter and turn on him. “You are not fighting that little girl! Not now, not even if she grows to be ten feet tall!”
Silvestrov clicks his tongue dismissively at you. “She is not a human, little woman, she is an orc. One of the ruby-eyed orcs, in fact. She was born to fight and hunt. She will not be a delicate little homemaker like you.”
“Who says? You?” You jab him in the chest. “She is the one who decides what she is!”
“She’s got very little choice once I take her in the summer.”
“Stop throwing that in my face! At least have the common decency to take your salt and rub it in the snow rather than my wounds!” You slam your palm against your chest.
“You hit me!” he laughs. “About time.”
You sniff. “If I had a pan I wanted to ruin, I would beat you with it. But you are not worth scruffing my cast iron.”
Silvestrov chuckles, watching as you turn back to rubbing the chicken with herbs. “I can see why she loves you so much.”
The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end.
“She still hasn’t called me Daddy or Papa, or whatever she wants,” he grumbles.
You turn and look back at him. “These things take time. She will love you. She probably already does.”
“You were angry with me, and now you want to comfort me?” Silvestrov laughs sadly.
“I can be many things at once, but if I were you, I wouldn’t test me.” you grumble under your breath as you look back at the chicken.
“Fuck!” Silvestrov suddenly hisses under his breath.
You roll your eyes and set the chicken aside. “What’s wrong now?” You wash your hands in the sink, preparing yourself to deal with a fallen off nail or cut.
“I told you to use the hot springs. Even if all you dunk in are your hands.” You go over to his side and look his hand over. “Cold and overworked. I’m surprised you aren’t turning blue.”
“I don’t need your hot springs.”
You bite your tongue, but you cannot hold it for very long. “Why is that?”
“I just need hot water.”
You stomp your foot. “The waters of the springs are heated by the magma flowing through the veins of the goddess Krynova, blessed with her holy endowments.”
Silvestrov throws his head back and laughs. “You believe in that religious bullshit?”
You want to slap him again, but you stay your hand. “And what if I do? I’ve seen how well the waters work to know they’ve been blessed by something!”
“Blessed by ifrit piss,” he snorts.
You stare daggers into him, grinding your teeth as you try to catch your breath. “You should hold your tongue.”
“You hold it,” he growls. “If you’re so interested in bathing in piss, hold my cock too while I...”
You hit him in the jaw. It hurts, really badly, but the feeling inside is pure jubilation. “If you think I’m going to let you fill my daughter’s head full of that sort of pigheaded nonsense, then you are sorely mistaken! You speak to a lady - no, to everyone - with common fucking curtousy! Don’t you dare talk to me like that ever again!” You hold your hand to your chest. Already your knuckles have begun to bruise.
Silvestrov rubs his jaw. “Can’t say I’ve ever received such a tender punch. Didn’t think you had it in you.”
“Apologize,” you snarl at him.
His smile grows as he looks at you. “I am sorry. I won’t speak that way again.”
You turn and head to the door. “I’m going to go soak my fist. You’d best be gone by the time I return.”
You go to the hot spring, taking off your shoes and sinking your feet inside. Doubling over, you dip your hand under water to let it soak. Behind you, you hear footsteps in the snow. Silvestrov walks to the other side of the pool, and you sit up and glare at him before looking at your hand.
“Who taught you to throw a punch?” he asks.
“My husband,” you grumble.
“At least he was smart enough to teach you how to defend yourself before he left.” Silvestrov sighs. “That is all I want to teach Severova. Life is hard here in the Polar. She deserves to know how to thrive.”
“I thought I told you...”
“I want her to be strong, no matter what road she chooses.”
You sit back up and take a breath. “Enjoying dipping your feet in Ifrit piss?”
“It’s warm,” he says with a shrug. “It’s night out and something like you would smell very good to an animal that may not have eaten today.”
You smirk at him. “If I take a soak, will you stay with me?”
He licks the corner of his mouth. “I don’t like how suggestive that is, little woman.”
You take off your dress, leaving your underclothes, and slip into the water before taking a seat on one of the stones at the bottom. You sit in silence until Silvestrov stands, removing his clothes. You avert your gaze as he sinks into the water, lounging with his arms stretched out. You keep your eyes averted, swallow and try to take the victory.
“How is it?” you ask.
“Like a bath,” he grunts. “Nothing special to me.”
You smirk at him. “I cannot wait to see you change your mind.”
It’s silent again. You won’t look directly at each other, and you have no idea what to say. Eventually, Silvestrov stirs and he clears his throat. “I am sorry about what I said inside the house.” He looks back at the warm, glowing windows. “I wanted to make you angry.”
“Thank you,” you murmur from surprise. “I appreciate that”
“I wanted to hurt you, because it hurts me when I see you with Severova.” Silvestrov looks you dead in the eye. “I see how much she prefers you, and it is a knife in my heart.”
“Oh. I… I’m sorry.” You press your lips together regretfully. “I thought...”
“I almost died trying to protect her,” Silvestrov whispers. “Everything that I am now is for her. And seeing her with you is just...”
“I feel the same way when I see her with you.” You take in a shuddering breath and clasp your hands over your knees. “I see her smiling and having fun with you. You teach her things I will never be able to, and it rips me apart. Because this may be the last winter I have with her...” Tears well up in your eyes. “And it makes me want to beat you to death.”
Silvestrov chuckles. “Then why haven’t you?”
You look at him and a smile comes to your face. You laugh and shake your head, and continue to laugh for a while. After you stop, you’re still smiling. “I really should, shouldn’t I?”
You stand from the water and reach for your clothes. While your back is turned Silvestrov gets out of the water as well, picking up his furs and putting one on, across his body. You turn and look back at him, both of you half-naked and exposed. “Go to bed, little lady. Sleep well knowing you came out on top tonight.” Silvestrov bows his head to you.
You smile at him. “Good night.”
Once fall concedes to winter, a bitter cold like you’ve never felt before sets in. It’s hard to get warm some days. Silvestrov has taken a job escorting caravans through the passes, making sure much-needed deliveries make it to some of the smaller villages. He’s gone for days at a time now, and you begin to miss him. One day when he returns, night has already fallen, and a heavy snowfall is descending. He’s frosted over as he knocks on the door.
“The shack is too cold, and I cannot get the fire warm enough.” He sits before your roaring fire and shakily takes off his gloves.
“I’ll make you a bed tonight. I can sleep with Severova. Let me make you something hot to drink,” you offer.
“I can rest here by the fire,” he growls. “No need to put yourself out.”
You make him hot tea, setting the warm mug into his hands when it is done. Then you peel away his frozen scarf and furs, laying them aside to dry before the fire. His skin is cold and chapped from the harsh winds.
“I will be here for a few days, if you can tolerate it.”
“Severova misses you. I’m sure we will make do.” You put your hand around Sivestrov’s forehead.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking for fever, just in case.” You remove your hand and sigh. “You’re so cold. Poor thing.”
“Don’t pity me now, little woman,” he scoffs.
You heat up a rag with the remaining water from the tea and place it around the top of his bald head. “I’ll do as I please. You cannot make me do anything.”
He grunts low in his chest. “That does feel a touch better.”
“I’ll make sure to have you an extra blanket tonight.” You move his boots closer to the fire to dry. “I doubt you’ll be warm for a while.”
“I am used to it.” His blood red eyes stare into the fire. The flames reflect differently in the shiny burns on his right side. “You never ask me about them.”
You jump slightly. “What?”
“My scars.” Silvestrov looks you in the eye. “You’ve never asked me about them.”
“That’s not my place,” you say with a shake of the head. “My husband had burns too, from an early age.”
He sniffs and looks back into the fire. “Fire broke out not long after Severova was born. A rival tribe attacked us, to steal what they could. One of their explosives hit me, and I shielded Severova from the blast. I was barely healed when they attacked again. That’s when I hid her. I thought I could fend them off long enough, but they got me.”
You place your hand over his. “You don’t have to talk about this if you don’t want to, Silvestrov.”
“No. I want you to know what I have done for that child. I would burn in the hell of your goddess for her.”
“I know you would,” you say. “I would too.”
He grasps your hand tightly. “Would you risk your life for her?”
Your heart is beating fast. “Every day, if I had to.”
“Why are you looking at me like that?” Silvestrov tilts his head to the side, still looking intently at you. “Like you’re thinking about something else.”
You take the wet rag off the top of his head and smooth it down his face. “I could ask you the same thing.”
He licks the corner of his mouth. “Because I fear you would hit me again.”
You chuckle and cup your hand around his face. “You would like that too much.”
Both of you are extremely close, bodies touching, faces nearly touching. Silvestrov smirks at you, breathing raggedly. “I would.”
You close your eyes as he kisses you. You press close to him, wrapping your arms around his neck and moving into his lap. You pull back to catch your breath, feeling dizzy but elated.
“Little woman,” he growls into your ear, “I want you.” His hands push up your skirt, digging into your thighs though your thick tights. “I want to feel your skin so close to me it feels like my own. I have not desired this in so long.”
You kiss him softly, almost lovingly. “I want it too. Silvestrov, I want you.”
He kisses you hungrily, picking you up and laying you down beside the fire. He strips away your underclothes, pushing up your skirt so your stomach and thighs are exposed. He removes what’s left of his clothes, tossing them aside before looking down at you.
“Poor man,” you coo, running your hands down his body. “Come into my arms.” Silvestrov lowers himself into your embrace, kissing you as you stroke down his bare back. You look into his eyes, smiling softly at his tender expression. “If you do this now, I will never let either of you go in the summer.”
“What makes you think I won’t be leaving with both of you?” Silvestrov arches his hips, and you feel him rub against your inner thigh. “I’ll teach you to survive, too.”
Your breath shudders with need and excitement. “You can try.”
He kisses you, then sits up to remove the rest of your clothes. His big hand strokes down your body until his fingers reach the apex of your thighs. He growls in his chest as he touches you, rubbing you until you begin to feel wet. You close your eyes and throw your head back, biting your lip as he toys with you. “Silvestrov,” you pant.
“Hold still. Let me see.” His breath hitches as he gazes at you. His cock is hard, throbbing with his pulse. It’s quite thick, curving upwards in a pleasant arch, and the base is pierced with studs. The tip is glistening, already dribbling with excitement and desire.
Silvestrov licks his fingers, then lowers himself. He lifts your legs, and his breath beats against your skin as he takes his time working his way inside you. You utter a strangled moan. It’s been so long since you last lay with a man, it almost feels new again. He settles on top of you, and his moans fill your senses while his warmth bubbles through your veins. He moves a bit sharply, and by reflex you reach up and slap him. He moans in pleasure, trembling all the way down his spine.
You soon have him on his back, riding him so you can take your sweet time. You plant your palms firmly on his stomach, moving your hips so that you feel him deep inside. “I like this,” he moans. “Seeing you above me.”
You whimper, biting your lip as you steady your breath. “I like it, too.” You smirk down at him. “I can take my time with you.”
You smooth your hand over his face then slap him, causing his hips to thrust up inside you while a powerful growl grows in his chest. “Again,” he moans.
You slap his face again, and his hips buck harder, making you cry out loudly. You cup your hand over your mouth, looking back towards the hallway. Silvestrov’s fingers knead into your hips and rear, helping to guide you as you move. “One more,” he begs. “One more, please.”
“Hold on,” you pant, grinding yourself harder against him. “Hold on!”
“Yes,” he growls. “Hurry!”
You buck and gasp, slapping him as hard as you can muster. He thrusts his hips, hard, nearly throwing you over. You can’t hold on, and your vision swims. The fire twinkles, exploding into stars and bursts of color.
Silvestrov’s triumphant laugh fades away into moans and whimpers. His hips go still, and his body goes limp. You fear you might fall down if you try to move off him. You shakily hold yourself up, rising only slightly to allow his cock to slap against his belly. “Come, now.” He helps ease you down onto the floor beside him. “There.”
“You’re too loud.”
“Severnova sleeps through anything,” he whispers into your ear.
You look up at him, dreamy-eyed and sleepy. “You can’t leave me, Silvestrov.”
He kisses you softly. “In the summer, we can discuss this.”
“No, we will talk about it now.”
“I cannot think, let alone picture the future,” he breathes. “You have taken my life, my soul, between our thighs.”
“Exactly,” you whisper into his ear. “And I will hold it all my life.”
Spring arrives early, thawing the land just as eagerly as winter overtook fall. Things are turning green, and all the roads have become passable. By the time summer arrives, Silvestrov has bought Severnova her own horse and is teaching her to ride. She’s been calling him Daddy since before spring, which causes him nothing but jubilation.
“When do you plan on leaving today?” you ask him each morning.
“It’s still too early,” he says with a wink to Severnova. She giggles, eating her food with happy abandon.
Some nights you still cling to him tightly, keeping him as close as possible. But as the days go by you fear him leaving less and less.
“This is for you,” he says one day, handing you a necklace with big wooden beads and an iron ring in the center. He places it around your neck while Severnova watches. “Please, accept it.”
You run your fingers along the beads, then smile up at him. “And if I do?”
He grins and picks you up, hoisting you into the air as Severnova squeals happily. She runs up, hugging Silvestrov’s leg tight. “Mama! Daddy!” she laughs happily.
“I will love you all my days,” he whispers into your ear. “My little woman.”
By the time fall returns, Silvestrov has built a stable and bought another horse. You know he’s not going anywhere, because you told him not to. And since you are his little woman, he can do nothing but obey.
507 notes · View notes
Inarizaki boys trying out fasting
Warnings: None? I hope there's none
Inarizaki x Muslim! Manager! Gn Reader
Note: This is extremely rushed, unedited, kinda unrealistic, and probably ooc, and I know Ramadhan is only like, a day left but I feel like I just need to. Also Ik Ramadhan in 2012 is during summer break shush,,, I also can't HC so there's that. //Pls this is so bad I wanna cry//
On a particularly warm and sunny day at Inarizaki High, volleyball practise continues on as usual. You, as the manager, still consistently run around the gym to tend to the players' needs despite Ramadhan starting today. But since you've gotten used to fasting, you feel just fine and as if nothing is out of place.
Or so you thought.
Kita had noticed that you seemed a bit under the weather today. He hasn't seen you consume anything for the whole day, hell, he hasn't even located your lunch box or water bottle. Concerned, he approaches you and stops you from running around, filling the many water bottles of the members of the team.
"[Surname], are ya okay? D'ya need a drink?" He asks, placing a hand on your shoulder to stop you.
"Hm? Oh, thank you for your concerns, Kita-san, but I can't drink now." You answer quickly, attention still diverted to the water bottles in your hands.
"Stayin' hydrated is important. Ya need to take care of yer health."
"As much as I want to drink, it's not time yet. I have to wait until about 7 p.m. before I can break my fast." You say, now fully giving Kita your attention.
"Yes, I'm fasting. Today's the first day of Ramadhan."
You leave Kita in a hurry as more boys start to finish their practise, you know how pissy some of them can get if you don't deliver their water bottles or towels in time. Kita stares at you zooming about, he's heard of fasting practises but he doesn't think he's seen someone still have that much energy despite not eating or drinking for hours.
Aran notices Kita and approaches him, wiping the sweat falling down his neck. "What's up?" He asks, watching you hand over water bottles and towels to the players.
"[Surname] is fastin'."
"Ya mean they haven't eaten anythin' for the whole day?"
Kita nods keeping his eyes on you as you hand Atsumu his water bottle. You were about to tend to the first year members when Kita walks over with Aran tailing behind him, stopping you momentarily from your task.
"First years get yer own towels and water bottles. Give [Surname] a break." Kita commands while Aran takes the water bottles and towels in your arms to pass it to their owners.
"Kita-san, Ojiro-san, everything's fine! You don't nee--"
"Is everythin' okay?" Akagi asks as he approaches you, Kita, and Aran with Omimi in tow.
"[Surname]'s fastin', we should let 'em have a small break." Aran answers as Kita goes off to watch the first years in case any of them stirs up trouble.
"I heard [Surname]'s fastin'? What's that and for what occasion?" Atsumu asks as the second years start to approach your small group.
"Ramadhan just started and that means me and other Muslims must start fasting if we can," you start, stepping back to include as many of the inquisitive volleyball meatheads as you can. "Fasting is a practise where we don't eat, drink, or uh... indulge in our earthly desires for a set period of time over the course of a month, at least that what Islam teaches."
"So you mean, you haven't and won't eat or drink for the rest of the day?" Suna asks from somewhere in the back of the group.
"How're ya still alive?" Osamu adds, narrowing his eyes in disbelief at you explanation.
"Not the whole day, until about 7 p.m., I have to check the schedule again." You answer, waving your hand. "And I've been fasting since I was a kid, I'm used to it by now."
"Does everyone have to fast though? Like no exceptions?" Akagi asks again.
You shake you head no, thinking for a bit before listing off those who can't, "kids before they hit puberty, the elderly, the sickly, and I think travellers aren't obligated to fast meanwhile women can't fast during their periods."
A chorus of understanding 'oooh's sounded across the gym once you finish your explanation. Most members leave the group after the acquiring the new information, leaving a few behind, the few mostly being the ones in the starting lineup.
Akagi suddenly calls for everyone's attention, a wide grin stretched across his face. "Why don't we join [Surname] tomorrow? It's fine if we join in, right?"
"Of course, anyone can fast during Ramadhan."
"What do y'all say? Don't ya think it'd be an interestin' experience?"
"I'm not opposed to the idea, I suppose it would be a great bondin' activity as well." Kita says, approaching the group.
"I agree with Shinsuke, I'll participate too." Omimi says with a soft smile.
"Sounds like a fun experience! I'm in!" Ginjima pipes up after listening the whole time.
The others agree with you, with the exception of Osamu who's still quite hesitant in participating. You don't blame him, food is his life, after all. "I dunno, I don't think I'll make it..." He mumbles.
"It's fine if you decide not to participate, Osamu! You can't force these things after all. But if you still want to try out, you can break your fast earlier, that's a method commonly used for first timers as well." You explain, waving your hands in a small gesture of panic.
Osamu furrows his eyebrows and purses his lips, contemplating whether he'll join in or not. He sighs, making up his mind. "I'll try to last as long as I can."
"Sweet, potential blackmail material." Suna mutters under his breath.
"That's great! What I said goes for all of you though! Don't force yourself if it gets too hard for you!" You say as you start to step away from the group. "Set your alarms for 2.30 a.m.! You'll have about 50 minutes to eat and drink. It's also better to eat or you might just regret it tomorrow."
"What about for when we break our fast?" Ginjima asks before you turn around.
"You all can come over to my place to break it. My family and I will cook for you all." You answer with a grin.
"Are ya sure? We can always bring our own food." Kita asks.
"It'll be fine, besides, my family will be delighted to have you all over." You assure, turning around to talk to the coach.
You requested for the ones participating tomorrow to be dismissed from morning practise and to be given a lighter regime for afternoon practise. Atsumu was not happy and started to complain but Kita shut him up quite easily.
The next morning, the first thing you do is check up on the group, not surprised to find out the twins, Suna, and Akagi still asleep. You and the others spam the four, sighing in relief when one by one they start to respond.
You- Don't forget to sleep as much as u can before school, okay? Going the whole day wo food will be v draining n exhausting
Aran- Is there no way to combat that?
You- Not that I know of, u just get used to it after some time. I usually try to keep myself distracted in class whenever I start feeling sleepy
You continue to make conversation with the team, giggling when Atsumu sends a picture of Osamu eating with his eyes closed. You check the clock and purse your lips before making another announcement.
You- Fasting starts in 10 mins. Get ready!! Also, prioritise drinking water before going back to bed
You lock your phone after seeing their responses, grinning to yourself and wondering who would whine the most. While it may get annoying, it's still good entertainment and who are you to turn down entertainment when you have to restrain yourself from consuming anything but air for up to 15 hours.
You don't see any of the fasting participants during morning practise, you mostly end up helping the bench warmers or even those who don't even get a jersey in their training. You know they were going a bit easier on you though, evident by how they help you out more with your tasks.
You finally meet up with the team during lunch, seeing Suna and Akagi fast asleep with their heads buried in their arms, Osamu barely alive, and Atsumu being extremely quiet, for once. "How are you all holding up?" You ask with a grin, taking a seat on an empty chair.
"I don't feel much different so far, thirsty and tired enough to make me a bit uncomfortable but overall, I'm fine." Kita says with a small smile and a nod.
"I think half of us are basically fine, a bit uncomfortable but fine. The other half isn't so fine though." Aran says and points to the ones mentioned above.
"Atsumu has been less energetic," Ginjima laughs. "He says it's to conserve energy for afternoon practise."
"Well, it's not a bad strategy." You laugh, shaking your head. "But you all got this far! If you keep your mind busy, I promise it'll pass by faster and before you know it, you can eat and drink again."
"I didn't feel hungry during the lessons, I didn't even realise I was hungry until lunch started." Omimi says, nodding his head.
"It does that, it does that." You say, stretching your arms and nodding. "Well team, you still have half a day left! Good luck! You all can do it!"
When you all meet up for afternoon practise, you notice it's started taking a toll on the team, most, if not all of them have started spacing out more often, their serves and receives getting a bit wonky from lowered concentration. You would have to frequently go around and encourage them (telling a lot of them how much time is left) and it usually gets them some semblance of energy back.
With their training regimes cut in half, it means they finish quicker than the other players (Atsumu is still not happy about this), all of them barely having the energy to continue training. "How about you all take a nap at my house while I cook."
"We can take a nap at yer place?" Akagi asks bleary-eyed, a tired smile stretched across his face.
"Mhm, I've got to admit I'm very impressed you all made it this far, especially Osamu-san."
"I can barely stand, can we get to yer place quickly please, [Surname]-san?" Osamu whines from the bench he's claimed.
"Alright, alright. I'll meet you all at the front gates. Go change and we'll head back so you all can rest before breaking your fasts." You instruct before going to coach to give him an update, to which he laughed at because seeing some of his most energetic students so quiet is very amusing to him.
You meet the team at the gates of the school, all of them, even the most composed, are eager to lie down and drift off for a few hours before eating. "You know, if it's too much we can stop at the convenience store to buy you drinks." You remind as you lead them to your house.
"We've made it this far, we can take it." Osamu mumbles.
"Are you sure?"
"We're sure. Just need some sleep." Suna adds, voice barely understandable.
"Alright, we're almost there." You giggle, taking a turn.
Not long after you said that, you arrive at your house, opening the gates and door for the boys. You lead them to the living room where most of them basically crashed to either the floor or any of the seats available. You laugh and turn on the air conditioner, taking some of their bags to make a path from the kitchen to the living room.
"[Name]! You're home!" Your mother greets as she walks out of the kitchen to find eight fully grown men sprawled about the living room. "Hello! [Name] has told me about you lot. You're all still fasting?"
The team gives your mother weak nods and affirmative answers making your mother smile wider. "Impressive! You're doing incredible especially for first timers. I remember when [Name] was like this when they were younger." Your mother sighs dreamily.
"Well, I'm going to the kitchen to prepare the food. Make yourself at home here, you can turn on the TV or read the books if you want. Bathroom is first door to the right." You inform, pointing to the hallway before leaving for the kitchen.
While preparing the food, you would occasionally check on the boys. Some are sleeping, some or watching TV, and the rest are busying their minds either doing their homework or reading one of the books on the bookshelf. You smile fondly, snapping a quick picture of them for memories. Somewhere along the way, the rest of your family came home, surprised to see the guests occupying the living room. (They promised to eat in the dining room while you have your fun with the boys.)
