#yes he just unleashed all of this within an hour of me training him
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Mate
Summary: In which Carlisle finds his mate with the subtle guidance of Alice.
Pairing: fem!reader x Carlisle Cullen
Word Count: 1,860
"Slow down, Alice! There's no need to be this excited, it's just skating." Rosalie remarked with a bored expression as she and the rest of the Cullen family struggled to keep up with the tiny woman.
"Maybe it is just skating, but we haven't had a family outing like this in forever, Rose! Trust me when I say this is good for us, it'll be unforgettable." Alice spoke, a mix of mischief and excitement glimmering in her golden eyes. Jasper came towering beside her and wrapped an arm around her small frame, "Just what are you planning, darlin'?" Alice only smiled before quickly escaping his grasp and continuing bouncing her way toward the entrance of the skating rink as the small group attempted to rid themselves of the uncomfortable nagging feeling in the back of their minds.
Something was going to happen, but no one knew what.
With the door held open by Alice, the family quickly filed into the building before being dragged over to the check-out counter where an older man stood hunched over the counter as he kept his eyes trained on a small TV in the corner of the counter. His calm exterior fumbled momentarily as the sound of the entrance door slamming shut behind the rather large group snapped him out of his focus. He quickly straightened himself out as he painted a warm smile onto his face, "Well hello there folks, what can I do for you?"
At this, Alice quickly pushed a surprised Carlisle to the front of the group. Feeling awkward, he quickly clasped his hands in front of him as he looked directly at the man who was patiently awaiting a response, "Hello. My family and I were interested in doing some skating. Perhaps for an hour or two."
The man turned to look down at his wristwatch before changing his attention to Carlisle once again, "Of course, but I have to say that there's gonna be about a ten-minute wait. I can get you all situated with your skates and take you down to the observation room while you wait. If that's alright, of course."
Carlisle glanced back at his family and upon receiving one enthusiastic reply from Alice and a shrug from Edward before he turned to the man, "Yes, that'll work out fine."
With their skates in hand, the Cullen clan followed the man down a long, brightly lit hallway before reaching a set of worn-in blue metal doors. The doors let out a loud creak as they were pushed open by the man. As the group filed inside the cold room, they were met with an intensely fast-paced tune composed of numerous cellos. They glanced at one another, the uncomfortable feeling slowly beginning to blossom in their bodies further with the exception of Alice who stood there with a large, expectant grin on her pale face. Realization dawned on Rosalie as she caught sight of her sister's face and she harshly grabbed her wrist as she spoke in a low tone, "What the hell are we doing here, Alice?" Ignoring her harsh, venom-filled tone Alice only shrugged. Huffing, Rosalie returned to Emmett's side as she crossed her arms. Sensing the tension that was growing between his adoptive children, Carlisle turned to the old man who was looking out a window that was faced outward toward the skating rink. "Is there a specific reason for the music?"
The man looked back at Carlisle and wordlessly motioned him to stand by his side. Carlisle furrowed his brows together in slight confusion but walked over by the man as requested. Eyes focused on the glass window in front of him, Carlisle watched as a woman feverishly skated around the rink with a heightened sense of grace and elegance that could rival that of his own family. He found himself enthralled with the precise and quick movements coming from the mysterious woman and found himself letting out an unnecessary breath as he asked, "Who is that?"
The old man kept his eyes trained on the woman's skating figure as he answered, "I don't know much about her if I'm being honest. All I know is that she's a pro skater and that her coach is pretty strict." Carlisle reluctantly tore his gaze away from the woman and glued them to the man beside him, "Coach?" The man nodded as he turned to face Carlisle fully, "Yeah. That guy over there." He spoke as he lamely motioned to the left side of the rather large rink. Carlisle's gaze settled on a well-built man with medium brown hair that was immaculately styled with calculating and judgmental eyes that seemed to rake over every movement of the female skater.
As Carlisle's gaze went to settle on the woman once again, he was pulled from his thoughts as his adoptive children had grown an apparent interest in Carlisle's overly observant attitude. "What're you looking at, pops?" Emmett spoke loudly causing Carlisle to cringe at both the nickname and volume of his voice. "Nothing, Emmett. Just looking around the rink is all." Rosalie scoffed, "Seems to me like you were checking out something special," Her gaze quickly turned to the woman who was effortlessly gliding across the ice, "Or someone." It was at this moment where Carlisle knew that if he was still capable of blushing, his face would be on fire. "She seems to be very talented, it's eye-catching." Esme gently defended. "Well, the music is a bit obnoxious." Rosalie muttered. "A flair for the dramatics never hurt anyone." Edward mused. "Oh please, all you know how to do is be dramatic." Rosalie fired back, her annoyance growing with each passing second.
Carlisle watched the scene unfold in front of him with weariness in his eyes as he gave a small nod toward Jasper who then unleashed a subtle calming effect on everyone present. Unable to fight back the sudden wave of calmness she felt, Rosalie let out a deep breath before walking away with Emmett trailing behind her, ready to calm her down further if needed. Relaxing his posture slightly, he turned to face the old man. "I apologize. My family, unfortunately, do not see eye to eye on everything." The man simply waved off his apology. "I used to be a family man myself. No worries. Anyhow, I best be getting back to the front desk. As soon as those two get out, feel free to hop on in." He said before giving the family a departing wave and walking away.
Carlisle watched him disappear behind the rusty blue doors before directing his attention back to the now-empty ice rink. He felt his undead heart fall to the pit of his stomach as one question raced through his mind: Where did she go?
His question was quickly answered as the doors leading to the rink opened and the man and woman walked in speaking in what Carlisle could make out to be French-based on his rather limited knowledge. He watched with great interest as the man and woman went back and forth with their conversation.
"Vous vous déplacez trop lentement dans certains domaines. Vous devez l'accélérer." (tr: You move too slow in some areas. You need to speed it up.) The man spoke, his tone a bit rough and body language that gave off the impression that he was annoyed. The woman seemed a bit exasperated as she responded, "Je sais que oui, mais je me sens épuisé. Donnez-moi juste un jour de repos, c'est tout ce dont j'ai besoin. Je serai mieux après, je te le promets!" (tr: I know I do, but I feel exhausted. Just give me one rest day, that's all I need. I'll be better after, I promise!) Once finished speaking, the man turned to her and shoved a finger in her face as he spoke quickly and sternly, an annoyed expression present on his face. "Non. Vous ne vous améliorez qu'avec une pratique constante. Pas de jours de repos pour vous. Arrête de demander." (tr: No. You only get better with consistent practice. No rest days for you. Stop asking.) The woman seemed disheartened by his attitude as she crossed her arms and simply nodded. The man let out a sigh as he ran a hand through his hair, "Pardon. Juste ... Habillez-vous. Nous devons partir." (tr: Sorry. Just...Get dressed. We need to leave.) The man tore his gaze from the woman in front of him and was surprised to see a large group of pale people awkwardly trying to pretend as though they weren't just eavesdropping. A light pink color dusted his cheeks as he pulled his jacket closer to his frame. "My apologies. Just a small disagreement. Have fun on the ice." He said, an awkward smile on his face as he walked out of the cold room.
With the door slamming shut behind him, the woman looked up at the family, her eyes quickly moving over the appearance of all of them, her gaze lingering on a certain blonde doctor for a second longer before speaking, "Sorry to take up all the ice. It's just that people normally don't come here." At the sound of her soft voice, Carlisle looked away from the door where the man had once gone through and fixed his eyes on the beauty in front of him.
She had dark brown hair that was thrown up to an elegantly messy bun with two fallen wisps of hair that worked to frame her face perfectly. Her eyes were a few shades lighter than her hair whereas her perfectly arched eyebrows matched her hair color perfectly. He found himself admiring her long eyelashes that beautifully fluttered with every blink and her long, slim nose that sat perfectly on her face. He admired the light pink color that stained her lips and cheeks, a glorious reminder for Carlisle of the humanity that remained within the woman before him.
"Dad!"
Carlisle looked over at Alice who had a knowing grin on her face as she motioned with her head toward the woman. He looked back at her, "I just wanted to know if you were alright. You seemed a little...Out of it."
At the sound of her melodic voice, Carlisle gave her a warm smile. "Yes. I do that sometimes. Sorry to concern you." The woman returned his smile as she spoke, "It's fine. We all have our moments." Carlisle nodded as his smile stayed painted on his face. After a few moments, the woman spoke again, "It was nice seeing you all, but I must get going. Have fun." Carlisle's face fell at her admission and he nearly reached out to stop her but restrained himself from doing so. "Of course. Have a wonderful day." With a final smile, she gave the group a nod of acknowledgment before taking her leave.
"What was that?" Jasper spoke once the doors shut behind the woman. Carlisle could feel his undead heart clench as he uttered the next two words,
"My mate."
#twilight#carlisle#imagine#twilight imagine#breaking dawn#bella swan#edward cullen#jasper hale#esme cullen#rosalie cullen#emmett cullen#carlisle cullen#twilight imagines#new moon#eclipse#fanfiction#fanfic#cullen#it's the way it's 2021 and i'm sitting here writing a fanfic for carlisle bc there's not enough for him
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Tell me about Cadash and Solas 🥺
I lovingly blame you for this being a thing that came out of my head, by the way. You are 100% responsible for me shipping this. 😘
Lark Cadash is a Carta smuggler/assassin who was trained by her grandmother to actually be a Shaper. She's a bit of a wanderer, a little rebellious and one might even say reckless. I've made up a ridiculous amount of House Cadash lore going back to Cad-Halash, which includes her knowing a fair amount of Elvish history and language too. For Plot Reasons(tm). Anyway, Lark finds a ruin in 9:40 Dragon or so, and the sleeping Elvhen man within...
And that became Of Ruins and Restoration.
(TL;DR - she's there when Solas wakes up, realizes that he's Elvhen, although she doesn't know who he is. They have an immediate spark but part ways, she ends up becoming the Herald. dun dun DUNN!)
Now, I have to say, even before the overwhelming response I got to this little oneshot, I had thoughts about writing more of it. To date, I've decided that I'll let what is posted stand as is until the rest is completed, because it holds up fairly well on its own.
But, there is most definitely more...
“Would you want to go back?” Solas asked in the quiet of the night, when Cassandra and Varric had gone to sleep and it felt like there was nothing else in the world but the pair of them and a fire.
“Back?”
“To your thaig. To your history. Do you miss it?”
She gave him a look across the fire, part incredulous and part chiding. “Pride, I heard you have this exact same conversation with Varric already. And my answer will not be much different than his.”
“Not much is still some.”
She sighed. “Fine. There's nothing to miss, in case you've forgotten. My House was exiled for a reason. My line has been surfacers longer than the Tethrases by generations. What would I go back to, given the option...Orzammar? Why would I want to? I would be casteless, branded as unfit for society. I'm already looked upon that way just by being in the Carta. At least up here I can make my own rules for it.”
“You are far more than a Carta lyrium smuggler.”
“You're right. I am. I was supposed to become a Shaper. To follow in the footsteps of my Ancestors and recite the memories to keep them alive. I suppose that would have made me noble caste, if I was allowed to prove it. But I wouldn't be. My Granddam died of a wasting disease because no one would treat a dwarf who coughed up blood.” She frowned at him as she snarled the words, trying to hide the pain of that loss behind fury. “My training was incomplete, and I was left with no other options.”
“Until now.”
“Right, because this will all end well,” she scoffed. “What are you getting from asking, anyhow? What's it to you?”
“Dwarves held a once mighty empire below the earth. It stretched beyond the borders of Thedas and went to places even I am not aware of. And now it is lost, as your people were lost to me in the Fade.”
“Because we don't dream.”
“Yes.”
“Well, we lost our mighty empire, as you put it, because someone unleashed darkspawn upon the world. The Chantry says it was Magisters breaking into the Fade. The Shaperate says they are older than that.”
“They are,” he said softly. Abruptly he looked away and his face was so sad she thought it might crack like glass. He collected himself and smiled wanly across the fire at her. “Forgive me, falon. I should not have asked. But you have given me much to think upon.”
Falon, he calls me. More than mere acquaintances, less than kin.
“Da'banal,” she said carefully, hoping to draw him back from the brink of whatever abyssal emotion had taken him by using his own tongue. And for a moment it appeared to work; the corners of his lips ticked up into a stronger, more genuine smile.
“On nydha, Lark. Do not waste precious hours of rest by this fire.”
“Goodnight, Pride. Don't waste your hours either.”
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5e Aphelios, the Weapon of the Faithful build (League of Legends)
(Artwork by Pan Chengwei. Made for Riot Games.)
(Shit meme by yours truly.)
Yes I hate Irelia so much I’m genuinely making an Aphelios build before her.
But I really don’t get the “Aphelios too confusing 200 years” memes. Don’t get me wrong his kit’s weird and certainly overtuned but it doesn’t take that long to figure out what his guns do. Calibrum has long range and fires a skill shot, Severum has lifesteal and attacks fast, Gravitum slows and roots, Infernum attacks in a cone for AoE damage, and Crescendum attacks very fast and creates a turret.
Just because I understand this does it mean I can play Aphelios? Fuck no. Did I learn all this from Legends of Runeterra by playing Labs with Aphelios? Yeah kinda. But all I’m saying is that if my stupid support-main ass can do midway decently as Aphelios on free-to-play rotation I really think the hype around him is overblown.
That’s enough hot takes from me. He’s the point where I list 5 goals for this build instead of 3 and make 200 years jokes.
GOALS
Calibrum - We’ll need a long-ranged weapon to harass our foes and pick them off when they try to run.
Severum - If enemies get too close or we get too low we’ll need a way to keep ourselves alive in a 1v1.
Gravitum - We’ll need to control our foes to always stay in an advantageous position.
Infernum - AoE damage is always useful to deal with crowds.
Crescendum - To take down the toughest of foes we’ll need to unleash all our firepower and even get our weapons to fir themselves.
Basically we need literally everything, all packed within 20 levels of D&D and 200 years of game design.
RACE
Aphelios is a human... but ellipsis means that another race makes more sense. Aphelios has his sister advising him wherever he goes in life, so to play two spirits in one a Kalashtar is a good choice! Your Wisdom score increases by 2 and your Charisma increases by 1. Alune’s Dual Mind grants you Advantage on Wisdom saving throws, and her Mental Discipline lets you resist Psychic damage. Alune also keeps you Severed from Dreams, meaning that you’re immune to spells that require you to dream (like the Dream spell) but not spells that require you to sleep (like Sleep.)
Aphelios doesn’t talk (unless you want him to) but Alune can make a Mind Link to speak telepathically with others! You can speak telepathically to any creature you can see that’s within a number of feet of you equal to 10 times your level. You don’t need to share a language with them, but they must be able to understand at least one language. You can also use your action to give that creature the ability to speak telepathically with you for 1 hour or until you end this effect as an action. To use this ability, the creature must be able to see you and must be within this trait’s range. You can only give this ability to only one person at a time however, as it ends when you give it to someone else. Oh and speaking of languages you know Common, Quori (which no one is going to have outside of Eberron lol), and one other language of your choice: Celestial probably makes the most sense but you can pick whatever you fancy.
ABILITY SCORES
15; CHARISMA - You’re a kpop pretty boy, because Aphelios has more guns than body types in League of Legends.
14; WISDOM - I mean you get advantage in Wisdom saves anyways: may as well make the skill good too?
13; DEXTERITY - You are a marksman but we aren’t really using DEX for combat. So in other words: something something Medium Armor.
12; CONSTITUTION - You are one of the squishiest ADCs in the game but you do have enough sustain to keep yourself alive.
10; INTELLIGENCE - You were trained spiritually, as opposed to academically. That being said Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.
8; STRENGTH - I mean look at Aphelios’ arms; kid’s a freaking twink.
BACKGROUND
Aphelios fights for him and his sister’s faith in the Lunari... bit unorthodox, but you’re certainly quite the devoted Acolyte. As an acolyte you get proficiency in Religion but I’d replace your proficiency in Insight with Medicine, which you’re probably used to after drinking so much poison. You also learn two languages that you won’t use because Aphelios is mute. (But yeah pick whatever you think will be useful and if you want to feel free to swap your languages for tools or something. A Herbalism Kit or Poisoner’s Kit actually works rather well given your favorite drink to keep close to your sister.)
Alune may be in the Shelter of the Faithful but you can return to the temple from time to time for solace. You and your adventuring companions can expect free healing and care at a temple, shrine, or other established location of Lunari faith (you have to provide any material components for spells though.) The Lunari will support you (but only you) at a modest lifestyle in the temples.
If you’re near your sister’s shrine you can ask the chosen Lunari priests for assistance, provided the assistance you ask for is not hazardous and you remain in good standing with your temple and your sister.
(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)
THE BUILD
LEVEL 1 - SORCERER 1
Starting off as a Sorcerer for proficiency in CON saving throws lol, but also for proficiency in Arcana and the Insight skill we skipped from our background. But Sorcerers get to choose their subclass at level 1 and to get closer to the Aspects grab a touch of the Divine Soul. As a Weapon of the Faithful you are Favored by the Gods, letting you add 2d4 to a missed attack roll or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest for a touch of Alune’s guidance. I’m going to mention now that a death saving throw is technically a saving throw, and I mention it because your AC is 11 and your health is 7. Level 1 ADCs, am I right?
Anyways: Divine Souls get Divine Magic for one extra spell from the Cleric spell list: technically you’re supposed to take one of the ones they suggest to you but I’d recommend Guiding Bolt for Calibrum’s Q: a long ranged shot that lets you shoot the target more easily afterwards.
And of course being able to cast spells implies that you have Spellcasting! You can learn four cantrips from the Sorcerer or Cleric list which means you can grab Guidance for a bit more of your sister’s help. You can also grab Word of Radiance to attack everyone near you with Severum’s Q, Acid Splash for some AoE damage from Infernum (should it be doing fire damage? Yeah probably), and Light to see with your dumb Kalashtar eyes. You can also learn two leveled spells like Sanctuary to protect yourself or your allies as long as they act peacefully, and Ice Knife for a more ranged AoE blast from Infernum.
If you want you can grab Mage Armor or something because your AC and HP are kinda uhhhhhhhhhh... trash?
LEVEL 2 - WARLOCK 1
Hopefully you didn’t die as a level 1 Aphelios with 7 HP and 11 AC; we didn’t even get 200 years of damage yet! Warlocks get to choose their subclass at level 1 as well which means you can shape yourself as the Fiend the Solari see you as. Dark One’s Blessing grants you temporary hitpoints equal to your Charisma modifier plus your Warlock level whenever you slay a foe for Severum’s lifesteal and passive shield.
You also get Pact Magic, which is like regular Spellcasting but your spell slots are funny! You can learn two cantrips from the Warlock list like Eldritch Blast to blast while you eldritch, and Chill Touch for some Grievous Wounds. You can also learn two Warlock spells like Burning Hands from the Fiendlock list to blast your foes with Infernum, and Hex to mark your foe for death under the moon.
LEVEL 3 - WARLOCK 2
Second level Warlocks get access to Eldritch Invocations like Agonizing Blast to agonize your blasts, and Lance of Lethargy to slow your foes with Gravitum. You can also learn another Warlock spell like Unseen Servant for some extra sisterly help. I mean, you’re probably going to replace these all next level anyways.
LEVEL 4 - WARLOCK 3
Third level Warlocks can choose their Pact Boon and truthfully? Just about any of them work. Pact of the Blade would be the most “in-character” but your Strength and Dexterity are both kind of bad and you don’t need to use weapons. Pact of the Chain will let you personify Alune on your person and get a shitty version of Crescendum’s turret but Aphelios doesn’t have a pet. Pact of the Tome lets you get Aspect of the Moon which is funny in its own right and more cantrips are universally useful. And hell: even Pact of the Talisman is useful for your sister to lend her aid to someone else in the party. Basically this is an elaborate way for me to say that your Pact Boon doesn’t matter much for this build, as we won’t be using any of the abilities or invocations from your Pact Boon much. So pick what you think will be useful and fun and make your own Aphelios!
With that being said: you can also learn second level Warlock spells now! Shadow Blade will serve as Crescendum’s blade that you can throw at the enemy, but it is based on your DEX which is kind of... bad? Well at least you can replace Unseen Servant with Misty Step, because a summoner’s Flash is more useful than your sister’s unseen help.
LEVEL 5 - WARLOCK 4
Man isn’t it fun to wait until level 5 to not die when the enemy support breathes on you? That uneven Dexterity score was done so you could grab the Moderately Armored feat for +1 to your Dexterity and proficiency in Medium Armor and Shields. Grab both to get hit less, basically!
You can also learn another spell like Hold Person for Gravitum’s root. And another cantrip like Minor Illusion for your sister to summon some props that you can hide behind.
(Artwork by Jennifer Wuestling. Made for Riot Games.)
LEVEL 6 - WARLOCK 5
Hey that Medium Armor doesn’t really fit your outfit: how about the Mask of Many Faces invocation to put on some skins?
Third level spells are also useful! Vampiric Touch will let you heal in close range by damaging your foes with Severum.
LEVEL 7 - WARLOCK 6
6th level Fiend Warlocks get more guidance from Alune. The Solari may call it the Dark One’s Own Luck but all it lets you do is add a d10 to an ability check or saving throw once per Short or Long Rest. I mean hey: if you want a load of saving throw insurance this plus Favored by the Gods basically means you’re adding +10 to a saving throw!
You can also learn another spell but the only ones I’d want have very expensive components. Basically I want a Tasha’s summoning spell for Crescendum’s turret, but you’re going to be replacing it with...
LEVEL 8 - WARLOCK 7
4th level Warlocks can learn Summon Aberration which is a little more than just a turret! You can choose between a Beholderkin turret, Slaad tank, or Star Spawned Aspect! I’m not going to go too deep into this spell as you can read up on it for yourself but the point is you’ve got some backup now!
Alternatively if you want I think your sis could use some friends: Banishment will send them up to the temple where they’ll have to sit around and chat peacefully with Alune. Or if they’re not from the plane you’re in they’ll just be sent home.
Oh and you can also get another Eldritch Invocation like Eldritch Spear to keep your range with Calibrum.
LEVEL 9 - WARLOCK 8
8th level Warlocks get another Ability Score Improvement: you should probably increase your Charisma for more damage and accuracy with your weapons.
Speaking of weapons Dimension Door will let you head back to fountain to buy more weapons, or get out of danger and in range to use your weapons.
(Artwork by SixMoreVodka Studios. Made for Legends of Runeterra by Riot Games.)
LEVEL 10 - SORCERER 2
We’ve gotten all of out basic auto attacks: now I want some of Aphelios’ finer abilities. Second level Sorcerers get a Font of Magic for Sorcery Points which currently do nothing other than let you get more spell slots. You can melt down your Warlock slots however to get more Sorcery points, which will be useful later.
And of course you can learn more spells, but we’re going to wait for...
LEVEL 11 - SORCERER 3
Third level Sorcerers can finally learn Metamagic to empower their spells! You can take Quickened Spell for some Attack Speed, or Seeking Spell for some armor penetration to deal with higher AC enemies.
You can also learn second level spells like Icingdeath’s Frost (UA soon to be in Fizban’s hopefully) to blast foes with Infernum then Gravitum, or Dragon’s Breath to blast Infernum all throughout the fight.
LEVEL 12 - SORCERER 4
Would be good to cap off that Charisma, so go ahead and do so with your ASI.
You can also learn another spell like Spiritual Weapon for a turret you can move around a bit, and a new cantrip like Mage Hand for your sister’s help reaching the top shelf.
(Artwork made for Riot Games.)
LEVEL 13 - SORCERER 5
5th level Sorcerers can get some Magical Guidance from their sister to reroll ability checks, because she’s been reading up on Tasha’s Cauldron of Everything.