10 minutes before 6.50 p.m., the designated time, you walk out of the kitchen with a grin. "10 minutes left, can anyone help me and my mum with bringing the food out?" You ask with some quickly volunteering.
When you walk back out with plates of food, the ones sleeping are slowly waking up from the smell of food permeating the room. You pull a digital clock out and place it on the middle of the table while you all sit around it, most staring at the clock intently for it to turn to 6.50 p.m.
Suna takes out his phone and checks the clock with seconds. "15 seconds!" He announces, making some scramble to stare at the seconds ticking down from his phone.
(You all really are treating this like new years, huh?" You giggle as you watch the boys count down.)
("They're gettin' louder." Kita comments, smiling fondly at his team.)
"Thank you for the food!"
As the clock changes from 6.49 p.m. to 6.50 p.m., the boys cheer and sip (or gulp down) their drinks, sighing loudly in relief. "Today was real hard, I honestly have even more respect for y'all who do this for a whole month. How do y'all do this without dyin'?" Osamu says as he takes one of the onigiris you and your mother prepared.
You laugh at the comment he made at the end, swiping a dessert from the table. "Practise, a lot of it." You answer. "You all did so good today! I didn't even hear a single swear word from any of you!"
"Actually, Atsumu slipped up and swore during practise." Suna pipes up.
"Suna, ya snitch."
"That's okay. You all did your best and that's what matters! Good job everyone!" You say, a smile stretching so wide across your face your cheeks start to hurt.
"It's been a very interestin' day, this was a good idea!" Akagi says.
"Ya barely stayed awake the whole day." Aran points out laughing.
"I did it either way."
"Honestly, if we didn't have school today I would have barely stayed awake the whole day too." You huff, plopping the dessert in your mouth. "When you break your fast food just tastes... so much better than usual."
"I can agree with that." Osamu says.
"Let's all take a picture to commemorate today." Kita says, placing his cup down. "Let's use Suna's phone. His camera's quality is better than the rest of our phones."
"He's also tall enough to be qualified as a selfie stick. Well, to be honest, Ren would be the best selfie stick but I don't think Suna wants anyone else touchin' his phone." Akagi comments.
"And that would be right." Suna says and takes out his phone, opening the front camera and standing a bit further away to capture everyone.
"Alright everyone, say money!" You grin as Suna's thumb presses the button.
"Money? Not... cheese?" Aran asks once the photo is taken.
"Money makes a better face, and I mean, who doesn't prefer money over cheese?" You ask, raising an eyebrow.
"I second that." Atsumu says, nodding.
"I third that." Akagi adds.
You all continue your meals until everything has been wiped out. Throughout the dinner, a lot of playful banter is exchanged and chaos reigns over the living room. Honestly? You don't mind, because not only did they sacrifice their schedules to do this with you, they still manage to lift your mood up tenfold. Even though they can be annoying little shits, you wouldn't have it any other way.
156 notes · View notes
The General (part 3): Geto Suguru x Fem!Reader
synopsis: Things are explained, and you’re taken by surprise more than once.
Moonlight streams into the tent from a gash in the fabric above, illuminating your captor as he sleeps in the massive bed built for a giant or two. You, however, lay on the ground beside the bed, eyes glued to the sleeping general in spite.
Geto had yet again embarrassed you at dinner, making you kneel on the floor next to his chair instead of taking your place at the table. His kinsmen had laughed at you under their breath, and when he began to feed you from his plate by handing you pieces of food from his hand, that had completely annihilated any piece of pride you had left. Gojo made a joke about you being a beautiful, albeit begrudgingly obedient puppy which earned him a round of riotous laughter. It took all you had not to burst into tears right there.
And when the General got tipsy and began to pet your hair with a fondness you could only describe as possession, you felt even more defeated.
But now it was all over. You were alone with him once more, trapped - even on the ground - and unable to leave. You were physically unrestrained - because where could you go when the camp stretched on for miles? - but the entrapment was mental. Nothing like this had ever crossed your mind when you considered your future. It all rested on Yuko’s shoulders not two da--
What had that one soldier mentioned?
“Is she really as beautiful as Yuko said?”
The idea that he had anything to do with this encounter would have been absurd to you, except… now, it wasn’t.
When you gasp and sit up abruptly, Geto cracks open an eye and his hand shoots out to grab the neck of your kimono. “Easy there, little one.” But when he sees your tears, his features go from scrutiny to a softer gaze, and his hand releases from your kimono and flops to the side of the bed.
“Why am I here?” you whisper, wiping your nose. “What am I to you?”
“You’re here because I want you here,” Geto replies, sitting up fully and letting the sheets slide down his perfect frame.
“You were headed to the Imperial Court. Like I said, it’s a hellish life there. You should thank me, really. If we hadn’t gotten to you befo--”
“What does Yuko have to do with any of this?” As soon as you mention Yuko, the atmosphere in the room changes from careful and concerned to an inquisition. Geto places his feet on the floor, eyes glued to your tear-stained face as he stands and then crouches in front of you. His hand drifts to your cheek, rubbing away a fresh tear before a thumb is smoothed over your dry lips.
“I almost forgot… you were close to him, weren’t you?” You neither confirm nor deny the accusations by remaining dreadfully still, eyes locked with the man in front of you. “Your silence confirms this.” Geto stands again, moving past you before lighting a few lanterns and then walking around you much like the previous night.
“I have eyes everywhere, little one. When I heard that the Imperial Matchmaker was headed around the country, I made sure of two things: one, that she would conveniently look for a common girl to wed to a Prince, and two, that she would be from one of the towns where my eyes were.”
‘My eyes’… Yuko is a… traitor?
“You see,” Geto leans down to brush his lips against your ear as his hair tickles your shoulder. “I’ve been waiting for a moment like this ever since I was denied my rightful place in line for the throne, and I’ve tried everything to get it back.” A shiver runs down your spine at his admission, and you crane your head up to look at him in shock, fearing the next words out of his mouth. His onyx eyes are crazed, almost feral with ambition. “Well, that is… except start a war. And what better way to begin one than over a stolen princess-to-be?”
When Kaori enters the tent later on that morning, you’ve made up your mind. The eater of curses made it very clear that you were a pawn in his bid to usurp the Imperial Throne, and he also reiterated that escape was absolutely impossible. You were being watched by eyes you couldn’t see, listened to by ears you couldn’t deafen, and talked about by mouths you couldn’t shut.
But there was one thing you could do.
As the woman tends to your bruised knees, you examine her tools.
“Do you have something that I could use to mend my old gown? And do you know where it went?” Kaori looks up at you, her brown hair falling behind her ears as her face contorts into a confused expression.
“Your old dress is gone, my Lady.”
“Sent downriver to the nearest village and made to look like you had been killed.” The news of your faked death is alarming, to say the least.
“You mean I’m--”
“Like most captives, you will no longer be searched for.” How many others had this happened to?
“And I know what you’re thinking, Lady y/n. I am not permitted any sharp tools aside from what I am allowed to use in the hot springs with the other ladies, but they are not sharp enough to take a life. I am sure Master Geto will allow you to join us one day, though.”
“H-how many women has he had before me?” Kaori looks up at you again; her eyes cold and unforgiving.
“Only one, and she almost ruined him.” Her hands return to your calf, massaging the muscle carefully. “But that will never happen again. That we will all make sure of.”
Another blue kimono, another morning spent alone until lunch had been brought to you. You now roam around the camp, followed closely by Kaori and another young woman you don’t know yet. As you bite into the pear in your hand, you try to catch bits and pieces of their chatter, but you lose the noise as soon as you encounter something new - which is every three seconds. Out of all of the women you see - most young women probably not above the age of twenty-nine - none of them wear blue kimonos. They’re either in red or green, perhaps signifying rank or job. But in all of the days you’ve seen Kaori, she’s dressed in multiple different colors, all except blue.
You wonder what that means for a moment before you chance upon a large, open field full of men practicing their swordsmanship and hand-to-hand combat. You’re standing on a high part of a hill just before it slopes downward to where they are sparring. As your eyes scan the crowd from above, you look for your long-haired captor, and you cannot find him until a hand points over your shoulder.
“You see that ring there?” The other woman speaks, and your eyes instantly hone in on a ring of men huddled around two figures fighting. “Master Geto and Master Gojo fight there all the time.”
“Who wins?” you wonder, looking back at the giggling maid.
“Which way will the wind blow tomorrow?” she answers, and at your confused expression, Kaori steps in.
“Some days it is Master Geto. Other days it is Master Gojo. We can never tell until the spar has ended and the dust has settled.” Your eyes turn back to the men in the circle, and you see a long stream of jet black hair and then long white hair, but they’re moving much too fast for you to be able to discern their movements.
“They won’t be done for a while,” The other maid adds, and places a hand on your shoulder. “I’m sure Master Geto will come find you when he’s ready to… unwind.” The giggles at this comment do nothing for your nerves.
The General returns to the tent after a few hours, cuts and bruises dotting his half-clothed physique. You eye him carefully as he stalks past you on the bed, followed by a male attendant who rushes to help him undress and take a bath on the other side of the curtain.
He’s silent as the water sloshes around, and you can barely make out any other noises besides the occasional hiss of pain or deep exhale. It’s obvious that the man who attends to his wounds did his job properly when Geto emerges with only a bandage on his right side, blood dotting the cloth taped to his ribs.
“Scoot over,” Geto waves his hand at you, flopping onto the space you’ve made with barely so much as a ‘thank you’.
“Did you win?” you inquire and Geto looks over at you before touching his arms behind his head and giving you a toothy grin.
“Of course I did.” You both lapse into another silence before Geto clears his throat and slides a hand from under his head and onto your back. “You went to see us train… I’m surprised you’d be interested in that.”
“I was walking around and happened to observe the melee.”
“Kaori told you about how our fights end, then.”
“She and her companion didn’t add much to the already obvious; you two spar well.”
“Do you fight, little one?” he asks innocently. You give him a look and that’s all he needs to see to know that the answer is ‘no’. “I should teach you to fight, then.”
“Why, so I can fight you and then run away after I win against you?” you retort, and Geto laughs suddenly, clutching at his injured side.
“I didn’t say I would teach you how to beat me, I just said ‘to fight’,” he chokes out, wiping away the tears that dot his bottom eyelid. “You have a very interesting sense of humor.”
“It keeps me alive,” you mumble and you feel the hand on your back run up and down your spine. While the comforting gesture is kind in nature, it makes your skin crawl that someone so evil could touch anyone in an affectionate way.
“Did Yuko ever touch you like this?” At this question, you look over at the man who spoke, eyes blazing.
“He would never,” you snarl.
“Smart man,” Geto grumbles, sitting up; now placing his hand on your leg. “I told him not to touch my things. He learned that lesson as a child and it seems it has carried over well.”
“I’m your thing, now?” You snatch your body away from his grip and climb off the bed, shuffling to the far side of the tent to be alone. “You know, when people get pets, they at least give them something to play with and keep them busy during the day.”
“You want something to play with?” Geto moves off of the bed and raises a brow, fingering the waistband of his pants thoughtfully. “That can be arranged.” Fear leaps into your throat even though the man doesn’t move a single inch closer to you. You swallow hard, then Geto speaks, running his hands through his hair exasperatedly. “When I imagined taking a woman, it did not seem as hard as it actually is. Besides the frustrating part, you vex me entirely in areas I have never been tried in. I’m trying to keep you pure, so when this is over and I can release you to your hometown and you’ll be free to do as you please… but little one, you make it hard for me to control myself when you act this way.”
“It is obvious that you are a patient man and tha-”
“It is not enough when that very vexation causes me to be kinder than I’ve ever been toward someone who repeatedly disrespects my existence.”
“Kind? To me?” You scoff, turning away and crossing your arms.
“I have been far kinder to you than anyone else I have held captive.” He’s advancing on you, but you can’t do much except back up against the tent side with fear.
“All for some war so you can take the throne?”
“All for my rightful place as Emperor.”
“As a bastard son of the current Emperor, really.” Your cheeks are squeezed between fingers, and you taste the tang of iron in your mouth. You try to yank your face out of his grip, but it’s too strong, and you find that you’re held quite close to him as a result. He brings your face closer to his, eyes running wild over your features for a moment as he holds you captive.
“Watch your tongue,” Geto warns, then lets you go, inhaling deeply before shaking out an exhale. You rub at your cheeks and now bitten tongue mournfully, giving the General a nasty look. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“I would if you told me everything,” you mumble, looking away from the way his muscles were illuminated and painted perfectly and to the ground. “If I’m to be a pawn in your game, at least let me in on your plan.”
Geto looks over his shoulder at you, a small smile lifting the corners of his lips up. It’s something you can’t look away from, and your mouth dries up at the gesture of familiarity. “You would like that, wouldn’t you? I’ll tell you my secrets and then you’ll go and tell your kinsmen the plan, right? Somehow get that information to them… then plan your escape.” The smile falls, and the General turns back to you, his face now utterly serious. “I’m not a fool, little one. Foolishness did not get me this far, and I won’t begin to act like one now.”
At this, he stalks out of the tent and leaves you alone again, stuck with your thoughts and your increasing desire to run away and never look back.
You’d come to dread the most decadent meal of the day where you would be sitting on the floor next to the General. You were not permitted to speak, but only eat from his hand and drink from his cup when allowed, and anyone could make fun of you behind hands or openly, as you were nothing more than an object.
As you contemplate your fate yet again, you feel the familiar tap of something warm at your lips.
“Eat.” Geto urges you, and you reluctantly open your mouth to accept the piece of meat. When you look around the table, you can just barely see the eyes of Gojo and Haibara following the motions of Geto’s hands as they converse about military strategy, but you can definitely see the eyes of the one they called Nanami following your movements with precision.
Another piece of meat is presented for you to consume, and you do so mindlessly, observing the others at the table with less interest. That is, until you catch the little eyes of a child who sits at the other end of the table. He’s mid-chew with his little hands in the food, perhaps just now seeing you sitting on the floor like an obedient dog.
You hadn’t seen children here before now, and it seems that the “little one” here was actually him, with his pink hair and brown eyes observing you curiously. It isn’t until he hops down from the table - his little hands plucking a piece of fish off of his plate - and disappears that your head eagerly follows his movements.
Geto notices that you’re distracted and puts a hand on your shoulder, directing your attention back to him.
“Eat.” The voice of the child and the sliver of fish pressed to your mouth shocks both you and Geto, and the whole table is silenced by the interaction. “Eat.” The child encourages you again, and you accept the fish, his little fingers placing it in your mouth with care. As expected, the laughter begins anew, but you feel like laughing too as the child climbs back up to his seat and continues his own meal, unaware of the spectacle he’d just created.
“It appears you have an effect on little Yuji, Geto,” Gojo howls at the end of the table, holding his stomach as he and Haibara roar with laughter. “Soon he’ll be feeding his own lady just like you!”
And Geto laughs as well, tossing his head back and letting the sound carry into the night.
141 notes · View notes
As It Should Be | Chapter 5: Breaking In The Newbies
Pairing: Agent Whiskey x F!Reader x Frankie Morales
Summary: After a rough and emotional night, Frankie makes a decision on Jack’s offer. Before they can get to that though, the morning debrief with Champ brings back a familiar face and Jack has you and Frankie teach the junior agents a lesson during combat training.
Warnings: Canon typical violence, guns, swearing, discussions about safewords.
A/N: Alright, a lot of stuff needed to happen here and we’re going to have a little action and see Frankie show off a bit. It was important to me that the discussion of safe words and Jack checking again for consent happened in a chapter separate from the actual smut. For me, it further emphasizes that Jack doesn’t want Frankie to feel pressured to accept or do anything he doesn’t want to because it’s “in the moment”. Consent is sexy, friends.
I have to give my love and thanks to mi esposa @danniburgh and my friend Agent Capri Sun for the beta reads, the fantastic constructive criticism and encouragement!
Masterlist | Series Masterlist | Chapter 4: Company | AO3 | Art
The morning sun stirred Frankie. Even with his eyes still closed, he could tell the room was alight, but the warmth that surrounded him had nothing to do with the sun and everything to do with the body next to him. He opened his eyes and realized he was definitely not in Whiskey’s guest bedroom. Instead, he was very much curled into Whiskey’s lightly rising chest. Frankie blushed, very unused to being the little spoon, and moreover, not used to someone’s morning wood poking at him. Whiskey was gently roused from sleep by Frankie’s small movements. He lifted his arm from around Frankie’s waist and stretched.
“G’morning Flyboy. You were having nightmares, so I brought you in here.
“Oh, sorry for waking you up and… thank you.” Frankie felt guilt sting at his throat.
Whiskey grunted and rolled out of bed to go shower.
“Nothing to worry about, partner. I’m no stranger to those kinds of nightmares.”
Frankie was grateful Whiskey understood and made no effort to pry. With a grunt of his own, Frankie got up from the bed and made his way to the kitchen, intent on trying to get coffee going while Whiskey showered.
Whiskey finished his shower and stepped out to dry off, then wrapped his towel around his waist. He was drawn to the kitchen by the smell of coffee, Frankie’s initiative quirking the corners of his mouth into a small smile. He leaned against the kitchen counter and watched as Frankie poured their coffee, handing Whiskey’s to him black. Jack hummed his approval, a sound which he noted made Frankie preen a bit.
“Good boy.” Jack gestured to the coffee with a small wink as the air seemed to be pushed from Frankie’s lungs. “Now, as much as I enjoy the view of you in just my shorts, let's get you into something you can wear at the office.”
Frankie was rooted to the spot, Jack’s “good boy” ringing in his ears and sending a wave of warmth throughout his entire body. Jack didn’t comment, just let his smirk speak for itself as he took his coffee back to his room and opened the doors to his closet. His fingers tabbed at a few of the hanging suits as he looked back to see that Frankie had finally uprooted himself and joined him.
“We’re similar in build, so you ought to be able to pull off one of my suits…”
“Right, well then, let’s go with something a touch more casual.
Jack grabbed a pair of jeans, a blue button down, white t-shirt, belt, and socks, handing each article of clothing over to Frankie as he moved around his closet.
“There, that should do you. Comfortable, but still presentable for Statesman.”
Jack gave him a smile only to notice Frankie shifting his weight.
“Thanks,” came Frankie’s reply as he turned to get dressed. He didn’t mind going without boxers, but the sudden realization that he needed more clothes of his own hit Frankie as he dressed in the clothes Jack had given him.
Whiskey hummed in acknowledgement as he finished getting dressed himself: jeans, suspenders, white button down shirt, and a navy wool blazer.
“I was thinking about your offer last night, and… I’d like that.”
Whiskey turned to look at Frankie, giving him a once over, distantly thinking about how good Frankie looked in his clothes, and a mischievous smile lit up Whiskey’s face.
“I’m looking forward to it, Flyboy. We’ll discuss things a bit more at the end of the day in my office. It’s about as close to neutral territory as we’re gonna get for that conversation. For today though, I want you to be a good boy and stick to me like a shadow. We’re meeting with Champ first thing. Then, we’re gonna have some fun.”
Frankie nodded, rocking back on his heels for a moment, then fell in step with Whiskey as they headed out, both of them grabbing their respective hats as they went. The ride in Whiskey’s Bronco was quiet, and soon enough they were riding the elevator up to their floor in the Statesman tower.
You were seated at the conference table facing the double doors with Pope to your right.
“You sleep alright, Pope? Hope Ginger didn’t keep you too late.”
“She’s something, that’s for sure, Hawk, but she did let me go, eventually.”
He gave you a good natured laugh that slowly lost its shine.
“You hear from Fish, Hawk? Ginger told me where she put him up and I went to check on him last night, but he never answered.”
Worry bloomed in your chest, not that it had really gone away after seeing Frankie leave yesterday. You figured if he wanted or needed to talk, he would have reached out to you. Honestly, you had hoped he would have checked in with Pope at some point since he probably felt more comfortable with him. Just then, the conference double doors opened, giving way as Jack strode in, greeting you with a smile and tilt of his head. Relief eased the tension in your chest and shoulders when Frankie followed closely behind Jack. Your eyes darted over to Whiskey, fixing him with a questioning gaze as you realized the clothes Frankie was wearing belonged to Jack.
“Fish!” Pope practically jumped out of his chair, rushing over to Frankie with a duffle bag in tow. “I was worried about you, hermano. I went to the hotel, but you didn’t answer.”
To Frankie’s credit, his face didn’t betray much, but both you and Pope knew that Frankie didn’t have any other clothes aside from what he had left with.
“Uh, yeah, must’ve just missed you.”
You could tell Pope was filing the information away for later. Your eyes wandered to Jack’s again and you raised an eyebrow. At least you now had an idea why he had cancelled on you last night.
“Here, Fish. I figured you’d want your go bag.”
They clasped arms, then took their seats. Frankie grabbed the orange tinted glasses he had left the day before and put them on, adjusting them on the bridge of his nose. His gaze fell to yours and he gave you a small smile, but before you could say anything, Champ’s holo image flickered to life.
“Catfish! You’re looking mighty fine! Much better than yesterday.”
“Yes sir, thanks.”
Champ nodded. He’d been worried about how the man would fare, especially considering the news yesterday.
“Right, down to the business at hand. It does appear that a new cartel is making their play at center stage, picking up where Poppy left off. They’re not following Poppy’s business model, though. From what we understand, the group is headed by four individuals: Isabella Gómez, Duke Hernández, Steven Weisel and Emily Weisel. They’ve taken to calling themselves La Linda Rosa, likely after the Red Agent flowers. Up until now, they’ve been your run of the mill cartel, but it’s our belief that the Weisels have been instrumental in their production and processing of Agent Red. Recently, the Weisels purchased land in Colombia, and from our drone coverage, they may have set up processing plants there. We don’t know why the sudden shift to Agent Red, though. The plants themselves go for $500k per plant, and they take time to mature. We don’t think the Weisels are responsible for acquiring the plants, so that leaves either Isabella or Duke.”
Frankie’s attention drifted from Champ to the pictures on the screen and swore.
“Fuck. Pope, you know who that is, right? I thought they were in Australia?”
Pope did a double take, recognizing his old informant’s brother. The Statesman stared at the two men, waiting for them to elaborate. Frankie sighed and settled into his seat a bit more, knee bouncing anxiously.
“Four years ago, Pope came to me and the rest of our old team to take out Gabriel Martín Lorea and make out with the money he had stockpiled. Pope’s CI, Yovanna, and her brother, Duke, both worked for Lorea. In exchange for helping us, Pope got the brother out of jail and we dropped them off in Peru with papers to Australia and $3M. Looks like Duke wasn’t satisfied with life in Australia.”
Ginger frowned and pulled up Duke’s known associates, Yovanna’s picture following the others on screen.
“Yovanna appears to still be living in Australia, but it’s possible Duke grabbed the money and ran.”
Frankie closed his eyes, lifting his cap and carding his fingers through his hair before placing the hat back on his head and sighing.
“What’s the plan? Sounds like the plants and processing facilities need to be taken out, and then there’s the compound, too.”
Pope nodded, then sighed as well. This was bringing back memories for the both of them.
“We’ll also need to be wary of the local agencies. They’ll be on the lookout for anyone suspicious, especially if it’s anything like how it was with Lorea.”
Champ nodded and tilted his head to Ginger.
“We’re doing our own recon and then we’ll break out teams. Pope, Catfish, we’d like you to at least help with intel, and given your experience in taking down Lorea, if you’re up for it, I’d like you both on the compound assault team.”
You saw Pope and Frankie share a look, Frankie’s jaw clenched and then he nodded.
“Great, not to worry boys, Statesman has the best resources, stateside or otherwise. For now, I’m sure we can keep you plenty busy. Whiskey, don’t forget, today is your day for combat training with the new recruits. Bourbon, Cranberry needs you to test equipment in the lab later today.”
“Pope, could you actually stick around again for a bit? I’ve got some more intel I want to run through with you.” Ginger chimed in, and you were surprised he didn’t grimace at the idea of being locked in a room for hours again.
With that, the meeting was over, Champ’s holo image disappeared and they took their glasses off. Jack stood up and Frankie was quick to follow him, much to your intrigue. You stood up as well. You were eager to watch Jack have his way with the new agents. It was always fun. Whiskey seemed to know you would be following and beckoned for you to enter his office first, followed by Frankie, and Jack closed the door behind him.
“Go ahead and set your bag down wherever you’d like, Flyboy.”
Frankie dropped his bag in a corner then promptly started to rifle through it, pulling his shoes out and quickly swapping his dress shoes for them. He let out a sigh of relief as he rolled up on the balls of his feet and rocked back on his heels. He hated dress shoes.
You took a short minute to admire Frankie in the blue button down while he rolled up his sleeves. Jack’s fingers wrapped around your wrist and he tugged you into him.
“Missed you, darlin’.”
Smiling, you took his face in your hands and tugged him down for a kiss.
“Missed you too, Jack.”
You murmured against his lips, and you resolved not to ask about last night. Whatever happened, Frankie must have reached out to Jack, not you or Santi, and you’d leave it at that. Jack hummed contentedly for a moment before he pulled back and winked at you.
“Are you coming to watch us break in the newbies, darlin’? I was thinking you and Flyboy could do the first demo.”
You narrowed your eyes suspiciously, but there was a playfulness in them as well.
“Us?” You questioned Jack with a raised eyebrow.
“First demo?” Came Frankie’s question as he whirled around to face you and Whiskey.
Jack’s smile broadened and he started out of his office and towards the elevator, expecting you and Frankie to follow.
“What are we demoing, Whiskey?”Frankie asked, more pointedly this time.
“Well, our newbies are scheduled to learn about disarms and what happens when the enemy goes for their gun. I thought it’d be good to have them start out seeing Bourbon disarm you.”
Frankie huffed as he crossed his arms and leaned against the elevator wall. You smiled as you leaned against the wall opposite Frankie.
“It’ll be just like old times, Fish.”
He groaned and shook his head.
“Why have me do the demo though? I’m not a Statesman agent.”
Before you could respond to reassure Frankie, Jack chimed in, eyeing him with nothing short of gleeful mischief. Jack enjoyed breaking the new agents in almost a little too much sometimes, but it was good for them, and he was good at it.
“No, you’re not, you’re ex-Delta Force, Frankie. These agents have had plenty of training, but they don’t have your experience, Flyboy. They’re gonna learn the difference today.”
Jack shared a similar philosophy with you when it came to combat training and sparring. You had been a terror in hand-to-hand, still were, you were proud to say. You knew there was often a size disadvantage, but you had learned to use your opponent’s momentum against them, and more importantly, you didn’t follow convention. In sparring matches, most people fought like they were sparring, which was fine for beginning, but there was a big difference between practicing and being in an actual fight. You never advocated for an all out brawl, but you refused to follow the typical learned pattern that people naturally gravitated towards. Tom had been predictable and a sore loser. Will was predictable but sweet. Benny, well, there was a reason he was semi-pro, which left Santi and Frankie. Santiago was fun, and you had lost your fair share of matches to both him and Benny. Frankie had a spark in his eyes when he sparred, but no matter how hard you had tried to get him to let go, he refused. It had nothing to do with anything silly like you being a woman, more to do with the fact that Frankie never seemed to just let himself go in that way. You had only seen him let go a bit twice, both times in the field and well worn down by the day.
The elevator dinging startled you out of your reverie, and you followed right behind Jack towards the training room. Frankie assumed they would be entering a gym of sorts, but he was sorely mistaken, and he realized the ‘floor’ they were on must have been composed of several. The ‘room’ was really more of a training complex housed in the unassuming tower. To the right, a group of 20 people stood, waiting. He gave them a cursory glance, and then his eyes were pulled to the range. He’d definitely have to visit to let off some stress. He followed as you and Whiskey led the way to the group of agents and hung back slightly as the group stood to attention.
“Well, look at this promising group of newbies, Bourbon. D’you think they’re up for today’s lesson?”
You let the smirk on your lips turn into a full crooked smile, you had more than a small idea as to what Jack was going to do. Looking over your shoulder, you caught Frankie’s eye and nodded for him to join you.
“I don’t know, Whiskey, simple concept, but we’ll see what their execution is like. My money is on our guy.”
The agents before you bristled, full of young pride that was well-earned. Whiskey’s hand clasped over Frankie’s shoulder as he introduced him to the new agents.
“Y’all are in for a treat. Our friend, Catfish, here, has generously volunteered to help train you on close quarters combat and disarms. Bourbon will demo the defense first. Catfish,” Whiskey took a pistol from the long table off to the side and handed it to Frankie. “Your objective is simple: shoot a blank at Bourbon.”
Frankie’s eyebrows shot up in surprise, and his eyes sought yours to make sure you were comfortable. An answering smile was good enough for him, and he checked the pistol, confirming there were no live rounds, before looking back up at you. The two of you easily slid into a ready position, and Jack gestured for the new agents to give you some room.
“Halcón, when you go for the takedown, ten cuidado con mi espalda. Ya no soy joven.” [be careful with my back. I’m not young anymore.]
It only mildly annoyed you that he already knew you were going to go for the takedown, after priding yourself on your spontaneity earlier, but you pushed that out of your mind as you both stood a few steps apart. There would be a split second when Frankie pulled his pistol and took a readying step. That would be where you would have an opening and make your move. A tense handful of seconds that seemed to stretch on filled the air. Jack watched the new agents, the tension between you and Frankie seemed to embed itself in the junior agents’ lungs as they all waited with bated breath.
Nothing telegraphed Frankie’s quick movements as he drew his pistol, but on instinct, your body was moving. He saw your left hand fly out to redirect his momentum and push his gun hand away, quickly shifting to plant his weight, keeping you from landing the takedown this early. The training you and Frankie had received taught you to be efficient and end things quickly. That was easier said when you had spent years training together. The junior agents seemed to still be holding their breath while you traded blows. Your moment of opportunity came, and you took it. Frankie seemed to understand what was happening but his balance was off. You stepped into him, your hip bumping his as your hand came to grip over the top of his pistol. The next thing everyone knew, you were both on the ground, the gun skittering harmlessly away, and Frankie’s arm in an arm bar. He grunted and quickly tapped at your leg to surrender, and you let him go. The class was quiet until Whiskey broke the silence as you helped Frankie to his feet.
“I hope you lot were paying attention to Catfish here, he did a great job demonstrating what to do when facing a difficult opponent like Bourbon. For this exercise, the rest of you will attempt to take a shot at Catfish and he will disarm you by whatever means he deems necessary.”
You can’t help but let out a small laugh, knowing Whiskey was being intentional with his wording.The laugh died quickly, however, at the words of one of the junior agents.
“How was that a good example? He lost, he was disarmed. We should be practicing against someone better, who would last longer.”
At your side, you saw Frankie stand up straighter, his feet moving shoulder width apart as his hands clasped behind his back and he fixed the younger agent with a steely gaze. Even as his breathing remained calm, it was obvious the words had gotten to him. Whiskey’s good natured grin turned into a smug smirk.
“Davis,” Whiskey began, calling the man out by his last name and emphasizing he hadn’t earned a Statesman moniker. “Since you’re so eager, by all means, approach Catfish when you’re ready and show us how your Statesman training fares.”
Frankie kept his gaze leveled at the cocky junior agent, noticing in his periphery that you had moved away to give them plenty of room. Davis moved to be a few steps in front of him. Frankie continued to hold the stare as he questioned Whiskey.
“Are you sure about this, Whiskey?”
Whiskey nodded, Frankie’s gaze flickering over to him for the briefest of seconds, then he brought his hands to a loose ready position at his sides. Davis drew his pistol, but Frankie grabbed the barrel with his left hand, stepped forward and hooked his right foot behind Davis’ lead leg and pushed on the agent’s chest with his right hand. Davis went down, but found himself suspended by Frankie’s hold on his shirt. The class was filled with littered gasps and snickers. The ‘fight’ was over before it had really begun. Frankie helped right the agent and stepped aside to let him retrieve his firearm.
“Attaboy, Catfish! Davis, looks like you’ve got some work to do. Here’s another lesson, agents: Statesman agents aren’t your only competition out there. We’ve got some fancy gear and trainin’ here, but there’s a world of intelligence agents and mercs out there. Catfish served with Bourbon, and that should tell you all you need to know.” He paused a moment to let the information sink in as Davis returned to the line to lick his wounds. Then Whiskey called the next agent.
Frankie breathed in, then out through his nose, and got ready. As they went, the junior agents in waiting began to pick up on a few of his techniques, and he had to adjust, but time spent practicing and training at Benny’s gym had prepared him well for this.
You watched as Jack’s eyes danced while he followed Frankie’s movements. The circumstances earlier had prevented him from truly appreciating how efficient and capable the quiet man was. The last of the junior agents had made their attempt and consequently failed. Frankie’s breath was coming more unevenly now, and rightly so. What he had gone through would be exhausting for anyone.
“Well done, everyone, a round of applause to Catfish for taking the time to demonstrate y’all have a lot to learn before getting approved for field work. Now go on and line up at the range and get warmed up. We’ll be running sims next.”
The junior agents dispersed to the range towards the back of the room. Frankie let out a breath and rolled his shoulders to let out some of the tension he had been carrying, then started heading for the range, eager to let off some more steam.
“Where do you think you’re going, partner?”
Frankie frowned, his eyes darting between you and Whiskey in confusion.
“I thought we were going to go shoot?”
Jack smiled then winked at Frankie.
“They’re warming up, you still have one more person to disarm, Flyboy.”
Frankie’s fingers twitched, and you could see that the exercise earlier had worn at his usual restraint.
Whiskey handed you his lasso, then unloaded his revolvers and passed you the ammo. He holstered his revolvers again and stepped into position in front of Frankie. You watched as a new kind of energy seemed to crackle between them, and some of the junior agents seemed to sense it, stopping to watch as well.
Whiskey was fast, but training at the boxing gym had helped Frankie with his speed. As Whiskey drew his revolver, Frankie sprung forward. He didn’t bother to grab the gun. Instead, he brought his fist down on the barrel, sending it skittering away. Whiskey’s fist connected with Frankie’s side, and you heard, rather than saw, Frankie’s reservations fall away with a snarl. He took hold of the inside of Jack’s blazer, grabbing the grip of the other revolver holstered there and made to pull it out and take the ‘shot’. Jack’s eyebrows shot up in surprise. He hadn’t expected Frankie to go on the offensive, but he found he was impressed. He liked a challenge. Before Frankie could draw the revolver from the holster, Jack grabbed his wrists and wrenched them down, then back up quickly to break Frankie’s hold, and then Jack threw them both to the ground. Both men recovered quickly, but in the chaos, the revolver had fallen to the ground and Frankie scrambled for it. Just as his fingertips touched cold metal, Whiskey’s whip flicked the revolver further away, and they closed the distance to grapple with each other again.
Your match with Frankie had been a well practiced dance, and this was too, in its own right. However, where yours had been fluid, Whiskey and Frankie were bordering on feral. For a moment, it appeared that Frankie had gotten the upper hand. Whiskey staggered backwards, about to fall, but as he went, he flicked his whip, the corded length wrapping around Frankie’s throat. He tugged, sending them both to the ground. Frankie grunted and struggled against the snare he was in. Whiskey wasted no time in scrambling up and pinning Frankie, his knee to the pilot’s back. Frankie continued to struggle until Whiskey leaned down so that only the other man could hear.
“Easy now, Tiger, save your strength for tonight. You did good.”
Frankie relaxed under Jack’s weight and nodded. Whiskey got off of him with a grunt and unwound the corded length of the whip from Frankie’s neck, then pressed a button on the handle to recall it. He helped Frankie up and dusted him off a bit.
A few of the junior agents were still watching in awe. It was rare to see a senior agent like you or Whiskey truly need to put some effort in, and to see it twice in one day was something else entirely. You walked over to the two men and put your hand on Frankie’s shoulder.
“You did great, Fish, nice to see you let loose for once.”
He scoffed good naturedly and swooped to pick his hat up from off the ground.
“You guys had quite the audience while you were at it, too.” Your smile was barely contained as you raised an eyebrow at Jack.
This time it was Whiskey’s turn to scoff.
“Well, I hope they’ve been practicing. They’ll be running the sim after Frankie does.”
Whiskey patted Frankie on his shoulder then gestured for him to follow. He led him to an enclosed area that occupied the majority of the left side of the training complex. A small structure that looked like a house sat inside the enclosure, and you knew it was furnished to match whatever simulation scenario had been determined. Whiskey stopped at a table just outside of the enclosure and gestured to the rifle, combat knife, folder, and headset.
“Alright, Flyboy, I know you’ve done this sort of exercise before. Your brief is on the table there. Good luck.”
You and Whiskey walked a bit further along the enclosure to two screens. One cycled through a variety of camera angles while the other would connect to the headset once Frankie turned it on.
“You’re really having Frankie run the simulation?”
Whiskey nodded, “I didn’t have him help with the demo just to teach those newbies a lesson, darlin’. He’s been through hell, and I figured getting him to work through some of that in sparring and the sim would help. That, and, well… you can’t blame me for bein’ curious, Bourbon. Last time I got to see what he could do, we were a bit busy trying not to get shot.”
You can’t help but to chuckle and shake your head, your attention going back to Frankie as he geared up.
“Frankie turns into a different person on missions sometimes, used to scare the hell out of people on base who saw it. No one ever suspected it because he was always the quiet one, but he’s just as competitive as the rest of the guys on the team. He was just always scary good at keeping a level head and focusing on the mission. You’ll see.”
Frankie put on the kit provided for him then flipped through the brief before lowering the headset and advancing. The brief had been fairly simple: infiltrate the compound, rescue the target, and escort the target to the exfil location. They even provided a decent description of the target. The virtual course populated guards patrolling the 3 entrances. He opted for the path of least resistance with only 2 guards posted.
From the screen, you and Jack could see Frankie take a deep breath, his shoulders relaxing even as he crept towards the two guards. You knew it was because he was willing himself to let go, to let his instincts and muscle memory take over. He was lightning fast as his knife came out and he landed brutal and precise fatal blows to the targets on the screen. In a normal situation, he would hide the bodies but the miracle of technology meant he didn’t have to. It was beautiful in a devastating way to watch Frankie move with such confidence, stealth, and precision. He peered around a hallway, noting the sudden influx of guards and catching a glimpse of red at the end of the hall. The brief had indicated the target would be in red, and it made sense that there would be more guards to ensure the target didn’t run off. He counted five hostiles in the hallway.
Five guards, five bullets.
Once he had downed the hostiles, Frankie stepped through the hallway, catching a glimpse of the target and swore at how cliché the scenario was. The brief had just said the target had last been seen wearing red.
“¡Me están jodiendo! ¿En serio? ¿Una mujer en un vestido rojo?” [They’re fucking with me. Really? A woman in a red dress?]
You could both hear Frankie through the mic link in his headset, and you couldn’t help but laugh. It quickly died as you and Whiskey tensed. The woman in red was a decoy, one that statistically caught the majority of users by surprise.
“Ma’am, are you-” She moved just barely and he saw the glint of where a gun was holstered. Frankie didn’t finish his sentence. Instead, he fired a shot to her chest and grumbled to himself before moving on. Normally, it wouldn’t have taken him that long to figure it out.
Whiskey whistled, thoroughly impressed. It wasn’t long after that Frankie found the real target and reached the ‘exfil location’.
“Damn, sweetheart, you sure picked a good one.”
He winked at you, and you grinned back as Frankie pulled off the headset and his kit, then walked over to you.
“Alright, agents! Catfish successfully completed the sim in 15 minutes, that’s your time to beat!”
A chorus of groans echoed in the training room. Whiskey ignored them and clapped Frankie on his shoulder.
“You did good, Flyboy, really set the bar high. Most people get caught up by the decoy.”
Frankie’s chest puffed out a little at the praise, but he was soon shaking his head. Before he could deflect the compliment, Whiskey squeezed his shoulder.
“Feeling hungry, Flyboy? Figured the three of us could grab a quick lunch before Cran steals Bourbon here away from us.”
“Yeah, I’m starving. Didn’t expect you to keep me busy like that.”
Vermouth entered the training room, and you waved him down.
“Hey, Vermouth! Watch the junior agents for us. Whiskey’s just got them running the sim. We’re going to go grab lunch!”
Without waiting for Vermouth’s answer, you grabbed Whiskey and Frankie’s hands, dragging them out of the training room and to the elevator.
“There’s a deli not far from the office we can walk to, and it’s late enough that we should miss the rush.”
Walking arm in arm with both of your boys, you could think of very few things better than right now. You didn’t care that you were in the middle of downtown New York. All that mattered was Whiskey on your right, and Frankie on your left.
Frankie did his best to relax and not let his anxiety and internal struggles get the best of him. Whiskey’s words echoed in his mind: “When it comes to me and Bourbon, keep an open mind and try not to overthink it.” That was a lot easier said than done, but he was working on it.
You were right, the timing made it so that you had missed the lunch rush. You all ordered your food, Whiskey stepping in to pay with a look that silenced both you and Frankie, then you all went to sit down.
Whiskey practically sprawled in his chair, his legs encroaching your space under the table and Frankie’s space next to him. Frankie sat somewhat stiffly but the more he ate, the more he seemed to relax. You nudge his foot with yours playfully to grab his attention.
“How’s your back? Mr. Ya-no-soy-joven.”
The three of you laughed, and Frankie shook his head with a wide grin on his face.
“I’m not! Gotta leave that shit for the young guys who think they’re invincible.”
“Young guys like Davis?” You shot back, smug on Frankie’s behalf.
“Cocky kid had it coming.”
There was no anger in Frankie’s eyes, only the slightest lilt of mirth in his voice as his gaze met yours, then Whiskey’s. Whiskey leaned forward and barked a laugh while patting Frankie on the back.
“He sure did. The lot of them were in need of a reality check. That’s why Champ specifically likes to have me or Bourbon take at least one pass at our junior agents. After all those hours spent training, they tend to forget that there are much bigger fish out there.”
Conversation flowed easily between them for the rest of their lunch. It reminded Frankie of the prior morning, when they were enjoying breakfast and everything just felt right. It felt as if all of the pieces of the puzzle were coming together, and this time, this time, it didn’t feel fleeting.
Walking to the office was much more comfortable than the walk to the deli had been. You noticed that Frankie was far less stiff under your touch on his arm, even leaning into you occasionally. You parted ways in the elevator. You were heading to the lab to play guinea pig for Cranberry, and your boys were headed upstairs to Whiskey’s office. Frankie seemed hesitant to let you go, and you did your best not to spook him, your heart fluttering in your chest.
Given everything that had happened, things needed to be almost wholly in Frankie’s court, at least until he was more comfortable around you. You had certainly noticed, however, how easily Frankie and Whiskey seemed to allow each other into their respective spaces. The elevator doors closed behind you as you strode down the hall. You were glad that they were comfortable together, though. It had definitely been a concern of yours, considering their respective pasts, but you also thought that there was the potential for them to relate and understand each other better than most.
The rest of the day passed by slowly, and as directed, Frankie remained Jack’s shadow. Jack did his best to keep from laughing when 5pm rolled around and Frankie began to subconsciously bounce his knee. He was scrolling on his phone, lower lip pulled between his teeth and brow furrowed as he tried to focus on whatever was on the screen.
You knocked on Jack’s open office door, raising an eyebrow when you saw Frankie startle at the sound. He wasn’t usually this jumpy. Jack’s gaze met yours, and you could see the amusement and mischief that bubbled in his eyes.
“Hey there, darlin’, you getting ready to head out for the night?”
“Just about, wanted to come see my boys before I do.”
Frankie’s knee stopped bouncing at your words, his phone falling into his lap as he looked up at you. You motion for him to scoot over a bit as you sit down on the couch next to him and rest your chin on your hand.
“We’re still on for dinner tomorrow, right?”
You posed the question to the room in general, even though the three of you knew that it was really directed towards Frankie.
“Uh yeah, I’m-I’m looking forward to dinner tomorrow,” Frankie says after clearing his throat and gives you both a shy smile. Leaning over, you take his large hand in your own and give it a squeeze.
“Great!” Standing up from the couch, you smooth your clothes, give Frankie a kiss on his cheek, and then kiss Jack. “I’ll find us a place, and we’ll figure it out more tomorrow. Night, Frankie. Night, Jack.”
A minute later, you’re gone, and suddenly there’s nothing keeping Frankie’s mind off of the time, which is painfully close to 6pm, when Jack said he’d be done with work. The moment the clock turned that final, eternal minute, Frankie sat up straight, attentive, and alert as his eyes watched Whiskey.
Jack leaned back in his chair, stretching, then relocated next to Frankie on the couch.
“I don’t want you to feel obligated to do anything tonight, Flyboy. If you feel like you’re not up for it, we’ll just grab dinner and head home.”
Frankie shook his head and took a steadying breath.
“No, I want this. I-I could really use it, Jack.”
Whiskey nodded, eyes wandering over Frankie as he adjusted on the couch.
“Alright, I use the green, yellow, red system. You need me to stop for whatever reason, call red, and that’s it, no questions, no hard feelings or fuss. I’ll get you cleaned up and help you come down. Sound good?”
Frankie nodded, his tongue suddenly thick and his mouth dry in anticipation. Jack tutted.
“I need you to use your words, Flyboy.”
Frankie swallowed, his heart beating wildly in his chest.
“I understand, s-sounds good.”
“Good. Now…” Jack pulled a small pad of stationary paper and a pen from the side table. “I want you to write out what you’re ok with and any hard or soft limits you have.”
Frankie nodded, then took the pen and paper and began writing.
[click for better quality]
A blush took hold of Frankie as he handed it back.
“It’s what I can come up with off the top of my head, for tonight at least. I’ll let you know if anything else comes up though.”
Jack’s eyes were dark as he perused the list, looking up from the paper to Frankie, he stood up with a smile.
“C’mon Flyboy… we’re gonna have some fun tonight.”
Thank you for reading! Reblogs & comments are much appreciated!
If you want to be added to my taglist just head on over here. If your blog is crossed out, it wouldn’t let me tag you, sorry!