You can also learn a new spell like Fireball... I mean I really shouldn’t need to justify this. It’s Fireball. Blast them with Moonlight Vigil for a burst of Infernum’s fire!
LEVEL 14 - SORCERER 6
6th level Divine Soul Sorcerers can use their Sorcery Points for Empowered Healing... wait you have healing? Well whenever you or an ally within 5 feet of you rolls dice to heal from a spell, you can spend 1 sorcery point to reroll any number of those dice once, as long as you’re not incapacitated. This technically doesn’t work with Vampiric Touch (since that spell does damage and then heals you based on how much damage it deals) but if your support heals you or a nearby ally there’s no reason not to give them an extra pick-me-up!
You can also learn another spell but I’m going to hop back to second level real quick for Mirror Image. It perhaps doesn’t fit as well (which is why I didn’t take it until now) but it’s very good to keep yourself alive, and as a squishy Lunari boy it’ll be very helpful to make it harder for the enemy to hit you.
LEVEL 15 - SORCERER 7
7th level Sorcerers can learn 4th level spells like Guardian of Faith for a turret that actually stands still! It shoots at anyone who comes close, and when it runs out of ammo it disappears. But what’s cool about this spell is that it lasts for 8 hours, which is plenty of time to rest through the night while your sister watches over you.
LEVEL 16 - SORCERER 8
8th level Sorcerers get another Ability Score Improvement or Feat: seeing as you’re mostly casting War Caster would be a good pickup to keep your Concentration with your bad Constitution and also hit those who come too close with magic. Or you could just get better Constitution maybe since it’s a bit late for War Caster tbh...
You can also learn another spell like Death Ward, for a Guardian Angel that you’re probably going to need seeing as you still have less than a hundred health.
(Artwork by Francis Tneh and West Studios. Made for Riot Games.)
LEVEL 17 - SORCERER 9
9th level Sorcerers can learn 5th level spells like Teleportation Circle to recall back to base or to your sister’s temple. If you know the sequence of sigils to go back to a teleportation circle you can use this spell to link yourself back to it. You can also create a new circle over the course of a year. (And by spending a lot of gold.)
Basically this is my way of saying that we got all we wanted after level 16 tbh and I’m kinda just going through the motions of grabbing your last few levels.
LEVEL 18 - SORCERER 10
10th level Sorcerers get their third Metamagic option! Hurrah! By this point you have enough spells that force saving throws that Heightened Spell is a good option to make it a lot harder for your opponents to resist 200 years of magic!
You can also learn another 5th level spell like Hold Monster for Gravitum’s root against a ganking Fiddlesticks. And another cantrip: I somehow didn’t take Prestidigitation until now, so grab it for all sorts of basic Lunari magic.
LEVEL 19 - SORCERER 11
11th level Sorcerers can learn a 6th level spell! This is going to be your final, highest level spell; your ultimate ability! And I’d consider an ultimate from a fed Aphelios to be a Circle of Death. It’s a huge AoE that does a lot of damage: a simple nuke for a simple ADC that isn’t remotely confusing.
LEVEL 20 - SORCERER 12
12th level Sorcerers get one last Ability Score Improvement or Feat... I’m going to be honest: this doesn’t fit Aphelios but you likely have around 100 HP. Do yourself a favor and grab the Tough feat for 40 extra health.
FINAL BUILD
PROS
For every phase, a weapon - Wow who would’ve guessed building for versatility makes you versatile? You have a huge variety of spells for just about any occasion: AoEs to deal with crowds, single-target spells to take down big foes, crowd control to keep enemies in place, summons to keep enemies targeting them instead of your allies, and of course more than enough damage to shake a stick at.
In your hand; from my heart - Sorcery points also give you plenty of flexibility, notably in your ability to greatly increase damage output thanks to Quickened Spell on Eldritch Blasts and Seeking Spell to reroll missed Eldritch Blasts. But being able to turn your Warlock slots into ammo for your more useful guns is extremely useful and allows you to better adapt to various situations.
I am with you... shining above - Medium armor goes quite a long way! A Breastplate and Shield gives you a solid 18 AC, and if you’re willing to have Stealth Disadvantage upgrading to Half Plate gives you a respectable 19 AC!
CONS
You make yourself a weapon, so you do not have to feel - Skill proficiencies are reserved for those who don’t spend 200 years on damage. You have two skills from your background and two from your class and none of them are particularly great. Sure your Insight and Medicine skills are fine enough but you’re going to be beaten in Arcana by a Wizard and Religion by a Cleric also a Wizard, because Religion is an Intelligence skill for some reason.
Your life upon the altar, brother... - Even with the Tough feat your health is extremely poor. d6 hit die hurt and anyone with Power Word Kill can easily execute you. While I did give you good Wisdom for roleplay’s sake you could (and probably should) opt for Constitution instead.
An omen in your grasp - Your low health is kind of a problem when a lot of your spells force you into close range. There are ways to use spells like Burning Hands, Dragon’s Breath, Shadow Blade, and Vampiric Touch without getting too close (those methods being the Distant Spell Metamagic which we didn’t take; you could totally replace Seeking Spell if you wanted though) but Severum and Infernum are balanced around their low range. There’s no reason you can’t throw balance out the window to take spells that will likely be more useful.
But you are a weapon, sworn to carry your faith and show the world the light in the darkness. Your task is to slay those that deny the right of your people before they even know you are there... Sure confusing them as to what you are even doing is also effective, and I guess it doesn’t matter if your abilities make sense if they’re all dead. They’ll have 200 years to figure out how you killed them: I’m sure that’s plenty of time to read your ability descriptions.
(Artwork by @NAOMM29 on Twitter.)
#200 years#of#collective#game#design#experience#dnd#dnd build#dnd guide#League of Legends#League of Legends Aphelios#Aphelios#moonlight#Lunari#dnd warlock#dnd sorcerer#guns#weapon#faithful#weapon of the faithful
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Pleasant Surprise (Indruck Superhero AU)
A little fic I’ve had bouncing around my head for awhile, set in the universe of “The Thrilling Adventures of the Green Knight.” It takes place after that story, and after the events of the small fics “Aww, Rats” and “Back in Time”. You can read it as a standalone, but it does contain some spoilers for main fic.
“You know how you always say communication is important in a relationship?” Indrid drums his fingers on the arm of the couch.
Dr. Mwangi nods, the chain on her glasses glinting in the soothing lights of her office.
“I...there is something I am not sure how to communicate to Duck. I, it’s something I’ve been dishonest about. I” Indrid takes a deep breath, “I lied about the date of my birthday.”
Dr. Mwangi doesn’t so much as cock an eyebrow, much like she managed not to gasp in horror when he told her what his training regime involved when he was learning to be a villain. Indrid’s going theory is that this self-control is his therapist's super power.
“Do you want to spend part of our session today figuring out how you’d like to talk with him about this?”
Indrid fidgets with his glasses, “Yes, please.”
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Duck comes home to one of his favorite scenes; Indrid sitting with his easel in front of the rat run. His boyfriend decided he needed to cultivate his artistic streak, so that one part of his life would not involve superheroing or villainy in any capacity. From the look of it, he’s still on the theme of inserting the rats into still-lifes of different styles.
Duck loves watching him paint, in a way at once connected to and completely different from the attraction he feels observing the other man train in the hideout or dig himself into engineering a new invention. There’s the same cleverness in his hands, the same concentration lining his face. But there’s an innocence that’s absent other places, a kind of happiness that only exists in activities untouched by his past.
“Hello, chivalrous one.” Indrid murmurs as Duck comes to drape his arms over his sweater clad shoulders.
“Hey sugar. I like the new paintin’--is that Dr. Harris Bonkers?”
“Indeed.” Indrid turns his head, his grin as bright as the streetlights flickering to life outside, “The fuzzy medical practitioner in the style of Seurat. I foresee Aubrey liking it as a Christmas gift, and I wanted to do it while the inspiration was still fresh.”
“Bet she’ll get a kick outta it.” Duck kisses the top of his head, then starts removing his work clothes, “you had dinner? Thought I might reheat some pizza.”
“I ordered us dinner, it should arrive within ten to fifteen minutes, depending on whether this is the broken stoplight timeline.” Indrid sets his brushes aside, stands so he can follow Duck down the hall to the bedroom.
“Thanks for doin’ that.”
“There is, ah, something I wish to discuss before it arrives.”
Duck turns and his heart twinges. Back when Indrid was his nemesis, Duck learned to read his emotions, a skill that eluded everyone else. He can tell when Indrid is nervous and, most often, when Indrid is nervous and doing everything he can to hide it.
“What’s on your mind?” He takes a soft step towards the other man, who goes very still as he summons his next words.
“Do you remember what I told you about my birthday?”
“That it was in the spring and you’d let me know when we were gettin close to it. Wait, fuck, you never did, not this year or last year. Then again, last year was when the White Star boys kept tryin to fuck everythin up, think a lot of stuff got missed. Do you, uh, wanna do a birthday observed or somethin? Could even get a little goofy and do a half-birthday.”
Indrid shakes his head vehemently, “No. That is not it. I, I ah, I lied. My birthday is not in spring. And before you ask ‘when is it,’ the answer is I have no idea. We never celebrated birthdays. I only know my age because my father unleashed my brother and myself upon the world some time after I, or rather we, turned eighteen.” Indrid tucks his hands into the pockets of his sweater, “that is all I wish to say.”
It would be easy to giggle at his serious tone.
Duck pulls Indrid into a hug, “Thanks for tellin me. Do you want help tryin to work out when it really is?”
“I...I do not know. I was simply tired of such a small lie weighing me down.”
“Okay. You wanna cuddle until dinner?”
“Of cour--oh damn it all.” Indrid steps back, pulling off his sweater, “Baron Thorne is going to try and hold an entire dormitory of students hostage in forty-five minutes.”
“More than a two hero job?”
Indrid tips his head back, then replies, “it’ll go best with for. I shall alert Barclay and Aubrey.”
“Roger. I’ll get the car.”
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Duck’s researching potential plants for Dani to modify into non-lethal weapons when the secure elevator dings open and Agent Stern hurries out, looking a kind of excited he hasn’t seen since Barclay’s parents landed their ship to meet their son’s new boyfriend.
“Gettin the feelin you got good news for me.”
“I do.” Joe pulls out his datapad, “I went through the files we confiscated from Abbadon to find the one on Indrid. It did indeed have his birth date, and you are not going to believe what it is.”
Duck looks at the little boxes of letters and numbers beneath the photo of a much younger Indrid with a much crueler smile.
“No fuckin way.”
“I know right?” Joe grins, “ I think he’ll get a kick out of that.”
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“My birthday is on Halloween?”
“Yeah!” Duck looks so happy that for a moment the emotion carries Indrid as well.
“That is rather fitting. It’s always been my favorite holiday.” He can see it now; little orange lights, a black tablecloth, some cake.
“And it’s three weeks away, so we still got time to plan somethin to mark the day. I was thinkin we could have it Friday, since Halloween is a Saturday and I know at least Barclay and Dani got things they do every Halloween. How’s that sound?”
He isn’t sure. Something circles up from the deep, animal part of his mind, but he can’t name it and so does his best to ignore it.
“It sounds wonderful.”
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Indrid cannot escape. Everywhere he turns there are birthdays; on the T.V, in the restaurants he and Duck go to, on cards and balloons when he’s getting groceries
It’s your big day!
“You don’t turn thirteen everyday”
To my son, on his eighteenth birthday
“To my brother, my favorite partner in crime”
“This week on ‘My Neighbor’s a Werewolf,’ Jamie throws Max a surprise party, and gets a big surprise of his own.”
When that one flickers across the screen, Indrid clicks the T.V off with a little hiss. He’s tense, feels like the embodiment of the moment a knife-tip meets skin; resistance and resignation in the instant before it all comes pouring out.
“You got a cake preference?” Duck rests his hand on the couch near Indrid’s shoulder, tone light as he continues, “know you like really sweet stuff, I could get mom’s hummingbird cake recipe from Jane-”
“Whatever you think best.” Indrid flexes and coils his fingers.
“‘Drid, it’s your party, you get to mark the occasion however you want.
“And what if I do not wish to mark it at all?”
“Uh…” Duck clears his throat, “uh, that’s fine too.”
Indrid turns his head to see the expression he knew would be there.
“That upsets you.”
“N-uh, fuck, I uh, it don’t uh-”
“Duck, please do me the courtesy of not drawing out the lie.”
Ducks shoulders sag, “Guess I’m a little disappointed. I, uh, I was havin fun plannin it with you. Thought I could make up for all the times you didn’t have one.”
“Well, you can’t.” Indrid snaps, stands more dramatically than he means to. He just wants this to be over, wants to stop seeing the memories he thought he’d properly laid to rest, “you cannot make up for what I saw, what was done to me, what I did.”
“I-”
Indrid holds up his hand, “I know you see it as your job to remove all traces of my tragic past that you can.”
“Hold the fuck on.” Duck shakes his head, “Is that what you think I’m doin? ‘Drid, it’s just a party. If you don’t want it you don’t want it, but don’t fuckin pretend this is some indicator of us as a pair.”
“Oh but it is.” Indrid feels his lips curl into an old smile, “you get to play the nice, normal hero making everything better, while all I am is someone to pity, broken long before you ever met me!”
Duck goes still, and in his visions he sees the rats finishing skittering to the far side of Ratopia. It’s at this moment he realizes he’s been yelling.
“I…I am going to bed. Goodnight.” He hurries down the hall, only bothering to change his pants before crawling under the covers. In most futures, Duck follows him and demands they finish their argument, leading to a far larger fight. But the hero doesn’t come. This gives Indrid time to get his breathing and heart rate back to normal, to try and work out why the thought of his loved ones gathering to celebrate his birth makes him want to disappear into the night.
He’s not quite asleep when Duck comes in. He’s not quite ready to apologize. As he’s contemplating his options, his boyfriend slips under the sheet and lays in such a way that his right hand is inches from Indrid’s own.
Without opening his eyes, Indrid slides his fingers across Duck’s palm. Duck shifts to interlink their fingers, and closes his hand.
Indrid wakes up five hours later in two discrete stages. The first is coming out of the nightmare, of his body registering the need to move, to hide, before his brain is fully back to the present. The second is waking up enough to wonder why he always hides in the closet after these dreams; he didn’t have a closet growing up.
He creeps into the living room, hoping he hasn’t woken Duck. He has woken Chicken, who decides it’s close enough to her breakfast time to yowl at him until he feeds her. While she crunches her cat food, he opens one of the doors to Ratopia. The mischief is mostly asleep, but at the sound Void rouses from his spot atop Mallard and scurries over to Indrid’s hands.
“You forgive so easily.” Indrid murmurs, cupping him in one hand and closing the cage with the other, “or perhaps you just forget with much greater skill than I.”
He knows when Duck is behind him. Without turning, he sets Void on his shoulder and says, “I think I know why I have been so unpleasant tonight. I...I have only ever marked two changes in age; being old enough to face the trials of my order and being sent out to cut down those who dared oppose us. My ‘birthday’ is a harbinger of suffering and death. And I, I know that is not the real truth, but it is the one my body believes, the one my mind has been bracing for without me fully understanding that’s what it is doing. I did not mean to take that fear out on you.”
“‘Drid” Duck’s voice is scratchy with sleep, but when Indrid turns his eyes are alert, “I’m so fuckin sorry. It, uh, it didn’t occur to me that your birthday would be wrapped up so tightly with the shit you went through as a kid. I never meant to push you into somethin you didn’t want.”
“But I do want it!” Indrid shoves his hands into his hair, “I want to have dinner with our friends, to get gifts, to enjoy a thing that millions of people partake in every day. And I am so, so very angry that I cannot, that instead I am dealing with all of this.” He gestures vaguely to himself, then looks at Duck, his body registering safe as the hero joins him by the rat run. When Duck opens his arms, Indrid nestles into them without hesitation.
“Whatever you decide on, that’s what we’ll do.”
Indrid hums, snickers when Void clambers onto Duck to tickle his cheek with his whiskers. After the shadows of the past recede in the warmth of Duck’s embrace, Indrid whispers, “I would like to have the party. I would like to help you plan it. But I...I would like a few of the details to still be surprises for me. It might be nice for my birthday to bring me a pleasant one for once.”
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“Oooh, this looks so cool!” Aubrey sets a gift on the table as she admires the mothman string lights, banners, and balloons, “dang, Duck, didn’t know you had a decorator streak.”
“Don’t get a chance to flex it much. And it’s kinda easy when the theme is so specific.”
“I’m trying to compliment you, doofus.” Aubrey playfully whacks his arm, then squeals, “honey, look, rats in hats!”
“Awww” Dani joins her to regard the mischief in their tiny party hats (only Mallard is still wearing his, the others in various states of tossing them about), “Indrid, did you make these?”
“Indeed, though Barclay made these.” He slides the enclosure open and sets five rat-sized cupcakes on the floor, “which is wonderful, because I did not want them to feel left out. They’re getting them earlier than the rest of us because Barclay is looking for ways to keep me out of the kitchen.”
“It’s your birthday, that means letting someone else cook!” Barclay calls from the kitchen.
“But I modified the blender and the mixer to be self-operating!”
“Wait, what?” Is all they hear before Barclay is drowned out by whirring.
“Should we help him?” Dani says through their laughter.
“He’s a professional, he’ll be fine.” Joseph steps from the kitchen, his casual wear of jeans and a Loch Ness Monster dress shirt still somewhat jarring to the former villain who only ever saw him in suits, “Aubrey, Dani, can I get you anything to drink?”
“Yes please. Okay doctor, time to play.” Aubrey opens the special hatch in Ratopia and deposits the rabbit, who settles in to be groomed by his smaller friends.
Dinner is fancy macaroni and cheese and fruit salad, Indrid’s favorites. As Ned regales the table with his latest misadventures in fixing up his new van (“I was unaware an owl could nest in a seat cushion”) Indrid glances at the entryway.
“Everythin okay?” Duck whispers.
“Yes. I, ah, I simply did not expect so many gifts. I know it’s customary to receive them but I thought you got one or two. Not that everyone brought them.”
“You wanna open them?”
Indrid nods, grinning, “very much so.”
He takes care not to peek at the futures when unwrapping them, wanting to preserve the excitement as long as possible. Aubrey gives him a six pound bag of Lucky Charm marshmallows, Dani sneaks out to the car and returns with a potted plant (“I modified it so that the blossoms will be extra attractive to moths”). Ned gifts him a signed, limited run poster from Red Dust on His Soul, Joseph and Barclay a stack of new romance novels (“I think you’ll like Agent X, it’s a mystery series but he romances quite a few characters in them”). Mama sent a package from West Virginia that contains a small, wooden duck she carved herself and made especially smooth so it would be soothing to rub). And Lydia Little, AKA Sylvia Cold, presents him with a mug declaring him “Favorite Brother.”
Duck’s present is the last one he opens. Waiting for him in the rectangular box is a white shirt with “World’s Greatest Rat Dad” on the front. The back is covered in squiggle-scratches of five different colors, which Duck explains are signatures from the mischief made in rat-safe fabric paint.
“It’s perfect.” Indrid sighs, kisses his boyfriend and then beams at his friends, “it is time for cake.”
They dim the lights, sing to him as Barclay emerges from the kitchen with a massive, mothman shaped cake with lots of candles. To his delight and surprise, the inside is layers of pink and yellow, flavored with strawberry and vanilla. He eats far more than is perhaps wise, but it is his birthday and it is his understanding that such things are allowed.
His guests linger for a few hours more, Aubrey and Dani the last to leave with a reminder to put the plant on the balcony. Indrid waves goodbye, closes the door and arms the security to full. He turns back into the house, sees the cards and gifts his friends put so much thought into locating for him, the stray dishes and half-empty glasses that signify they were here. For him. Because they wanted to be, because they care about him.
“‘Drid? You want any more cake before I put it aw--oh fuck, sugar, what’s wrong.”
“Nothing” he sniffles, grins, “these are tears of happiness. I, ah, I hurried us into cake because I felt them upon me when I opened the gifts. It will take some time yet for me to be willing to show such feelings around our friends.” He wipes his eyes, “thank you, my love, for arranging this.”
“Any time, darlin.”
He smiles, “Have I mentioned lately that you are my hero?”
“Pretty sure you called me that this mornin. But I sure as hell don’t mind hearin it again.”
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“What is this?” His brother scowls up from the paper plate Indrid passed to him through the complex delivery system keeping his cell from the world around it.
“Cake. Today is our birthday. Did you know that?”
“Who cares for such frivolous things, little brother?”
“Those of us who do not spend our lives steeped in the misery of others, twin brother. If you do not want it, give it back and I shall share it with one of the guards.”
Apollo looks at the cake. Then he kneels on the floor, tearing into it with his hands. He doesn’t eat it what he destroys, and after a moment Indrid grasps why.
“Did you really think I hid some device to help you escape in there?”
“Yes.” His brother is now trying to light stab the cake with his gaze.
Indrid rubs his forehead, “Perhaps some day you will learn to see things for how they are, not how you believe them to be.” He starts for the door, looks over his shoulder and says softly, “happy birthday, Apollo.”
A slam as his brother strikes the see-through front of his cell, “Get back here this instant you worthless, traitorous, coward!”
The door slides open and Indrid steps into the hall. Joseph is waiting for him, drops his eyes from the security feed to the man in front of him, “what a waste of Barclay’s cooking.”
“Agreed.”
A gentle pat on his shoulder, “You tried, that counts for a lot. Now go enjoy your night.”
“And my knight?”
“Him too.” Joseph waves goodbye, then adds, “and happy birthday!”
Indrid gets home before the city trick or treating hours begin; he’s feeling rather good, all things considered, and Halloween is so beloved by villains that the odds of his evening being interrupted by work are almost none.
Duck is on the porch lighting their Jack ‘O Lanterns, grinning brighter than all the candles and lights on the block combined when Indrid walks up the steps to join him. He sees in the futures that he’s made him a special, Halloween themed birthday dinner.
He pulls Duck into a hug, kissing the top of his head with happy sighs, thanking whatever twist of fate pushed him into the arms of the man who was, in many ways, his first-ever pleasant surprise.
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Landfall (Black Sails, M, 1/2)
Y’all had to have known this was coming 😈 I am utterly appalled at the lack of Black Sails recognition. So, to remedy that, have some Sick!Flint. If you have not watched Black Sails, watch it. I purposefully avoided spoiling anything major in this fic because it is truly the best show I have ever had the pleasure to watch and I do not want to spoil that for anyone. If you want queer characters, ships, pirates, badass women, ships (did I mention those already?) and show writing that feels like the best of literature, watch this show. That said, if you have seen it, this takes place before the show starts, when Captain Flint is building his image as the fearsome pirate he is when we meet him.
This was actually incredibly hard to write, both because I felt such an intense pressure to do these wonderful characters justice and because Flint is just an impermeable wall. Like this man could just take a cannonball to the face and not bat an eye. So I tried my best to stay in character and still let him suffer a bit :) Onwards! Hopefully a bit more sneezing in the next part.
They had made landfall in Nassau in the evening, just as the sun was beginning to set. The storm clouds that had then been rolling into the harbor quickly from the interior of the island were now unleashing a torrential downpour upon Captain Flint as he urged his horse faster inland through the mud. It had taken them long into the night, well after the rain had begun to unload all the cargo they had taken, and as such he was as soaked as though pulled from the ocean. Though being so wet would doubtless not do well for the headcold he was brewing, neither would spending the night at the Guthrie’s tavern do well for his headache.