Taglist: @danniburgh @pascalslittlebrat @yespolkadotkitty @mothandpidgeon @mouthymandalorianalso @phoenixhalliwell @itsme-aj467 @kesskirata @rosiefridayrogersunday-reads @driedgreentomatoes @pintsizemama @neganwifey25-blog @wheresarizona @absurdthirst @sarahjkl82-blog @duchesschameleon @sherala007 @beautyagegoodnesssize @all-hallows-evie @a-bang-for-your-bucky @starlightmornings @frankiecatfish @pascalsimp @beesting77 @janelongxox @mandocrasis @boxdyeblonde @lackofhonor @kaybrownies @agentwhiskeypussyindulgence @elegantduckturtle @darnitdraco @empress-palpat1ne @janebby @wyn-dixie
133 notes · View notes
The Adults are Talking (Tenet) Neil x Reader
A/N: HEY GUYS!!! HERE IS THE SMUT!!! This is my first time writing smut in a long time, so I’m sorry if it’s awkward ahhh!!! It’s 3:30 over here on the East Coast of the US, so I’m going to BEDDDD!!!! Enjoy!
Summary: (dom!)Neil teaches you a lesson for being forgetful and late, and it’s the type of lesson you're sure to never forget.
Warnings: SMUT, SO MUCH SMUT. Overstimulation, lot’s of cursing, minor violence, and a very dominant Neil, so this is very much 18+, read at your own risk...
Word Count: 3,747
I’m so fucking late, You think to yourself.
Nervousness swells in your gut as your black boots press harshly into green grass below your feet. Your eyes search the crowd around you as shoulders hurriedly crash into your chest. No one apologizes, they just keep moving as they try to get a better view of what lies at the front of the crowd.
You were 10 minutes late for a training session with the new recruits. You knew that Neil would most likely tease you endlessly for it. You were late because of him, after all.
You and Neil had been secretly together for quite sometime, which meant extensive sneaking around, just like a couple of teenagers. Usually you would go to his room while everyone was still eating dinner in the cafeteria, spend some time together, and then head back into your room to go to sleep. No one saw a thing. No questions were asked.
But this time was different. This time, you let yourself fall asleep in his arms.
I’m an idiot, You think to yourself as you push a hand through your dampened hair. Neil decided to steal the keys to your room and run into the shower ahead of you as a playful punishment for your forgetfulness.
“I don’t know what to say, but I’m disappointed, (Y/N)!” Neil sarcastically sings through the other side of the bathroom door.
You rush over to the door, and knock a few times. “Come on Neil, let me in, or at least give me my keys so I can shower in my room!” You can’t help but smile, despite the fact that you were definitely going to be late.
“No, I’m teaching you a lesson here,” Neil pauses, “And then after the training session, I’ll teach you another.” You feel your cheeks flush with redness.
Your heart somersaults in your chest at the thought of the other lesson Neil had planned.
You look around, forcing yourself to focus. You can easily tell that you stick out like a sore thumb amongst the new recruits. You look far too polished and put together to be new. You’re too…sophisticated. Your black, faux leather dress pants and tight black turtleneck clash against the beige and green bodies spread across the open field. Still, despite your appearance, you get the feeling that you’re a freshman being judged by the older kids, when in reality it should be the other way around. You shake the feeling off, remembering that you have nothing to prove.
While you weren’t recruited to Tenet too long ago, you were granted extremely high clearance almost immediately. TP saw something special in you from the very second he met you. You were skilled in hand to hand combat, and you could shoot a gun better than anyone, better than Ives, better than Neil, even better than TP. After all, you were a high level CIA operative before you were recruited to join Tenet. Your training goes back years.
“(Y/N)!” You hear a familiar voice call out from the near distance. You stand on your tippy toes, searching for the dirty blonde head that matched the voice.
Out of the corner of your eye you spot two slender, toned arms waving erratically at the front of the crowd. He smirks, and waves even faster as he realizes that you’ve found him. You push through the recruits as you get closer to the front.
All of a sudden, a hand grabs your wrist and pulls you out of the sea of people.
“Took you long enough,” Neil says, a cocky grin spread across his face. Your heart thumps in your chest. His long fingers are still wrapped around your wrist. He pulls you closer to him, and brings his lips to your right ear, “Try to be faster next time, love, and maybe I’ll go easier on you.”
You feel your face redden with heat. He lets you go, but you’re all shaken up now. You almost wish he held on. A shiver travels down your spine. Your mind is too foggy with thoughts of Neil to recognize that Ives had already started talking.
You clear your throat, still focused on what Neil had just said. “G-go easier on me?”
With the blink of an eye, Neil grabs your waist, and pins you down to the ground. He presses his right hand into the center of your chest. He pulls a knife from his back left pocket and points it in the direction of your throat. The recruits rowdily cheer Neil on. He smirks, basking in the attention. You can’t even imagine how red your face is now.
“And at this point,” Ives pauses as a slight smile tugs at his lips. He looks down to you, “We can see that Neil has the advantage. It’s safe to say that (Y/N) would be dead if she were the enemy.” Neil puts the knife back into his pocket, and stands up.
He extends a hand out to you, and you grab it, grateful for the assistance. That is, until he twists your arm, turning you to face the crowd. His right arm pulls your back into his chest. Your hips brush against his. He pulls you even closer so that you’re glued against him. You’re stuck; there’s nowhere to go. He takes his knife out of his pocket and brings it to your neck again.
You swear that you can feel him pushing his crotch against your lower half.
“Are you alright, darling,” He mumbles against the skin of your neck. You can feel his gaze land on your face. You swallow harshly and nod. “Good,” Neil says in response. “I wouldn’t want you too beat up, especially for later.”
Later? You think to yourself as you ignore Ives’s description of Neil’s move. “What’s happening later?” You whisper back to him.
He lets you go and gives you a smug look that reads, You should know already, love.
You breathe in sharply as your mind races with thoughts of Neil. Now wasn’t the time for this. You were embarrassing yourself in front of the new recruits. They were going to think you were weak.
You tilt your head side to side, cracking your neck slightly. You roll your shoulders back and get into your fighting stance. You’re ready this time. You tune everything out and focus on Neil’s movements. He flashes a smile your way but you know he’s trying to distract you. The recruits’ cheers quiet down a bit as their interest piques.
“You’re so unbelievably cocky, Neil. It’ll be the death of you,” You playfully remark. Neil furrows his brows and squints his eyes. He takes a single step towards you and you take a single step back.
Neil chuckles, “What? You’re too scared to get any closer to me?” You can tell Neil’s guard is down. You’ve got him right where you want him.
The left corner of your mouth turns up slightly. You rush towards him, stepping onto your left foot and round housing Neil on the right side of his stomach. He buckles over. You feel a twinge of guilt before you take another step, sliding down to the ground, and kicking your legs into Neil’s ankles in a circular motion from left to right. You sweep him off his feet and he falls to the ground. You stand back up and look down at him.
“Now that’s what I call a comeback!” Ives shouts. The new recruits roar in excitement. You reach out your right hand to Neil and he takes it. He gets back on his feet and brushes off the dirt from his navy blue dress shirt.
Neil shakes his head in defeat. “Yeah, I guess she got me back,” He says taking a step towards you. He lowers his voice and says something that’s clearly only meant for you to hear,
“But I’ll get you back later.”
Later, the word repeats itself over and over in your head.
“Alright everyone! We’ll reconvene after lunch!” Ives yells, and the recruits make their way back into the boxy white building that houses the Tenet headquarters.
Neil and Ives walk a few feet away from you and begin to chat. Ives briefly looks concerned, but Neil waves his hand, appearing to reassure him about something you’re not supposed to hear. Ives shakes his head as the concerned look falls back upon his face. He breaks his stare from Neil and looks towards you.
You take that as your cue to walk over. “I kicked your ass there, didn’t I?” You say jokingly, nudging into Neil’s side with your elbow.
Neil sighs and moves his head to turn towards you. “The adults are talking, (Y/N), pipe down love.” The sense of elitism in Neil’s words are carried through an ever so dominant tone. You know he’s teasing you, but you can also tell he’s trying to get under you skin.
Ives chuckles, “The ‘adults’? Neil, since when have you proved to me that you’re an adult?” You can’t help laugh at Ives’s dig at Neil. Ives’s laughing continues as turns away from you and Neil and follows closely behind the recruits.
You take a step forwards to walk behind Ives, expecting Neil to come along as well, but he doesn’t. He grabs your upper arm and pulls you towards him.
“Thought you could get away?” He stares into your eyes. “You didn’t forget about what I said earlier, did you?” He questions, his grip growing tighter around your arm.
Your heart pounds in your chest as you think of some sort of response. “I-I-,” But you’re speechless.
Neil’s eyes pierce through your soul and he parts his lips, “I believe I told you that I’d be teaching you a lesson, didn’t I?” His domineering voice leaves goosebumps on your arms.
You look around, noticing that everyone had already gone inside. It was just you and Neil now.
Neil pulls you closer to him yet again. “You still haven’t answered, love,” He says softly as his free hand glides down your side, settling finally on your hip.
“Yes,” You mumble under your breath. You can’t concentrate. You’re too wrapped up in the thought of Neil pinning you down to the ground and taking you right here and now.
Neil releases your hip and begins to walk you towards the building. “Good,” He says nonchalantly. You walk across the green field and onto the concrete sidewalk that outlines the shape of the headquarters. You finally approach a door. Neil opens it and brings you inside. He instinctively lets go of your arm the second you enter the building, as the sounds of people and the flow of pedestrian traffic overwhelms your senses.
“Follow me,” Neil demands. He walks in front of you, and you follow close behind. You walk down a series of similar hallways before recognizing where you are.
You’re headed towards the living quarters of the building.
You swallow hard, trying to keep up with Neil. He turns around to catch a glimpse of you, and notices that you’re starting a slow down a bit.
He grins confidently as he closes the gap between you and him. “What? Are you overwhelmed, darling?” He questions as his hands land on your waist.
“Neil,” You whisper, “What if someone sees us?”
Neil pulls you against his chest. “That just makes it more exciting, doesn’t it?”
You gasp as he pulls the collar of your turtleneck down a bit, bringing his lips to your neck, planting soft kisses on your now exposed skin. He sucks lightly. You look around. The coast is clear, but you know it won’t be for long.
“N-Neil,” You moan. Neil’s lips leave your neck in response, and he brings his left hand up to cover your mouth.
He looks left, and then right, searching for somewhere to go. There’s a single door at the end of the hallway. He uncovers your mouth and grabs your wrist. He practically runs into the door before twisting the knob and pushing it open.
He pulls you into the room as the door shuts behind you.
“What happened to going back to your room?” You ask, confused as to why you’re in what appears to be a dark, tiny, unused office.
“Because, I couldn’t wait any longer.”
You feel your need for him growing. He takes a step towards you so that your back is up against the door. Neil reaches behind you and twists the lock.
You can feel yourself getting more and more wet. You need friction between your legs. The sensation is driving you crazy.
Neil’s hands secure themselves onto your hips, pushing you harder into the door. His lips find themselves in the crook of your neck again, but this time Neil is rougher. He lightly sucks your skin, intending to leave his mark on your. You moan in pleasure as Neil’s right hand finds its way in between your legs, spreading them a part slightly.
“You need me, don’t you?” He asks as his lips leave your neck. His ocean eyes deeply stare into yours.
You breathe shallowly. “Y-yes,” You stutter.
Neil grins. “I thought so.” He grabs your waist again, picking you up and setting you down on the desk that’s on other side of the tiny room. He grabs the inside of your thighs and parts your legs with his hand, filling the newly made gap with his body. He rests his right hand on your thigh, and his left on your waist.
“Please, Neil,” You murmur, wanting him to touch you where you need him most.
“Please what?” Neil asks, his face moves closer to yours.
“Please,” You pause as your heart beats out of your chest, “Touch me.”
Neil’s lips crash into yours as his hands wander to the hem of your pants. His fingers move down to play with your button before undoing it completely. He finds his way to your zipper and carelessly unzips your pants. His hands move back up to the top of your trousers. Much to your dismay, his lips leave yours. You groan at the loss.
Your unhappiness ends almost instantly as you feel Neil slide your pants down your legs, discarding them to the side. He pushes himself back in between your legs and brings his thumb over the your underwear to your clit, slowly sliding down to explore the rest of you.
He lands over your folds and smiles. “You’re already wet for me and I’ve barely touched you at all,” Neil says. He takes his hand away from your heat and brings it up towards the hem of your panties. He plays with the elastic band for a second and brings his attention to your eyes, searching for consent.
You nod your head in anticipation, and he pulls at the hem, bringing them down your legs, and throwing them on the floor.
Neil grabs the bottom of your shirt next, pulling it up over your head as you lift your arms to give him easier access. He places his hands on your back and starts to mess with the hooks of your bra. With ease, he undoes the clasp, and your bra falls to the side.
He steps back, looking you up and down. You bring your knees together, rubbing them against one another in search of some sort of friction. Neil shakes his head and spreads your legs again.
“You haven’t earned that yet,” He breathes. His hands grab your waist and slide up the sides of your body. He stops at your breasts, playing lightly with your nipples.
You gasp at the feeling, needing more. Neil squeezes them tightly. He smirks, and then moves his hands back down to your hips.
“What do you want me to do?” Neil asks. His breathing becomes heavier. Despite his attempt to be the dominant one, you can sense his need for you.
You take a deep breath as his hand moves down towards your heat. “I want you to make me come, please,” You plead.
You gasp as Neil’s thumb brushes over your clit. It’s slow at first, but still enough to make you moan. He picks up the pace a bit, rubbing small, slow circles where you need them most. You throw your head back and moan. Neil smirks, loving how he’s making you feel.
Neil’s circles get faster, pushing you closer to the edge. You shut your eyes tight, letting the pleasure take over.
Abruptly, Neil’s touch disappears, leaving you feeling cold and empty. You groan in agony, wanting more. “N-Neil don’t st-,”
You’re cut off by a warm, wet sensation at your folds. You open your eyes to see Neil’s head in between your legs. His tongue rolls over your clit. Suddenly, you feel a finger at your entrance.
“Shit, N-Neil,” You cry out in pleasure as Neil pushes his middle finger inside of you. He sucks roughly on your clit, pushing his finger in and out.
Neil adds his index finger, and it’s already too much to handle. “Fuck,” You whimper as you feel yourself getting closer and closer to climaxing.
“You like that?” Neil says, his words vibrating against you, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body.
You moan in response, but that’s not enough for Neil. He takes his lips off of you, and takes his fingers out. “I asked you a question, (Y/N).”
You want him to fill you up again, to make you feel whole again. “Y-yes Neil, I like it. You feel amaz-, oh fuck!” You practically scream as Neil shoves his fingers back inside of you, his tongue lapping at your folds.
“You taste amazing,” Neil says against your clit before sucking on you again. His words alone could take you there.
“Neil I-,” You try to get your words out, but you can’t form a proper sentence.
“I love when you say my name like that, darling,” He says, sucking even harder now.
You can’t hold back anymore. “I’m so close,” You mumble. “I wanna come, please,” You beg.
“Then come for me, (Y/N), now,” Neil commands. You do as he says. You feel your walls tightening, you feel yourself collapsing around his touch.
“Holy sh-shit,” You stutter. You come around his fingers as you throw your head back against the wall.
Neil removes his fingers from you and stands up.
“I think it’s my turn now,” Neil remarks slyly, undoing his belt. You feel butterflies flutter in your stomach.
You watch closely as he slips his pants down his legs and steps out of them. He brings his hands up to the top of his shirt and unbuttons each button one at a time. He throws his shirt to the side.
You gulp harshly as he pulls his boxers down, revealing his hardened member. He gets closer to you, pushing your hair out of your face, searching your eyes once more for consent as he lines himself up with your opening.
“F-fuck!” You cry out, feeling the overstimulation wash over every inch of your body as Neil enters you. He grabs your right breast with his hand.
Neil starts out slow. “You feel so good around me,” He says, moving rhythmically in and out of you.
He then brings one hand up to your chin, and the other to the middle of your back, forcing you to sit up and stare into his eyes. His lips meet yours hungrily, searching for something more. Neil picks up his pace, growing faster and faster.
“Neil,” You sigh, “I don’t know how long I can last.” You were already close.
“You got to hold on longer, darling. Don’t come yet.” Even when he whispers he’s commanding.
“O-okay,” You mumble, bitting down on your lip, trying to hold yourself back. It was all becoming too much for you to handle.
“You’re taking me so well, (Y/N),” Neil praises you as he speeds up even more, his hips bumping hard into yours.
He’s going to send you over the edge. Your walls begin to clench tightly around his cock.
He cuts you off. “No, not yet,” He says shakily. “I’m so close. Shit!”
Neil moans loudly, his lips capturing yours in another passionate kiss.
“Y-yes,” Neil huffs, pushing in and out of you even quicker now. You know he’s seconds away from finishing, and so are you. “I’m ready now, love. Come with me,” Neil begs.
You do as he says, your walls clenching harder around his hard dick. Profanities fly out of your mouths as you both reach your climax. After a few, slow pumps, Neil pulls out of you, stroking his cock a few times before reaching down and grabbing his boxers. He slips them on, and looks over at you, still sitting on the table. You’re so sore, so tired. But it’s all so worth it.
He walks over to you, cupping your right cheek in his hand, and bringing your face close to his.
“I love you, (Y/N),” Neil says as his lips find yours again.
You part from him. “I love you too, Neil.”
Neil grins, looking around the room at the mess you two made, and the mess he made of you. He looks proud.
And he should be, You think to yourself. Only Neil could make you feel this way.
You stand up, grabbing your panties and slipping them on. They’re still soaked. You grab your bra put it on as well. You look over at Neil, who’s buttoning up his dress shirt now.
He’s watching your every move, as if he’s still fucking you in his head.
“Just looking,” He says, a wide smile makes its way across his face. “I mean, how could I not?” He slides his pants back on, and buckles his belt.
“So,” He pauses for a second, “Do you think you learned your lesson?” He questions finally, arching an eyebrow in your direction.
You can’t help but giggle. “If the lesson was that I should ‘misbehave’ more often, then yes, lesson learned.”
Neil grins widely and walks over to you. “I guess I’m a good teacher then.”
He embraces you tightly, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Yeah, I guess you are,” You say, grinning back at Neil.
147 notes · View notes
A Call to Motion
Movement, Chapter 3 - Thrawn x F!Reader
series summary: Mitth'raw'nuruodo is new to the Empire. And, as far as the Empire knows, new to just about everything else, too. When you’re put in place to help the new Lieutenant excel in the Imperial Academy so he may graduate in a few months, rather than years, you must navigate the Empire together, as well as other, more complicated things, too.
warnings: NSFW, 18+; swearing; oral sex (f receiving); p in v; imperial cadet!reader; light angst?
word count: 3.1k
series masterlist | join the tag list
“I noticed your assignment,” Thrawn said from behind you, making you jump.
“Oh, Thrawn,” you exhale in relief. “Don’t sneak up on me like that,” you laugh.
“I noticed your assignment,” he repeats. “A job on Gatalenta teaching. Are you happy with it?”
You nod. “It’s good, it’s a Core world position. Teaching meditative pacifists how to fight. It’ll be interesting.”
“Hm, indeed,” Thrawn hums. “I was hoping we would be stationed somewhere together. But of course that would be highly illogical based on our tracks.”
“Highly,” you muse, smiling. “And your assignment?”
“Second weapons officer on the Blood Crow,” he says. “Ensign Vanto will accompany me, of course.”
“Speaking of Eli, where is he?” you ask, the man is never far from Thrawn.
Thrawn smiles slightly. “With his parents celebrating the graduation,” he tells you. “Perhaps we should celebrate as well?”
“And what did you have in mind, Lieutenant?” you say, turning from the courtyard where you graduated to walk back to the dorms you’d be spending one more night in.
Thrawn follows beside you, hands clasped behind his back, the perfect picture of an Imperial lieutenant. “I think tonight will be prime to…please you. How we have talked about.”
Thrawn had decided your sparring lessons were never enough time to prepare you for the sheer size of him, and you were inclined to agree with him. Tonight though, with Ensign Vanto with his parents, perhaps there would be enough time.
“Then lead the way, Lieutenant,” you smile. You want to grab his hand, and he notices the way your hand flexes and twitches. Thrawn’s held your hand before, when he’s using it as leverage during a combat move, or when his mouth is between your legs. But never casually, it’s just not something that’s done at the Academy.
Thrawn is in no rush, he never is. Even when you try to speed up your pace, you end up beside him, waiting for him to lead the way to his room. You’re in the deserted elevator, trying to rub up on the lieutenant.
“Vutunci,” he scolds as you run a hand over his chest. “This is not a private place.”
“Really?” you murmur, kissing at his neck. “I don’t see anyone else. I’d say it’s private.”
He shakes his head. “Vutunci…” The door dings, sliding open. “See, not private.”
The hallways of the academy are basically empty, most of the newly graduated ensigns and cadets are outside, enjoying the festivities. Thrawn still walks the halls with leisure, and frankly it’d be an insult that he wasn’t rushing to fuck you if you didn’t know the Chiss. But you do, and you know inside that brilliant mind of his he’s planning how he’s going to ruin you.
“Here is our room,” he says, keying in the code, the door sliding open. Thrawn’s side of the room is tidier than Eli’s but not by much. “This bed is mine,” Thrawn says, pointing to the one closest to the door. You figured it was his, based on the way the bed was made. It was not Imperial standard.
You waste no time crashing your lips into the Chiss’s, and if he’s surprised, he doesn’t show it. “Vutucni,” he says, breathless. “No more clothes,” he commands. He’ll do fine on an Imperial ship with that tone, you think.
“Yes, sir,” you joke, but his eyes go dark. You pull your formal uniform from your body as he does the same until you’re both bare under the harsh lights of the room. Thrawn watches as your tongue darts out, liking your lips as you eye him and the black hair that decorates his abdomen.
“On the bed, Ensign,” he commands. He’s the first to use your newly earned title, and you know that his voice will stick with you every time you hear it. He kneels between your legs, spreading them open with strong hands on your thighs. “Very pretty,” he comments. “Delicious is the word I believe I am looking for.”
He spreads your lips with his hand, studying your folds, ever the tactician. You squirm beneath his gaze, and beneath the cool air of the room, until finally his lips land around your clit.
That kriffing tongue of his makes you come quickly, both sides of his engulfing the bundle of nerves in the way he has learned makes you scream. It didn’t take long for Thrawn to learn your body, and now he makes you come within mere minutes. His strong hands grope at your breasts, tweaking your nipples and pinching at the skin. He looks up at you, bright eyes burning into yours while he laps at your juices, he looks utterly desperate.
Three orgasms (and three of Thrawn’s fingers) later, he kisses his way up your abdomen, over your tits, and up your neck. “I think you can take me now, vutunci. Do you?”
Honestly, you’re not sure, but you’ll be damned if you don’t try. “Yeah,” you breathe.
“What do the colors mean?”
“Green is good, yellow is slow down, red is stop,” you recite.
He hums. “Good,” he says, gripping his cock in a fist, lining himself up with your entrance. When the thick head prods at your tight hole, your body tenses. “Shh, vutunci,” he whispers. “You must relax.”
You try, and Thrawn waits. The head of his cock slides inside of you finally, and then the first ridges hit. “Kriff,” you groan. Thrawn studies your face, your eyebrows pulled together, your eyes clamped shut, but he cannot tell if it is pain or pleasure, and he’s quite wrapped up in his own pleasure to further analyze.
“Vutur?” he asks, it’s color in Cheunh, one of the only Cheunh words you know.
“Green,” you sigh, and he continues, pushing another inch inside of you. The shape of his cock is something magical, really something you only hear about in holomags as the ‘best dick a humanoid could want’, but you hadn’t really expected it to be the best dick a human could want.
When Thrawn is fully sheathed inside of you, he asks again, “vutur?”
“Yellow,” you reply. “Just. Just give me a moment.”
He only hums, bringing his lips to your neck, sucking yet another mark onto your skin. Your collar will barely be tall enough to hide the marks left by the Chiss, and you’re sure he knows this.
“Green, Thrawn, green,” you pant, the idleness becoming frustrating.
Thrawn obeys, beginning the slow, languid thrusts you expected from him. His cock drags at your walls deliciously, causing you to groan into his neck until he pulls his face from the crook of your own neck, looking down at you with those intense eyes.
“Vutunci,” he groans from deep in his belly. “Vutunci you are...you are...batahn.” You don’t know what the word means, and obviously Thrawn cannot translate it, but whatever it is must be good, as his voice stutters over the syllables.
Thrawn brings two long fingers to your clit, rubbing slow circles in pace with his thrusts, and your legs fly around his waist. “Fuck, Lieutenant,” you moan, trying out his title. It does something to him, the use of his title, as his hips snap to meet yours in his hardest thrust yet.
“Careful, vutunci,” he warns. But you only smirk, egging him on. It works, his hips bringing hard, slow thrusts as his fingers continue toying with your clit.
The new pace, the way his hair falls into his face, the way he murmurs under his breath in what you assume to be Cheunh; the man is such a sight, it’s intoxicating. You come then, your body seizing as your mouth falls open into a silent scream, giving Thrawn everything you can. Your cunt tightens around his cock, your legs tighten around his waist, your hands tighten onto his shoulders. You cling to the man for any semblance of stability as your body shakes and shivers, it’s the best orgasm you’ve ever had. And by the look on the Chiss’s face, he knows it.
“Gorgeous,” he murmurs, still fucking into you, unrelenting. “You can give me one more, no?”
You can’t respond, your brain computing the idea of having another orgasm just as intense, if not more, than the last. You babble something at him, neither of you able to decode it.
“Can you?” Concern paints his tone slightly, but it’s mostly lust. Greed. He wants to wrench another orgasm from your body, and he wants to use it to reach his own.
Thrawn’s body draws closer to yours, his pace speeds up, and he’s breathing heavily into your ear. His head falls to your chest as he murmurs, “I am going to come.”
You feel Thrawn come, pumping ropes of hot cum into you, and the sheer intimacy of it all sends you over the edge again. You’re thankful the orgasm isn’t as intense, you know it would’ve caused your muscles to cramp if it had been, but it still hits your body like a train. Your orgasm is quiet, your body too concerned with feeling and taking Thrawn to even make a noise.
Your fifth orgasm is quick, and by the time it’s subsided, Thrawn is still fucking you, your cunt still milking cum from him.
“Almost done, vutucni, k'pah,” he groans into your neck, followed by his teeth scraping along your skin.
“Fuck, Thrawn,” you gasp, realizing how much he’s emptied inside you. “Shit.”
Thrawn’s collapses on top of you, finally undone, his lieutenant’s composure was out the window. “That was alright?” he murmurs into your neck.
Your hand toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. “That was great,” you breathe.
He gently brings himself up on his forearms and starts pulling out. “No,” you whine, “Not yet.”
“I believe I should,” Thrawn comments, he’s back to himself. “If I do not now, I fear it will hurt you later. I also believe you are supposed to use the ‘fresher after sex-”
“Fine,” you concede.
Thrawn lays beside you, a hand drawing patterns on your stomach. There’s a delicious ache between your legs, you can still feel him, and you can feel the cum dripping out of you. “Vutunci, I still believe you should go to the refresher,” he said quietly.
You groan, but pull your body from the bed. You look back at Thrawn, and it’s one of the few times he allows his emotions to be portrayed on his face: he’s in awe. His eyes are glued to your form as you walk away, and he’s in utter awe.
When you return from the ‘fresher, Thrawn has made down the bed and put on boxers, and he’s waiting for you. You notice something under the bed as you walk back, and bend down to pick it up. It’s a book of flimsi. “What’s this?”
“Oh,” Thrawn says, grabbing it from your hand. “It is a sketchbook.”
“So you don’t only study art? You make your own?”
He hums. “I do,” he says, but then places the book on the shelf in the wall next to the bed.
“Can I see it?” you ask, ignoring his arms beckoning you against his chest. “You don’t have to, of course, but I’d like to see your art.”
“I suppose,” he replied, retrieving the book. He flips it open, and there’s a drawing of a Loth-cat with intricate patterns in its fur. You flip the page. It’s you. At least, you think it’s you. “I hope this is not strange,” Thrawn starts, “Ensign Vanto said it was.”
To be fair, Ensign Vanto was right, but you didn’t really mind it. It’s gorgeous really, electrical currents surging from the staff in your hands onto the joints of Thrawn’s body.
Thrawn studies your face as you study his art. Your eyes are wide, and the corners of your lips are upturned. He feels pride swell in his chest, and it scares him. Thrawn hasn’t been in the Empire long, but he’s been here long enough to know that the feelings he has for you are dangerous. He feels his recklessness from his youth surge up, but he knows better.
“What’s this say?”
“Hmm?” he’s brought from his thoughts by your voice. You repeat yourself, pointing at the words in the corner of the page. “It’s the title of the piece. It is in Cheunh.”
“What’s it say though?”
“I am not completely sure of the translation,” he says, “but I believe the Basic translation is ‘A Verb in Perfect View’.”
The title knocks the air from you. It’s poetic, just like Thrawn, and you should’ve expected nothing less. “Oh,” you breathe. “That is very pretty.”
“Indeed,” Thrawn nods. “As it is inspired by you.”
You look over to him, expecting some kind of look of sarcasm like you would get from most men you’d encountered. But Thrawn’s face is neutral, he is just telling you the truth, he’s not trying to swoon you or flirt. He’s just honest.
“There is another one of you,” he says, sitting up from his reclined position. He takes the page between his fingers and flips it back.
You suck in a breath, staring at the sketch. It’s you, laying against the mats of the sparring room with Thrawn between your legs. You see the swell of your breasts and the way his fingers are pressed into the meat of your thigh. Your hand is in his hair, gripping at his head for leverage. It’s gorgeous art, the way he captures you and him, it’s vulnerable and hot.
“So...do you use these to get off?” you ask, slightly joking, but you’re curious.
“No,” he replies, breath ghosting on your neck. “My memory serves me well. And I can...what is the word...manipulate the images in my mind much better than I draw them.”
You shudder at the image of him, eyes shut as images of you dance on his eyelids while he strokes his cock, muttering under his breath about his vutunci.
“Is that alright?”
“It’s hot,” you breathe. “I think about you, too,” you tell him. “But my fingers will never feel like your cock.”
“No, they won’t,” he agrees.
“I’ll miss you,” you reply. “All of you.”
He doesn’t reply. He simply points at the words in the corner of the page. “Rite of movement,” he translates. “The way you move when I pleasure you, it rivals all the rituals I have ever read about.”
“That’s romantic,” is all you can say.
He shrugs. “It is just the truth, vutunci.” He takes the sketchbook from your hands, returning it to the shelf. “Let us relax now, yeah?”
You lay against his chest, the both of you laying back against the pillow of his bed. Thrawn studies your breath, the way your breasts rise and fall and when your stomach pushes up against his arms. He marvels at the way his bright blue skin looks against your skin, and makes a note to find some pastels, wanting to capture the two of you in color the next time he has free time.
“I guess this is goodbye for now,” you say a few quiet hours later. Vanto was scheduled to come back and you needed to go to your own room to pack, needing to report to your transport to Gatalenta early the next morning, and Thrawn will need to report to the Blood Crow.
“I suppose, Ensign,” he says and you try to mask your hurt. No ‘vutunci’, not even your name. Just ‘ensign’. His body is closed off, too, not open for a hug or for a kiss. Thrawn reads your body, he knows it’s hurting you, and it hurts him, too, but it’s for the best. He wants you to succeed in the Empire, and he knows the Imperials do not have room for love in its success.
“Goodbye then,” you choke out, eyebrows furrowed, furiously blinking in an attempt to keep your tears at bay until Thrawn has shut the door. You turn away and beeline for the elevator, trying to make it back to your own room before your peers return from their celebrations.
Caiera finds you on your bed, head in your pillow, obviously crying. “Why’d you let me do this?” you ask her.
She only smiles, pity painting her features. “I’m sorry,” she says. “I just don’t know why he’d go cold all of a sudden. After fucking you for weeks and the cuddling you?”
You shrug. “I don’t know. Guess he got what he wanted and he doesn’t need me anymore,” you replied. “He’ll find someone on the Blood Crow.”
“And you’ll find someone on Gatalenta,” Caiera said. “And they won’t be some lousy lieutenant. You’ll find yourself an admiral. An admiral that will love you and blow your back out.”
You laugh a little. “I don’t know if I’m ready,” you tell her. “I don’t know, Thrawn was kind. I mean, fucks sake, he drew me. And gave them these kriffing titles, Caiera. Two sentences and it’s the most romantic shit I’ve ever heard.”
“Some guys are like that,” Caiera said, sitting down on your bed, running a hand in circles on your back. “It’s a shitty galaxy sometimes. I’d know. You remember that Nautolan from a few months ago? He was a dick.”
“He was,” you agree. “Add Thrawn to your list, I guess. You still want to hook up with Vanto?”
“Hell no,” Caiera said. “Fuck him, too.”
“Maybe I’m being too harsh,” you think aloud. “Maybe that’s just how he is. Or maybe he’s, like, nervous.”
“I still say fuck him. You don’t treat someone you care about like that before you have to leave them,” she tells you. “Maybe in a few months when you’re both on leave he’ll have figured his shit out. Until then, though, don’t harp on it. Find a beefy admiral.”
You roll your eyes and laugh. “I’m gonna miss you, you know.”
She lays on top of you in some sort of hug. “I’m going to miss you, too,” she murmurs. “You’ll comm me every day right? Or at least just a message every now and then?”
“Of course, Caiera,” you reassure. “I’ll make sure to give you the scoop on all the beefy admirals.”
She laughs, getting up from your bed. “Good,” she replied. “You should probably go to sleep. Your transport leaves early right?”
“Yeah,” you nod. “I take it you won’t be up?” Caiera shakes her head with a laugh. “I figured,” you tell her. “Then I guess this is goodbye.”
“For now,” Caiera says.
“For now,” you agree.
You’re moving now, finally out of the Academy and into your service. And if Thrawn doesn’t follow you into motion, then you’ll have to leave him behind. Tears stream down your cheeks as you try to fall asleep, but it’s better to get it out now, you think, and start new on Gatalenta.
@latenightsthoughtsnstuff @pala-din-djarin @mandaloriandin @zinzinina @itsyellow @justanothersadperson93 @tibbietibbs @buffnatalieportman @greenysnarl @firelordillyria
72 notes · View notes
Hideaway ~ Shinso Oneshot
Anon Request: Shinsou x fem y/n, cuddles until shinso gets taken away by aizawa for training, and y/n wants to watch but doesnt know how to ask- so she spies. Till she gets caught-
Admin SD: Hi, thank you for requesting! This is such a cute idea, I hope you don’t mind that it’s a headcanon. I have had a lot of oneshots recently, so I am trying to space them out!
The body that shifted under you woke you, your eyes groggy.
“I have to go now.”
You mumbled a reply, but it wasn’t coherent. You felt a soft kiss on your forehead as your boyfriend moved you onto the pillows.
As he walked away, you reached out for him, “Shinso?”
“Yes?” He said with a lazy smile.
You were about to speak, but your question got lost in your throat, “it doesn’t matter. I will see you later.”
Shinso left, bidding you a farewell.
You should have fallen back asleep, but the question you were afraid to ask plagued your mind.
Can I come watch you train?
It shouldn’t have been a difficult question to ask, the two of you trained together often, but that was with the rest of Class 2 A.
Everyone knew that Shinso had extra lessons, to make up for the ones he missed in the first year.
But seeing him train alone, asking to see it, felt too intimate, like you were crossing a boundary.
He wasn’t secretive about what the training entailed with you, mainly because he would be in pain the next couple of days, from sore muscles.
Making your mind up, you got out of bed and crept to the training room.
The room where he trained was smaller than the ones that the whole class trained it. It aided in more secret ‘underground’ missions, meaning that you were able to climb to the top of the rafters, and look down at the scene bellow.
Shinso and Aizawa were practicing their scarf techniques, learning how to be stealthy and quick.
Your heart filled with pride as you watched him train, noticing how much he has grown.
Towards the end of that lesson, Aizawa and Shinso went into hand to hand combat training.
You started to leave, not wanting Shinso to notice that you have left his room, but before you were able to leave, a deep voice caught your attention.
“I’d advise you to come down now y/n,” Aizawa said, wrapping Shinso up in his scarf.
You climbed down from where you were perched, Aizawa’s eyes falling on you, his face unreadable which was normal.
Shinso’s were wide, the only thing you could make out from him.
“What are you doing here y/n?” Aizawa asked, dropping Shinso to the floor with a thud.
You stood in front of them, sheepishly rubbing your arm, “I just wanted to watch.”
“Why didn’t you ask?” Shinso said, dusting himself off from the floor. He wasn’t angry, actually his cheeks were red because he found it cute.
“I don’t know, I didn’t want it to be weird,” you said, meeting his purple eyes, “I didn’t want to distract you or anything.”
“Actually Y/N,” Aizawa said looking between the two of you, “I was going to ask you to join in the next few days.”
“Yes. Your quirk is powerful and it will help Shinso learn fighting someone who isn’t me for once. Especially with the connection between you too.”
You stood there amazed, a smile on your face.
“Though I like your excitement, we really do need to get back to training, so if you could leave us be.”
You nodded and waved them goodbye, bounding out of the door.
Shinso watched you leave, a smile on his face, which did warm Aizawa’s heart that Shinso had found someone that he was comfortable with in 1A.
163 notes · View notes
Rexobi. I really just wanna see Rex and Obi-wan drinking together and complaining about the disaster that is Anakin Skywalker. They decide to team up to get anakin to calm the heck down and to talk about his feelings. Anakin doesn’t realize what’s going on but gets the idea he needs to play matchmaker with his master and his captain. He thinks he’s the smart one but he’s really not
(i have once again chickened out of your full prompt and instead give you the leadup to rexobi getting anakin to talk about his feelings.
i uhhh may be unable to think of anything but a rexobi au à la this post by @norcumii and @dharmaavocado about roleswap-ish senior padawan obi hella vibing with this mutant clone that can’t get above the rank of captain even as an arc trooper because the kaminoans are Like That, and qui-gon is going spare, because between anakin somehow being allowed to be in charge of a whole battalion and obi-wan picking fights with every single seperatist leader, he and cody never get a moment of peace. and like. just obi and rex being dumbass 20 year olds trying to deal with a general/master like anakin in the middle of a war. i don’t have TIME for that though
thank you for the prompt as always, i think this is the only rexobi/obex prompt i’ve ever gotten and this ship is criminally underappreciated. like?? kadavo?? anyways here’s whatever this is)
Alt+R to Quick Reblog on Desktop, Hold the Reblog Symbol to Quick Reblog on Mobile
Not for the first time, Rex wishes Kote were the one here dealing with this, because “how to comfort your favorite Jedi” hadn’t exactly been covered in ARC training – actually, Alpha probably withheld the information on purpose, the fucker.
But Kote is on the other side of the galaxy with the 187th and just as upset they’re not here in Rex’s stead: it’s barely a month off General Kenobi returning to his own face, and Rex knows his vod would strangle the entire Senate if given even half a chance for deploying them separately on their general’s first mission back after the Hardeen... incident.
And Fett’s Ghost knows Rex’s own general is going to pitch a fit when he finds out Rex is here instead of taking leave like the rest of the 501st, but Kote certainly wasn’t about to let Kenobi go all the way to Alderaan unguarded so soon after his supposed death; and honestly, Rex would have been offended if they had asked anybody else to do it. Thankfully, Kenobi hadn’t seemed offended when Rex had shown up at the Jedi Temple’s flight hangar before he could take off; instead, he had been rather amused.
Even luckier, Alderaan is barely a day’s jump from Coruscant, so they don’t have to spend too much time awkwardly pretending that Rex hadn’t attended the man’s funeral in Kote's place (that he would have attended anyways), or that Rex doesn’t know Anakin hasn’t spoken to his former master since their debrief to the High Council about Cad Bane. Which Rex should absolutely not know in the first place, but Anakin is his friend, for better or for worse, and Ahsoka thinks her master airs far too many of his grievances to his captain.
It isn't until their cruiser is making the descent over Alderaan that Kenobi finally addresses the tension between them, which only proves that Kenobi is well aware of it, but had put it off as long as he could. It's a humanising observation, that Rex wishes he could have had when he isn't the only vod in a ten mile radius that isn't the pilot, because at least then he wouldn't be the sole receiver of the soft smile Kenobi gives him as he joins Rex to wait by the shuttle's access hatch.
Rex thanks his progenitor's laughing corpse he has his bucket on, because all he can do is stare.
"You are worried about Anakin," Kenobi says matter of factly, though not unkindly, and Rex lets out a breath that's almost a laugh.
"I promise I am far more discrete with my thoughts in the field, sir."
Kenobi chuckles warmly, tucking his arms behind his back to watch the planet under them grow larger as they approach. "Do try not to worry so much, my dear, this will all resolve itself in time."
It's hard to stare right at his gentle assuredness, so Rex looks away. "You have far more faith in his ability to forgive than I, sir."
That laugh strains at the edges. "Yes, well, I'm afraid some of my lessons seem to have been... lacking."
Rex has regs carbon-printed on his brain, he knows that even without the direct chain of command, the soft push and pull of his relationship with Kenobi, the steady, serene growth of it, is... problematic, for so many reasons that he wouldn't know where to start. Not least of all is rank, how much more important a Jedi is than a replaceable CC-track washout, but, well, Rex had washed out for being too emotional, so it's not as if he's exactly unused to reacting to things inappropriately for a good little soldier.
"It's not my place, sir," he murmurs, remembering Kadavo, remembering Umbara, remembering the hand Kenobi had laid on his shoulder for far too long after the Blue Shadow virus, and has Rex really been this gone since then? "just say the word and I won't mention it again. But just because Kote isn't here doesn't mean you have to... shoulder all of this alone."
In fact, it's wildly not his place to make such an offer, however implicit, but that month on Kadavo did happen, and Rex isn't so self-deprecating to believe he hadn't had a heavy hand in helping Kenobi make it out on the other side as well as he did. He doesn't think so little of the bond they had formed then, to believe that Obi-Wan is unaware of it.
Not when he smiles at Rex like that, like he's a warm cup of caf after a week in the trenches, like Rex is... worthy of such sincere affection.
As the shuttle settles around them and the pilot announces their arrival over comm, Obi-Wan simply says, "I did not for a moment believe I was, my dear."
"You and Rex seem close."
Normally Obi-Wan can feel Anakin coming from an entire corridor away, but he also knows Quinlan has been teaching him a few Shadow tricks, so he isn't entirely surprised when Anakin appears at his elbow in the empty bridge looking like a smug necu.
Aside from eating firstmeal with Kote in the mess, Obi-Wan hasn't even seen Rex today, much less interacted with him: as he understands it, Rex is trying to round up the remaining 501st shinies that are running around the Negotiator, so Obi-Wan really doesn't know where Anakin had gotten that notion. Recently, at least.
Anakin rolls his eyes and scoffs, leaning back on the railing next to him and crossing his arms. "Please, Master, even Snips has noticed."
Obi-Wan refrains from telling him that anyone with a modicum more self-awareness than him has noticed. Be that as it may, "This is one of those times where I truly don't know what you're trying to say, my dear: I have been close with Rex since he was in the 212th."
It isn't even an exaggeration, that there had been... something between them before Anakin whisked Rex away to his own battalion after his knighting, though back then it had been nothing more than friendship. If he recalls correctly, and he does, the cleanup of the Ryloth capitol had been the first time since then that they had worked closely, while Anakin had been on the ground with the locals and Mace had been with General Syndulla, and Obi-Wan had found he still quite enjoyed the way they worked together. Their time on Naboo combating the Blue Shadow virus had only endeared the captain more to him —he does remember a slip in propriety in his relief that Rex had been rescued safely with Padmé and Ahsoka, a hand left too long on the captain's shoulder until Kote had called him away— enough that Obi-Wan had been both relieved and horrified that it was Rex there to support him on Kadavo.
"Cody said Rex was the one to go with you to Alderaan; you sure nothing 'happened' while you were there?" Anakin chuckles to himself like he's being incredibly clever, like there isn’t a hickey visible over the collar of his under tunic.
Obi-Wan raises a brow slowly and refrains from rolling his eyes. "Despite what you may believe, Anakin, not everyone leaps into committed relationships after life-threatening situations." Not that Alderaan had been life-threatening, it had actually been as close to actual leave as Obi-Wan has had the entire war.
"Please, it took Padmé and I ages to–"
Anakin seems to swallow his tongue, then, face rapidly going purple, and it really is a miracle the entire Republic doesn’t know about his marriage; the GAR certainly does.
Sighing, Obi-Wan checks the chrono and decides it isn't too early for another cup of tea. "If you have a specific question about my relationship with Captain Rex, I do wish you’d be direct, my dear."
Anakin splutters. "Relationship?!"
"Great Maker, Anakin, you’re easier to spook than a half-starved blurrg." He pats Anakin’s arm, his sonbrother floundering for anything other than abject confoundment, as Obi-Wan turns away from the bridge to go locate both tea, and his commander to hopefully finalise their newest mission orders. "Don't worry," he calls over his shoulder, "I'll actually let you come to the wedding, unlike someone."
Not that Obi-Wan has any such plans, Maker knows he and Rex have yet to address their feelings in the first place, but he'd be lying if part of him doesn't want to conspire with the captain in question —and perhaps Ahsoka— to see just how far they could take this before Anakin realises they're stringing him along.
Remarkably, Rex is waiting by Obi-Wan’s office with a flimsi cup of tea and a harried smile that promised quite the day chasing after shinies, and Obi-Wan decides conning his former apprentice can wait.
vod/e — “brother/s”, “comrade/s”, “sibling/s”, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brother/s”
175 notes · View notes
"You only want to stay because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?“
pairing: percy jackson x child of hecate!reader
warnings: angsty, mentions of breaking down
timeline: post sea of monsters
if you want to be tagged every time I update this story click here
a/n: i'm so fried after editing this, if i missed any typos, i'm sorry. as always, let me know what you think! i love getting feedback from you guys!
Part One Part Two Part Three Part Four Part Five
Your siblings sit in a half-circle at the back of the Hermes Cabin, ready for their lesson. James lays out the materials you’ll need for the potion he was demonstrating today: the mortar and pestle, herbs, spell books. He has almost everything except for the sand, which was the most crucial ingredient. So, he had sent you to retrieve some from the dunes since you were the only one who didn’t need the lesson Ernest was teaching.
Ernest stands in front of Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen, and Atticus, lecturing on the properties of sand. Your siblings listen attentively, taking notes in their notebooks, all of them but one. Ernest looks up from reading a part of his book of shadows, noticing Atticus is distracted by his familiar.
"Atticus, are you listening?" Ernest asks, raising his eyebrow as he closes his book. Atticus cradles Harvey in his arms as if he is a newborn baby, his finger scratching his tummy as the animal curls up towards his chest. He doesn’t notice the other staring at him for a few seconds, looking up after realizing he had stopped talking.