When he arrived at Miranda’s home, he tied up his horse in the stable and limped into the house, his leg aching from the ride or the fight for the ship or the weather or God knows what else. The wind blew the door shut with a loud crash behind him. Flint stood for a moment, water dripping from him like a personal rainstorm, breathing heavily and not altogether successfully keeping himself from coughing. In the hearth, a dying fire cast its dim light on the room. He hung his coat, more wet rag now than anything, beside the door, when he heard a shuffling from the bedroom.
Miranda emerged in her nightgown, her hair mussed slightly from its updo in sleep. She smiled at him but Flint, upon seeing her hands empty, did not return it.
“Where’s the pistol I gave you?” he growled. “To protect yourself.”
Turning her back to him, Miranda went to stoke the fire up higher. “I left it behind, seeing as though I know there is only one man mad enough to ride out and barge in my door at this hour and in this weather. Thank you, by the way. For the puddle.”
Miranda pulled a stool out in front of the hearth and Flint sank into it, the wood creaking as his weight melted into it. “Homecoming gift,” he gritted out.
“There’s blood in it.”
“Eh?”
“In the puddle. Mixed with the water.”
“My leg, probably. Haven’t really had the chance to look at it yet.” He spared a glance at his thigh; the light was low, coming only from the fire, but he thought he could make out a glisten of red somewhere along the sodden black fabric of his trousers, as well as a tear. He coughed to clear his throat. “There’s a book. In my cloak. Probably soaked through, but it’s there. Erasmus.”
“Good that you had the time and the sense to raid a bookshelf.” Flint picked up on the unspoken and not tend to your leg and he did not care for the accusation of it, but he did not rise to the bait, simply too exhausted to do so. His head and limbs ached, and now that the promise of a hearth and true dryness was so near he could scarcely stand the wet scratch of his clothes against his skin.
Miranda disappeared to the kitchen, no doubt to boil water and prepare a salve to clean his wound. They had fallen into this rhythm, such that Flint himself could recognize which cloths and jars she pulled down based only on the direction of her footsteps and the squeaking of the cabinets. The farthest to the left of the stove was the highest pitched and it was there she kept her lavender soap which, for reasons unclear, she used only on him. He heard her open it. It would be wasted on him tonight, not that it ever wasn’t, for he was too full of cold to consider smelling it.
He gave three shuddering sneezes, the wetness of his hair snaking around his temples chilling him further. Briefly he considered going to his coat to retrieve his handkerchief, soaked as it no doubt was, but when he looked up he saw Miranda re-enter, holding a platter full of bowls and bandages to treat him, and he knew he would get a row for getting up again to bleed more on her floor.
“Dutch merchant ship with a hold full of spices and tobacco,” he told her as she set the tray down with a soft clang on the coffee table beside where he sat. She lit a candle “Enough to keep the men satisfied for a while.”
“How long is that?”
“Two months at least. Enough for us to ride out the worst of the winter storms on la--Careful!” Flint jerked back as Miranda pulled at the tear in his trouser leg, ripping it open to expose the gash on his thigh.
“Hush, they’ll have to be sewn up again, anyway.”
“At this rate, they’ll have to be replaced!”
Miranda sighed as she took in the extent of the injury, fresh blood gleaming deeply in the candlelight, then gave an airy chuckle. There was a sadness nestled deeply within it, almost imperceptible, that hurt Flint far more than the wound did. “I suppose I should have pegged you as a man who cared more for his clothing than for himself.”
Flint talked around that sadness, as they always did. “Says the woman who is more worried about bloodstains on her floor than what put them there. I think I could come in without a leg and you’d be particular about what I bled on.”
Miranda smiled, almost to herself, as she wet a cloth in the bowl of soapy water and wrung it out, before placing it on Flint’s leg. “If you had a home to clean and take care of, you’d be particular as well.”
They fell silent after that, the only sounds being the crackle of the fire and the melodic repetition of Miranda dunking the cloth in the bowl, the droplets pittering as she wrung it out, the soft squish as she pressed cloth gently to his wound. It was not unlike the cadence of a ship, the rushing waves and heaving creaks, and Flint lost himself in it, the sting of the soap as she scrubbed the only thing keeping him from drifting to sleep.
His sniffling grew more insistent as the fragrance of the soap loosened his congestion. He sneezed again, twice, jerking away from Miranda as she was wrapping a bandage around his thigh.
“You’ve picked up a cold, too, on your voyage,” she observed, not pausing her pressure on the wound as she continued to wrap it.
“It’s nothing.”
“Well, yes, compared to the gash on your leg a great number of things are nothing.” Her hands paused in tying the bandage, holding the pressure there as she looked up at him, the question unsaid burning like an ember behind her eyes. In London, she would have asked—she had asked when he had come around with a split lip from a bar fight or a bruise from his training—but since they had come to Nassau there were a great many questions she had stopped asking.
Flint met her eyes for the briefest of moments. She would not ask how he had come by this latest set of injuries, but she knew enough to fill the gaps, perhaps even enough to construct a story close to the truth. She was a smart, smart woman and Flint did not deserve her.
Her voice softened as she dropped her gaze, wiping away with a clean cloth the blood that had already seeped around the edges of the bandage. “Please, try to take care of yourself a bit, James.”
Flint made a sound in his throat, an attempt at a grunt or a scoff perhaps, but it caught and turned to a rough cough. Miranda said nothing, but set to gathering the bloody cloths and filthy bowls back on the tray. The sight of the blood, the dirt of his world infiltrating and infecting hers, made his chest burn in a way that had nothing to do with his illness.
Miranda hesitated and cupped his cheek briefly before picking up the tray, bidding him look at her. The firelight flicked across her eyes. “Allow me to do what I can. I know there are…” She broke their gaze for a moment and swallowed. “Limits to what I can do, what I can understand, but please. Let me be here for you.”
Flint smoothed a stray piece of her hair back behind her ear and studied her a moment, beholding with a sinking stomach the lines on her face, lines that had been from ceaseless smiles back in London turned lines sour with stress here in Nassau. He owed this to her, owed her the world after what he had put her through.
“I only mean you needn’t trouble yourself over this,” he said. “Over me, over a headcold, over a cut on my leg. It’s nothing that I haven’t experienced before and I’ve borne it--”
“The men aren’t here to see you,” Miranda said abruptly, and damn her for always knowing his mind even when Flint scarcely knew it himself. She carried on, her voice softening. “Any weakness you think you might display, they are not here to see it. There’s no need to be Captain Flint in this house.”
With that she turned back for the kitchen, calling over her shoulder that she would bring Flint a towel to dry himself while she made up the spare bed. Flint coughed again, knowing that if he had had the energy to follow his instinct he would have yelled at her for some senseless reason, perhaps for the sin of cutting through to the core of the very armor of ferocity he was trying to build for himself. Shame burned in his belly, and he took a small measure of comfort in the throb of his injury and the fire in his throat, as a twisted form of penance or punishment. He had become an angry man since leaving London. He had always been subject to passion, to being overcome, to loss of control. The accursed Admiral Hennessey had even observed as much. But the raw permanence of his anger, burrowing deep within him and taking up hold like a parasite, was something altogether new and different. In quiet moments such as this, he loathed himself for it.
Miranda returned to him with a towel and a handkerchief before departing to the bedroom. Flint made judicious use of both the items, his sneezing assaulting him with a vengeance as he became dry, as if to punish him for having gotten so wet in the first place. He had been ill all manner of times and in all manner of places: belowdecks in the Navy, at port, on land, even once prior on the Walrus. And this present headcold of his, while decidedly uncomfortable and a nuisance as all headcolds are, certainly ranked among the least of these times. Were he alone or at sea, he would have treated it as he treated all minor ailments: by simply going about his business as usual, perhaps indulging in a bit of rum to take the edge off the soreness in his throat. But, it was undeniably relaxing, freeing even, to know that he would sleep in a bed tonight and not have to wake to maps and ropes and captaincy in the morning. Flint felt his shoulders fall at the realization, felt the muscles in his jaw unclench, until the strain of sailing and fighting to take the Dutch caravel was as much in the background as the soft sputtering of the fire in the hearth.
His eyes slipped shut, and perhaps he had even fallen asleep briefly sitting up, when Miranda shook his shoulder gently. She nodded at him and he nodded back, feeling stupid and disoriented with fatigue. Doubtless sensing this, she led him by the arm to the spare bedroom that may as well become his as much as his own cabin at sea.
“I’ve left you an old nightshirt, in the drawers.”
Flint was overcome by a fit of sneezing and coughed a bit when he had finished, prompting Miranda to pat the pillow and add, “And handkerchiefs, tucked underneath.”
She turned to leave but he caught her by the wrist and brought her fingers to his lips. They were warm, and even through his congestion he could smell the lavender soap upon them. “Thank you,” he rasped. For everything. If ever there were a time for her to read his mind, it was now.
Miranda leaned forward and placed a ghost-light kiss on his cheek. “Try not to get too much blood on my sheets. It is absolutely beastly to get out.”
She left him, then, with a smile, and Flint gave one of his own to the empty room before collapsing on the bed and falling asleep almost instantly, uncaring of damp clothes or soaked bandages or words he should have said but lacked the courage to voice.
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"Are you ever going to show me what's in here?" Aiko rapped a knuckle against the hard steel door. Kalle gave her a glance, his brow cocked with a frown on his face. She gave him an innocent look, but he knew the curiosity had to be burning her up. He snorted,
"Not if I can help it."
She wrinkled her nose and stuck out her tongue, "Why not?"
He turned back to the project in his hands, "Because there's nothing in there you need to see, that's why."
He felt a weight on his shoulder, and he hid his laugh with a cough, "But Old Man...!"
"I said no, Aiko, and I mean it. Now don't you have a date with Lucius, or something?"
Aiko sighed, but still rested on his shoulder. Her head leaned into his, "Yeah, but that's not until later." She nudged him playfully, "So maybe you can show me what's behind the door?"
"Aiko, I try not to make it a habit to repeat myself." Kalle warned dryly, he felt his patience start to thin. If she noticed it certianly didn't bother her. Instead she made a face before kissing his cheek and sweeping out of the room. Kalle shook his head in amusement.
It was Aiko's nature to be so curious about everything, and Kalle could hardly blame her for it. Yet, there were things she didn't need to know or see. The secrets behind that door were among many; artifacts of great age and terrible power best kept out of sight. Roboute was the only one who knew what lie behind that door, for not even Cato was privy to the knowledge.
All the better to protect him, and Aiko as well.
A notification signal drew his attention to the data slate sitting on the table. He rose with a grunt, his joints popping as he investigated. He scrolled through several mundane messages until he found a summons from the Primarch Guilliman himself. Curious as to what could be so important, Kalle dressed and left within the half hour.
He greeted passing marines with a silent nod, a silent shadow in the halls all the way to the lower docks of the Maccrage's Honor. It was clear that the Victrix guard had just returned with their Primarch, several marines were already in the process of unpacking when he arrived. He spotted Cato overseeing the guard on the far end of the bay, and he exchanged a passing smile with him.
It was nice to have him home again.
Primarch Guilliman hovered in the threshold of an empty transport, a nervous energy about him as Kalle approached. The old Night Lord dipped his head in greeting,
"Primarch Guilliman, I take my presence here means you found something?"
"Yes." The large man turned on his heel with Kalle quick to follow. He hit the button next to the ramp so the pair could have privacy. The artificial lights of the docking bay gave way to near darkness save for the eerie glow of the artifact.
It was stored in a reinforced steel and glass container that sat square in the middle of the isle. The faceted sides of the decahedron were engraved in glowing runes that emitted a blue and green light.
"We don't know what it is. We found it in a subterranean ruin surrounded by Tzeentch iconography."
Kalle stooped to his haunches and carefully turned the container, "Did anything happen when you went to contain it?"
"The first two marines who approached were hit with a lightning arc and aged in moments. They were dead and dust before they hit the ground."
The old Night Lord hummed under his breath, but continued to observe,
"A few of my Librarians managed to create a containment field so we could properly transport it. I wish to destroy it, but wanted your opinion on the matter before I carried out my plan."
"A smart decision. It's aura is intricately tied to its surroundings and to the warp. Who knows what chaotic energies might have been unleashed should you have tried."
Guilliman shifted on his feet, "Permanent containment then?"
"I'll have to study it first before I can design a vault to effectively seal it. With your permission, of course."
Kalle stood with a grunt; Guilliman considered the artifact for a long moment before giving him a resolute nod. "You're sure the vault in your room will be strong enough to contain any accidents?"
"Yes."
"Then proceed, and report your findings to me. I will clear the halls to your stateroom so you may transport the artifact."
Kalle was left with the artifact, to which he paced around in curiosity. Already he was forming his theories just from the Primarch's report alone. He was careful to pick up the container when he was finally given permission to move it. Any sudden movement could set off a reaction, and the last thing he wanted was an accident.
The halls were quiet, not a marine or guardsman in sight. He studied this curious object in his hands as he walked, eager to get it into his vault so he could experiment. His stateroom was empty as far as he could tell; he sent a quick report to Guillman that he'd arrived and would start his studies. Another was sent to Cato stating he would be missing dinner.
Sure that everything was in order Kalle opened his vault door. He ran a talon down the full length of the hard steel. Intricate arcane lines hissed in esoteric patterns from the touch, dissolving right before his eyes. As the last of the sigils disappeared he pressed his palm into the door and pushed his mind through the steel to force it open. The steel barrier split and opened with a pop. A thin veil of mist swept out from within, thick swirls dissipating with each of his steps.
The room was far bigger than the outside implied. It took Kalle several months of work to complete his vault; a separate space not quite in real space but not quite in the warp. A tenuous dimension where the rules of neither plane really applied. Here he could contain the artifacts too dangerous to destroy.
Or experiment on them to his heart's content.
It was a wide, windowless expanse separated into three floors. The ground floor, which connected to the vault door, contained several glass cases meticulously displayed across the space. Each cases was organized with care, its contents as varied as the next. Several firearms sat in locked containers, interesting to look upon but deadly to wield. Another held Arcane Foci of various designs ranging from jewelry to glowing crystals of bright colors.
The second and third floor contained all manner of tomes and mural fragments. Forbidden collections that he had hoarded over the eons and best kept from mortal hands.
At the far end of the ground floor Kalle cleared off his work table with a flick of his wrist. Papers lined with runes and writing, along with several books, put themselves away as he set the decahedron on the table. He braced himself on the workbench and eyed the artifact. It seemed stable enough, yet he projected a barrier around himself just in case.
Carefully, he flipped the locks of the container and opened it. A static charge filled the air as he lifted the decahedron with a shadowy tendril, not at all eager to physically touch it. Thankfully, there were no adverse effects and he set the artifact on the table.
A thousand and one thoughts rushed through his head. Another flick of the wrist summoned empty parchment and quills that hovered midair, and wrote his theories as they came to mind. Runes and symbols crossed several pieces of paper in mere minutes while Kalle circled the table, his gaze trained on the artifact in fascination. He pushed at it with the warp and it hissed in reply, a thin arc of lightning sparking off the table.
He pushed again and another angry arc sparked, this time off the floor at his feet. It was like the artifact had a mind of it's own, as it exhibited signs of displeasure at being touched and harrassed. He pushed again and the static charge intensified enough that a glow filled the room and the sparks from the decahedron lifted it off the table for a moment. Kalle reached out and suspended the artifact, pulling the warp to keep the ambient energies at bay.
They fought, Kalle and this strange artifact, vying for power over one another. And he was winning, and he allowed himself to gloat over the idea of experimenting on this thing.
A shadow of movement just beyond artifact caught his eye. Kalle hesitated and broke eye contact with the decahedron, gaze widening as he spied Aiko among his collection.
"Aiko! What in-"
His lapse in concentration was all that was needed.
"No!"
A loud crack echoed through the room and nearly deafened him. Kalle wrapped the artifact in shadow and forced it back into its container as a large arc of lightning lit up the room. In the span of seconds he closed the lid and leapt over his work table. He called to the warp, begged it to make him weightless, fast enough to intercept the temporal arc heading straight towards his daughter.
Aiko's scream filled the air as it impacted, sending Kalle off his feet and onto his back from the blast. He grunted as he landed, rolling onto his knees with little thought about the pain.
"Aiko!"
He stumbled into a display case, disoriented from the noise and the impact. There was a loud ringing in his ears, even as his heart pounded away in his chest.
No, no, no...
Your fault, your fault. You didn't lock the door behind you, and she followed you in. She's gone and it's your fault!
Tears spilled down his cheeks, as he found the black stain on the carpet. His heart clenched, every breath felt painful as he fell to his knees.
No, no, no!
"Aiko!"
Kalle cradled his head, his shoulders wracking with his silent sobs. Guilt washed over him in relentless waves. How could he face Cato, and tell him that Aiko was gone because of his carelessness? How could he face all who had come to love her?
Your fault, your fault. The monster once again strikes, some things never change.
"Da?"
A small hand touched his shoulder. Kalle looked up to find bright, half pitched eyes gazing at him and full of tears. Long, thick black hair fell over the shoulders a tiny girl who looked no older four years old. His heart stopped and his blood froze, disbelief racing through him. His own hand reached out, almost hesitant as he traced her cheek.
His gaze flicked to the display case just behind her, a pile of Aiko's clothes and her boots haphazardly strewn underneath.
"Aiko?"
The little girl hiccuped in reply, the sleeves of her top comically large on her slender arms. It was Aiko's top, and this small little thing wore it like a dress.
"Da!"
The girl, no, his Aiko threw herself into his lap and clung to the fabric of his tunic. Kalle wrapped his arms around her and cradled her close, relief replacing the guilt with the silent shed of his tears.
~~
Am I doing a regression fic? You bet your sweet bipbies I am. I have a need for small Aiko and dad Kalle and I will not be denied!
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ℑ𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔰
Chapter 4: False God
full masterlist // series masterlist
Pairings: dark!Steve Rogers x female!reader
Word count: 3,117
Warnings: smut, kidnapping, stalking, slight bondage, dub-con, non-con. (MUST BE 18+)
Summary: after the death of your mother, you decided that you were going to do something new to honor her. You chose a perfect camping spot somewhere down South. You thought it was going to be the life-changing vacation that you never had in your life, until Steve Rogers, a man existed in roughness and control all his life, found you.
a/n: finally finished chapter 4 folks! i wanted their relationship to move forward not only sexually and physically but also, emotionally. steve shows that he doesn’t see her as only a sex object, despite wanting to take full control of her but rather, he will actually care for her as a good dom should. hope you enjoy! please leave a like and comment.
After the steamy session you encountered with Steve, he decided to give you a little break. Amid your post-coital bliss, Steve went upstairs to bring you a glass of water to calm your raging nerves. The experience sent you jolts of pleasure, bewilderment, and pain. You had never felt such extreme pleasure before, it awakens every nerve inside your body, striking a flash of lightning down your spine.
On the other brain, your brain is terrorizing you; you had lost control of your body and you had allowed a man to trespass your most personal territory. A man that your mother had warned you about. A man who was perilous enough to abduct you, strip you out of your rights and rob away your will.
The sickening feeling in your stomach resurfaced, to remind you that threat was imminent, and you can't protect yourself from it. You searched for ways of how to repel him enough to let you go. Would it even be possible for you to manipulate him? You've watched enough movies to draw a plan, on how you learn his weakness and then maybe enervate him so you could make an escape. The stake is high, and there's a probability that his sturdy legs might outrun you, and he might make you suffer the consequences.
If you were going to risk your life, you'd rather die trying than serve him as a sex slave for the rest of your life. Would you even know the road back to where you parked your car? Which made you wonder, what happened to your belongings? Did Steve take those too? Or did he just leave it there in the woods? If he had done the latter, there's a high chance that someone might try to find you, the foresters might try to find out whom they belong to.
Or other campers who might make a visit at the woods, they might wish to get rid of the belongings and that would coerce them into trying to figure out who had camped here before. They might search for clues by checking your phone, driver's license... Hold on, your phone, your driver's license, etc... Could they possibly still be in the woods? Or did Steve take them too? From less than 24 hours of observing him, it doesn't seem like Steve would be reckless enough to leave traces behind now, would he?
Your jumbled questions were quickly disrupted by his entrance through the door. Stepping down the staircase, with a glass of water in his hand. He walked towards you and sat on the bed, he put the glass on the bedside table and untied you. Then he lifted the glass to your lips carefully not to let it spill all over the corners of your mouth.
"Here, cool yourself down."
You took a big gulp and drank down the full glass. The water felt icy washing over your tongue. After the perspiring activity that left you flaring up, you needed something to ground you.
"Enough?"
"Yes, sir."
He put the glass back on the bedside table as he stripped himself out of the sweatpants he wore. "Good girl. Now lay back down."
The sight before you left you agape. His member that had been extricated, sprung free before you, leaking with pre-cum, as it wobbled with each slight movement. What left you jarred, wasn't what it was drenched in; but rather the length and the girth. He really was sculpted by the Gods themselves.
You were subdued by the thought of him being inside you. How was he going to fit? You had never seen a man's shaft up-close. It trembled you knowing what he was likely going to do to you shortly.
He kneeled on his knees between your restrained legs, as he bent down to unleash them. He instantly lifted them and placed them on his shoulders. He paused for a moment to brush his thumb over your lower lip and shoved it inside your mouth. Your frightened eyes pleasured him even more.
"Suck it." You began sucking like a baby and its pacifier. He dragged it in and out as it got wetter each time it retreats out of your lips. Once he felt satisfied enough, he lifted his cock and inserted himself inside you, passing through the thin skin that covers your entrance.
You screamed in pain, not a single hint of pleasure emitting out of you. You tried to stop by pulling down your legs but he was too quick to keep you in place.
"Stop, please. It hurts."
"Shh, it's okay. I know it does, but it will feel better once we get past it."
"No, no, no, please just pull out."
"You don't get to make that wish here."
He didn't hesitate in pushing inside of you even farther until he reached his limit. He sighs as he was fully seated. On the other hand, you were shrieking in pain, the tears in your eyes were flowing uncontrollably, as you tried to block out the view by contorting your place to the side.
He began thrusting at a slow pace, letting you adapt to his size. He knew that one way or another, you were going to have to get past this to experience a whole 'nother level of pleasure and he would gladly take you there. But first, you must give into him as he takes care of the inception of your training.
"Fuck, little girl, you are so tight."
You squealed as you tried to push him off by kicking his face, but he grabbed your ankles and stopped his invasion.
"Hey, hey!" He warned you. He slightly bent down to grab your jaw and made you look into his eyes. It was full of ultimatum. "Remember what happens if you continue to misbehave. I will not tolerate it any longer."
You were breathing harshly, as the tears obscured your visions and the feeling of his size still clogging you full caused you discomfort at a great expanse.
"I- I can't... Please."
"No. You are going to keep your mouth shut and submit to me. The more you fight, the more it's going to be painful for you."
You could only continue to cry, hoping that he'd yield at your tears. But no, softness wasn't a trait this man possessed.
"Now, are you going to behave?"
You hesitated for a second, knowing the only answer he demanded contradicted your wish. But you didn't want to face much worse than what was already happening. You didn't wanna face the consequences of your futile resistance. So with a heavy heart, you opened your mouth; "yes, sir." Your voice was meek.
"Good girl."
He thrust harder than before, as he poured his disappointment on your body. He made you feel each puncture as he drew out pleasure out of your misery. At first, it felt horrible, like you had been shot at your most vulnerable part, but as he kept going, you started to feel good; unspeakable and mystifying.
Eventually, the fight in your body slowly departed as you welcomed this newfound bliss. You moaned as he hit the sensitive spot you were never aware of its existence before. You closed your eyes and let his hips to work over your body.