"Me? Yeah, dude. I'm listening," Atticus bluffs, and Ernest squints, leaning back on the desk behind him.
"So what did I just say?"
"Atticus, are you listening?" Atticus repeats, smiling as his sisters giggle beside him. The corner of Ernest’s mouth tugs into a slight smirk as he rolls his eyes.
"What did I say before that?" He clarifies. Atticus sways in his place, continuing to soothe his tired familiar, and he hums, trying to recall what they were discussing. He’s quiet for a while before grunting. He really wasn't listening, too distracted by his surroundings to focus. Ernest pretty much lost him at “alright guys, today…” However, he remembers you volunteering to get sand after James realized he forgot to get some himself.
"Ehm… I don't know. Something about sand?"
Ernest sighs, "Yes, I was talking about sand. Can anyone catch Atticus up on the properties for sand?"
"Different sands have various spiritual properties, but the lake sand that you're using today can be used in spells for self-reflection and grounding," Travis chimes in all of a sudden. He's laid down in his bed, holding a comic book over his head as he looks at the group.
James turns away from the materials, amused that the other has probably been listening this entire time. It was the middle of the day, so the Hermes cabin was pretty empty since everyone was out doing their own thing. The only other people in the cabin were the Stoll brothers and a handful of their siblings. James chuckles,
"Travis, you want to be a witch too?" He jokes, and Travis shrugs,
"I practically am already. I'm always listening to your lessons," he admits amused, returning his attention to the comic book he was reading.
"Everyone has a little witch in them. See Atticus; even Travis was listening," Alabaster teases.
Atticus grunts, "Yeah, yeah. I was trying to put Harvey to sleep!"
“You act like he’s a baby that needs to be coddled!” Sage raises her eyebrow. Atticus had always been super affectionate with Harvey. She swears she’s never seen Atticus and Harvey separated for long like the way you and Ambrose have periods where you’ll be apart. When Ambrose knew you were safe, he’d usually wander off to find your siblings or mess around with monsters in the forest, so he wasn’t with you 24/7. But Atticus managed to have Harvey with him all the time.
“Do not judge my parenting! He likes being held,” Atticus defends Harvey, and Lou Ellen rolls her eyes.
“Parenting? You sound like a single dad.”
Alabaster snorts, “anyways," he cuts in, grabbing both of their attention. "we can start the potion whenever Y/n decides to come back with it," he says as he sits down in a nearby desk chair.
Lou Ellen hums, "she's been gone for almost 40 minutes now. The dunes are on the other side of camp, but it shouldn't take her this long?"
"Maybe she got sidetracked?" James shrugs. "We can go look for her if she doesn't come back in another 10 minutes, but I'm sure she's fine.”
"I'm here!" You announce as you burst through the cabin door, Ambrose running next to you. He runs through the wall, rushing to join your siblings. You sigh, your arm coming up to wipe your forehead that was a little damp from sweat, and your cheeks are a little flushed from being in the summer heat.
"Look who decided to come back," James announces, shaking his head in playful disapproval. You smile sheepishly, too caught up in your breathing to say anything as you pass the jar to him. You return to your spot between Lou Ellen and Atticus, hoping they wouldn't ask too many questions.
"What took you so long?" Lou Ellen asks, her voice concerned. You clear your throat, attempting not to sound hesitant as you come up with a lie on a whim.
"Oh uh, I just got distracted… some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin were hanging out at the dunes, and I got caught up in conversation," you stutter a little, suddenly feeling nervous as Atticus squints at you. You accidentally meet his stare before looking away fast, turning so that your back is facing him.
"You're lying," he declares. You scoff,
"No, I'm not!"
"I'm your twin, y/n. I know when you are lying!" He reminds you, and you groan.
You and Atticus have always had this weird twin sense. You both can tell when the other is lying because you could pick up on each other's emotions really well. You thought maybe if he didn’t see your body language, he wouldn’t be able to pick up on your lie, but of course, he didn’t need a visual to know that you were nervous. You could also feel each other's pain to a certain extent which has always been annoying. Atticus was pretty accident-prone when he was younger and, well, still is. This meant any bumps and bruises he managed to obtain, you would always get dull aches in the same area. The most annoying part of it all was that the more severe the pain, the more you felt. Once you had period cramps so bad, you both had to call out from school because he was also curled up in his bed, declaring that he’ll never make period jokes again in his life.
You weren’t sure why you had this connection with your brother. Since you’ve had it your entire life, you had thought this was a regular thing, but you’ve recently found out that it wasn't normal at all. You just assumed that it came with the quirks of being children of a sorceress goddess. You had to admit that it was cool, but at times like this, you wished you didn’t have it because Atticus called you out a lot.
You didn't want to admit you got distracted by Percy in the combat area. On your way back, you saw him practicing with the test dummies. You watched him practice for a few seconds, and you had no intention of stopping to talk to him initially, but when he caught you walking by, he called you over.
"Admit it, you were nervous," Percy laughs, continuing to tease you about how you ran away from him during Capture the Flag. You scoff, nudging his shoulder,
"Of you? Please,” you deny even though you were nervous about going head-to-head with him, but he didn’t need to know that. “It doesn't matter if I ran away because I still won!” You stick your tongue out at him, and he smiles,
“You should still practice your sword fighting, Y/n. You can’t always run away from a sword fight,” he points out, and you frown,
“I’m not a close-range fighter. It’s just how it is.” After declaring that you “failed” in sword fighting, you were a bit insecure about your abilities. It was a good and bad thing because after your “failure,” you delved into your magic studies, and you were proud of how much better your abilities have gotten. You could confidently say that you are now a more powerful and seasoned witch than you were at the beginning of the summer. The bad part was that you never stepped foot in the combat area again. The dagger you carried around barely saw the light of day, strapped in its holster most of the time.
"Well, one day, you might not have a choice… c'mon Sabrina Spellman, show me what you got," he jokes as he gets into his stance. You smile, putting the jar of sand down before taking your dagger out of its casing.
"I don't got much to show," you say playfully.
You thought that you'd just go one round with him, but the next thing you knew, he was giving you an entire lesson. He sparred with you a few times, analyzing how you fought and he gave you tips here and there. He was helpful and patient, and you did walk away knowing a few new things.
You swallow as you feel the stares of your siblings, now interested as to why you lied. You try not to become more flustered as you recall the feeling of Percy standing close behind you. His touch was gentle, hands slightly calloused as he adjusted the way you held your dagger, and with light fingertips, he moved your limbs, putting you in a stronger stance.
You shake your head, fiddling with your fingers, “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you trailed off, hoping Atticus would drop it. You turn to your brothers, James preparing everything, but Alabaster and Ernest were just as interested as the others regarding where you could have been.
"She was probably with Percy,” Connor mocks, a sly smirk on his face as the whole cabin filled with Ooo's and amused chattering. Your shoulders slouch, head hung low, and you felt like you wanted to crawl in a hole.
"Were you actually?" You hear Atticus asks with amusement in his voice. You don't move from your place, keeping quiet. You knew there was no use in denying it because Atticus would easily sense the lie.
"She definitely was!" Alice squeals when you don’t say anything, and you glare at your sisters, making them giggle.
Lou Ellen nudges your shoulder, "what were you guys doing? You looked flustered when you walked in here,” she teases and winks.
"Probably making out!" Connor butts in before you could answer, and you gasp, snapping your gaze to him.
“We were just sparring!" You blurt out, and Connor laughs at how defense you suddenly became. The last thing you wanted was rumors leaving the cabin, and you groan as your sisters start pestering you with questions, along with the assumptions of your other cabinmates.
"Okay! Okay," Alabaster shouts a little over the chattering. "We need to focus. You guys can talk about that later," he says, and silence falls amongst your siblings. You nod, relieved that you get to avoid the topic for now. You watch as they exchange looks, silently communicating something to each other. You had an idea that it had something to do with you as Ernest’s eyes flicker in your direction and Alabaster’s face hardens. James gave them a dismissive wave with his hand as if he was telling them not to worry before continuing to sort out the materials in front of him.
"Let's start this potion. Some of us have chores to do," James cuts through the silence as he grabs the mortar and pestle and sits down in front of you and your siblings.
As James puts the potion together, carefully showing you how to cut and crush certain herbs, Ernest sits beside him, explaining the steps carefully. You lean a little forward, focusing on the lesson, and you diligently write notes in your notebook, trying not to miss any crucial details.
“Take good notes; I’m copying those,” Atticus whispers in your ear, and you squint at him playfully. His arms were too occupied with Harvey, so he was just watching the demonstration, confident that you’ll take thorough notes for him to copy. You shake your head, turning your attention back to Ernest as he speaks. After demonstrating it, they pass on the materials to you guys, and it was your turn to try it out.
The potion was a little too easy for you, and you find yourself growing a little bored as you put everything together. It annoyed you because you felt like your brothers were going easy on you and you were itching to get into the more advanced stuff such as healing potions or something like a disguising potion.
Out of your three older brothers, Ernest was the most knowledgeable about potions. He was always helping out in the infirmary, making healing potions for the Apollo kids to use. Sometimes the Hermes kids would ask him to make potions for pranks, and you’ve even seen some of the girls from the Aphrodite cabin begging him to make love potions for them. Usually, Ernest would decline their requests, giving lectures, especially to the Aphrodite girls, why a love potion is a terrible idea. But in the times that he has agreed to do them, the results were always hilarious. Once, he made a Hilarity Potion for the Stoll brothers that turned the Ares cabin into a bunch of giggling messes for 24 hours. Until that day, you’ve never seen someone giggle aggressively before.
You were the first to finish the potion, bottling it up in a miniature glass jar before pushing the cork into the top. You carefully wired wrapped the jar, attaching it to a necklace and fastening it around your neck. After being praised by your brothers, you were off to do the chores that were given to you by Connor as repayment for not ratting you out to the Aphrodite Cabin about your spontaneous meeting with Percy at the docks.
You were done right in time for dinner, the time passing as usual as you and your siblings talk and laugh at the table. Soon, you were singing along to the songs at the campfire, and by the time it came to an end, your eyelids were heavy with fatigue. You knew then that you were not going to study into the night as the soreness from sparring with Percy started to settle in your muscles. When you arrived at the Hermes cabin after washing up for bed, you could barely keep your eyes open. The last thing you remembered was mumbling a good night to Atticus and turning over in your bed.
Your dreams were always weird, so when you’re taken to a meadow in the middle of nowhere, you weren’t surprised. Actually, you were pretty content, preferring this scene instead of the bizarre settings you often came across.
You swore you could feel the soft summer breeze blowing on your face, and you take a deep breath, basking in the fresh air. You look out at the grassy land ahead of you, noticing you were standing at a crossroad. Two gravel roads stretched in either direction, one path seemingly identical to the other. You turn around to study your surroundings further. You squint, hand hovering above your eyes to protect them from the shining sun that's beginning to set behind the hills. The valley was still; the only sound you could hear was the wind whooshing past your ears, and you felt safe.
“Come with us, y/n.” A familiar voice cuts through the stillness, and you gasp, looking in the direction it came from. You find Alabaster standing on the left road, James and Ernest standing beside him. You felt your stomach turn as their eyes darken. Your arms wrap around your frame as the once warm wind turns cold. Dark clouds roll in, splitting the sky in half as the right side remains the same sunny meadow. Groans of thunder echoed throughout the land, and you can sense an eerie presence lingering in the air.
“What?” You whisper to yourself, noticing Atticus standing on the right road.
“No! Don’t,” he shouts, his expression glazed over in fear, and you step back.
“Don’t listen to him. We know what’s best for you,” James says, his arm extended out for you to hold, and you shake your head. “Come with us.”
“No! Come with me!”
“Come with us!”
You feel your heart racing in your chest, the screams of your brothers sending goosebumps to your skin. Their voices become more desperate, and you can hear the grief and panic in their voices.
“No, no, no. It’s a dream… you can change it,” you whisper, becoming overwhelmed as the thunder grows louder and so the desperation in your brother’s wailing. You stare down at the ground, and your hands are pressed firmly over your ears. You try to concentrate on shifting into another dream, but before you could, you felt as if your body was sucked into a vortex. A distant voice calls your name, and you groan, your vision blurry as your eyes flutter open.
Alabaster stands over you as he nudges your shoulder softly, whispering your name until you finally wake up. “C’mon, get up.”
You lazily sit up in your bed, your surroundings fuzzy as Alabaster guides you to stand up. You assume that it must be morning as you slip your feet into your slippers and you rub your eyes. It didn’t take you long to notice that it was still night time and you whine softly, confused and annoyed that you were woken up from your slumber.
“Al? What’s going on?” Alabaster doesn’t answer, grabbing onto your wrist, and you were too groggy to protest, following him to the back window of the Hermes cabin. You stumble a little when you land on the grass, Atticus coming to your side and grabbing on to your other hand. You don’t even notice the nervous look on his face or the way his hand was shaking, too busy attempting to stay awake.
Your vision was still fuzzy, and you lay your head against your brother's arm, feeling Ambrose’s mouth tugging on your shirt frantically as Alabaster leads you into the forest. You don’t know what it was, but you had this feeling that something was wrong and a soft sigh leaves your lips as you gather your strength to get out of your grogginess.
“Wait… wait!” You snatch your arm from Alabaster's hold. “What’s going on?” You ask as your brothers turn around.
“We’re leaving,” Ernest says, and you furrow your eyebrows. “We’re going to join Kronos’s army.”
“We? Are you insane?” You felt your heart drop to your chest, and you tried to look for any sign that they were joking.
“Come with us, Y/n,” Alabaster pleads, and you feel goosebumps forming on your skin as you get an overwhelming feeling of deja vu. The tone of his voice, the way their eyes darkened, was the same as the dream you just had. Your brothers glowered down at you, waiting for your decision.
"No… no, this isn't right,” you whisper. You let go of Atticus’s hand, just now noticing how tight his grip was. You wipe your shaky palms on your pants, and for a moment, you thought you were still dreaming. At least, you were hoping that you were still dreaming. You scan your surroundings, trying to find a sign that would tell you that this wasn't real, but you don't find one.
“There is no reason to stay here, to fight on this side. Kronos will win the war. The camp doesn’t stand a chance,” Alabaster declares confidently. Your mind wanders, recalling the dark stormy clouds that loomed over your brothers in your dream and the eeriness that took over. You could practically feel your pulse in your ears, grasping the fact that your dream was a warning.
“And how are you so sure?” Your voice quivers, and you sigh in disbelief.
“Because mother told me,” Alabaster says, and your head jerks back, your eyebrows furrowed.
“Mother? She spoke to you?”
“Yes. She’s fighting for Kronos, and she believes it is in our best interest to join her.”
A wave of emotion washes over you all at once. You were shocked, furious, even a little jealous. Your mother never came to speak to you. You knew that she tended to favor your more powerful siblings. Your older brothers have talked to her a few times, and the reminder made your chest feel heavy. You knew she looked after you, obviously. She had saved your life by sending Ambrose to you and your brother's aid. You prayed to her daily, and she occasionally sent you signs that made you feel she was there with you — but coming to see you? That was a privilege that you weren’t worthy of; at least, that’s what it felt like.
Your fury came from the fact that your mother was the motivator of all this. Why would she persuade your brothers in her own interests? Weren’t there rules that your godly parent couldn’t interfere with certain things? You weren’t sure what the rules specifically were, but this didn’t feel right. You shake your head,
“Mother isn’t omniscient. She doesn’t know who will win.” Your fist is clenched hard on your side, and you watch as Alabaster’s expression hardens,
"You're only fighting on this side because of your little boyfriend. Is he more important to you than us?"
"Boyfriend?! What are you talking about-”
"I'm talking about Percy! Don’t think we haven’t noticed you hanging out with him. Sparring together? In the strawberry fields together? You guys were practically flirting at the campfire, and Connor told us that you’ve been meeting him at night. Is that true?"
You feel your face get hot, but it wasn’t at the accusation of Percy being your boyfriend but the rage that was swirling in your chest. You hated that he thought you would compromise your loyalty to your siblings for a boy. That wasn’t true. In the right circumstances, you would always put your siblings first because you knew they would do the same. But this wasn’t about Percy; you haven’t thought of him until Alabaster brought him up. This was about loyalty to the camp.
"He's not my boyfriend. It doesn’t even matter what side he’s fighting on. I couldn’t care less. Al… this- this is about family!"
“The camp,” you say shakily, and you shift on your feet as a sarcastic laugh leaves Alabaster’s lips.
“The camp? You mean the camp that doesn’t deem our mother worthy of her own cabin? We’ve been trapped in that Hermes cabin since the beginning. Half of us didn’t even have a bed to sleep in the first summer we arrived. You and Lou Ellen had to cram in a twin-size bed the first couple of weeks until you got lucky and something opened up. Y/n, they don’t care about us. They toss us to the side, barely give us a space to learn our magic. This camp isn’t family. We're your family, Y/n. We understand you the most. We share the same powers, the same mother. We care for you."
You look down at the ground, hating that you were unable to deny that the words he spoke held truth. The children of minor gods were treated differently. You didn’t have a cabin dedicated to your godly parent, and that was enough to make you feel lesser than. You remember Ethan Nakamura saying in passing that being forced to sleep in the Hermes cabin was pretty much an odd punishment for not being a child of one of the 12. You remember laughing and brushing it off, not thinking much of it at the moment, but now, it suddenly occurred to you that he wasn’t joking at all. He was dead serious.
You have to admit that the living situation wasn’t ideal. It affected how you were able to study your magic and came with annoying inconveniences. You slept in a sleeping bag for your first summer, tucked away in the corner of the room with Atticus. The system in place for who gets a bed was set up by seniority. The longer you've been at camp, the more secure your sleeping arrangements were. You only got a bed because, at the beginning of the summer, a good chunk of kids had left to join Kronos’ army, which bumped you up on the waiting list.
You almost gave in, only so that you'd be with your siblings. If you stay, most of them will be long gone, and you'll be forced to fight them on the battlefield, but you couldn't leave. It didn’t feel right to compromise your loyalty to the camp. Though there were days where you did feel like an outcast, you couldn’t ignore the times you didn’t. Your friends here were important to you too, and you’ve always seen the camp as your haven. It was the only place where you didn’t have to worry about monsters or entities. Sure, some people at camp saw you as some freak, but you never felt as much as a freak here as you did in the mortal world. In the end, it boiled down to one question. Did you want to fight alongside your friends for a camp that brought you a sense of comfort? Or will you fight for a bitter, greedy titian who’s only using you so he can have the throne?
"No, I’m staying,” you say with a tight jaw, looking up to meet Alabaster’s eyes. You kept thinking of the dark clouds, the thunder roaring in the background, the way the valley darkened. That was a warning. That was a clear sign to run the other way, to not walk into the storm.
"Atticus?" Alabaster shifts his gaze to your brother, who stands beside you. Your entire body tenses up, your teeth chewing at the inside of your cheek.
He couldn't go. You couldn’t bear the thought of being without him. Though you were sure that he would be on your side, it was then you decided that if Atticus left, you were going to leave too. You hated that you were second-guessing him, but you weren't sure what to believe after this whole thing being pulled by Alabaster.
"... I'm staying.” His voice is more confident than you expected it to be, and you sigh out shakily, feeling the weight of dread lift from on your shoulders. You’ll still have your twin, and right now, when you felt like your whole world was falling apart, that’s all that mattered.
"You both are fools," Alabaster hissed, and your fist clenches, gaze snapping up.
"You’re the damn fool. How are you so sure that if Kronos wins, everything will suddenly be better? Alabaster, he’s feeding off your anger for his own agenda. You really think if we fight in his little army, he’ll care about us?” Your voice cracks, you scan the crowd of your siblings looking at you. You peer over at your sisters, who were huddled behind your brothers.
“Sage, Alice, Lou Ellen? This isn’t right. We- I- don’t go, just stay here at camp,” you plead, hoping that if you could persuade them to stay, maybe your brothers will forfeit their plan. “I have a bad feeling. I had a dre-”
“Stop,” James barked. You couldn’t help but cringe; the way his eyes narrowed at you was something you’ve never seen before.
“The odds are in Kronos’ favor. He has a bigger army. His allies are strong. This camp doesn’t stand a chance. You asking them to stay is the same as asking them to die,” he declares. “Mother says if- when he wins, she will take care of us. We can live and study with her, she promised.”
Your eyes sting with tears, and you close them, fingers anxiously peeling the skin around your nails. It was way too good to be true. That’s probably something you’ve always wanted, to live as a coven with your siblings. You only wished for a conversation with your mother, but the opportunity to learn from her directly was tempting. Still, you thought about the chaos that would reign across the country, across the world. You didn’t understand how a world under the rule of Kronos could be any better than the world you had now. And you deduced that it would probably be even worse.
“It’s all bull,” you spat, and you scoff. “I’m asking them to die? Take a look at where you’re taking them! This is mad. Guys, please,” you plead again. You frown as Alice and Sage refuse to look at you, huddling close beside each other.
“I- I’m staying,” Lou Ellen suddenly breaks the silence, and you feel a rush of hopefulness. Her head is lowered in a bow, avoiding the stares of your brothers as she walks to you. You reach out your arms, grasping her hand the moment she was close enough. You hear Ernest scoff, turning around to look at Sage and Alice.
“Anyone else would like to stay?” His tone is harsh, cutting through the night and Alice and Sage stare at the floor. You could tell from their trembling hands that they were scared. If they felt any conviction, any second thoughts, they didn’t dare to speak up.
“Let’s go before we get caught out here,” Alabaster announces, and you meet his eyes one last time.
“We’ll see you on the battlefield, sister.”
The walk back to the Hermes Cabin was silent. You hold on to Lou Ellen’s equally clammy hands, the three of you shaken up from what just happened. A part of you still couldn’t even believe that this is how your night played out. You glance at Atticus, his face expressionless, but you knew his mind was scattered with a million thoughts. If your own grief wasn’t enough, you were met with the burden of the grief radiating off of him.
Atticus coped with things differently than you did. You were quick to cry when you’re sad, scream when you were angry, but he bottled it up. He would bottle it up until all his emotions boiled over the limit. Even then, he was private, never letting it out where people could see him, but no matter what, you felt it, and no matter what, you were there comforting him.
He meets your gaze, and you take in the sadness on his face. The sight of his sorrow made it hard to hold back your tears. You knew that when Al called his name, he felt your panic. He felt your dilemma. You didn’t exactly know his stance on the impending war, but you knew at that moment, Atticus made his decision because he didn’t want to be separated from you. He manages a sad smile as there is a mutual understanding of this between the two of you. He slings his arm around both you and Lou Ellen’s shoulders in a failed attempt to lighten up the situation. He swallows hard,
“We’ll be okay,” he musters out, and as confident he wished to sound, the weakness in his voice was unavoidable. You suppress the sob that threatened to leave your lips, a tear falling down your cheek, and you nod,
“Yeah, we- we’ll be okay.” Your voice falters.
and hopefully, they’ll be okay too.
taglist: @nct127bee @xxyrr
113 notes · View notes
The Dragon Awakens!
(Previously, in Cookie Run: OvenBreak) Purple Yam Cookie and Milk Cookie set off to find Dark Choco Cookie!
The Two Cookies joined forces to overcome the perils they encountered.
Dino-Sour Cookie decided to tag along on their quest into the Dragon’s Valley… Where will their path lead them?)
Deep within the Dragon’s Valley was a village of fierce warriors: the Mala Tribe.