He stared down at you from above, knowing that once again, he had broken down your wall. He knew you began to allow the pain to introduce you to the pleasure you had never known before. He thrust faster and the bed squeaked from the pace. You moaned harder as your breasts jiggled with his vigorous movement.
He kept going until your climax hits you. You spilled your cum all over his hard-rock member that was still moving in and out of you, prolonging your release. It outpoured of you and merged with pre-orgasm wetness. You gave in to the euphoria, as you laid there, presenting your body to be used to get him off.
Shortly, he reached his own climax and he threw his head back as he growled due to the bliss. He spilled his cum inside of you as he stayed a little longer to make sure every drop was kept within.
He pulled out of you as he saw a droplet of blood mixed with the flowing juices your body produced. He neglected it so t wouldn't scare you. You were frightened enough already, he wasn't going to ruin the moment.
He leaned down and pressed a passionate kiss on your lips. He panted into your mouth and pressed his forehead on yours. "You're mine. All mine."
And you were... Not like you had a say in it anyway.
You dozed off after the post-release euphoria took over your body. It had drained your energy and you couldn't resist the urge of closing your eyes. Steve left you after your first session to let you take a break. He took a dampen cloth from your tiny lavatory and cleaned off the remnants of your release dribbling all over your thighs.
He tenderly wiped your skin, trying not to wake you up. He was aware of how in shock your mind and your body must've been. He then took the used cloth with him and went upstairs. He tossed it in the dirty laundry basket then cleaned himself off.
The day was still young so he decided to break a few sweats. Steve works as a wildland firefighter and a part-time photographer. He doesn't always have to be at the local fire department. He works 4 days a week and gets 4 days off. Usually, during his time off, he would wander around the woods to photograph some scenery himself. But for the past couple of days, he's been a little occupied.
Steve went to his backyard to lift some weights. His thoughts couldn't stop reminiscing the last 24 hours. The first time he saw her exposed body, the way she tasted and the sound of her whimpers... It sent current straight to his cock. It had barely been an hour since he fucked her but he was starting to get hard already. He couldn't get enough of her.
Steve drew the scenarios in his head of tonight's training. He made up his mind and it made him impatient to wake her up. He had to endure it though, he vowed that he was going to be patient with her and he was going to keep his words. He smirked as the bead of sweats ran past his forehead to his body. The fire in him fueled his hunger for her and his zeal to pull a muscle. He groaned as he reached his ideal count and put down the weight.
God knows how many hours later, you woke up in a cold sweat. You just had another nightmare. In your dreams, you were imprisoned in a cage, the steel bars that were keeping you a hostage felt cold under your palms.
Your vision was hazy and your mind was foggy, it's like you had just crashed yourself onto the fence and went comatose. The walls confining you in this insufficient penitentiary were murky grey, only a shed of light coming through a narrow window up above. You called for help but no one answered.
And then, suddenly, the lockup was on fire. The flame was getting close and closer, and you tried to rattle the bars. And before the fire caught up to you, you woke up in a fizzy daze only to realize that a part of your dream wasn't entirely, merely a nightmare. You were still locked up in another confinement, unable to escape.
You moved your hand to rub your forehead as you realized that your hands were no longer tied. Your excitement was soon repealed as you sat up only to see that your feet were still bound. At least the gag in your mouth wasn't holding you back anymore now too.
You could call for him in case you need anything, but you pondered, what did you need, really? He certainly wasn't going to set you free and nothing he could give to enhance your mood. Your contemplation was soon cleared out by the sound of the opened door and footsteps following it. To say you weren't scared anymore would be a hastened overstatement, but you no longer felt the shivers ran down your spine or the irrational fears overclouding your brain.
He brought a tray with him, with a pot roast and a glass of wine on it. The smell was tantalizing. He greeted you with a warm smile, a rare one that you hardly got to see. He put down the tray and sat beside you.
"How are you feeling?"
You paused for a moment before you answered. Him worrying about how you feel was strange. All this time, he had taken you as a captive, never once did he ever selflessly care for your being. "As best as I could, I guess..."
"You did really well today, you trusted me to take care of you and you gotta keep it up. We can go to the next lesson, once you've got the hang of it."
"I'm not sure how much more I can take..." You hugged your knees as if you were trying to shield yourself from this beast. You softly shook your head and averted his piercing gaze.
"I'll take you there. We'll take it as slow as you need, but I need you to be able to keep up. I promised not to hurt you, didn't I?" His hand reached your face, and cupped your cheek, directing your eyes onto his.
The deep blue eyes that were usually sharp and lust-blown, were now warm and... assuring. Like he meant every word he said, every forgotten promise that he made amid fiery moments.
You shrugged off his question. "Can I eat? I'm a little hungry."
He removed his hand from your cheek and answered, "of course. You need some fuel before we start anyway."
You knew that should've jarred you, but slowly, you felt yourself giving into his control, letting him take the wheel. Just for now, you were going to let him have the upper hand, you'll find a way to utilize your submissiveness later when you know the time is right.
You dined with your brain swirling with questions, a lot of them. If he swore that he wasn't going to hurt you, surely it wouldn't hurt to ask for some explanation, would it? You gathered all the bits of bravery inside you... The ones that were left anyway, and paused your chewing.
"I have a question..."
"Go on."
"Why am I here... Really?" He contorted at that. He sighed as if he was dreading this circumstance.
"I know you promised not to hurt me and I trust you, but... I can't trust you fully if you keep me in the dark." You paused, the look on his face and the shift in his body were warning you to turn back around.
"I wanna be able to work through whatever this is we are doing, based on mutual trust. And that means I wanna trust you not only in not hurting me but also, knowing that I'll be able to prepare myself for whatever plans you have for me next."
He exhaled once more and this time, he turned his face back to you. "You are here because I wanted something to keep to myself. We, men, have needs and sometimes those needs must be fulfilled immediately."
You didn't know how to respond to that. You stayed quiet and let him carry on. You hugged your knees tighter than before and drooped.
"Tell me, were you happy?" That made you lift your head and glared. What did he mean by that?
"What...?"
"Before this, were you happy with your life?"
"I don't... I don't understand..."
He inched his face closer to you. "I looked through your phone, and from what I learned, you came all the way here from New York to run away for something, didn't you? What was it? Was it your mother?"
And just like that, one trigger word alarmed all the cells in your body; your anxiety spiraled, tightening your chest, your breathing became labored, and the perpetual agony the death of your mother had left you with, came rushing back, flooding your lungs like you were drowning in the middle of Pacific ocean.
"How do you know about that?"
"I looked through your phone, and I saw pictures of her on a hospital gown and your recent texts indicated that you were mourning."
You stared at him in disbelief, how could he do that to you? Not only did he take you against your will and violated your body without your consent, but also invaded your privacy without asking for your permission.
You closed your eyes and bowed your head down, suddenly feeling like you were on the edge of having a meltdown, "stop. Just stop." You blocked your ears from listening to him any longer.
"What? Baby, what's wrong?"
"Stop talking about her, please." You had never felt so cramped before. The pain from missing your mother, the anxiety of being kidnapped, and the void feeling of not knowing what the future holds for you are piling up.
"Okay, then I won't talk about it anymore. But I need you to know that, as your caregiver, I'm not only here to guide you through sexual activities, but you can count me to be a shoulder to cry on." He paused. "You told me not to keep you in the dark, and I won't. But trust works both ways, sweetheart."
You averted the ambush to get any further by making something up, "Can I get a rest tonight? It's been a really long day."
Steve stayed silent for a moment, uncertain of your bold request, but he was a man of his words, if he pushed you any further, exceeding your limits, he might end up hurting you, so he learned to cut you some slacks and granted you the rest you needed tonight.
"Alright, we can move our next training tomorrow. Get some sleep." He got out of the bed and lifted the tray with your unfinished meal, due to your loss of appetite.
"Goodnight." He pecked a kiss on your forehead and exited the room. He switched off the lights and left you in the dark, the gloom once again guards you.
You queried; when did the monster under your bed had chosen to walk in plain sight and spook you even under the broad daylight...
#steve rogers#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x y/n#steve rogers x you#steve rogers au#alpha!steve rogers#dom!steve rogers#steve rogers smut#steve rogers fluff#steve rogers angst#steve rogers fanfic#steve rogers imagine#steve rogers series#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve rogers x you#dark!steve rogers x y/n#dark!steve rogers x reader#dark!steve rogers x fem!reader#dark!steve rogers x female!reader#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers x fem!reader#captain america au#marvel au#mcudarklibrary#mcudarklibrarykinkmonth
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Sith Erinyes AS
Erinyes [ih-rin-ee-eez] the three goddesses of vengeance and retribution who punished men for crimes against the natural order
Requested by Anon: Could you write an Anakin x Sith! Reader oneshot, where because receiving the visions of her husband’s dark fate as Darth Vader, Reader takes his place as the Chancellor’s student instead. And Anakin finds out (after reading her journal once he and the others made it to a safe place after Order 66) and vows to save her for his and their children’s (Luke’s and Leia’s) sakes? Sorry... I hope that I wasn’t too specific in my request.
A/N It’s completely fine, I love this idea. And thank you for all the requests and compliments. Also, this won’t remain 100% faithful to the plot of Episode III but just ignore it.
~~
Opening your eyes, a hazy image came into view. You saw Anakin speaking with Chancellor Palpatine. It was hard to make out, but you were pretty sure it was them. You couldn’t hear the entire conversation, but from what you could gather, Palpatine was beginning to seduce Anakin to the dark side. It scared you. You knew Anakin was supposedly the most powerful force user to exist, and considering how Sidious killed his master, this wouldn’t end well. But what caught your attention was Anakin’s interest in Darth Plagueis The Wise. Why would Anakin want so desperately to bring someone from death?
Unbeknownst to you, Anakin had already had this conversation, and he had already seen you dying.
It seemed as if you were floating above lava; you noticed that the area was blazing hot, all land not covered by liquid fire was made of molten rock. Then you noticed two figures, each wielding pillars of blue light on top of floating debris. Recognizing Anakin’s black robes as well as Obi-Wan’s brown and white ones, you screamed for Anakin to be careful, but no one could hear you, you couldn’t even hear the words you so desperately tried to scream. You couldn’t look away as you saw your husband’s master jump onto safe land. They yell at each other, but you couldn’t hear anything. When Anakin jumped over Obi-Wan, you let out a strangled gasp as he cuts Anakin’s arms from mid-forearm and legs from mid-shin. They exchanged a few other words before Obi-Wan walked away.
The scene shifted, and you saw a man standing against a table like a contraption, arms and legs bound. He was completely covered in black: black armor, black cape, even a black helmet that completely shielded his face. And though you couldn’t discern who was now screaming in agony through a modulated voice, something told you it was your husband, Anakin.
-
Your eyes snapped open. ‘It was just a dream,’ you tried to reassure yourself. But you couldn’t shake the instinct that it was real, like a premonition. You began to get out of the small cot when Anakin’s arm tightened around you. “Where are you going, love?” he asked, now fully alert. He was a light sleeper, and it took him less than a minute to fully wake up.
“Nothing, I just remembered I have to do something in my dorm,” you lied, stroking the side of his face. You were Darth Sidious’ sort-of-apprentice, but he wasn’t especially fond of you despite your power. He had preferred Darth Maul to you, and now there were rumors among his closest confidants that he was seeking to make Anakin his new apprentice. Sidious more so kept you because he didn’t want the Jedi to use you against him. He had found you on Naboo when you were only a newborn, your mother was a handmaiden to the Queen at the time, which was how he found you before the Jedi could sense you.
Anakin nodded, slumping back down as you got dressed. You stood up, placing a hand on your slightly swollen stomach, and left your room, making your way to Darth Sidious’ quarters. You got onto the elevation and chose the 7th floor, stepping out once you reached his temporary living room. One of his personal guards approached you. “Tell Lord Sidious that Darth Erinyes wants to speak with him about Anakin,” you ordered, making yourself into the intimidating Sith Lord your master trained you to be.
“Yes, Ma’am,” he said, turning to enter Sidious’ office. Not long after, the guard came out, gesturing for you to enter. You walked in, head held high and black robes billowing around your ankles.
“Erinyes,” Sidious addressed you, he never used your proper name, “is there a reason you are interrupting me at such a late hour?”
“I apologize, Master. I only wish to speak with you about Anakin.”
“What of the boy?”
“I know you want him as your apprentice and I’m here to ask you to make me your apprentice and instead allow him to go about his life,” you practically begged. “I don’t think it’s wise to turn him in such a forceful way.”
“You, Erinyes, are not the Jedi I seek-” he began before you cut him off.
“I am just as powerful as him! I have been by your side since I was an infant and I outperformed Maul!” you realized that you were yelling at Sith Lord Sidious but at this point you had nothing to lose so you kept going. “Yet you favored him. Why? Because he wasn’t female? Am I just a prize for you? You keep me around so I don’t join the Jedi and overthrow you?”
Lord Sidious sat silently. He didn’t speak for a few moments and you continued to stand there. “I will leave Anakin alone and let him make his own way to the dark side. In the meantime, you, Erinyes, will be my apprentice and my spy within the Jedi Temple.”
“Thank you, Master,” you said in relief. You had expected him to kill you, or at least electrocute you for speaking out.
“When you go back to the Temple, make sure you watch over Anakin.”
“Yes, Sir,” you said obediently before making your way into your assigned dorm and grabbing your journal. First, you wrote about your dream so you could look for signs that it might happen, and then you wrote about your encounter with Lord Sidious. Tucking the small journal back into your luggage, you got into your own bed.
After about 10 minutes of wishing you had gone back to Anakin’s room, the door opened, and a figure walked in. They collapsed on the bed almost on top of you and you giggled, knowing it was your husband. “What are you doing?” you laughed.
“You didn’t come back,” he said with a smirk, placing a hand on your stomach. Anakin’s happiness quickly dissipated when he remembered his own premonitions. It overjoyed him when you told him you were pregnant, but then he had a dream. In the dream he watched you scream in pain and die, and then he saw your babies being taken away. He had seen that you’d have twins, but he never told you because he didn’t want to scare you.
-
The next morning, you both woke up to a droid opening the door. It only told you that the Jedi would depart in an hour before zooming away. “Well, I guess I have to go get my things from my room, Love,” Anakin kissed your nose.
“I guess,” you sighed. You never wanted moments like these to end. Moments when you didn’t have to think about the fact that you had been lying to the man you love since the second you met.
-
Anakin’s POV
It had been months since Y/N and I were at the Senate building, and by now she was heavily pregnant. Although, she somehow managed to hide her bump even now as she was into her 9th month. I had become Palpatine’s apprentice after he killed Windu, although I hadn’t told Y/N. She didn’t need to know I was doing this to save her and our children.
I walked into our room to see Y/N lying on the bed, face covered by her hands. “I hate this,” she groaned.
“I know,” I sympathized. “But remember, when this is over we’ll have out child.” I tried to excite her.
“Shut up, you’re not the one going through pregnancy and birth,” she mumbled.
I laughed, leaning down to kiss the side of her head. “So, something’s about to happen and I need you to stay in here.”
“What? Why do I need to stay in here?” Y/N stood up now. “Anakin, what’s going on?”
“Nothing Y/N, just please do as I say,” I begged, walking to the door.
“No, tell me what’s going on!” she insisted.
“No!” I yelled, using the force to grab her throat. She choked, looking scared of me, but I was so angry I couldn’t bring myself to let her go until she fell unconscious. I laid her unconscious body on the bed before leaving and locking the door to our room. “I’m sorry, Love,” I yelled through the door. I turned away from it, igniting my lightsaber, preparing myself to do whatever it would take to keep Y/N and our children safe and alive.
-
I laid on the burning ground, alight and in agony. I was livid with the only father figure I had ever known. He had betrayed me and I couldn’t stand it. But most of all, my heart was broken. Y/N, if she hadn’t already, would be going into labor and I wouldn’t be there to save her. I wouldn’t get to meet my children either. Eventually the pain overtook me and I succumbed to darkness, welcoming my death.
-
I finally woke up and realized that I was standing, yet strapped to a table. After a few moments of tugging and panicking, they unleashed me from the restraints. Chancellor Palpatine walked, so he was visible to me. “Lord Vader, can you hear me?”
“Yes, Master,” I replied. “Where is Y/N?” I asked, turning to him. “Is she safe? I she alright?” I continued to interrogate.
“It seems in your anger, you killed her,” he informed me.
‘What?’ I thought, ‘I killed her?’ My heart shattered. ‘How could I have done this to her?’ I wasn’t fully aware of my actions I was in so much pain but I fell to my knees, crying out in agony for what I had done to the love of my life.
~~
A/N I cut stuff out of the request because logically through my writing, it didn’t make sense. I’m sure the requester had a different path in mind, but this was like a puzzle I couldn’t manage to fit together.
Taglist
@algentforthewin @fanartcollectorwriter @randomfangirl7 @amberash05 @elizzysnow13 @vikingqueen28 @rhiannon-russo @mackycat11
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Turtles Forever Part 77
Bishop's Gambit
In the Lair, Splinter, the turtles, and the girls were all meditating.
"We have faced many adversaries, we have fought many battles, and we have been victorious," Splinter said. "But, do we know why?"
"Because shell we're good," Mikey answered, holding up his arm. Splinter smacked him with is staff. "Uh, sorry sensei."
Splinter cleared his throat. "We have survived these many trials and tests by following the path of ninjitsu and by finding and using?" Leo thought for a minute.
"Our inner strength?" he guessed.
"Yes, Leonardo, only by focusing on our inner strength can we overcome our enemies," Splinter finished. However, Mikey wasn't listening as he directed his attention towards the pool, confused. "Michelangelo, where is your focus?"
"Uh, right over there, sensei," he answered, pointing to the pool. Strange devices were floating in it. "In the pool."
"What the shell are those things?" Donnie questioned.
"Ground Force to Night Sky, the packages have been delivered," one of the drivers reported.
"Roger, Ground Force. Stand by."
Bishop stepped forward. "Proceed," he replied. The devices activated as they emitted a high frequency throughout the sewers. It drives the rats out, sending them running out into the streets. Leatherhead was hearing the frequencies as well.
"What is that noise?" he asked, painfully as he tried to cover his ears. "I can't think! It has to stop! Someone make it stop!"
In the lair, Splinter was having the same reaction as the rats, as well as Alopex. They both tried to cover their ears.
"Master Splinter?" Leo asked in concern and turned to Donnie. "Don, what's the matter with him?"
He picks up one of the devices. "It's these!"
"The sound, I can't block it out!" Splinter explained, painfully. He faints and Leo catches him in time.
"We need to get them out of here, now!" Leo shouted.
Everyone took the elevator up to the surface and climbed into the Battle Shell, driving off. On the streets, they still heard the sound coming from the devices as they were scattered throughout the city.
"Man, I'm hearing it up here, too!" Raph complained as he drove.
"There seems to be some kind of sonic disruption throughout the city," Donnie explained, looking out the window. "And although it doesn't appear to bother humans, it's clearly targeting to other species."
"Like rats," Leo replied.
"And foxes," Mikey added.
Bishop was in a helicopter. "Beginning sweep to mobile mutated genetic signatures," a soldier reported as he searched the screen until it spotted the Battle Shell. "Right there, sir. Looks like our target."
"Intercept them." Bishop ordered.
"Night Sky to Ground Force, Operation Mousetrap is a go. I repeat, Mousetrap is go."
Suddenly, vans swarmed in front of the oncoming Battle Shell, blocking the road. "What the shell?!" Raph exclaimed and quickly turned as they opened fire. He dodges the bullets, but helicopters were now hovering above, following. They launch several missiles at the Battle Shell.
"We got missiles incoming!" Mikey yelled as he looked out from the passenger side window. Raph manages to dodge some of the missiles but one manages to hit as it lands directly into the Battle Shell. Everyone screamed in surprise until the missile breaks apart, revealing small rounded beads inside of it.
"What are those things?" Mikey panicked.
"I don't know!" Donnie exclaimed. The beads unleash a strange gas and one by one it began knocking everyone out. The truck screeched to a stop as the turtles and girls, along with Mona, holding Elizabeth, tried to get out quickly but was succumbed by the gas, passing out on the street. Three black vans pulled up. Soldiers ran out and took Splinter and Elizabeth. They carried them into the vans and drove away, while several soldiers stayed behind to guard the turtles and girls.
"Targets acquired, sir."
"What about the turtles and girls?" Bishop asked on the other end of the radio.
"Neutralized, sir. Your orders?"
"No survivors," Bishop ordered. The soldier nods to the other three remaining men and they lifted their guns, aiming at the turtles and girls.
"You heard the man, let's finish this," the soldier ordered. Just as they were about to fire, a large shadow lunged out at the soldiers, attacking them. It was Leatherhead. Sounds of their screams haunted the streets before they went deadly silent.
The turtles and girls began to wake up as they found themselves in the abandoned train station. Leo noticed that Splinter was not there.
"Master Splinter!?"
Mona's eyes widen in horror realizing that Elizabeth was gone as well.
"No! Raph, Lizzie's gone!" she cried.
"What?!" Raph's eyes widen as he held Mona, trying to calm her down, and looked around. She wasn't there.
"They abducted them," Leatherhead explained. "I'm sorry, I couldn't stop them. Luckily, the gas was non-lethal."
"Which means, that whoever abducted your sensei and the little one, wanted them alive." a voice called out, surprising Leo and Leatherhead. The Fugitoid stepped out, walking towards everyone, his body was composed of salvaged parts.
"Whoa, new threads, Professor Honeycutt?" Mikey asked.
"Yes, those segments of my memory were purged. We recovered blueprints for my former Sal 1000 body. Overusing Earth technology makes it seem rather...homemade." he replied.
"I hope Master Splinter and Elizabeth are alright," Leo murmured, worried.
"Well, at least we know who took 'em. Those were Bishop's flunky commandos. Now, all we have to do is find 'em!" Raph growled.
"But how?" Donnie questioned.
"Wait a minute, we still have Bishop's subway train car, at least half of it,"
"Let's take this thing apart and find some answers," Leo said as they stepped into the car, starting to take it apart. Donnie placed his laptop next to the Fugitoid.
"I can't seem to hack into the system. A lot of this seems to be Federation and Triceraton tech."
"As well as other alien technology that I am unable to classify," the Fugitoid said. "Your Agent Bishop gets around for an Earthling."
"I don't think that he is even human to begin with," Yuuki commented.
"Wait, there," Leatherhead pointed to a blinking icon on the map. "An automatic recall layered into the train car sub circuitry."
"Hmm," the Fugitoid pondered. "If we reactivate it..."
"The recall signal should be triggered." Leatherhead finished.
"And if we're on board, it'll take us right to Bishop's location." Donnie added.
In Bishop's lab, Splinter was strapped to a gurney as he was starting to wake up. He struggled to break free out of his restraints.
"Oh good, you're awake, Master Splinter." Bishop said, walking up to him, holding Elizabeth.
"Bishop," Splinter glared at him. "Let the child go. She will be of no use to you."
"How wrong you are," the agent smirked, as he tickled Elizabeth's chin who responded back by trying to bite his finger. "Your unique genetic makeup has been very useful to me indeed as well as hers. In fact, the mutated DNA I'm extracting from you even as we speak will help save all humanity."
Splinter narrowed his eyes at him, gritting his teeth. "But, you look confused. Allow me to explain. I work for the Earth Protection Force, a secret government organization assembled to face a mounting crisis. A crisis dating back to 1870, when President Grant created the EPF."
A screen appeared behind Bishop as it came on, revealing a man that resembled Bishop standing next to the president. "After the first extraterrestrials crashed on Earth, extraterrestrials as crisis that continue to this day as we've seen with the recent invasion of those savage Triceratons." he turned to Splinter. "I guarantee you, similar invasions will follow. And someone has to be there to stop them. That is the purpose of the EPF, my purpose, to create a new humanity, a new superior race born of enhanced DNA."
Splinter saw that Bishop was hovering over something, lying on the table. "DNA that have been acquired from genetic manipulation, alien autopsies, and even stolen from your sons and the girls."
Splinter glared at him. "But, it was your mutated rat DNA being nearly so human that has allowed me to finally complete the process, and for that, I thank you." Bishop powered up his laboratory equipment. Electricity began to surge as it began to shock the specimen strapped on the table.
"Yes! It lives! The new evolution of humankind!" Splinter saw a person that looked like a human but it was wearing a helmet on their head and armor.
"The Slayer!"
The turtles and the girls, the Fugitoid and Leatherhead were riding on the train as it took them to the tracking location of Bishop's base.
"Okay," Raph called out, turning to them. "Next stop, Bishop Central."
Bishop walked past his experiments that were in glass tubes. "Not only are these future members of the Earth Protection Force, but they are the new humanity. These clones are awaiting the final DNA sequencing. By cellular acceleration, I can give birth to an army within six hours, fully trained thanks to my advances and bio-data transference. And your DNA. I've uploaded complex survival tactics into this prototype."
"What will you do with them?" Splinter asked, as a crane was lifting him up into the air.
"Mainstream them into the population, of course," Bishop answered. "We have aliens out there right now, living amongst us. My Slayers will ferret them all out."
"Lots of innocent people get "ferreted out." What if errors are made?" Splinter protested. The crane stopped as he was hovering over a glass container.
"Not my concern," Bishop replied. "I'm a bigger picture kind of guy. Besides, my calculations suggests that it would be beneficial if fifty-seven of the the Earth's population simply...disappeared." The crane lowered Splinter into the container. "Just think, my little lab rat. Your DNA will make it all possible. You're lucky you're such an unique organic specimen. You shall be preserved." The container was now beginning to fill up with a green liquid.
One of the soldiers, walked up to Bishop. "Sir, the recall signal for A13 has been activated," he reported. "It's on it's way in."
"Hmm," Bishop murmured, in thought. "That train should haven been destroyed. Prepare a suitable reception, just in case it's occupied."
The train approached as it rolled into a stop. The soldiers ran up to it, surrounding the train. A couple soldiers walked up to the car door. Leatherhead immediately attacked them. Donnie spinned his staff and kneed a soldier in the stomach. Donna jumped over a soldier, landing behind them, as they tried to attack her with their gun. She quickly turned around and slapped a glyph on their backs.
"Huh?" the guard asked confused. Donna smirked. The glyph activated as the guard was launched from off of his feet, slamming into the ceiling then flew at a couple of other soldiers, smacking into them. They fell off the edge, landing right on the train tracks. They let out a loud shriek as the tracks shocked them before going silent. Donnie and Venus both cringed as they watched with a shocked and disturbed look on their faces. Donna turned to them with a smile on her face.
"I'm sure they're okay," she reassured them, as she rubbed the back of her head. No, I'm pretty sure, in fact, that they're dead. Mikey runs up to two soldiers, who were firing at him. Leo and Yuuki disarmed them. "Leatherhead, the door!"
Leatherhead holds it up. "Hurry!" The Fugitoid, the turtles and the girls run over to him. "Hurry, I can't hold it much longer!" He holds it open for them as they run inside then drops it behind them. More guards ran over to the mutant gator.
"Alright, freak, slowly get to your feet and make no sudden moves," one of them orders. Leatherhead's eyes turned into slits, getting angry. He growls and turns around and attacks them.
The group quickly rush into Bishop's lab. They stop when they see Splinter in the containment tube.
"Master Splinter, no!" Leo cried out.
"Master Splinter!" Raph shouted. Everyone heard the sound of clapping to see Bishop as he approached them.
"Elizabeth!" Mona cried out as she saw her in Bishop's hands. Elizabeth's eyes widen happily as she saw Mona and Raph who had scared and angry looks on their faces. She tried to reach out to them with her hands.
"Baba! Mama!" she squealed, happily. Mona's and Raph's eyes widen in shock as well as everyone else's. Elizabeth had said her first words.
"Bishop!" Raph growled.
"I must say, I'm impressed that you found me," he smirked evilly as he told them. "but you won't be staying."
Everyone rushed towards him, but Bishop made no move as they got closer. Then the Slayer landed down in front of the agent, protecting him from everyone. Leo stepped back before charging at him. He tried to slice the Slayer with his swords but he dodges. The Slayer jumps over to the staircase as Leo tries to chase after him.The Slayer turns around and kicks Leo away. Raph growls and charges towards him with his sais. But, the Slayer was quicker as he grabs onto the railing of the staircase and swings around and kicks Raph back.
Mikey ran up to him, spinning his nunchucks but the Slayer grabs them. He throws Mikey into the wall. Donnie jumps up, using his staff but the Slayer moves out of the way. Donnie swings his staff, but the Slayer dodges it and knocks Donnie down the stairs.
The Fugitoid inches over towards Leo as he gets up. "Get Master Splinter out of there!" he told the Fugitoid.
"Absolutely," the Fugitoid rans off, to where Master Splinter was as Leo lunged at the Slayer.
"I'll help." Donna pitched in, running off to help the Fugitoid.
Raph stabs his sai into the Slayer's arm, he flips over him. The Slayer pulls Raph's weapon out and the wound begins to heal by itself. Raph makes a shocked look as the armor breaks off from the Slayer's arm. The Slayer looks at it for a minute then grabs Raph's other sai, spinning them in his hands. Raph pushes Mikey out of the way as he throws his sais at them, stabbing a control panel. It sparks behind Raph as it exploded, knocking Raph to the ground. Leo ran on the catwalk above while Mikey and Alopex fought with the Slayer. Leo swings in on the crane, hitting the Slayer with his swords. He stumbles back, sparking. He pulls off his helmet, revealing his face. He had Bishop's face, but the other half was robotic as well.
Everyone gasped in shock. "Bishop?!" Donnie asked in surprise. Bishop's clone turned to them.
Bishop walked up to him. "Handsome devil, if I do say myself."
"Okay, now I'm officially freaked out!" Mikey commented while the others had their mouths still open in shock. The Slayer began to jump around, quickly.
"Oh believe me, you ain't seen nothing yet," Bishop added as the Slayer climbed on some tubes then turned his head, looking at everyone, without moving his whole body, then turned invisible.
"This just keeps getting better and better," Raph retorted, getting his sais. The Fugitoid and Donna walked up to the computer to free Splinter from the tube.
"Don't worry, Master Splinter," he assured. "I'll have you out of that nasty bio-suspension fluid in a jiffy." The crane moves and begins to lift Splinter out of the container. Suddenly, a chain with a claw hook latched onto the Fugitoid's arm.
"Oh dear," Bishop pulls the chain, ripping off the robot's arm. "That was totally uncalled for." Bishop throws the Fugitoid's arm away.
"Step away from those controls, cyborg."
Donna rushed towards Bishop as she tried to grab Elizabeth but he dodged her stepping to the side. Donna slammed a glyph down and an ice pillar shot out, catching Bishop off guard, making him accidentally let go of Elizabeth. Donna quickly rolled and caught her in time before she hit the floor.
"That was a close one," she sighed in relief. Elizabeth babbled as she cooed as she reached out squishing Donna's face with her hands.
"Not close enough," Bishop called out as he flipped over the ice pillar, landing behind Donna. Donna's eyes widen as she tried to cover Elizabeth in her arms. Bishop reached out to grab Elizabeth but Donna quickly ducked out of the way. She tried to run but Bishop grabbed her arm, pulling her back, hard. A loud snap was heard as Donna's arm was pulled out of it's socket and she yelled out in pain. She kicked Bishop back and flipped away from him, landing on her feet, still clutching Elizabeth in her other hand, tightly.
Then, the crane that was holding Splinter, drops him and it also breaks the gurney that he was strapped to, as it lands on the floor, freeing him. He was still soaking wet, as he faced Bishop.
"Bishop, you will not succeed!" Splinter shouted, as he picked up a pipe, spinning it.
"Wrong," Bishop corrected him. "Neither you nor your little green brats can stop me."
Raph and Donnie were with each other as they searched for the Slayer as well as everyone else who were in pairs. Suddenly, Slayer appears in front of Mikey and grabs him as he kicks Alopex away. "Guys, he's over hereee!" the Slayer throws him into the wall and flips, kicking Mikey against it. He falls to the floor and rubs his head as the Slayer escapes. "This guy doesn't play nice!"
"You don't understand," Bishop throws his hook at Splinter. "I've created life!" Splinter jumps over it and knocks Bishop down, pinning him with his pipe. Bishop flips, knocking Splinter off of him.
"Bishop, no one has the right to play God!" Splinter exclaimed. Bishop surprises Splinter as he pulled the chain using his hook to wrap around Splinter.
"I am taking the necessary steps to defend the world! It is my duty!" He breaks Splinter's pipe using the hook and flips Splinter over. Splinter lands on his feet.
"The world has enough monsters! It does not need yours!"
Raph and Mona were searching for the Slayer. He turns himself visible as he lands on a containment pod behind them. He jumped away, when Raph turned around, sensing him, while Mona continued on ahead. "Come out, come out wherever you are, you ugly freak." The Slayer appeared behind Raph and Raph turns around, growling. The Slayer turned invisible again and flips over Raph, kicking him from behind. Raph tried to charge at him but the Slayer grabs Raph's wrist and twists it. He slams Raph's sai into a pipe, pinning him to the wall as he punched Raph's shell repeatedly. Raph turned around and runs towards the Slayer only for him to grab Raph and lift him up and toss him to the ground.
Not to far off, Leo and Yuuki heard fighting in the distance.
"Raph?" Leo murmured and gasped, before turning to Yuuki.
"Let's hurry!" she quickly told him. They quickly turned around the corner, only for Raph to be shot out in front of them, as he was thrown, crashing into some of the pods nearby, where Mona was. A containment pod falls on top of Raph, as he struggles to hold it up, and sees another one of Bishop's clones inside of it.
"Bishop?"
Leo and Yuuki jump, down hearing a growl. They looked up to see the Slayer climbing on the vent and saw that he was heading towards Splinter. They followed after it. Splinter kicks Bishop from behind as the Slayer jumps down, getting ready to attack Splinter. Leo and Yuuki jumped into the air and kicked him. The Slayer lands into the containment tube with the liquid.
"Professor Honeycutt, the tank! Seal it!" Leo shouted.
The Fugitoid sends an electric current into the vat, shocking the Slayer as well. Bishop gets up to see what is happening. "No! My Slayer!" Splinter jumps up and kicks him.
"This is over, Bishop!"
Bishop adjusted his glasses and turned to see Splinter charging at him. He jumps and lands on the hook, hanging from the ceiling.
"My plans are far from over, rodent!" Bishop jumps off from it and lands. "You have no idea!" He grabs his chain, spinning it. Splinter glared at him and Bishop throws the chain at him. Splinter uses his pipe to block it but Bishop takes it from him. Splinter jumps over a gurney and Bishop breaks a part of it with his chain. He throws the gurney at a shocked Splinter. Splinter kicked it, breaking it into pieces. Bishop throws his chain and the hook latches onto a engine turbine.
Splinter bends down and picks up a piece of the gurney and throws it at a lever, activating the machine. Electricity from the turbine shocks Bishop, electrocuting him. He growls and pulls the chain off, but the turbine explodes. Bishop and Splinter are sent flying in different directions from the explosion. Bishop was impaled by a hook on a chain, screaming.
Raph and Mona rushed over to Donna, as did everyone else, as she handed Elizabeth over to Mona.
"Elizabeth!" Mona shouted as she took her from Donna.
"Whoa, dudette, your arm!" Mikey shouted in concern. Donna hissed in pain as she tried to support her arm. Venus used her chi magic to try to lessen the pain on Donna's dislocated shoulder.
"I'll pop it back into place," Donnie told her as he was about to. But, Donna moved his hand away.
"There's no time," she told them. "We need to find Splinter."
Splinter groaned as he got up, seeing Bishop on the hook, but also saw that the explosion had caused fires, too.
"Sensei!" He turned to see everyone running towards him.
"My children," he said in relief.
"We have to get out of here!" Leo told him. The fire and the explosion had caused water to start flooding the room as well. Splinter looked back towards Bishop to find him not there. He was gone!
"You will pay for this, mutants," everyone gasped as they saw him climbing up a ladder, escaping. "One day, you will all pay!" They all ran over to the ladder, following him.
"After him!" Mikey yelled as Splinter climbed up it first. More turbines exploded as the room was beginning to flood, destroying the lab. The flood water also carried the Slayer's tube, as it fell down a pipe, just as the lab was destroyed. Everyone soon found themselves in an elevator as it carried them up to the streets and ran out of it, water rushing out of it as they did.
"Whoa, we're in the middle of Midtown!" Mikey said. They didn't see Bishop anywhere. He had somehow managed to elude them.
"And Bishop's nowhere in sight." Leo pointed out.
"We will see him again. Such men are hard to destroy." Splinter told them.
#tmnt fanart#tmnt donnie#tmnt mikey#tmnt leonardo#tmnt raphael#tmnt 2003#tmnt fanfiction#fanfic#tmnt oc#Bishop tmnt#splinter tmnt#mona lisa#venus de milo
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daydreams
bakugo x y/n
You were known to never fall short in the creative field. There was always a daydream you were clinging on to during your daily life, no matter what were doing. Your mind always being a little too dull to be in active conversations with other classmates. They didn’t mind it, because your quirk depended on the creativity of your daydreams.
But up until recently, there’s been an individual who has been in the center of your day dreams for a couple of weeks now. He’s been keeping your mind more busy than it ever has and it honestly has made your social interactions deplete. Simply because you become so preoccupied with just the thought of him you can’t speak anymore.
It was Katsuki Bakugo.
The worst possible pairing for you honestly. Your quirk was “fantasy land”, it created hallucinations based off the dreams of your days. Its weakness was rude awakenings, awakenings that Bakugo makes all the time. He’s always shouting from the back of the classroom. Always berating others and constantly bullying poor Deku.
You knew exactly how you felt and the cause these sudden intrusions on your mind, but like hell would you accept it. He’s the exact opposite of your own personality. A soft delicate soul whose mind was never quite there, forever lost in a dream that could never exist.
And now all of sudden your mind was slamming these, these, these attractions to Bakugo at you? The audacity.
Just how exactly would you ever be able to fight with Bakugo constantly bringing you to reality every time? Asui to your right roughly shakes your shoulder, bringing you down from a day dream high.
“y/n-chan are you okay?” you smile and nod your head yes with the usual absentmindedness you held.
“Oi, Oi, OI DEKU,” from behind in the way back of the classroom, someone shouted in the once peaceful atmosphere. Your mood sank down really quickly and your head slid onto your desk as a way to escape the chaos. You crossed your legs underneath the desk being wary of how the skirt went in case Mineta’s eyes were wandering.
The commotion continued to die down in your ears as you began to slip back into your daydreams and thoughts flooding of Bakugo once again. But it was really short lived because a body came crashing into yours just seconds later. Breath left your body in a rash exhale as it was knocked out of your lungs and your head got banged against the person sitting in front of you.
“Bakugo!” someone yelled. Your back started to ache as the other being sprawled out on your back pushed off you rather roughly.
“Why the hell did you throw me dumbass!” that was unmistakingly Bakugo’s voice yelling behind you. Your body thumped at the thought of having physical interactions with him, even if it was because he was thrown into you.
“Enough about that, you guys hurt y/n!” Uraraka yelled next to you. You could feel her hands paw at your shoulder and then at your neck to check to see if you were still breathing. Seeing as you were, she let out a huge breath of relief and proceeded to whirl back around and lecture the hell out of the boys involved in the incident.
As she was unleashing hell on them you took your head off of Todoroki’s back. He was just as stunned as you were when he turned around to look at you. Muttering a small apology you went to rise out of your chair, the feeling of your skirt cascade back down your legs. Your head was starting to throb a little not only due to it being bashed into Todo-kun’s back, but because the overwhelming thoughts of Bakugo.
It was conflicting and it caused you great milestones of stress. The left side of your brain was pulsating with every step you took to get out of the room. What you were experiencing was another set back from your quirk - overproduction. Being in a dreamy mental state was always good for your quirk, but being knocked out of it too many times a day only to return to deep thoughts right after causes trauma.
The door slid to the left and right back as you closed it behind you. Heading straight to Recovery Girl would be your best bet. There’s not much she can do, but the rooms of beds in there is just as good as any medicine for you. Students passed by you roaring and making much noise if they were walking with close friends. You don’t want to admit it, but even though you’re on friendly terms with everyone in the classroom, you don’t have someone walking you to the nurse’s office.
And in a world filled with daydreams, it is one of the most loneliest things.
Your feet lazily dragging the rest of the way, you slid open the door to Recovery Girl’s office. In her chair, she swirled back around with her feet just slightly hanging over the seat. Recognizing you, she gestured to one of the spare beds with her hand. Closing the door behind you, you went to the bed.
Lying down was the best medicine for you, but it leaves you alone with your thoughts. Your thoughts aren’t always daydreams with rainbows and images of Bakugo. It’s inescapable the feeling of loneliness accompanying you along the way to the room. Lying down next to you in bed and cuddling into your neck, whispering doubts and miseries into your ear. You’re able to block them out because you know that his alluring words have no meaning or any truth to be held to them.
But it does get annoying.
Ignoring the soothing voice of the physical embodiment of loneliness, you drift into a dreamless sleep.
Bleary eyes and stiff limbs were a result for sleeping like plank for the past hour. Your headache was gone and the cold comfort that was canoodling you disappeared as well. Surprising, he’s always there with a good morning kiss of gloominess. In his place was a weight on your right leg, unfamiliar to you. With the creaking of your neck, you looked to side and saw spiky, fluffy blonde hair resting their head on the bed. Their hand was gripping your thigh as they calmly sat there.
You blinked once, then twice. This is a daydream right? Have finally lost the grips of reality and dripped off into the realm of your mind? Are you dreaming now?
Bakugo had the weird sense that someone was watching him and when he raised his head, he saw that he was right. You were quizzically gazing at him, your eyes far away in whatever land you wanted to reside within your mind. He released his hand from your thigh with a cough and sat up straight in the chair Recovery Girl gave him to sit in.
“Why are you staring at me like that dumbass,” his words were harsh on your ears and it rudely made you escape the daydream occupying you. Waking from a daydream to such a rude awakening always hits you like jumping into a cool pool on a hot summer day.
“Why are you here?” you answered back with a question. It seemed to catch him off guard because his back straightened a bit more and he was no longer looking into your eyes. He was seeming to find the wooden floors of the room rather interesting.
It took him a bit of time to find an appropriate answer that wouldn’t sound like he was worried for you or anything...
“You just disappeared after I rammed into your back in the classroom and round face made me go look for you, don’t think anything else of it,” you saw right through him. There’s absolutely no way that Uraraka-chan would send this hot-head to come and look for you. She knew how violent he was and what an opposite he was to you. No balance in anything you two did together. Whether it be you were fighting against or which each other in hero training.
“Oh okay, well thank you,” you had a dreamy smile on your face and went to place a hand on his shoulder. Bold move you were initiating there. If you were right about your skeptics, you’d be on cloud 9 more than you were right now. If not? Well that’s something to think about if he slaps your hand off of him. After two seconds of your hand being on his shoulder he didn’t move or away or show indication that he would reject your physical touch.
Instead he started insulting you the way Bakugo does with everyone, well he was more scolding than anything else. But his use of the word dumb ass was extremely potent to your quirk. Every time he said it was like feeling the scorn of the earth being thrown at you. Each time the word was spoken you flinched from it, barely noticeable to everyone else. But after four uses of the word Bakugo picked up on the subtle action, your eyes flickered and your smile would falter for the split of a second.
So he stopped using it.
It took you a minute of him speaking for you to notice, but my god when you did your heart swelled. Did he notice how you felt about that word and what it did to you? It was very surprising seeing that is was one of his most Favorited words to use regarding his vocabulary. You smiled a little wider now, even though he was scolding you, he was mindful of harsh words being used.
You pulled the cover on you legs further up your body as it was getting a little chilly. Bakugo didn’t seem to mind the slight lower temperatures but he noticed that you did.
“Give me your hand dream boat,” you flushed at the compliment but he didn’t seem to know that it was a compliment. Just another nickname. You took your hand from underneath the cover and let it rest in his. His hands were surprisingly smooth and only slightly bigger than yours. But what was most evident was the heat emitting from his palms, was he trying to warm you up? It was silent in the room for a minute or two before Bakugo broke the silence, still busying himself with warming your hands with his own.
“y/n, I know I’m damn awesome but I also know that I’m not gentle enough for you. I’m not good at it and I’m not good at being quiet either,” he admitted a little loud in the silent room.
“It’s difficult to be considerate of how my words affect you, you’re just so damn weak sometimes y/n,” he scoffed at you. Only he can insult you and compliment you so genuinely at the same time.
“Bakugo-” you tried to start but the look he gave you shut you up immediately.
“What is it, why the hell did you stop talking,” he aggressively spoke. You blinked.
“You looked like you were going to kill me,” Bakugo gripped your hands a little more tightly now and squinted his eyebrows menacingly at you.
“What the hell does that mean?” he questioned.
“You’re doing it right now, your face,” you gestured to the mirror on the wall next to the beds. He got up quickly and went to look and sat there for a minute. You watched him in the mirror as he examined himself. He grunted before back around to look at you.
“All I see is a damn handsome man,” he turned went back to the chair he was sitting in. He grabbed your hands again and went back to what he was doing with warming them up.
“But y/n, as I was saying earlier I don’t have a fu-” he paused then continued, “a fricking clue on how to be gentle for you, so if this is too rough let me know,” you tilted your head in confusion at what he meant. That didn’t make any sense, he’s been so gentle with you since he came into this room.
“What do you mean,” you questioned. His red eyes stared into yours before he ‘tched’ himself then grabbed the back of your head. It wasn’t too much of a forceful action, but he did bring you closer to his face in order to kiss you.
Like actually kiss you. Your lips on his lips, his lips on your lips. Playing the tango of the tongues (not really) swapping spit, sucking each other’s face. The whole gist of it.
You weren’t day dreaming it this time.
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The Heartrender - Chapter Two: Embers
Hey everyone!
Here’s chapter two, in which a truce is struck, crude jokes are made, and we learn more of Peeta’s childhood.
You can read here on Tumblr or here on AO3 (I suggest reading on AO3 because I add a poem at the beginning of each chapter that I feel fits nicely with the story’s themes or the chapter’s plot.)
Big shoutout to my beta reader @nonbinarypeeta. You da best music💕
Rating: Explicit
Warning: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Sexual Content
Relationship: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Tags: Enemies to Lovers, witch!Katniss, witch-hunter!Peeta, AU - Shipwrecked, AU - Fantasy, Sexual Tension, Explicit Sexual Content, Furs and Fires, Angst and Fluff and Smut, sexually experienced Katniss, virgin Peeta, Implied/Referenced Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Underage Prostitution, Loss of Virginity, Laughter During Sex, Blood and Injury, Imprisonment, Peeta has some prejudices to work out, Peeta also has an accent, Inspired by Six of Crows
Summary:
He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her. Not even a little bit.
After a shipwreck has left an abducted witch and a member of the ominous Order bent on wiping out her kind stranded on the icy shores of an uninhabited land, the two must work together to survive or face tearing each other apart in the process.
Chapters: 01 | 02 | 03 | 04
ALSO, I made a map! Yes, I am that level of writer nerd. (If you look closely, there’s a little Hunger Game’s reference in there. Let me know if you see it, lmaooo.)