Strengthened by generations of exposure to the blazing heat, invigorated by the red-hot flames, the Mala Tribe became the most spirited and spiciest of warriors.
Mala Sauce Cookie: So there ya have it, HRAGHAHA! The history of the Mala Tribe.
Milk Cookie: What an amazing tale!
Purple Yam Cookie: We never ASKED for a history lesson...
Mala Sauce Cookie: But there’s some strange things going on in the valleys nowadays...
Mala Sauce Cookie: The ground is gettin colder and the tribe is gettin bland!
Dino-Sour Cookie: Er… really? It’s still really hot here...
Mala Sauce Cookie: There’s only one way to solve this: We gotta find the fire-breathin dragon!
Mala Sauce Cookie: It ain’t gonna be easy...
Mala Sauce Cookie: But I’m gonna find that dragon, no matter what!
Milk Cookie: There must be a way to help the Mala Tribe...
Milk Cookie: We will assist!
Purple Yam Cookie: What do you mean WE!?
Milk Cookie: There are Cookies in need. We must help them!
Purple Yam Cookie: Why should I help THEM!?
Purple Yam Cookie: I’m going to go find DARK CHOCO COOKIE!
Milk Cookie: Now, wait a second! The tribe helped us when the valley’s landscape shifted before our eyes!
Milk Cookie: We need to repay our debt to the Mala Tribe!
Purple Yam Cookie: HMPH! Who cares!
Milk Cookie: Come now, Purple Yam Cookie! How could you say that!?
Mala Sauce Cookie: ENOUGH!
Mala Sauce Cookie: It’s too dangerous here! I’ll hand this by myself so get outta here!
Purple Yam Cookie: ……!
Purple Yam Cookie: You’re quite strong...
Purple Yam Cookie: FINE! I’ll go with you.
Milk Cookie: I wholeheartedly agree, Purple Yam Cookie.
Dino-Sour Cookie: Can’t talk about dragons without me in the picture! I’m with you, too!
Milk Cookie: Mala Sauce Cookie, where should we start in our search for the dragon?
Mala Sauce Cookie: The Mala Tribe has an ancient legend about the dragon.
Mala Sauce Cookie: Just leave it to me!
Milk Cookie: Whew! We finally made it.
Dino-Sour Cookie: Dudes… is this THE Dragon’s Nest!?
Purple Yam Cookie: How many times did we get LOST… You SAID you were an EXPERT in navigating the Dragon’s Valley!
Dino-Sour Cookie: Psh…
Milk Cookie: But thanks to Mala Sauce Cookie, at least we’ve arrived, safe and sound.
Dino-Sour Cookie: That’s right. If it weren’t for Mala Sauce Cookie, you’d be at the bottom of the cliff by now.
Purple Yam Cookie: HMPF...
Mala Sauce Cookie: Our journey here was an awesome show of teamwork!
Mala Sauce Cookie: It’s all part of the adventure! Lotsa stories to tell in the future!
Mala Sauce Cookie: Now let’s head on into the Dragon’s Nest!
Dino-Sour Cookie: This is so RAD! I can’t wait to meet a real DRAGON!
Milk Cookie: There’s something over there!
Dino-Sour Cookie: The dragon…! Gotta be the dragon!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: *Rumble* Grrrr...
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: That ssscent… Are you Cookiesss?
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: How interesssting! I have not met a Cookie ever sssince the Cookie Kingdom fell.
Milk Cookie: Are you the Red Dragon from the legends!?
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: HAHAHA! Legendsss, you say? Why yesss… Basssk in my glory!
Dino-Sour Cookie: Huh? But you’re just a Cookie...
Mala Sauce Cookie: Red Dragon! I’m here on behalf of our tribe!
Mala Sauce Cookie: The legends say your magic is limitless. Please! Grant me a wish!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Defeat me in sssingle combat…!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: A while ago, a Cookie touched by the Darkness jussst left...
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: How long can you lassst, I wonder...
Mala Sauce Cookie: Huh!? This is gonna be tough…!
Mala Sauce Cookie: But… the tribe is depending on me! I gotta find a way!
Milk Cookie: Stand fast, Mala Sauce Cookie! We are by your side.
Purple Yam Cookie: I survived through HELLFIRE! A dragon’s flames are NOTHING!
Dino-Sour Cookie: Best. Day. EVER! I get to fight a dragon!
Mala Sauce Cookie: HRAGHAHA! Thanks! Now, let’s do this.
Mala Sauce Cookie: Fooooor theeeeee MALA TRIBE!
Mala Sauce Cookie: Ooof… Quite a punch, ya got there!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: I may look like a Cookie, but I am ssstill a DRAGON!
Purple Yam Cookie: Urgh...
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: I’ve not had this fun in agesss! Jussst look at how AFRAID you are...
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Let’sss take it up a notch… Have a tassste of this!
Dino-Sour Cookie: Watch out! Dragonfire incoming!
Milk Cookie: Take cover behind my shield!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Imposssible!
Purple Yam Cookie: NOW’S our chance! We NEED to STRIKE!
Milk Cookie: Mala Sauce Cookie, NOW!
Mala Sauce Cookie: WITH ALL MY MIGHT!
Mala Sauce Cookie: HRAGHHH!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: *Maniacal laughter*
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: I’ve ssseen enough. Put down your weaponsss.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: What a thrilling duel. Cookiesss sure know how to have fun.
Mala Sauce Cookie: Does that mean you’ll hear my request!?
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Oh, very well… What requessst do you bring?
Mala Sauce Cookie: Our tribe’s lands in the Dragon’s Valley are cooling down by the second...
Mala Sauce Cookie: If this keeps up, the entire Mala Tribe will become bland and dull!
Mala Sauce Cookie: Please… ya gotta help. We need HEAT!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Is that all? How… quaint.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Never have I heard sssuch a humble requessst.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Indeed, a sssimple enough tasssk.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: I grant you one of my ssscales. It ssshould be enough to warm up a sssimple village.
Mala Sauce Cookie: A dragon’s scale… Ain’t ever seen anything like this!
Mala Sauce Cookie: Thanks!
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: But take heed to this warning: the Dragon’sss Valley will continue to collapse into dessspair...
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: This is jussst the beginning. The unnatural collapssse even forced me to take the appearance of a Cookie.
Pitaya Dragon Cookie: Perhaps the other dragonsss know a more permanent sssolution.
Mala Sauce Cookie: Other… DRAGONS!?
Purple Yam Cookie: WUDDYA mean by that!?
Milk Cookie: There are more terrifying dragons roaming the world…?
Dino-Sour Cookie: ...We’re talkin about REAL dragons this time, right!?
Mala Sauce Cookie: This scale may not be enough to save the village...
Mala Sauce Cookie: I can’t go back with just half of an answer!
Purple Yam Cookie: You’re NOT thinking about finding these DRAGONS, are you!?
Purple Yam Cookie: NOPE! I’m out.
Milk Cookie: But we’ve already been through so much together in this quest! We must see this to the end.
Milk Cookie: We need to help Mala Sauce Cookie!
Purple Yam Cookie: I know EXACTLY which direction I’m going to go.
Purple Yam Cookie: I’ve got a HUNCH!
Milk Cookie: Huh…? A hunch?
Purple Yam Cookie: I know where Dark Choco Cookie is! YOU of all Cookies should KNOW!
Milk Cookie: What!? Please explain!
Dino-Sour Cookie: *RUMBLE* Wa… wait! The ground is shaking…!
Milk Cookie: No… NO!
Purple Yam Cookie: It’s an EARTHQUAKE! The ground is SPLITTING!?
Mala Sauce Cookie: Milk Cookie! Dino-Sour Cookie!
Mala Sauce Cookie: NNNNOOOOOO!
25 notes · View notes
Hi! Can you please do headcannons of Zelda (Botw), Akira/Ren(P5), Linhardt (Fe3h) and Bernadetta (Fe3h) with a S/O who is a dancer/Loves to dance? Thank you!
Yeah sure thing!!
If you want to support me then here’s this: https://ko-fi.com/jinxitty
Probably walks in on you dancing alone to music playing in the background.
He doesn’t say anything, just watches. He’ll secretly hope you’ll feel a bit embarrassed at getting caught since you’re cute when you’re flustered.
Instead when you catch him, you drag him into your dance which he’s not expecting. He picks it up pretty fast though.
Doesn’t say anything as you talk about how you miss dancing and just talk about your love
Akira will definitely take that info and use it later. Maybe he’ll come up and randomly dip you.
Will definitely want you to give him dancing lessons as he figures they could help a bit in combat with moving out of the way.
Bernadetta would probably walk in on you dancing and stare.
When she realizes she’s been caught she’ll start screaming apologies and how she didn’t mean to intrude.
Honestly, Bernadetta would prefer to watch you dance than join in. She makes a lot of excuses about having two left feet, about making you look bad, things like that.
Would like to have private dances with the two of you. It’s a lot more calming and she doesn’t feel like she’s being judged the whole time.
It’ll take a lot of persuading, but I can see convincing Bernadetta to sing to give you the music to dance to.
She’d definitely practice alone in her room from time to time so that she can try to build up confidence to dance more with you later.
Dancing gets brought up in lessons at one point and Linhardt will mention that it’s too tiring and useless when it comes to academics.
He’ll then realize the pout you have and will probably comment about it later, only to get a spheal about how you love dancing.
Lin will feel slightly bad that he talked down about dancing but will state that he isn’t one for dance.
Of course, he’ll gladly listen to you talk about dancing since there is a lot of historically interesting things about the subject, but actually taking part is not for him.
He’ll gladly stand by and watch you dance should you want to or if you have lessons. He’ll just smile softly to himself with how happy you are dancing.
He will groan and complain when you pull him into the dance with you but he’ll eventually be quiet as it is a nice, relaxing hobby when it’s the two of you. Afterwards he’ll have you take a nap with him since he did something you loved, now you get to do something he loves.
Zelda probably has a lot of training due to being a princess. She had some dance lessons which she probably wasn’t too enthused about before realizing they can be used in combat.
When she finds out that you can dance then she’ll be impressed and probably jokingly as if you wanted to dance.
If you agreed to dancing with Zelda then her joking nature would leave and she’ll have a genuine smile as she’d take your hand and began to just dance for a little bit.
Zelda would talk to you about where you learned to dance and has a small smile when she hears how you love to dance.
Zelda will definitely try to see if there’s a way to organize more balls to happen at the castle so you have more reason to dance.
She’ll probably just try and see if you can meet with her dancing instructors just to see if you know dances they don’t or if they can teach you something new so you’ll be happier.
64 notes · View notes
Shinsou, Izuku, and tamaki meet a new student, a headless student.
I remember that day like it was yesterday, who could forget the day you meet a headless girl.
"Good morning class, We have a new student. Meet Y/n L/n, and her quirk should already be obvious," The teacher said in a border tone.
We meet back in Middle school, so at the time I didn't care about the new girl. Though I was caught off guard when the new kid had to sit next to me, and I've seen many strange quirks. Yet there she was, normal from the neck down, and from the stump of her neck black smoke came out.
It seemed for the most part she simply kept to herself and always held her backpack close, as if her life depended on it.
"Shinsou, you will show the new girl around okay," The teacher said.
"Fine," I sighed in annoyance.
"And this is the cafeteria, and that is the end of our tour," Shinsou yawned.
'hey is that the guy. the guy with that villainous quirk,'
'yeah don't take to him or else he'll brainwash you,' whispered a couple of smirking kids.
Shinsou sighed as he stretched the back of his head. Suddenly he felt a soft tap on the shoulder, turning to see the headless student with a notepad.
"Why are you sad?" was written down.
"I'm not sad. Just it gets to you when people labeled you as a villain before they even get to know me, all because of my quirk," Shinsou said bluntly.
"That's terrible :'(," Y/n wrote as she stepped closer to Shinsou.
Despite not having a head Shinsou could feel an aura of sadness coming from the headless girl.
"So are you joining middle school so late? Especially the last year?" Shinsou asked.
He watched as the girl scribbled on her notepad. She quickly flipped it around for the taller boy to see.
"The students from my last school would bully me. One threatened to throw my head from the school rooftop," Y/n wrote.
"Y-Your head," Shinsou asked curiously.
"Yeah, my weak spot. If something happens to it I'll die," Y/n wrote.
"I think everyone's weak spot is our heads," Shinsou said simply.
"well if I were to lose my head, anyone could destroy it and my body will drop dead no matter where it is," Y/n wrote as her shoulder dropped slightly.
"Soo... You have ahead?" Shirou asked slightly confused.
Y/n slipped her bag off and opened her bag revealing her head. She had a beautiful face, lovely locks of H/c hair with shimmering E/c eyes. Y/n quickly closed her bag and quickly looped it over her shoulders.
"So your not quite headless," Shinsou chuckled.
Y/n's neck stump shook no as a puff of black smoke emerged along with the sound of a chuckle.
"So... You want to...Have lunch with me?" Shinsou asked slowly.
"Yes :)," Y/n wrote.
It was another long and boring day school and Bakugou's harassment as Izuku was busy writing in his hero's journal that he failed to notice the new student that took a seat next to him.
"Midoriya!"The teacher called suddenly.
Izuku gasps and quickly stands, as he accidentally knocked over his notebook. The class giggled at Midoriya's blunder as he began to stutter. The teacher simply ignored Midoriya's apologies and continued with his lesson.
As he sat back down looked all over the floor around his desk for his book. As he searches he saw a hand holding his book out to him. His eyes traveled up the person's arm to see a biker's helmet staring at him.
"Ah! Um, t-thank you," Izuku gasped as he took his notebook back.
The girl simply nodded and turned back to her desk. As the days went on Izuku couldn't keep his eyes on the biker-wearing girl next to him. He knew that in school hats were not even allowed in class, so why is she wearing a helmet.
The class soon broke for lunch as everyone just hung around and chatted among themselves. Izuku sat nervesly next to the new girl as they ate their lunches at their desk quietly. As he staredown, he felt a tap on his shoulder.
"AH!" Izuku gasped loudly.
Suddenly a phone was shoved in his face. He quickly backed a bit to see the message on the screen.
"You're quite observant. I peaked a little into your journal. Do you want to be a hero Too?" It said.
"Umm yeah, I want to help people and bring a smile to people's faces," Izuku said with a small smile. "What about you? umm, What is your quirk?"
The girl typed on her phone to change the message.
"My quirk scares people, so I wish to be a hero that people can turn to in their time of need," the message said.
"I-it can't be that scary," Izuku reassured.
They looked at Izuku blankly, when she removed the helmet to reveal to have no head. The room was soon filled with screams as all the remaining students ran out of the room in fear. Izuku fell to the floor in shock, but he stared at her with awe. The headless girl typed on her phone again.
"If you are afraid, your free to run. Everyone does, that is why I were a helmet to give the illusion that I have ahead.
"N-no, I won't run, but. What is that black smoke coming from your neck? How can you see without ahead? Do you eat? Is there more to your quirk?" Izuku asked as he started to bombard the poor girl with questions.
"I'm Y/n L/n by the way," Y/n typed.
"Oh um... Izuku Midoriya,"
It was another day in UA in Class 1A, Tamaki and Mirio sat around waiting for Mr.Aizawa like the rest of the class. Then suddenly the door opened with a tired teacher and a new girl with him.
"Alright sit down everyone, we have a new student with us, hurry up and introduce yourself," Aizawa yawned.
"I'm Y/n L/n, it's nice to meet you. Let's work hard and become heroes," Y/n said with a bright smile.
'Looks like there's going to be another extremely confident student,' Tamaki whimpered to himself.
"Alright that's enough, get into your gym uniforms and head to the gym," Aizawa yawned as he left the room.
"Well Let's get going everyone!" Mirio announced.
It was another one-on-one combat training again, and Tamaki was watching the new girl fight against Nejire, and it was intense. Nejire tied to blast the girl, but Y/n was too quick and nimble. Then suddenly Nejire sent a surprise blast, blowing Y/n's head clean off.
The class screamed as Y/n's head soared through the air, and landed into Tamaki's arm.
"AAAHH!" Tamaki screamed As he held the head away from him.
"OWW! That's the worst feeling," Y/n's head groaned.
"umm, a-are you okay?" Tamaki stuttered as he looked down at the ground.
"Hmm, oh yeah I'm okay," Y/n's head smiled.
"Umm, Y-yeah," Tamaki mumbled as his heart fluttered in his chest.
Nejire was still recovering from her state of shock when she felt something slashed through her. Suddenly she felt a burst of pain throughout her body, as she passed out. Y/n's body had made a sythce from the shadow mist coming from her neck.
"Nejire!" cried out her friends.
As Nejire fell, Y/n's headless body quickly sprinted into action and caught the unconscious girl. Everyone was still weirded out by the headless body and the fact it was acting on its own.
"Oh, Tamaki could you reattach my head, please?" Y/n's head asked.
"Oh umm Okay,"
53 notes · View notes
A Lesson in Despair
Summary: Bane thought he understood despair, you give him a new definition for the word, for "man can never know true despair without hope".
word count: 1.8k
warnings: angst galore, mentions of illness, death, major character death, wow i’m sorry
note: this is getting an alternate ending becuase i'm in so much pain over thisw wowoww
Hidden Treasures Masterlist
As fall faded into winter, your health started to decline much more rapidly. What you knew was more than just a cold became impossible to hide from Bane, Talia, and Barsad; and with Gotham in a state of martial law under the League’s occupation of the city, the supplies to keep you at numb at the very least were few and far between.
Bane did his best, but you only had to make it another couple months. Then it wouldn’t matter because Gotham would be wiped off the map – your mission and the mission of the League would be complete. You could live on in peace with him, and he would be free of pain.
You knew he was bothered, though, how could he not be? He’d promised to protect you, to keep you by his side until the end – but you’d be taken from him by something he couldn’t have protected you from. This wasn’t something he could kill for you, as much as he wished that he could. The only way he could end your suffering was to kill you, and you knew he would never.
“You shouldn’t be out here, rabbit,” Bane comments, coming to stand beside you on the balcony of the former mayor’s office. “In your condition, you should be resting.”
You only shrug, knowing that he was right but not wanting to give him the satisfaction of ushering you to bed. You weren’t weak, snowflakes were not going to kill you. Your lungs would disagree, but that wasn’t your concern. The bomb would detonate in sixty-seven days, you could make it that long.
But, when a particularly rough cough has you staring at your gloved palm splattered in blood, you know you won’t make it that long. Bane was going to have to meet you in the afterlife, but you’d do your best to not have to wait long for him to join you.
A firm hand grasps your hip, the other taking your wrist in his hand so he could see what had caught your attention. A sigh leaves your lover, followed by a whispered request for you to join him inside. He thought you were fragile - weak, even. If it Barsad dying of some deadly cough Bane wouldn’t have been ushering him inside like some wounded animal. Bane would have allowed his lieutenant to continue working until he died in action performing his duty to the League.
You were just as strong as Barsad was, sometimes you felt as though you were stronger, and yet you were being treated like a prized pet. To be displayed but protected. You were getting clearly visible special treatment, and while Talia could say all she wanted that it was her doing, everyone knew it was Bane.
“I’m not frail, Bane, I’m just dying.” You snap, tugging yourself from his grasp. Unfortunately for you, your balance was taken by a rough gust of wind paired with a cough sent you straight to the snow-covered cement of the patio, your reflexes only just quick enough to have you brace for impact.
Bane, per usual, is quicker - easily pulling you into his arms before you were able to hit the ground. You remain quiet as he lifts you into his arms, carrying you inside and to the office that had been converted into a bedroom for you.
Instead of laying you down, Bane sits on the firm mattress with you settled in his lap. His head rests atop yours, uncertain hands rubbing your back as your composure disintegrates and you’re sobbing into his neck. You briefly register his attempts to calm you down over your own tears, but you do appreciate that he’s allowing you to have this moment with him.
“I’m sorry,” you finally whisper around shaky breaths, trying your best to ignore the pain in your chest from how much you’d just exerted your lungs.
“What could you possibly have to apologize for?”
“You trained me to be strong, and it’s my own body that’s killing me.” You refuse to meet his gaze as to avoid the disappointment that you knew would be in his eyes. “I’m weak, I’ve failed you.”
“There’s nothing weak about you, rabbit,” Bane tries to reassure, taking the phrase you’d uttered to him many times to reassure him in his feelings for you and turning it on you. It was fitting, him using your own words of comfort against you. You knew he didn’t often believe it when you said it to him, and now here you were refusing to believe him when he said it to you.
You weren’t just weak - you were dying.
That was made clear when just a couple days after your fall on the balcony that you were being placed on bedrest. Your request to just have a bullet put in you had been quickly denied by both Talia and Bane - the former certain that she could find a doctor that would be able to prolong your life until the detonation, while the latter just shook his head. He would never allow harm to come to you by his hand, even if you were begging for it, so you just stayed in bed like you had been requested to do.
Coming to terms with your own mortality had been difficult. You weren’t foolish enough to believe in immortality, far too many lives had been ended by your hand for you to be able to believe in such a thing. You knew that Bane would keep your memory alive, as he’d swapped his combat knife that he carried for yours to keep something of yours on his person when he’d first found out you were sick. Of course he hadn’t said that, but you were very well aware that your knife was a gift from Talia to celebrate your initiation into the League, and had been engraved in a particular way that was unique to you. The knife you kept under your pillow was engraved differently, unique to Bane and he didn’t put that knife in anybody’s hand but Talia’s previous to your illness.
You only used it to peel oranges, since you weren’t strong enough to use your hands and refused to ask for help. It wasn’t like anybody was getting passed the two guards standing at your bedroom door if Bane didn’t allow them passage, so the knife held no purpose other than to keep you entertained.
You knew Bane was putting up a good front regarding your quickly declining health. He refused to talk about it with you, instead wanting to discuss politics in Gotham, recalling the events of Dr. Crane’s sentencing hearings for you. One day he’d brought you a friend, a stray orange tabby cat who was clearly well fed despite the current conditions of the city.
“A fighter, like you,” was all your lover had said as he watched the cat explore the small bedroom. That was the closest you’d gotten to an actual verbal acknowledgement that you’d been fighting anything at all since your previous outburst.
Usually Bane always had words to share, whether they be commands or commands disguised as causal encouragement, he knew what to say. When it came to you, he didn’t know what to say. You knew that was partly due to your denial of your condition and the fact that Talia had none too kindly told him not to upset you in any way, but you wished that he had said more. Challenged you to take care of yourself because he loved you and wanted a full lifetime with you.
And now, as he sits with you while you lie in what you both knew was your deathbed, he still doesn’t have the words. His instinct is to attempt to comfort you, but he knows that you are not in need of comfort because you were stronger than that. You were stronger than him in this moment, because you were still smiling up at him when all he could do was stare at you while he willed himself not to shed tears in front of you.
A shaky hand beckons him closer, and he takes that hand in as tight a grip that you could handle while he presses his forehead to yours.
“I never got to tell you how much I truly loved you,” you whisper, tears welling in your eyes as his eyes close.
“I always knew, rabbit, you always made sure that I knew – and I never once doubted your love for me,” he assures, leaning into the weak hand that rose to cradle his cheek. “Just as I hope you always knew how much I loved you.”
“I’m sorry I wasn’t strong enough to make it until the end with you.” Your apology has him opening his eyes, dark eyes welling with tears you didn’t want shed over you, making you feel guilty for making this man feel this way. Bane was a force of nature, conqueror of cities and the man who broke the Batman, and he was crying over you. It didn’t feel right.