Chapter Two: Embers
His commander had gone into the city for the night, leaving the crew on standby at the docks. Their ship, lovingly named The Bloody Rose, needed tending and Peeta, an exhausted soldier running on three hours of sleep, needed a drink. He longed for a pint of proper ale. Not the bitter swill that the ship’s cook had distilled.
A chilled autumn wind whistled through the harbor, jostling netted shrouds and furled sails. The white and blue flag of Sjorkden snapped proudly above the crow’s nest where Thomas Jaclin quietly kept watch. There was a muted hush about the night, as if the world were holding its breath in anticipation, knowing something was about to happen. At this point, with his chores done and nothing left for him to do except lose another round of cards or go off to bed, Peeta wished something would.
He was nursing a cup of moonshine and chatting with his friend, Yasser Pjengo, when they heard the sounds of a scuffle. He and Yasser crossed the deck and looked down onto the dock that the ship was moored to.
There, struggling to drag someone up the gangplank, was the commander.
“Commander on deck!” Peeta announced with all the authority he could muster, hoping his voice carried down to the lower levels to rouse the men from their games. Peeta had only recently been promoted to lieutenant, and he was going to prove he deserved it. He felt a rush of pride swell within him when the crew emerged from their sleeping quarters, blinking both the mist of alcohol and the gleam of gambling from their eyes.
Commander Snow was of medium height with a thick beard and hard blue eyes. Though the hairs at his temples were gray, the way he carried himself was young. He spoke softly but commanded the kind of respect that caused listeners to lean in and catch every word. He now dragged a young girl with him onto the ship. Her red dress was torn and low cut, revealing the hollow between her breasts. A few strands of hair had been pulled from a tar-black braid to hang limply in front of her face. She had a blooming bruise on her jaw and a cut above her eye but otherwise seemed unharmed.
“Men! Say hello to our newest addition. From what I’ve seen so far, she’s sure to be a feisty one.”
Some of the crew had laughed and hooted, including Peeta, but the girl snarled as she twisted and spat in the commander’s face. In return he sent a heavy punch to her gut, causing her to whimper and double over in pain.
“I have to warn you all. This here is no ordinary witch. She’s a Heartrender.”
Peeta sucked in a breath and felt a chill pass through the assembled crew like a breeze passes through dead grass.
“A Heartrender…”
“One of her kind cursed my uncle. Turned his feet backward.”
“I heard they could snap your neck with a flick of a finger.”
“They don’t just stop hearts. They cut them out and eat them.”
Peeta had heard of Krellian Heartrenders. The rarest of the witches, Heartrenders could use their magic to manipulate bodies: peel the flesh from bone, collapse lungs, knot intestines, burst eyes in their sockets. He could only imagine what she would unleash upon them if her hands weren’t locked into those metal hand caps.
Snow cleared his throat to quiet the men. A hush fell over the deck.
“I see you’ve all heard the stories. If you let her out of those shackles, we’re all dead. I want at least one guard on her at all times.” His eyes shifted to Peeta in the front row. “Mellark, you take the first watch. Gerholt will take over at midnight, then Dawson, then Pjengo. This will be a rotating schedule. You’ll all get a chance with her before this voyage is over.” He twisted her arm, throwing her into the semicircle that Peeta and the crew had formed around them. She collapsed onto her stomach, a wilted heap of red dress and chains. “Now get her out of my sight.”
Peeta and a few others bent down to lift her up as the commander retired to his quarters, but she swung out her arms to ward them off.
“Don’t touch me,” she spat in Krellian.
“Get up and walk or I’ll drag you, witch. Your choice,” Peeta growled. His accent was thick, but he knew by the way her nostrils flared that she’d understood him.
She stayed crouched on the ground, her metal covered hands in her lap.
Peeta’s anger erupted.
“Fine,” he snapped. He wrenched her off the floor, threw her over his shoulder, and listened to her screams the entire way down to the brig.
X
During their slumber, the witch had commandeered his arm.
She lay sound asleep, his bicep propped under her cheek like a pillow. He only awoke when his hand had gone numb, the blood trapped, circling and pricking within his fingers like a swarm of wasps scrabbling to get out from under his skin. He watched the subtle rise and fall of her chest, the pulse that fluttered at her temple. She looked peaceful. Almost innocent. But he knew what she was really capable of.
Her head smacked the ground with a dull thud when he took his arm back.
“Ow!”
The witch glared at him as he massaged the feeling back into his palm. She made it a point to rub the tender spot on her head dramatically so that he’d feel bad.
It didn’t work.
“Get up,” he rumbled.
The witch turned over and curled in on herself. “Five more minutes.”
He rose from the nest of furs, grabbing one and wrapping it around his waist to cover his nakedness, then moved to sweep the curtain out of the doorway. From the watery yellow sun high in the sky, he determined it was noon.
“Get up,” he growled again, injecting more anger into his tone. “We need to keep moving.”
“Why? We found shelter,” the furry lump on the ground said.
“If we want to find civilization we’re going to have to move. We need to get home as soon as possible.”
She turned on her side and rested her head in her hand. Her eyes gleamed like freshly polished silver in the light pouring past the curtain. “You’re letting me go home?”
“I meant my home,” he corrected, allowing the curtain to fall and shrouding them in dusk-like darkness once more.
There was a tense moment where both knew the time to act was upon them. Either kill the other or let them live. Both were risks. If Peeta killed the Heartrender, he’d be left to fend for himself. There’d be no magic to keep his blood warm. But if he hesitated and let her live in the hopes that he could return her to Sjorkden and have her tried for witchcraft, there was a chance she’d kill him down the line. It would be so easy to reach out and crush her windpipe, deaden those bright eyes, neutralize the threat. She may have magic but she couldn’t weigh more than a hundred pounds soaking wet. Peeta had height, strength, and military training on his side. He was arrogant enough to assume the odds were in his favor.
He thought she was thinking along the same lines because she eyed his muscles warily. He was broad-shouldered and obscenely muscular, the product of a decade doing hard physical training at the academy. She couldn’t crush his heart if he lashed out and stalled her hands first. He may be heavy but he was surprisingly quick. After all, he hadn’t become a witcher for nothing.
She pursed her lips as if considering something. “I think we’d both sleep better at night if we made a truce.”
He laughed and shook his head. “Your word is as valuable as a campfire is to a fish.”
She scowled slightly, a deep line forming between her furrowed brows. “This isn’t a promise that I’ll never harm you, just as I know you won’t agree to never harm me. You are a witch hunter after all. Bloodshed is your life. But let’s make a pact that until we make it out of this, we help each other.” She paused a beat and looked away as if ashamed. “After that, all bets are off.”
Peeta had nodded, but this truce didn’t mean he trusted her to stick to it. In fact, it made him even more suspicious of her. What kind of demon agreed to the drawing out her own demise? He thought her gamble unwise and surmised she had some angle to play against him. He’d have to be especially careful from here on out.
They faced away from each other and put their clothes on quietly. She still wore the red dress, the one from The Bloody Rose. It looked looser on her now, but the sleeves were elegant, poufed at the shoulders, and fitted down to the wrists. The skirt was still full, even after she had spent so much time sitting in her cell and thrashing about in the sea. She would have looked ready for a party if the dress wasn’t so dirty and torn.
She caught him watching her and winked. “Like what you see?” She twirled and the skirt flared like the petals of a blooming rose, twisting and shimmering in the low light.
Peeta grunted as he did the last button on his dusky blue jacket. His undershirt was still damp against his skin. “It doesn’t fit you where it counts.” He gestured towards her breasts.
She had snorted then, happily surprised he was loosening up.
They set out with empty hands, only having the clothes on their backs and the furs wrapped around their shoulders. The witch had taken a liking to the black one. She stroked it between her thumb and forefinger like a child would clutch to a blanket for comfort.
The briny scent of the sea permeated the air and even so high up as they were on the cliffside, Peeta felt the fine spray of the waves collect on his cheeks. The constant rushing of wind blew his hair back and whipped the fur about his shoulders.
They had been walking for hours when the witch asked, “What do you miss most about home?”
Peeta wished they could just be quiet.
“A bed to myself.”
“Right,” the witch crowed wickedly. “I can feel how much you hate sleeping next to me. I felt it pressing into my hip last night.”
Peeta’s cheeks flushed scarlet. He had never been with a woman. He was a member of the Order: chaste until he earned his talisman and won the right to choose a wife. For his service to the Order he’d be allowed the hand of a nobleman’s daughter. Pretty, young Sjorkden maidens with hair of palest gold and soft, supple bodies. Daughters of the nation raised in the ways of womanly charm and domestic knowledge, basket weaving and child-rearing, dancing and singing and carving.
He had been dreaming of what his future wife would look like, what their first carnal encounters would entail, the holy honor in producing a child. As a father, a former witcher, and the husband to a woman with status, he would be granted an official seat on the council of Rjaka. His first solid foothold on the ladder of power. It was a lower rung, but it was a start. If only he could get back to his post and fulfill his service, then he would be given his freedom and permitted to marry.
Those dreams, full of glory, sex, and fatherhood, were the source of his arousal and frustrations, not the witch’s soft skin against his body. Her deep complexion and ebony hair were not of Sjorkden. Her lips were too large, her nose too wide, her body too slender and bony. She looked as if she had spent years scrounging about for meals, with ribs and hips that protruded like sticks in a canvas bag. He liked rounded women with pillowy bosoms, not scrawny little birds.
Or so he told himself.
“Why do you say such lewd things?”
“Because I can. And because I like when you turn red. It does wonders for that pale complexion of yours, valkrӕlla.”
Valkrӕlla.
Barbarian.
“You’re disgusting.”
“You like it,” she teased and continued walking, swaying her hips beneath the cloak of fur clasped at her throat and sweeping a glossy curtain of hair over her shoulder. Even here, in the permafrost fields of the tundra, she still smelled of moss and jasmine, as if the misty forests of Krell dwelled within her pores.
Peeta scowled. He hated her. He hated her for what she was: an abomination, a demon sent to tear at the fabric of the natural world. He hated her for making him want to laugh. He hated her for being so brazen and sensuous and everything the women of his country were never allowed to be. But mostly he hated her because he realized he didn’t hate her.
Not even a little bit.
X
They walked in the hopes of finding a fishing village, or maybe a trading outpost, somewhere with an inn they could stay at. But as the day dragged on and the sun dipped precariously close to the sea, Peeta started losing hope. The witch stumbled behind him, making her way over embedded boulders and paling tufts of dead brush sticking out from the snowbanks. She squinted against the burning red sunset staining the landscape in bleeding color.
“Maybe we should head back,” she said, though they both knew this wasn’t an option. They were many hours from the whaling camp and turning around now meant they’d just be back at square one, with no food and no fire.
Peeta hadn’t been hungry last night, but his adrenaline had burned off, leaving his body weak and watery. He salivated at the thought of rosemary crusted mutton and boiled potatoes, buttered peas in ceramic crockery, honeyed mead, and angel cake with lemon filling. What he wouldn’t give to be back in the vast stone dining hall of the academy, laughing with Yasser through full mouths of meat and drink. After a feast, all the boys would tell stories in large circles or spar each other for prizes. Peeta had been one of the best hand-to-hand fighters among his peers and as such had accumulated a treasure trove of their makeshift awards. The wishbone of a chicken. A fork with a bent prong. A pearl someone had found in an oyster. When he had tired of winning, he would climb the stone steps to his dormitory and sleep dreamlessly on a goose down mattress. He’d wake to the rising sun and Yasser’s deep snores and know that he’d have a day of training ahead of him. Advanced lessons in combat, weapons handling and upkeep, survival skills, sailing, and instruction on foreign languages. He was a well oiled hunting machine, as he was raised to be by the masters.
But that was the past, a boyhood he would never return to. Peeta was a man now, and nobody was coming to instruct him. He was on his own.
Well, not entirely. He looked back at the witch. Her skin glowed deep bronze in the fading light and her dark hair whipped loosely about her angled face. She caught his eye and winked.
No, he thought grimly. I am not alone.
X
Peeta had only been seasick once. It had been his first time on a ship, sailing from his birthplace to his new home. As the other boys “oohed” and “aahed” at the gray stone towers of the academy rising up from the mists, Peeta had vomited over the banister.
The others had made fun of him for it. Groups targeted him in the corridors, tripping him or pulling on his hair. Others mocked him, knocked him down hard in training, and then pretended to retch dramatically as he struggled to his feet, fighting to hold back tears. They called him ‘Greenie’, for the color of his skin on that first voyage.
It was better than ‘runt’ but he still resented himself for it, ashamed he had shown weakness. He trained hard after that, alone if he had to. Classes would be over, dinner would be served in the great hall, but the masters would find him in the training rooms practicing his punches on a dummy, or throwing knives, or moving through his stances with a blade. The hours of solitude paid off, and once the students were old enough to compete for rank in the sparring circles, no one came close to Peeta’s brutal technique or raw ferocity.
And after he broke Geoff Tonson’s leg, no one ever called him ‘Greenie’ again.
Peeta climbed down into the bowels of the ship, feeling the slight sway of the ocean lapping against the hull as he descended. The Heartrender had been on board for two weeks now and hadn’t earned her sealegs. He shriveled his nose as he came upon her cell. The acrid scent of vomit filled the compartment.
“Time to switch?” Wilhelm asked from his seat in the corner.
Peeta nodded. He hated guarding the Heartrender. She was in her own cell, isolated from the other witches he and the crew had captured. At least when you guarded the others you could eavesdrop on their conversations. It wasn’t much, but it was something.
Wilhelm Larone, a fresh-faced recruit on his first-ever witcher voyage, rose and stretched languidly. He hadn’t been able to grow a full beard, but his top lip held some promising peach fuzz. “I thought a Heartrender would be more entertaining,” he said, his dark eyes sparkling as a thought occurred to him. “Hey!” He rattled her bars. “Lift up your dress.”
The witch slumped in the corner, her skin waxy and coated in a film of sweat. Her hair was matted and oily. She blinked slowly at the wall and ignored Wilhelm’s racket.
He sighed like a disappointed child at the zoo. “I thought the commander said she was feisty.”
“That was before she had vomit on her dress,” Peeta said dryly.
The witch responded to Peeta’s voice, turning her head slightly to watch him between lanky strands of hair. A chill ran down Peeta’s spine at the intensity of her gaze. They hadn’t spoken since the first night when he had thrown her over his shoulder and dragged her into this very cell, but she remembered him.
Peeta tore his eyes away.
Wilhelm had placed his foot on the lowest step, moving to leave when she croaked: “Water.”
“When was the last time she was fed?” Peeta asked.
Wilhelm turned, a confused look on his face. “I don’t know. Ask the commander.”
“At least get her a cup of water before you go to bed. We want to keep her alive for the trial.”
Wilhelm smiled wickedly. “I have a better idea.” He jumped off the stairs and sauntered over to the Heartrender’s cell once more. “You thirsty, witch? Here, drink up.”
Peeta watched in horror as Wilhelm unbuttoned his pants and began pissing through her cell bars. Wilhelm’s eyes, which Peeta thought were too far apart in his head, darted up to the older man’s face. “You owe me two gold pieces if I can get it in her mouth.”
The witch made a strangled sound of disgust and tried to move away, but she was already in the corner. There was nowhere to go and her dress was soon soaked a deeper red.
“That’s enough,” Peeta said, but Wilhelm’s stream only grew stronger. “I said that’s enough!” he barked and shoved Wilhelm away.
In his surprise, Wilhelm sprayed the wall. “Damn, Mellark. It's a joke. Dawson’s right. You are no fun.” He shook the last drops of piss from his cock and then stuffed himself back into his pants. He turned to the witch and winked. “Maybe next time you can drink straight from the source. If you promise not to bite of course.” He then fixed his uniform and lumbered up the stairs. Peeta watched him and his half-mustache go.
“Krą khiăh,” she whispered after the creaking of Wilhelm’s steps faded.
Thank you.
“I didn’t do it for you,” Peeta snapped. “It was unsanitary, and your kind deserves hellfire, not some quiet death on a ship.”
Peeta spent the remainder of the night sitting on the chair in the corner, breathing in the scents of piss and vomit and misery. He hid his annoyance when the witch started sobbing.
But the next time he reported for guard duty, he brought her a cup of water.
#The Heartrender#everlark#everlark fanfiction#everlark fanfic#everlark smut#thg#thg fanfic#Fantasy AU#witch!Katniss#witch-hunter!Peeta#peeta mellark#katniss everdeen#the hunger games
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I Won’t Leave You CH 1 (Toph x Male Reader)
“I’m telling you, we’re gonna find it this time!” Zei exclaims. You stare out of the window as he goes on about how his life has been leading up to this moment. His words would be encouraging, if this weren’t his upteenth time making the same boring speech on the same boring topic. The train speeds out of Ba Sing Se and you pay half a mind to him, ignoring his speech. You’re his best student, always working to learn the history of the world and understand how people feel. Zei is a close friend, your best, and always makes sure to take you along on his numerous expeditions, you get to frequently travel around the globe and make your own analysis on several topics. You were an intellectual prodigy, and he brought you into the university to better yourself. “Are you excited?”
“For what?” You ask, nonchalantly.
“Us to make history, Y/N. I just know it.”
“If you say so.” You reply as the train slows to a halt and you both step off. “It's the dry season.” you grumble, covering your face with your hat and moving forwards. You hand your passports to the angry lady to get out of Ba Sing Se after a long period of waiting in line. Zei is much more patient than you are, and babbles on about the possibilities of the knowledge that lies within the library to keep your impatience at bay. You waited for three tedious hours to get out and onto a ferry. “It feels like there should be a better way to do this.” You say, watching the water roll by slowly, “So why are we going to Misty Palms?”
“Just a gut feeling.”
“So we’re risking a mugging because of a feeling in your stomach?”
“Yes. You’ll come to learn to trust a gut feeling eventually.”
“I’ll never understand you, old man.”
“One day you might.” He says, smiling. “So Squirt, you finally participated in poetry night, I hear.”
“Yeah. Unfortunately I like actual poetry and they were all over haikus.”
“Well, haikus are poetry.”
“Bah.” You grumble, “How’s the girlfriend?”
“Oh we… broke up. She wanted kids, I wasn’t ready to make that commitment.”
“Oh. Sorry, man.”
“No, you’re fine. Besides, I needed to focus more on my work anyway.” The rest of the ride is in awkward silence as they slowly arrive at a dock and rent ostrich-horses to ride their way to Misty Palms Oasis. At one point, it was a gorgeous paradise now it sits as a reminder of the temporary nature of the world on which you live. “The ice has melted another three meters since our last visit.” Zei notes, writing it down in his little book. “Wait in the bar for me.” Zei says, “I’ll be right with you.” He pulls out a Pai Sho piece and walks in a different direction. You walk awkwardly into the bar, feeling several pairs of eyes prying into you.
You sit, “Uh… mango?” You ask the bartender, who hurries up and makes your drink after you pay him. A sip makes you feel more clear, and soon, you’ve finished.
“Well, you finished that quick, huh?” The professor asks, now walking in, looking better himself. “I’ll have what he’s having.” The tender makes another mango juice and he pays, right before a kid bumps into him, getting Zei’s drink spilled all over his outfit. “Sorry son, I didn’t-”
“No worries, I clean up easily.” The boy says, pushing his fists together and unleashing a gust of wind that dries him off.
“You’re a living relic!” Zei exclaims, holding his hat to his head.
“Thanks, I try.” The boy says. As they continue to converse, you look over the kid’s group, they don’t look like bandits. There are two Water Tribe people, a boy and a girl of around the same age as you and a short blind girl, with a dress that looks distinctively like it’s from Gaoling due to the stitchwork, who is in the back. An odd bunch for sure, but you’ve seen weirder. Soon, they’ve laid out a map and Zei’s rattling his life’s story like it’s small talk. With a groan you stand beside Zei.
“...and knowledge is priceless.”
You thank the heavens that you missed his whole spiel about books, the blind girl has an unimpressed look on her face. “Hm. Sounds like good times.” She sounds utterly unimpressed as well, which is reasonable. While he may be kind, you will always defend professor Zei there, but his speeches are tiresome at best.
“Oh, it is!” He says cheerily, disregarding her lack of enthusiasm, “According to legend, it was built by the great knowledge spirit; Wan-Chi Tong, with the help of his foxy knowledge seekers.”
“Oh! So this spirit has attractive assistants, huh?” the Water Tribe boy dumbly asks.
With a shove, the Water Tribe girl responds, “I think he means that they look like actual foxes, Sokka.”
“You’re both right! They’re handsome little creatures. Wan-Chi Tong and his little knowledge seekers collected books from all over the world and put them on display for mankind to read. So that we might better ourselves.” He smiles as he pulls out a scroll of the library and displays it on the table, and you sigh realizing that he’s reeled a couple more suckers into his crazy plot.
The Water Tribe boy-- Sokka speaks in realization. “If this place has books from all over the world, do you think they’ve got info on the Fire Nation? A map, maybe?”
“Wait a second, we aren’t getting involved with the Fire Nation, are you crazy? Zei, we should go-”
“No. These people need our help.”
You stare him in the eyes, “Do you remember what those savages have done?”
“The Avatar is our best hope to stop them, Y/N.”
After a second’s hesitation you sigh, “Fine. Sorry, I’m just on edge here. You can’t trust anyone anymore.” You say. They all nod and look back at Zei.
“If a map exists at all, that’s the place it’d be.” He says, after a moment.
“Then it’s settled!” Sokka exclaims, turning to the Air Nomad, “Aang, I do believe it’s my turn. I choose to spend my vacation at the library!” he animates the last part as if it’s a declaration of war and you groan. It’s quiet for a second before the blind girl speaks.
“Uh, hey! What about me? When do I get to pick?”
“You gotta work here a little longer before you’re qualified for vacation time.” Sokka retorts, she slams her drink down, crosses her arms and grunts in annoyance. She’s new to the group. You note.
“Of course, there’s the matter of finding it. Me and Y/N have made several trips to the Zi Wong Desert and almost died each time. I’m afraid that desert’s impossible to cross.”
“Professor, would you like to see our sky bison?”
“A sky bison?! You actually have one?!”
With that, he’s convinced so you trail the group with the blind girl until she finally speaks, “I’m Toph.” she says.
“Y/N” you reply, “That kid’s really the Avatar?”
“Yeah. Weird, isn’t it?”
“Weird doesn’t scathe the surface. We were supposed to go on a tracking mission, just as guys, then we end up flying on a bison with a monkey that can also fly and the Avatar to dig up dirt on the Fire Nation. But screw it at this rate, you know?” She smiles at this as Zei shoos away sandbenders from the sky bison. “That thing is ridiculously huge.” you say, looking at it as everyone climbs up. Zei helps you onto the saddle and the air bender says something that makes the thing lift into the air. You screw your eyes shut and hold the saddle for dear life. As time ticks on, you feel more comfortable, but more restless. Sokka’s taken his shirt off and everyone’s cranky after a while. It doesn’t help that Zei reveals that the library might not even exist, which really ticks off Toph. Eventually she decides to blurt out a blatant lie, which everyone hilariously falls for.
“There it is!” she cheers. They look on her side seeing nothing but sand and back at her with scowls. “That’s what it will sound like when one of you spots it.” Then she waves her hand in front of her face to emphasize that she’s blind and you stifle laughter. She turns in your direction and smiles before scooting closer to you and striking up a conversation, “So where do you live?”
“Ba Sing Se. I go to university with Brainiac over there. He’s my teacher.”
“Are you a good student?”
“He’s the best!” Zei pipes up and chuckles as your face heats up.
“Best is an awful strong word, Zei.” You say, trying to redeem yourself from sounding narcissistic, “I’m good at what I find interesting.”
“I never went to school. I took earthbending classes, but my blindness held me back, so I sought out my own help.”
“Now you’re training the Avatar, that’s pretty cool.”
“How did you know one of them didn’t train him?”
“They’re both Water Tribe.” You say, nonchalantly, “And they’re wearing water tribe apparel.”
“I wouldn’t know.” Toph says, laughing nervously.
“That’s fine.”
“It shouldn’t be this hard to spot a giant ornate building from the air.” The girl says.
Suddenly her brother speaks up, “Down there! What’s that?!” We descend to the ground and see a tower extending into the sky.
The water tribe girl sighs. “Forget it. This obviously isn’t the building we’re looking for.” Aang looks over her shoulder at the scroll, “The building in this drawing is enormous.” Then you see a bright reflection of light in the distance and elbow Zei, who quickly turns around to see it. You all watch a fox-like creature come from the desert and scale the tower, entering a window near the top.
“I think that was one of the knowledge seekers,” Zei exclaims, “We must be close to the library!”
“No. This is the library, look!” Sokka says, comparing the tower with one of the towers in the picture. “It’s completely buried.”
It’s quiet for a few seconds before you feel the weight of Zei’s grief pour over him as he collapses to his knees, “The library’s buried?! My life’s ambition is full of sand!” You put a hand on his shoulder and he sighs, sucking the pain down and returning to his optimistic self, “Well, time to excavate!” He says cheerily, pulling out a tiny shovel and getting to work.
“He’s… incorrigible.” You say, sighing.
“Professor, that won’t be necessary.” Toph says, you look up and see her with a hand on the building and her eyes closed, “The inside seems to be completely intact, and it’s huge.”
“That fox thingy climbed in through a window. I say we go up there and give it a look.” Sokka says.
“I say you guys go up there without me.” Toph says.
“You got something against libraries?”
“I’ve held books before and, I gotta tell ya, they don’t exactly do it for me.”
“Right. Sorry.”
“I’ll stay out here with her.” You say.
“But Y/N, this is our life’s work!”
“Reminder, I loathe spiders and if there is any place on Earth sure to have at least a thousand, it’s the library under two tons of sand, yeah?”
“Fine. Be safe, okay? Don’t do anything I’d do.” Zei smiles and ruffles your hair, chuckling at your scowl.
“Let me know if they have something I can listen to.” Toph remarks. With that they make their way into the library, leaving you, Toph and Appa outside. “You know that I can handle myself, right?”
“I’m well aware. Like I said, spiders terrify me.”
“Why?”
“Well they’re eight-legged, hairy, revolting things that want to do nothing but kill.”
“That’s a little melodramatic, don’t you think?” She asks, sitting down, you can sense the smile on her face though and sigh, leaning back against the tower. “So, can you bend?”
“No. That’s why the fire nation makes me uneasy, what will I do if they invade again? Punch them to death? I can throw a punch, sure, but what’ll I do against an army?” You sigh, “Anyway, how do you walk without needing a cane or something? Not trying to offend of course! Just… intrigued.”
“When I was you, I… well what I did doesn’t matter, but it led to me being trained by the badgermoles. They taught me to see the way they do, through vibrations in the ground. This sand is awful because it’s all loose and shifty, it makes everything all fuzzy.” Appa roars, “Not that there’s anything wrong with fuzzy!” She adds, quickly. “Anyways, how’d you meet Zei?”
“Well it’s a long story. My family had a big home, it was the oldest standing house in the world. Zei met me and we talked for a while, he was impressed. He wanted to take me back to Ba Sing Se so I could learn under guidance and my parents refused, insisting that I carry on the family tradition and live my life helping out people.” You sit down next to her, “Fortunately, my dad gave me a choice and I was able to use the cover of night to get away. I’ve since made peace with my family. I want to make a difference.”
She smiles, “I get it. Maybe you should join us.”
“I don’t think so, I don’t wanna be a burden.”
“You wouldn’t be a burden.” Toph cuts in, she blushes slightly and looks down. After a while of awkward chatting, you’ve fallen asleep against Appa, and Toph lays awkwardly next to you, after a while, Appa growls. “I already told you, I don’t want to snuggle.” Then Appa gets up, letting both of your heads fall into the ground, waking you up as you rub the back of your head. “Library's sinking.” she says calmly, then her eyes widen, as do yours. “Library’s sinking!” she yells, bolting into action and struggling to hold it up.
You see sand rising in the distance and your senses start to tingle. “Uh, Toph?”
“What now?!”
“Whatever you do, focus on that building!” You say, taking up a fighting stance. The sandbenders conjure up a dust cloud that makes it hard to see. “Back off!” you shout at one who jumps off of his glider. He moves for a strike which you bat away and jab him three times in the stomach before crane-kicking him for the knockout blow.
“Who’s there?!”
“Sandbenders!” You shout back. Two more start to focus on you, using sand bending for cheap tactics and keeping you from fighting them fairly as their friends attack Appa. They try to hold you under the sand as they tie Appa up. With a huge effort you break free, leaping into the air and landing a swift kick on one. Then you feel something sharp puncture your neck. You pull it out and glare at the dart and then at the sandbenders. “It’ll take a lot more than-” Suddenly a barrage of about fifty darts fly your way, you run towards Toph and take about twenty that were heading for her before collapsing, “That’ll do.” You groan, watching the world fade in and out. Suddenly, she’s picked you up and leaped out of the way as the building crashes into the ground. You feel an overwhelming sense of failure as your mind sneaks itself into unconsciousness.
#atla#toph x reader#male reader#sokka#katara#aang x katara#aang#professor zei#the library#reader insert
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Things we deserved to get from the Naruto manga and anime that we never got -
• JONIN NARUTO -
We followed him around as the lovable Genin knucklehead. Now it goes without saying that him being a Jonin is just a rank and honestly doesnt mean much. Rescuing Gaara, going after Kakuzo, Mount Miyaboku were all A & S-rank missions.
But I would liked to have seen him doing missions post war in a slightly more mature yet typically knuckleheaded manner instead of the passing phrase he made tonShikamaru about being too busy doing missions for the next 6 months.
We grew up with Naruto and now that he's older and stronger we dont get to see him in action.
• A Happily Married Kakashi & Shizune-
Hatake Kakashi has led a deeply traumatic life. His mother died when he was very young, his father committed suicide when he was 6 causing him to distance himself from everyone around him. The first person he opened up to and formed a bond with died moments later protecting him, the girl he deeply cared for and probably harbored feelings for which he was too afraid to confront died at his hands as he desperately tried to protect her, a year later his sensei died protecting the village. When he became a sensei to Team 7 he felt he was on a path to finding inner peace by ensuring these children avoid his traumas but his prized pupil went rogue shattering that hope. After all this I’d hoped he would’ve finally found a happy ending.
Why Shizune? Well I considered him and Kurenai getting together and him helping raise Mirai but Shizune has always felt like the only Kunoichi in Konoha who has her shit together. She is perfectly at peace with where she is in life. She is incredibly mature and level headed as she helps run the village with Tsunade. Someone who is at peace with herself and her aspirations is the perfect anchor for a man with a whirpool of trauma brewing in him.
Alas it seems like the showrunners have no intention of a romantic arc for Kakashi and the Hatake name will die with Kakashi.
• The Uzumaki Clan
Within a span of 3 months Naruto meets 3 Uzumaki clan members. Nagato, Karin and his own mother. While speaking with Kushina he finds out about the dark fate of the Uzumaki clan. How they were blessed with unimaginably high chakra reserves and were gifted in Sealing Jutsus, longevity and how it led to them being targeted by those who feared them leading to their village being wiped out and scattered across the shinobi world.
Instead of turning the Naruto saga into the Uchiha Chronicles Id have preferred a deep dive into the Uzumaki clan. Maybe even have a Sasuke-like venegeful figure who wants Konoha to suffer because they failed to provide aid to the village they called their strong allies in their greatest hour of need.
Like Sasuke this villain would’ve witnessed his fellow clansmen cut down, unlike Sasuke however he wouldn’t have had the likes of Naruto, Itachi or Kakashi to anchor him in the light leaving room for redemption.
This could have been the one villain that was so far gone in his pain and hatred that no amount of 'talk no jutsu' could have changed his mind and would've pushed Naruto to the very brink until he finally had to choose between killing his clansman or protecting his village.
Naruto would make the ultimate sacrifice for Konoha and this would all the more set his resolve to pulling Sasuke back from the darkness or dying with him.
An Uzumaki villain gifted in Fuijutsu and the use of the Uzumaki Kekkei Genkai, the Adamantine Chains along with massive chakra reserves would be the perfect power scaled villain for Post Pain Arc Naruto.
Instead we got Uchiha chronicles where everyone did whatever the fuck they thought of doing and chakra limits were all but history. This one really disappointed me. Which brings me to my next disappointment.
• Naruto Killing a Villain
Now I know it seems like an odd hang up. Naruto? Kill? But he is so fixated on redemption. That is exactly why I wanted this to happen. The series has gone out of its way to make sure Naruto hasn’t killed a character. The worst of it was against Kakuzu. The kind of attack unleashed upon Kakuzu SHOULD by all means have killed him. Yet somehow he was left in a ‘dying state’ and Kakashi was the one who did the deed.
Naruto being forced to kill a villain as a last resort and making a choice between saving someone dear to him or tainting his hands with blood was the ultimate moral conundrum for a shinobi whose biggest goal was rescuing his best friend from the dark. It would take him back to Itachi’s words where he asked Naruto what he would if Sasuke decided to destroy the village.
Instead we saw Rasen Shuriken and Rasengan getting scaled down to a point where they always injure and opponent but not kill him. For an S-rank jutsu, Rasen Shuriken happens to be quite lenient.
• Neji beoming the head of the Hyuuga Clan
This pisses me off the most. Neji was supposed to be to the Hyuuga was Naruto was to Konoha. I always expected Neji to overcome all the obstacles and get recognized by Hiashin who would then redeem himself and disband the branch system once and for all. Hiashin as a character was never redeemed. Here was a man who let his brother get executed to avoid punishment (albeit he was against it but it did happen), constantly abused his kind daughter and belittled her for being too soft and put her down to a point her personality was underdeveloped and she had deep seethed confidence issues.
Disbanding the branch system and making Neji the leader would redeem him in the eyes of the readers/ viewers and would clean up the Hyuuga clan.
Instead Neji was scrapped aside to give Naruto and Hinata a bonding moment. They had a bonding moment, it was when she almost died saving his life. Neji didn’t have to die for them to get together ffs. What a wasted potential.
• NaruSaku
Now I’m not a fanatic shipper. In fact when I read and watched the original series I absolutely HATED Sakura. My hatred for her reached it’s peak during the Zabuza arc when Naruto ran at the S-rank villain, got kicked away and got up to show he went in for his forehead protector. “What do you think you’re doing Naruto? Even Sasuke-kun wasn’t a match for him.” I just wanted Naruto to turn around and tell her to stfu in that moment. As the series approached the time skip I was well and truly content with NaruHina.
But Shippuden changed things. The hints towards Sakura’s changed feelings were sprinkled all over the series. One moment that stands out for me was the Clone Training arc where Sai tests her by abusing Naruto and she goes on a rage rant about how great he is. Let’s not forget that in her darkest hour, as she saw a ruined and destroyed village the only person she thought of and cried out to was Naruto. Not because she felt he could save the village (she was as shocked as Shikamaru as she found out he was facing pain alone) but because when things when bad for her the only person who she felt comfort around was indeed Naruto and that is indisputable.
She goes as far as ruining her friendship with Naruto, a bond she truly cherished as it was all she had left after Sasuke abandoned the village, and confessed her feelings to manipulate him. Yes manipulative, scheming and downright a bitch of a thing to do. But it was all she could think of to make Naruto stop chasing after Sasuke. She, more than anyone wanted to see Naruto become a Hokage and realize his dreams and dying while rescuing Sasuke was a risk she couldn’t take and she decided she’d have him hate her than die. Wrong yes. But oddly noble.
This combined with all the blatant attempts to establish her being like Kushina and Kushina saying she wants Naruto to find someone like her changed my mind from NaruHina. I still adore Hinata. She is a wonderful character. But organic plot progression is far more important to me than my ships being canon.
A Naruto-Sakura family would’ve been incredibly entertaining and the dynamics would be perfect. We’d see a Minato-Kushina couple on screen for the next series. Which brings me to my next disappointment.
•HinaShino
I don’t know if that’s the official name for the pairing but I always felt these 2 would make a great couple.They are both people of a few words and are both incredibly intuitive and understanding individuals. Shino would accept Hinata for who she was and vice versa. Being with someone who was happy with the person they were would go miles in helping them come out of their shells.
Altho this isn’t a massive disappointment for me. I’m happy that Hinata ended up with Naruto. But like I said organic plot progression matters to me and if Naruto ended up with Sakura I’d prefer Hinata to end up with Shino.
•Hiraishin No Jutsu
Sadly as the series progressed Naruto had become so OP that not letting him master his father’s improved version of Tobirama’s jutsu was a great decision. It would’ve just made him senselessly OP.
However instead of giving him all those God Tier power ups which he just gains in single training sessions I’d have preferred him working hard to master the Hirashin. Instead of sending him off to an island and treating him like a fucking idiot and asking him to survey animals I’d have preferred if Tsunade gave him an impossible task.
“You can’t fight in the battle. But I will only allow it if you can master your father’s jutsu.”
It was a period of 6 months between Danzo’s death and the start of the shinobi war. Ample time to show him training hard to learn a jutsu that for once required him to study. Hiraishin deals not just in physical acts of speed but also mastering seals. Seeing his friends go off to fight in the war as he was left behind would have only added to his frustration and motivated him more.
Showing Naruto training hard like they showed him training for Rasen Shuriken would’ve only made us cheer all the more harder when he’d make a badass entry on the battle field as Tobi came close to killing Kakashi and a three pronged Kunai swished between the two, an orange flash appeared and Naruto kicked Tobi away.
Sadly this was swapped for Pokemon evolutions where arc after arc Naruto levels up just like that. The show’s entire premise was based on hard work and guts.
Sasuke was the genius who gained his power through natural ability. Sure he trained hard but his strength came to him with ease. Naruto had to slog. He manged to make the Rasengan after nearly 15 episodes of training and even then he had to get stabbed to be able to use it. It wasn’t until another 10 episodes that he properly used it. His training for the Rasenshuriken took an entire season to yield results and even then he didn’t learn to throw it until he trained for another 3 seasons till the Pain arc.
Post pain all this is tossed aside. He sits at the waterfall twice and beats the darkness. He sits in the room once and tames Kurama. Later Kakashi and Guy are in trouble, he has an inner dialogue with Kurama and suddenly he mastered the two man team with no prior training. Rikkodu Sennin touches him once and suddenly he’s learnt how to grow eyes, stop death and fly just like that.
The series stopped being the Naruto series we grew up with post Danzo and it saddens me.
• Naruto Sensei -
And finally my last and greatest disappointment of all. Not seeing Naruto as a sensei. We’ve seen glimpses of his nurturing side in his interactions with Konohamaru but I’d have loved to have seen 40-50 episodes of him leading his own squad of genins. A perfect combination of Kakashi and Guy as he’d wow them with his brilliance and equally embarrass them in day to day interactions with his goofy tomfoolery. His genins would be in awe of him. Naruto Sensei - the hero of the war.
His students could have an arrogant son/daughter of a feudal lord who insisted he be trained by the war hero, Naruto and Kakashi had to cave in for diplomatic reasons. Naruto refuses to take anyone who doesn’t work hard to get where they are but after the bell test sees potential in the child. A child with no ninja background. His parents were farmers outside of Konoha who were very poor. His sole aim is to be a ninja so strong that he’s always assigned big missions that will help him ease his family’s financial burdens. A genin from the Inuzuka clan (or any other clan, maybe even Hanabi if the show wanted to push more Naruto-Hinata interactions) who thinks he’s better than the other 2 because of his family background but is taught humility by Naruto.
Sadly another development in Naruto’s life we were denied.
Well that’s my rant essay. I know a lot of people won’t agree with what I had to say but I wanted to get it off my best anyway. Why?
Because I wanted to dattebayo!
#naruto#naruto uzumaki#naruto shippuden#jonin#jonin naruto#kakashizu#kakashi hatake#shizune#uzumaki#uzumaki clan#nagato#nagato uzumaki#karin#karin uzumaki#kushina#kushina uzumaki#badass naruto#killer naruto#hyuuga clan#neji hyuuga#neji#hinata hyuuga#hanabi hyuuga#hiashi hyuuga#byakugan#narusaku#sakura#sakura haruno#haruno sakura#otp
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The Nature of Evil
So....I woke up in the middle of the night with but one thought in my head. What if Obi-Wan was a padawan during Order 66? And thus, this AU was born.
AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25997875
There was something wrong. So terribly wrong. The force screamed in agony all around Obi-Wan as he sat crouched in a hall, checking over his shoulder obsessively. They had descended upon the temple not even an hour past. Clones, led by a cloaked figure shrouded in darkness so thick it clung to all life around it, choking and smothering. Obi-Wan knew how un-jedi like it was, but he was utterly terrified. As soon as the small army had crossed the once hallow threshold, they'd unleashed a barrage of blaster fire upon everything that moved. This, mixed with the wicked flash of a blue lightsaber would forever haunt the young padawan.
Smoke stung at his eyes as he peered around the corner. With bated breath, Obi-Wan watched as a small initiate was back into a corner by three clone troopers. Upon further inspection, Obi-Wan's chest tightened to find he recognized the small, dark haired human boy. Darin, his name was Darin. Obi-Wan had seen him around, especially in the archives, ever the studious young Jedi initiate. The force thrummed around them as the clones drew closer, like a hunter to its prey. It was cruel, Obi-Wan decided, for the clones to prolong Darin's seemingly inevitable fate. But then again. What was he himself doing, running around and hiding. They were bound to find him sooner or later.
He threw himself back around the corner and squeezed his eyes shut, stifling a choked sob as the sound of blasters echoed through the corridor. Darin didnt even have time to scream, Obi-Wan realized in a stuttering heartbeat.He had to get out of there. He had to get out of the temple, or else they would find him and they would kill him too.
Pulling himself together, Obi-Wan stealthily darted across the hall while the clones still had their backs to him as one nudged Darin's body with his foot. Struggling not to choke on his tears and the guilt of not having his saber, of being unable to stop the clones from killing Darin, Obi-Wan ran. Ducking around corners and through secret pathways only padawans knew, he finally found himself in sight of the large doors beckoning him to freedom. Obi-Wan felt his heart stop as footsteps sounded from across the behemoth foyer.
Desperately Obi-Wan fought to control his fear and cover his force signature as the cloaked leader of the attack came into view, his lightsaber humming ominously. He could feel that dark cloud again, the one that followed this man. Was he a jedi, Obi-Wan wondered. He had a lightsaber, but that didn't mean anything. He could've stolen it. But deep down, he knew that wasn't right.
"Sir, we weren't able to find anyone else within the temple. They're all dead." A clone appeared, addressing the cloaked man. Obi-Wan swore his heart stopped at that moment. Dead? Everyone? His classmates, his friends. All of them?
"No. There's still one. I can sense him." The voice. Why was that voice oh so familiar, Obi-Wan wondered.
"Of course, General Skywalker." The clone said, before speaking into his coms device, Obi-Wan didn't hear what was said, his mind was too busy reeling at what he'd just learned. General Skywalker? As in Knight Skywalker? As in….Anakin? No, Obi-Wan tried to console himself, no, Anakin wouldn't. He just…. He couldn't. He must've been mistaken. He had to have misheard- all thoughts of doubt went out of Obi-Wan's mind as the figure- Anakin- pulled down his hood.
Obi-Wan needed to go. Now. If he sat where he was much longer they'd find him for sure. Summoning every ounce of strength he could, Obi-Wan called on the force and shoved Anakin. All he could hope for was the element of surprise, there was no way he could fight off the man on his own. Luckily, it worked and Anakin stumbled back in shock. Seeing his chance, Obi-Wan ran. The sound of a lightsaber slashing behind him before a horrible burning sensation tore across his back. The pain was unlike anything else he'd ever felt, and Obi-Wan cried out as he stumbled to the ground. He had enough sense to roll away as blue flashing across his vision, striking the ground where Obi-Wan had been not a second before.
Thinking fast, Obi-Wan jumped to his feet to keep running. Down the steps and across the plaza, blaster fire hitting all around him as the clone troopers took notice of him. Pain overtook the padawan as a blaster bolt found its mark, striking Obi-Wan in the shoulder. Gasping, he fell back to the ground where he collapsed, unable to get up as he struggled to breath, pain over taking him.
"Leave him. He'll succumb to his injuries soon enough." He heard Anakin, the man who'd once been like a brother to him, say and it hurt. More than the thought of Anakin turning to the dark side. It cut Obi-Wan to know that he would simply leave him to die.
Distantly, Obi-Wan recognized the coppery taste in his mouth as blood and the burning in his chest as a collapsed lung. Tears now flowed freely down his face, the warm drops turning cold on the night air.
Obi-Wan
Obi-Wan blinked. Who was saying his name?
Obi wan!
The voice sounded distraught. Obi-Wan felt guilty for not responding, but it was better for whoever it was calling to him to think he was dead and leave him. Maybe they would make it out alive.
Obi-Wan, padawan please answer me.
Dimly, it dawned on Obi-Wan that voice wasn't coming from around him. It was in his head. His training bond.
Master Jinn! Obi-Wan managed to call out. It was getting harder to breathe. Please help me.
Hold on, just a little longer. I'm almost there.
I'm sorry. Obi-Wan could feel himself growing weaker, his choked breaths turning to struggled gasps as blood dribbled down his chin. Master I- I think I'm dying.
Just a little longer, little one, please, just hold on.
The world was dimming around him as Obi-Wan fought against the urge to close his eyes, knowing that if he did, he would never open them again. It was so hard, the promising sweet embrace of death was oh so tempting. He'd never been good with the living force, but Obi-Wan clung to it, knowing if the living force were to leave him now it would never come back.
I'm so tired.
"I know, Obi-Wan, I've got you now. Just a little longer. You're doing so well." Qui-Gon's voice came from above Obi-Wan now as a large hand settled into his hair. “I’ve got you now.”
“Mster” Obi-Wan moaned weakly.
“Shh, don’t speak, little one. Save your strength.” Qui-Gon whispered as he carefully scooped Obi-Wan up, holding him close to his broad chest. Obi-Wan found it increasingly hard not to give into his exhaustion now that he felt safe in the security in his Master’s arms.
This is nice. Obi-Wan finally allowed his eyes to drift shut.
Stay with me, Obi-Wan. Please. Qui-Gon held on to his padawan a little tighter.
I’m sorry. Obi-Wan couldn’t fight it any longer and slipped into the inviting embrace, feeling as though he’d been swaddled in velvet.
”Obi-Wan, it’s time to get up. Come on.” Qui-Gon snorted, running his fingers over the short strands of coppery hair.
“Mmmmhhhmmph.” Obi-Wan moaned, scrunching up his face and pushing it further into the pillow.
“You have until the kettle boils.” Qui-Gon smiled, and Obi-Wan relaxed, knowing Qui-Gon wouldn’t turn the stove to full heat, almost, but not quiet, allowing the boy a few spare minutes to rest before getting up and making a mandatory appearance for breakfast.
It seemed to Obi-Wan that he’d only just closed his eyes when the shrill whistle of the kettle startled him from his light doze. Suddenly remembering he was supposed to be up by now, Obi-Wan rolled out of bed, the sheets tangling in his legs, causing him to crash into the floor below.