“I was wrong when I said you were my weakness, rabbit,” he whispers, noticing the way your hand that held his head slowly fell to your side. Your grip on his hand was steadily growing weaker, as well. The time would be soon, and he wasn’t sure what he would do when that time came. “You are my strength, my light, and I’m not sure what I will do without you by my side.”
“You will rise, my love,” you whisper, mustering what little strength you had to give his hand a squeeze. “There’s nothing weak about you.”
He nods once, leaning in to press his forehead to yours so that he could keep close to you. After a moment your eyes fall closed, you murmur that you just need to rest them for a moment but you both know that isn’t the case.
“I love you, my sweet rabbit,” Bane whispers, his free hand smoothing down the hair atop your head as your grip on his hand falls lax and it is only his own hand holding yours up. “Thank you for loving me as I have loved you.”
He doesn’t know how long he sits there holding your hand, but he knows that he has no more tears to shed by the time a small hand rests itself upon his shoulder.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he comments softly, not bothering to look up because he knew who was there.
“Barsad sent for me, he said it was time,” Talia responds, giving his shoulder a squeeze as her protector remains unmoving. “I wanted to say my goodbyes to our friend, to thank them for their friendship, but I see I am too late. We’ll need to bury them.”
Bane only nods, finally releasing your hand so he can lay it down on your chest. You finally looked relaxed after months of discomfort and pain, months of scrunching your nose at the disgusting state of the city that the League was going to cleanse. You could rest easy knowing that the League’s mission would be completed.
He knew he’d be with you soon - just twenty seven more days.
Tags: @mxsamwilson @onfiretakemehigher idr who all gets tagged in this rn
61 notes · View notes
@sparklyfaerie and I were bouncing headcanons off each other about HakYona's future children:
3 kids at the very least: 2 boys (the first and middle borns) and a girl (the last born)
Yona does not know how to parent - all her father did was spoil her
Hak is the Disciplinarian and Yona thinks he's too harsh. He comments sometimes that it's like having an extra kid (she does not like that).
And since Yona is the lenient parent, there's bound to be this exchange -
Child: Mommy, may I have some sweets
Yona: What did your father say?
Yona: Then why would I let you?
Child: He's not the boss of you.
Yona, internally: it's a trap
The thing is, SHE is the boss of HIM, but not when it comes to the kids.
Hak and Yona's children are bonafide Little Shits™
Hak: You can say 'please' and 'thank you' to your kids a hundred times and they won't repeat it, but then you sAY DUMBASS BITCH ONE TIME-
Whoever gets appointed as the Sky Tribe General goes "Ah shit, here we go again" before going to retrieve the princes and princess, who have, once again, sneaked out of the palace grounds
Hak doesn't even bother reprimanding their nannies. The little shits are half-Wind Tribe. They can climb ANYTHING.
Yona thinks it's hilarious and says they're just like their father, until Hak starts drawing comparisons to her exploits
Jae-ha would enable, enable, enable. He would be the favorite uncle. Kija is the target of their practical jokes. Shin-ah is the one who finds them most of the time when they sneak away. Hiding from him is a game. Zeno is beloved because he always has sweets and interesting stories - probably the one who gives the best hugs and advice too.
Kija playing hide and seek with the children then literally getting the air knocked out of him because one of them hit him in the windpipe with a slingshot
He gives the children TOO MANY speeches on how they have to behave with decorum because they're the children of the Crimson Dragon King blah blah blah
Hak joins in on messing with Kija sometimes - Yona does not like that
Youngest child, the princess: "Uncle Kija, I have a present for you!"
Kija: "Why, thank you Princess, that is very thoughtful of-"
The princess: [drops a dead cicada on his palm]
Kija: [unholy screeching]
The eldest child is Hak 2.0 but resembles Yona in temperament, though he is less spoiled. Middle child looks like a good mix of both of his parents, and is the Straight Man of the bunch. The youngest looks the most like Yona, has no fear, and inherits Hak's natural genius for combat.
Hak teaches all three of them archery and swordplay personally but the youngest is the one who takes to it so naturally. He is a Proud Dad.
The poor palace staff have to deal with the little royals being A Handful. Shenanigans include: skipping lessons, hiding to startle the maids, stealing sweets from the kitchen, making fart noises whenever a noble or a court lady sits down. Hak catches them occasionally and just crosses his arms and lets them try to talk their way out of trouble, but always ending with a "nice try, go to your lessons/rooms".
The royal chef: "Your Highnesses, what would you like for breakfast today?"
Youngest child: "THE SOULS OF THE INNOCENT"
The royal chef:
Middle child: "She wants eggs"
The eldest loves feeding the cats around the palace
The youngest is a martial arts prodigy and a charmer rolled into one
The middle child gets teased a lot
Middle child: "Can't believe I'm the only one who gets things done around here!"
Youngest child: "You don't. The maids do everything around here."
They announce baby #4 when the oldest is 10 and the youngest is 5. All of them scrunch up their noses and go "Eeeeewwwwwww". Because the eldest knows where babies come from, of course he shared
At some point before baby #4, this exchange happened
Eldest child: Lord Droopy Eyes, what's an orgasm?
Jae-ha: [chokes on his tangerine]
Jae-ha tells him to ask his father because he still doesn't miss an opportunity to mess with Hak. Zeno overhears and tells the child that orgasm is another word for orange.
The next day the eldest asks for 'orgasm juice', and that's how they have 'the talk'
Hak, to Zeno: "You are really lucky you can't die."
Zeno: "Ah~ aren't children just delightful?"
(meanwhile Yona is dying from laughter in the corner)
Baby #4 is another boy
Yun is the children's nanny and most of the time he is DONE. They call him 'Mother Yun'
Eldest child: Younger brother is having music lessons. We're going to draw a moustache on the baby.
Youngest child: He's like 85% of our impulse control.
Yun, to Hak after the kids get into some mischief: "I should have let you bleed out on that river bank, Your Majesty."
Hak: "BUT YOU DIDN'T"
At some point, Yun just gets used to the shenanigans
Youngest child: Mother Yun, can we catapult the baby out of the palace gates?
Yun, without looking up from his medical texts: Not until you're finished with calligraphy, Your Highness.
365 So Stressed™ as he is, he truly does love the children. To Yun and the dragons, the kids would be almost as special as they are to Yona and Hak. They represent how far they've come together and their happiness...
....they're also, as Jae-ha likes to say, actual living proof that Hak and Yona Did It
148 notes · View notes
Make it Right Series Chapter 9
Jean was the cocky bastard that walked around like he owned the place. Y/N couldn’t stand so when the time came that you were his sparring partner, you couldn’t wait to teach him a lesson.
Little did the both of you know, that sparring match would be the start of your unexpected relationship with Jean Kirschtein, that will change your life, and the rest of the Scout Regiment forever.
Chapter 1/Chapter 2/Chapter 3/Chapter 4/Chapter 5/Chapter 6/Chapter 7/Chapter 8/Chapter 10/Chapter 11/Chapter 12/Chapter 13/Chapter 14/Chapter 15Chapter 16/Chapter 17/Chapter 18/Chapter 19/Chapter 20/Chapter 21
It's been three weeks since you and Jean, somewhat "broke up". No one really noticed how you couldn't look each other in the eye, how when you were sparring partners, one of you would lose on purpose for your match to end quickly and how you never sat in the same table during meals. It wasn't out of the ordinary as from their perspective, you and Jean were never close.
What they did notice was Jean's sudden bursts of anger during training and his sudden interest in other girls again.
"Can Jean just sleep with Mina already? He's been acting like even MORE of an ass the couple of weeks, he needs to get LAID." Connie sighed as you almost choked on your soup. Looking up, Mina was leaning on a wall with Jean's hovering over Mina and looking her up and down. Your heart clenched as you could imagine the sweet nothings he was telling her.
"Or Krista, saw him flirting with her too yesterday." Sasha said as she devoured her soup. You held your spoon tighter to control your anger and Marco looked at you nervously.
Marco was the only person who had an idea about you and Jean and noticed Jean's sudden change of demeanor.
"Has he tried with you too, Y/N?" Connie looked lazily in your direction. "W-what?" Your eyes widened and you froze.
"Jean. Has he tried hitting on you?"
"Uhm...No." You stammered and continued with your meal. "That's strange. He's basically flirting with anything that moves right now but still being a complete ass." Sasha grumbled.
"Yeah...he was always a flirt but, it stopped for a while. I wonder what got into him." Connie hummed. "Maybe you guys just didn't notice." Marco said in an attempt to defend Jean.
"Nah, he was actually pretty nice for a while."
"I'm gonna head back to the dorms, I'm really tired." You announced and stood up. The rest waved at you nonchalantly while Marco had a concerned look on your face.
And of course, you had to pass by Jean flirting with Mina on the way out. You tried to walk by them as fast as you could but you heard your name being called.
You turned and Mina was smiling at you brightly, while Jean was looking down. "Hey! You were amazing at ODM gear training today!" Mina beamed and you fought the urge to slap her right then and there. "Thanks." You smiled and turned to leave. "You should teach me a few moves!" She added and you flinched. Mina was staring at you in awe while Jean was looking away from you and Mina.
You smiled for the last time and made your way out the door.
The next day at dinner, you rolled your eyes as Jean sat with Connie and Sasha, who you usually sat with. Scanning the room, you saw Bertholdt sitting alone. You knew Reiner would join him but, Bertholdt always intrigued you and decided to sit with him.
He was shocked as you sat in front of him, but smiled lightly. You began to talk about training that eventually evolved to sharing about your childhood. It felt good to share parts of your life with someone other than Jean, and Bertholdt was a good listener. Reiner joined your table and made a few passes at you as usual but Bertholdt scolded him which you really appreciated.
You spent the night talking about your plans after training and were relieved when they shared your desire to join the Scouts as well. It was a nice dinner away from Jean and the others and you didn't have to hear his name once in conversation.
"Earth to Jean?! Did you not hear what I said?!" Connie was waving his hands in front of Jean's face. Jean was enjoying his meal like usual with Marco and the others. He was proud of how he performed today, he was able to take down Eren in Combat training which made him very proud and satisfied with himself.
It wasn't until he looked up and spotted you laughing with Bertholdt in the table in front of him. He saw you throw your head back laughing and the sound of your laughter shot a pang through his chest. What could Bertholdt have said that made you laugh like that? Jean thought only he could do that, you in between his legs entangled with one another spread out on your bed. He couldn't stop staring at the both of you wondering what on earth could you be talking about. Bertholdt was always quiet and only stuck to Reiner, what could he be saying to get your attention? Why were you sitting with him in the first place? These questions were running through Jean's mind as he glared daggers at you and Bertholdt.
"Jean...are you okay?" Marco asked. Jean finally snapped back into reality with a scowl in his face. "I'm fucking out of here." He grumbled and left. "Seriously...What IS his problem?" Sasha rolled her eyes.
The entire week you've been sitting with Bertholdt and Reiner. You formed a pretty good friendship with them, especially Bertholdt. There were nights when you talked by the river about anything and everything and he you learned about his crush on Annie. You urged him to tell her but by the redness of his cheeks you could tell he was too nervous. You also told him about Jean which surprised you. You haven't even told Sasha who was your best friend, but you felt like you could trust Bertholdt and he wouldn't judge you.
"So that's why he's been acting like even more of an asshole lately?" Bertholdt chuckled and nudged you. "No, it was just a distraction, nothing more."
"I don't think so...he was different now that I think of it." Bertholdt then told you how Jean was the time you were fooling around. How his temper disappeared, except with Eren, he'd joke around more and how he was focused on being a good leader.
"It seemed like he was in a good place...now he's just..."
"An asshole." You finished and Bertholdt laughed as well. "I don't know what's going to happen with you guys, but you shouldn't feel guilty about joining the scouts." You smiled and felt a sense of comfort at Bertholdt's words.
The next day, you were in charge for carrying the food supplies to the kitchen. The sack of carrots that arrived looked like it was about to burst and you groaned at the thought of them falling.
You began to carry them and all seemed well, till you nearly reached the kitchen and the sack tore open and the carrots spilled below you. "Shit." You groaned and began to pick them up. Suddenly, another pair of hands were next to yours helping you. Looking up, you were met with familiar eyes. Jean.
"Th-thanks." You stammered and he smiled lightly. You were silent for a while and there was an awkward pause. "So how's your bed doing without me?" You stopped at his cheeky comment and looked at him. Jean had his cocky grin plastered on his face and your heart stopped. At that moment, it felt like everything was back to normal. "Pretty good, I keep myself entertained." You winked and Jean's breath hitched.
"Uh-uhm so how are you doing?" the playful look on Jean's face suddenly disappeared and he was looking at you with longing that you wanted to grab him right then and there.
"I'm...doing okay?" You stood up and he did as well. For a second he seemed like he wanted to say something more. He was holding all the carrots in his arms and you chuckled at the sight of him. "I can help you." You laughed and he did too. "Nah, it's fine, I got it." he looked at you again and there was this sense of familiarity that tugged on your heart strings.
"Hey...after we bring this to the kitchen do you wanna—" Jean began but was interrupted by Connie.
"Y/N! Eren told me you were joining the scouts." Connie began and you froze. You looked at Jean and his jaw was clenched. "Y-yeah." You looked down as Connie smiled. "Hmm, good luck, have fun with Jaeger." Connie teased and walked away. Jean was trying to face away from you but his face scrunched up in frustration. "I'll take care of these." He said through gritted teeth and walked away from you.
The next day at the dining hall, Berhtoldt could tell something was up at you. You were eating slowly and barely talking. When Reiner left, he asked if you wanted to talk by the lake again and you nodded.
As you and Bertholdt left the dining hall, you stopped as Jean was once again, flirting with Mina. Bertholdt glanced at you and saw your reaction. He quickly tugged on your shoulder to switch places with him so you wouldn't have to walk near Mina and Jean.
You began to walk down the steps with Bertholdt trying your best to avoid Jean.
Jean needed a distraction. His mind kept turning back to you and he was trying to forget what he felt about you. The whole time he was fooling around you, he kept trying to keep his feelings and emotions in check. He noticed he was falling for you. The way your eyebrows would kink together when you were in deep thought, how your laughter instantly brought a smile to his face, how you made him feel. He felt comfortable yet excited with you. Being with you he felt like an adventure everyday yet home at the same time.
When he heard you were joining the Scouts, it broke him. Why would she do this? Does she want to die? Fucking Jaeger! Where the thoughts that plagued Jean's thoughts ever since she told him. He hated the fact that she thought he was a coward. He didn't care when Eren said it, but coming from Y/N...
What hurt him the most was it seemed like you were choosing death over a life with him.
Jean's way of distracting himself from thinking about you was flirting with other girls. Before you, he had fun just hitting on girls and he knew they were interested him too. Which is what he was doing now, with Mina outside the dining hall. She was cute, friendly, but the conversation seemed to be dull. He didn't feel a connection with her but, it kept his mind off of you for a while.
Jean was pretending to laugh at something Mina said when he heard the door open from the entrance of the dining hall. He glanced at who it was then took a double take in shock. You were standing outside with Bertholdt and he grabbed your arm. Jean's face turned red in anger as he you and Berhtoldt disappeared into the woods. Whatever Mina was saying became white noise as his gaze followed you and Berholdt. He didn't even say bye to Mina as he found himself following the both of you.
He couldn't find you as it was dark in the woods and he yelled in frustration.
Back in the boys' dorm, Jean was slumped on the couch in the shared living space. When Shadis announced it was time for lights out, Jean grunted and stood up. Just as he did, he saw Bertholdt enter the room and his fists clenched.
Jean began to walk towards him and bumped him with his shoulder which caused Bertholdt to fall on the floor.
"JEAN!" Reiner growled and quickly ran to help Bertholdt. "J-jean what's wrong?" Marco asked nervously and placed a hand on his shoulder while Jean was glaring at Bertholdt on the floor. Jean shrugged off Marco's hand and went straight to his room leaving everyone stunned.
95 notes · View notes
Vol 9 predictions?
Not gonna lie, it's never been as hard to theorize or trying to predict stuff as it is now after volume 8. Still, I kinda got to think a little, so why not share my thoughts? Some people seem to appreciate them from what I heard XD
Anyways, what do we know?
Team RWBY, Neo and Jaune are somewhere else, picket dimension, or something else, we will see. This will be their detour. If we follow the formula it will take them a whole volume to get out and to Vacuo, following two more volumes focused on the battle for Vacuo I imagine. So if we indeed have a breather volume I imagine Crwby will use it to built tension up with the refugees from Atlas. Depending on when Mercury and Tyrian arrived or will arrive. My bet is they are still on their way. They didn't have instant transportation like the refugees, so they will arrive after them.
This could be used to stirr the pot so to speak. Tyrian being a faunus himself could probably cause a lot of damage and the people of Atlas might even help him out with their prejudice. The discrepancy between humans and faunus will finally be the central focus of the conflict there.
Now that Salem's existence is out in the open there could also be some kind of recruiting going on. People wanting to join Salem's cause. Since Vacuo should have been the next target I wonder if they just alter their original plan or if it's totally restrategized. Anyways if Tyrian is able to gather some people for Salem his search for the Summer Maiden is gonna be easier. Maybe they could even get the Summer Maiden to join them. If she is indeed as young as people already speculate, she may not be happy about the secrecy and might be manipulated into joining Salem. This way Winter would have to go up against the Summer Maiden in combat.
And I say that because I am pretty sure Cinder is not being send to Vacuo until maybe volume 10. We can only speculate where Salem and Cinder are headed, but after losing most of her Grimm army, I don't see her flying straight to Vacuo. She is probably gonna go to Evernight to strategize and to keep tabs on what's happening in Vacuo, probably even telling Tyrian and Mercury about the refugees already being there, so they can already figure something out to do about this.
As for Salem herself? She is probably gonna work on Cinder. They haven't been truly alone since before vol 1. Even in volume 4 Emerald and Mercury had been there. This will probably further Cinder's character arc and her relationship with Salem, as well as them touching on the topic of Emerald having betrayed her. I don't see Salem sending Cinder to Vacuo any time soon, until she has her under her full control again, which means stripping down her layers of individuality and her quest of finding her true self. I also expect her to maybe personally train her this time around.
As for the topic of betrayal, Cinder will most likely inform Mercury of Emerald changing sides, so a confrontation between those two seems to be more than likely.
His arc will probably be a parallel to Cinder's in that sense. Just as Yang's recover in volume 4 was a parallel to Cinder's rather unhealthy one, we might see something like that happening with Mercury and Cinder. Mercury dealing with it in a more healthy way and without outside manipulation, than Cinder who is gonna be with Salem the whole time and may gently prodded into not needing anyone but Salem mentality and discarding her own identity in favor of hers.
Now what else could be happening?
Well, in regards to RWBY and co. there might be conflict. People wanting Ruby to be angry at Jaune or being sympathetic, it is clear that there will be a theme of rage and revenge as the major focus, which also fits perfectly with Neo also being there. I don't think Neo will join the heroes or anything like that, but that she will learn a valuable lesson in regards to holding grudges and being trapped by one's negative emotions and rage. Maybe her coming to terms with her relationship with Cinder and what to do about it in the end. I still believe there could be a strong possibility of Neo being a key factor for Cinder's redemption later on. Cinder having a partner was after all something CRWBY wanted all along and their relationship was far different than the one Cinder had with her subordinates.
With our refugee group I could imagine Emerald opening up about her feelings for Cinder and the best person for that would of course be Blake, but Blake is not there, so Nora and Ren seem to be the best bet there, unless they postpone that plotpoint until after RWBY is back with them.
So...those were just some thoughts I had regarding the next volume. As I said, a lot is really hard to see into and who knows if anything I envision to happen will actually happen, but it was what made the most narrative sense to me for now. But let's see what CRWBY will come up with =)
32 notes · View notes
A popular trope in the fandom is what it would be like if zk’s firstborn was a waterbender. I love that idea as much as the next person; but I’ve also wondered, what would it be like if their firstborn was a nonbender? How easily would the FN accept that? Would Zuko teach their child sword-fighting as a way to replace bending? Would Katara enlist Hakoda and Sokka’s help to teach her child about SWT nonbending combat styles too; would she be sure to emphasize anything about hers and Zuko’s cultures that isn’t specific to only bending, to make sure their child always feels included?
I guess nonbending steambabies have a special place in my heart and I really wanted to share it, since I don’t have a blog to put my thoughts on. I dunno if this subject interests you as much as it does me, but I’d love to hear your takes if you have any. 💜
It’s definitely an interesting subject, anon!
There’s a lot of Zutarians who like the idea of a waterbending Fire Lord--which is a great and novel idea! I personally headcanon, however, that Zuko and Katara would approach the subject of succession to the throne rather practically, implementing a law that says the oldest firebending or nonbending child would inherit the throne. I think they’d recognize that a waterbending Fire Lord would cause a lot of strife within the Fire Nation. They would also recognize that such a law would open up the possibility for their children to be able to marry outside of the Fire Nation if they so wish, which could create stronger ties around the world and further Zuko’s agenda of peace. I also think that the Fire Nation would be a lot more willing to accept a nonbender child as the heir to the throne than a waterbender.
Zuko and Katara would 100% be supportive of any nonbending children they had. After all, Zuko grew up struggling to master firebending with a little sister who was a prodigy and outshone him every step of the way, and Katara grew up as the only bender in a family of nonbenders (though we don’t know about her grandparents other than Kanna because Kanna is the only one alive in ATLA--which incidentally makes me wonder if that’s because the others were waterbenders who were killed in the raids... 🤔). They’d be like those super annoying parents at soccer games or science fairs who just think their lil nonbending baby(ies) is (are) the absolute best and go absolutely nuts cheering them on. I think that Zuko, Hakoda, and Sokka would absolutely teach any nonbending steambabies how to wield swords and use that famous Water Tribe ingenuity (and I think that Katara would join in on these lessons to show the kids that bending abilities aren’t any more important than nonbending--everyone should learn how to defend themselves regardless). Aunt Suki would also come in with some Kyoshi Warrior training, of course.
Both Fire Nation and Southern Water Tribe culture would be super important to Zuko and Katara. They’d raise their children accordingly, celebrating winter solstices down south one year and summer solstices in the Fire Nation the other (since both happen at the same time--provided seasons in the world of ATLA work the same as they do in ours). Katara would teach all of their children how to cook. There would be many disastrous attempts at making stewed sea prunes. And Zuko would take all of them to the theater and teach them what his mother taught him about botany (or have her do it if she’s around). When the kids got older, Sokka and Hakoda would take them ice dodging and on hunts. Katara and Zuko would also teach them the myths and legends from both sides of the family. I think that both Katara and Zuko would want to send their kids to the Southern Water Tribe at a certain age to learn the way of life there for a few years. And I fully headcanon at least one of the steambabies moving there permanently after that.
The kids would grow up learning a lot about balance and love--not only for other people but for themselves regardless of their bending abilities. They’d learn that compromise is healthy and that accepting yourself for who you are is critical to being happy. They would also grow up with parents who love all of them equally and without fail. Nobody would ever be left out. They’d all receive unflinching encouragement and constant support. And while there might be some natural sibling rivalry, they’d be the kind of siblings who are super protective of one another.
I just think that, as a whole, the steamfamily would teach the world a lot about balance, acceptance, and love. Which is what that world needs.
57 notes · View notes