“Obi-Wan, are you quite alright?” A slightly amused voice came from the doorway. Looking up, he was met with the mirth filled gaze of his master.
“I’m sorry, Master, I know you said to be up by the time the kettle whistled, but I couldn’t help it, I just fell back asleep. I didn’t mean to.” Obi-Wan rushed to explain himself.
“Oh padawan,” Qui-Gon chuckled warmly, “Hurry up now.” Obi-Wan watched the giant of a man turn, closing the door behind him to leave Obi-Wan to get ready.
Standing up, carefully this time, Obi-Wan pulled on a fresh pair of trousers and a tunic, wrapping it around himself before tying it. Next came the tabards and belt, great care placed into the wearing of the items. Running his fingers through the kinked hair of his unwound padawan braid, gently untangling the knots that formed overnight.
Blinking, Obi-Wan stepped out into the main living area of their shared living space, the smell of fresh porridge filling the air with a thick homely scent. Qui-Gon was sat at the kitchen table, a bowl and a cup of bitter tea in front of him with a holo pad no doubt containing the daily news in his hand.
“Sorry I took so long, master.” Obi-Wan slid into his seat where his own bowl and cup of tea sat.
“Not to worry, Obi-Wan, you’ll just have to take a longer meditation this evening.” Qui-Gon spoke with a gentle smile. Obi-Wan bowed his head politely to acknowledge Qui-Gon’s words before lifting the tea cup to his lips, gently blowing on the steam curling upwards. Taking a sip, Obi-Wan hid a smile behind the rim of the cup. The tea was lighter brew then Qui-Gon’s, with a sweet nectar added to Obi-Wan’s preference. Silently, Obi-Wan sent a wave of gratitude across their bond before setting down the cup and picking up his spoon to eat.
Silently, master and padawan finished their breakfast in companionable silence. A glance at the chrono made Obi-Wan’s head hurt, and he blinked his eyes, quickly looking away.
“It’s almost time for class,” Qui-Gon confirmed. “Are you feeling alright, Obi-Wan?”
“Yes, I’m fine. I don’t know what happened.” Obi-Wan shook his head, ridding himself of the last of the dull throbbing in his temples. Qui-Gon looked at him through his eyebrows, smuggly reminding Obi-Wan of each time he’d minimized an injury or illness. “I promise, Master. I feel fine.” Obi-Wan smiled at his Master.
“Very well then, you better hurry up and get your stuff.” Qui-Gon playfully shooed Obi-Wan off. Smiling, the boy jumped up and ran off to his room to gather his holos and bag. “Just make sure that I don’t have to pick you up from the healer’s wing.” Qui-Gon called out after him.
Still smiling, Obi-Wan scooped his stuff together before pulling on his boots, the supple leather fitting comfortably on his feet. Throwing his bag over his shoulder, Obi-Wan reappeared back in the main living area, where Qui-Gon gave him an approving look before standing up from his seat. Coming to stand in front of him, Qui-Gon smiled down softly and picked up the loose strands of Obi-Wan’s braid and began to weave it back into its proper form, taking the beads from Obi-Wan as he handed them to him and placing them in the braid.
“There,” Qui-Gon allowed the finished braid to drop from his fingertips to rest on Obi-Wan’s shoulder, “now off to class with you. You don’t want to be late.”
“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan bowed quickly before taking his leave. Stepping out into the hall, Obi-Wan stopped as he looked around, suddenly feeling lost and not knowing which way to go.
Class, he was supposed to go to class. But which way was class? Taking a step, Obi-Wan found his feet seemed to know where to go on their own, so he relaxed, content to allow his feet to carry him where he needed to be.
“Obi-Wan!” The shout caused Obi-Wan to pause as he looked around for it’s source. “Obi-Wan!” He could’ve sworn it sounded like Qui-Gon. Why was Qui-Gon yelling for him? “Obi-Wan? Are you alright?” A mon calamari face appeared in front of him. She looked at him quizzically before repeating her question, placing a gentle webbed hand on his shoulder. “Hey, Coruscant to Obi-Wan! It’s me, Bant.”
“Bant?” Obi-Wan looked at her now, and it all came back. Bant! Bant Eerin, his best friend. “Bant!” Obi-Wan let the happiness he felt bleed into his voice as he looked at her as if seeing Bant for the first time in months.
“Geeze,” Bant rolled her eyes, “Are you feeling well?”
“Yeah, sorry. I don’t know what happened. I-” Obi-Wan stopped short when he noticed something on Bant’s tunic. The more he looked at it, tried to wrap his mind around it, his head hurt. Like before, when he’d tried to look at the chrono.
“Common, we should get to class.” Bant tugged on his sleeve, leading Obi-Wan into the awaiting classroom.
The day continued normally until Obi-Wan sat down with his tray at lunch and happened to look around. Every padawan and initiate he looked at. The masters and knights too, there was something off with their robes. Something….wrong. Had Qui-Gon had something off with his robes too this morning? Obi-Wan couldn’t remember. He didn’t think so. Looking down at his own tunic and tabard Obi-Wan could find nothing obviously wrong with his own attire. The more he tried to figure out what was wrong, the more his head hurt, so Obi-Wan resolved to ignore it, whatever it was.
As he continued through his day; saber practice, basic arithmetics, navigation, history, all of it seemed completely normal yet alien all at once. Obi-Wan’s head had been reduced to a dull ache every time he went to read a chrono or looked too hard at his classmates, though that was nothing compared to the pain that had split through his head when he spotted Knight Skywalker and decided to stop and talk to him. Everytime Obi-Wan looked Anakin in the eyes, something was different. So different, yet Obi-Wan couldn’t put his finger on what was different, and why it was bad.
Finally resolving that he simply didn’t get enough sleep the night before, Obi-Wan stumbled into his quarters later in the afternoon, gently massaging his temples to rid himself of the remainder of the headache talking with Anakin had left him with.
“Good afternoon, Obi-Wan.” Looking up, Obi-Wan could see his Master sitting crossed legged on the living room floor, his eyes closed and his hands splayed across his knees.
“Sorry, Master, I didn’t mean to interrupt your meditation.” Obi-Wan gently set his bag down.
“Nonsense.” Qui-Gon still hadn’t opened his eyes, but waved Obi-Wan over to join him.
Sitting down across from him, Obi-Wan adopted the same pose and closed his eyes, joining Qui-Gon in meditation. The force flowed freely between the two beings, like a river flowed suredly from the peaks of a mountain out to the sea. And what a sea Obi-Wan was. Had always been. His presence in the force had always held a certain depth to it, Qui-Gon mused within his own meditation. Somehow this was the most peaceful Obi-Wan had felt all day. Reaching for the living force around them, Obi-Wan became confused when it was harder than usual to grasp. Normally it was like trying to grab soap through water, but now, now it was like trying to grasp smoke with bare hands. It simply kept slipping away from his grasp.
“Master-” Obi-Wan felt fear shoot through him. Where was the living force? What was happening?
“Relax, Obi-Wan. It’s alright. Why don’t we try again later?” Obi-Wan opened his eyes to look at Qui-Gon when he spoke. He liked looking at Qui-Gon, he was the only one who didn’t hurt his head when he looked at him like everyone else did. Qui-Gon looked….normal. “Besides, it’s about dinner time, I’d reckon.” Qui-Gon unfolded his long legs and stood before offering Obi-Wan a hand to pull himself up with. Taking the offered appendage, Obi-Wan moved to stand as well. “Go, finish your assignments, I’ll call you when dinner is ready.” Qui-Gon spoke as he nudged Obi-Wan towards his room.
“Yes, Master.” Obi-Wan said as he bent down to pick up his bag before stepping into his room.
Sitting down at his desk, Obi-Wan pulled the holo pads and flimsy out of his bag and set to work. It felt too easy, as if he’d done the same work a thousand times before. But...he’d only just learned half of it that day, hadn’t he? Maybe they’d touched on some of the materials the day before? Obi-Wan thought back to yesterday, but stopped when he found nothing. Why couldn’t he remember anything from the day before? What had he eaten for breakfast? Lunch? Dinner? Obi-Wan couldn’t remember. Nor could he remember what he’d done in class that previous day.
Suddenly Obi-Wan pushed his academic work away from him as if it had burned him. What was wrong with him? Obi-Wan pushed his hands into his hair and grasped at it. The whole day had felt like a waking dream. Vaguely, Obi-Wan became aware of an itching sensation across his back. When he reached back to scratch at it, the itching stopped.
“Obi-Wan, dinner!” Qui-Gon called out, and Obi-Wan looked to the door.
“Coming!” Obi-Wan answered before standing up from his chair.
Sitting down across from Qui-Gon at the table, Obi-Wan felt a cool wave of calm wash over him once again. Obi-Wan found he didn’t want to leave his Master’s presence.
“How was your day, Obi-Wan?” Qui-Gon asked as he set a bowl of thick stew down in front of the boy.
Obi-Wan hesitated before answering, “It- I don’t know. I-” Obi-Wan stopped as he looked back up at the chrono again. Then it snapped and everything hit him like a ton of bricks. Looking back at Qui-Gon, Obi-Wan realized what had been wrong with Bant’s robes. With everyone’s robes except himself and Qui-Gon. It had been blood, blood staining their tunics. Anakin, his eyes. They were a sickly sulfuric yellow. Yellow like gold. Like fire. Like a Sith’s.
“Obi-Wan?” Obi-Wan met Qui-Gon’s gaze.
“The chrono,” Was all Obi-Wan could say, “it’s moving backwards.” All day. Every chrono he had looked at, they were all moving counter-clockwise.
“Oh, Obi-Wan.” Qui-Gon sounded sad. Why did he sound sad?
Obi-Wan went to speak but was stopped short by a searing pain across his back. Obi-Wan cried out helplessly while Qui-Gon looked on sadly. It hurt. It hurt so much. The world around him was blurring, whether it was from pain or his tears, Obi-Wan couldn’t say, but soon black spots began to dance in his vision before everything went black.
It was cold. Why was it so cold.Weren’t the halls of healing warmer than this? Obi-Wan was sure they’d been much warmer the last time he’d been subjected to a visit. Peeling his eyes open, Obi-Wan immediately squeezed them shut again as bright light assaulted him.
“Obi-Wan?” A shadow crossed in front of him. “Obi-Wan.” A hand grasped at his own. “If you can hear me, squeeze my hand, little one.” Obi-Wan obeyed to the best of his ability, finding that the simple act of moving his hand felt like the hardest thing in the world.
Qui-Gon smiled at the small twitch of Obi-Wan's hand in his own. "Easy now. I've dimmed the lights, can you try to open your eyes?"
Obi-Wan was more timid this time, and took a moment to prepare himself before cracking his eyes open. However, unlike last time, he was met with his Master's face peering over him, the dim light shining around his head like a halo.
"Master?" The word pulled at Obi-Wan's throat as he tried to speak, scratching and scraping.
"Shh," Qui-Gon moved to help him sit up before offering him a glass of water. "Here, drink this." Obi-Wan moved his hand to grasp at the cup, grateful when Qui-Gon covered Obi-Wan's shakey ones with his own. "Slowly," he urged. When he was finished, Qui-Gon set the glass aside.
"Happy to see you, we are." A familiar creaky voice spoke from somewhere to his left, and when Obi-Wan looked he was met with an even more familiar wrinkled green face.
"Master Yoda." Obi-Wan spoke, his voice steadier now, though barely above a whisper.
"Worried, you had us, young Obi-Wan." Yoda moved closer to the padawan.
"Obi-Wan, do you remember what happened?" Qui-Gon gently demanded his attention.
"I-" Obi-Wan stopped short as a sob escaped him. "They're dead aren't they?" Qui-Gon only nodded solemnly.
The moment before Qui-Gon spoke seemed to stretch into eternity. "We are all that survived the purge, it would seem."
"Us?" Obi-Wan whispered, feeling tears gather in the corners of his eyes. "Just….us."
Yoda bowed his head, his ears dropping a level as he hummed both in conformation and remorse.
"What are we going to do?" Obi-Wan asked, suddenly feeling more grown up then he should.
"Go into hiding, we shall. Separate, we must." Yoda said.
"Obi-Wan, you and I will go together. I promised I would see to it that you became a Jedi. We will go to the unknown region where we will complete your training." Qui-Gon reached for Obi-Wan’s padawan braid, the edges singed from when the lightsaber had struck at him.
“Very well. Leave, as soon as Padawan Kenobi is well enough to travel, you will.” Yoda nodded, leaving no room for argument as he left the room, leaving Master and Padawan alone.
“Why?” Obi-Wan whispered. “Why would he do something so dark? So evil?” The sudden surge of maturity Obi-Wan had felt before left him, leaving him feeling like a creche-ling.
“Evil is only evil when done by those who were once good. And more often than not, we never know the reason why. Such is the nature of evil.” Qui-Gon sighed, once again fingering Obi-Wan’s braid. “For now we must simply live, my young padawan, live and let go. But never forget. Rest,” Qui-Gon tucked the blankets securely around Obi-Wan’s shoulders, “rest and heal. When you awaken, together we shall face a new world.”
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Massive Success - Lewis Capaldi x Reader
Paring: Lewis Capaldi x Reader
Word Count: 2,863
Description: Lewis and Y/N have been friends since they were teens, and she’s been hiding how she’s felt nearly as long. Several years, two record labels, and a worldwide tour later she’s struggling getting used to the new lifestyle they both live, and keeping her feelings for him under control. And god does she hate those live interviews. Lewis x Celebrity Reader
Warnings: Some swearing and mild slight spiciness at the end.
Italics are dreams or inner thoughts.
Y/N stares back into her reflection in the mirror in her dressing room before closing her eyes and slowly counting down in her mind. She still wasn’t used to this whole live television interview thing. Concerts sure, she’d been performing since she was a teenager, with a guitar or mic stand in her hands, the rest faded away. It might have also helped that as the crowds got bigger, her ability to see individual faces had grown harder.
But these live interviews with the endless row of seemingly too bright set lights, the live audience she could see each and every expression of, sitting in a chair with several cameras trained on her to remind her that if she slipped up the entire world would know in seconds were not comforting thoughts.
Performing a quick song with a wave to the camera and audience was the easy part, when she had her guitar stripped from her and ended up in the seat was when it always got dicey. She’d only done a few since her career had taken off, but she’d somehow managed to avoid the major disaster her mind was telling her would happen.
“Nervous?” a voice asks from directly behind her, causing her to almost fall back into the man behind her as her eyes fly open. Lewis presses his hands to her back to hold her up, a mischievous smile on his face as she looked at him through the mirror.
“Couldn’t help yourself could you?” she scowls and bites her lip. “Of course I am. You know I’m not good at this shit.”
A sympathetic smile replaces the previous one as he pats her back, “It’s fine, I get nervous too. But you’ve got this. Plus this time we’ve got each other right?”
She slowly exhales and relaxes her shoulders as she turns to look at him with her own smile, “That’s true, when I inevitably freeze or say something stupid, you can pull them right back in with that charm hm?”
“Exactly,” he grins, “That’s what friends are for.”
“That they are,” she agrees with a laugh and looks back to the mirror to check her hair, trying to ignore the butterflies still in her stomach from his touch.
“I’ll be back in five to grab ya,” he calls out as he walks away.
She’d met Lewis when they were around 16, both gigging where they could and chasing their musical dreams. They’d become fast friends, and in the years that followed she found herself developing more than just a little crush on him. Pushing those feelings aside, she was happy to be by his side as a friend and confidant through career and relationship troubles.
When his career started to take off, she’d been ecstatic for him. She’d been going to nearly every gig of his for years and knew his talent, but to see everyone else starting to see it had been amazing. It had gotten hard when he really started traveling, being gone months on end. She kept to her own gigging and a part time job, but not having him around was harder to get used to than she would admit.
She’d almost let those other feelings go. Just enjoying the time she did have with him between his traveling, and their occasional FaceTime calls and daily texts. She’d grown comfortable with it at least.
Then began the wild two years when she’d been picked up by an agent, released her first few songs and EP, signed with a record label, and Lewis had asked her to be the opening act for his big headlining tour.
Going back to spending nearly every day together, doing what they love while also traveling the world had been more than amazing. Unfortunately with more time together, came the resurgence of those feelings, hitting her suddenly like a tidal wave.
Every morning, afternoon, and evening were spent together, even in their down time they tended to hang out in the same room until it was time for bed. During that time she wrote and released mid-tour what had become her hit song.
All she’d been hoping for was to unleash some of the pent up feelings and energy, but somehow that had turned into a song she heard on the radio, various radio and tv interviews, a wave of popularity, and many questions from Lewis.
It had started out with just teasing questions, but the more he pushed her on who the song was about, or to at least talk it out with him, the more on edge she got. She felt guilty hiding the truth, and felt even more guilty that her best friend felt she couldn’t trust him enough to tell him. But she couldn’t.
After a few hour tour bus ride of him gently prodding her for information, she’d snapped at him that it was none of his business, and since then they’d abandoned the topic. The days following were tense, but they’d worked their way back to normal after some time. In that time is when they’d written their newest song together that they finally agreed was the one they’d record together.
Fast forward to eight months later, there she stood in her dressing room at The Late Late Show waiting for her performance and interview with Lewis to promote the song.
“You ready?” Lewis calls, ducking his head back into her dressing room.
“It’s been five minutes already?” she asks with a tense chuckle.
“Come on, we’ll be fine Y/N,” he encourages, giving her a side hug as she reaches the door. “Business as usual.”
-
“God I hate those lights.” Y/N forces a smile as she half listens to the question James Corden has asked Lewis. Their performance had gone great, and nothing particularly bad had happened in the interview thus far, but she was finding it hard to concentrate.
Lewis’ voice sounds almost muffled as her gaze goes from the lights to the many cameras and many people in the audience. “When will I ever get used to this?”
“So Y/N,” James says, pulling her back into the moment. “Your hit song ‘All You Never Say’ came out nearly a year ago today, did you expect it to have the success it did?”
“Never, honestly this is still surreal.” She nods her head toward Lewis, “We’ve talked about it and the whole thing still seems crazy, we were still just gigging in bars together a few years ago, now here we are.”
“Now I think we have a question on everyone’s minds, did the person the song is about realize it’s about them and have you both fallen madly in love?” Corden teases with a mischievous grin.
Y/N forces an uncomfortable laugh and adjusts in her seat, “No, I don’t think he knows it’s about him quite yet.”
“Does that mean you’ve fallen madly in love but he doesn’t know about the song or no to them both?” James chuckles.
“Yes Y/N,” Lewis says turning toward her with a teasing grin, holding an imaginary microphone up to her, “How does HE feel about YOU?”
“Well I don’t know that answer seeing as he’s you,” Y/N snaps back immediately, her cheeks red at his question.
And within seconds she’s realized what she’s said. James’ mouth hangs open, Lewis’ eyes wide with shock, and nearly every face in the audience mirroring a similar look to that of the two of them.
Y/N loudly clears her throat, “So uh, yeah how about ‘Lost,’ let’s talk about that.”
“Of course,” James says recovering quickly. “You two wrote the song together?”
“Y-yeah, we did,” Lewis mumbles, stealing a glance at Y/N beside him as he tries to focus on the question. “We’ve written together for years. One of the songs on her EP we actually wrote together. And we’ve definitely sang together before, we just never found the right song to actually record together until this one.”
The rest of the interview continues on as normally as it could after her outburst, but Y/N finds herself sinking further and further into her seat as it goes on. She lets Lewis answer most of the questions, but feels ashamed to look at him.
When finally the producer ends the segment, she’s up and out of her chair and sprinting to the back as she hears Lewis shout her name. Making a beeline for her dressing room, she makes it to the door hastily unlocking it and slips in. However, as she shuts it behind her it bounces back in her hands as she looks down to see a black and white Van stopping it from closing.
“Did you mean that? What you said?” Lewis demands as he peaks through the opening at Y/N. His face is bright red, and he’s obviously just as out of breath as she from her mad dash.
“I- I mean, I wasn’t going to…” she stumbles, having a hard time looking at him. “Yes,” she finally admits as she focus on his shoe stuck in the doorway.
“Please let me in,” he says softly as he leans into the door.
Backing away from the door and retreating to one of the chairs in the room, she just continues to stare at the floor. The sounds of him entering and closing the door behind him, then sitting on the stool beside her are the only sounds in the room.
“Almost gave me a heart attack, bolting away like that,” he finally comments. “When did you have fucking time to become an Olympic sprinter?”
A small chuckle leaves her as she glances up at his red face, and watches him run his fingers through his hair, “Running from my problems gave me enough practice.”
“Fair,” he responds with a smirk and rubs his palms on his jeans, as his own gaze drifts away from her.
“I understand if you’re mad,” she says after a few moments. “And I can understand if you want some time away from me after this, but you’re really important to me. I don’t want to lose our friendship, that’s why I’ve never said anything. I want to still be friends if you can… forget this or move past it.”
Lewis’ brow raises at her words and fidgeting in his seat, “I- that’s not what I want.”
His words sting, but it’s not like she didn’t expect them. Training her gaze back on the floor she sighs, “I understand. And I’m sorry. I know we have to finish up the hype for this song, but I’ll distance myself after that.”
“What the fuck, no!” He yells immediately, “That’s not what I meant at all, I, well I feel the same way.”
“You’re kidding me,” she states, her mouth agape as she searches his eyes for the joke. “You can’t be serious.”
“I am,” he says simply as he kicks at the floor. “When we were teenagers you never seemed interested in me in that way, then I was gone all the time for my career so we were never together. Then we were suddenly touring together, writing together, and I… I’d gotten close to bringing it up. Then you released ‘All You Never Say’.”
“Why did that stop you?”
He rolls his eyes at her question, “You released a song about how you’re madly in love with someone that you can’t tell them that you love them because it wouldn’t work out, they wouldn’t feel the same. All the while things between us staying exactly the same, and when I tried to press you for details on this guy, you completely shut down on me. Was I supposed to just say ‘well I understand that you love someone else, but have I got news for you’?”
“When you put it that way,” she nods with a sigh. “Never thought there was even a chance you felt the same way. I didn’t want to ruin our friendship by adding feelings you didn’t reciprocate. I wrote it when we started touring together, because all the feelings I’d had for you came back full force, and I had to write something to let it out. I didn’t think there was a chance it’d take off like that or that you’d see it that way.”
After a few moments of silence between the two, Lewis finally chuckles.
“What?”
“Here I’ve been sitting all salty that you’re singing about some guy that won’t love you back, hating whoever he is for making you feel that way and making it impossible for me to ever say anything. And this whole time, it’s fuckin been me,” he says with a grin, shaking his head. “Fuckin unreal.”
“Ironic,” she agrees with her own laugh, feeling lighter than she’s felt in years. Getting up from her chair, she walks over to stand in front of him.
He looks at her quizzically as she hesitantly gets closer, moving until she’s standing between his legs, nearly flush to the stool he’s sitting on, “There’s… nothing stopping us now right?”
“Good point,” he nearly whispers back, his breath tickling her face at the close proximity. “Are you going to do something about it?”
“Do you want me to?” she teases, leaning in ever closer, his face immediately tilting toward hers.
“Do it,” he urges, his hands going to her hips.
Her hands rest on the stool on either side of him as she presses her lips softly his, almost immediately pulling back with a grin.
He grunts in frustration as he pulls her as close as he can.
Leaning in she presses her lips to his once again feather light as his eyes drift shut. Instead of deepening the kiss, she opts to gently bite his bottom lip, holding it between her teeth and his eyes slowly drift back open.
This time a groan leaves him as she releases his lip, “You’re gonna kill me like this Y/N, I’ve wanted this for years.”
“I have too,” she whispers leaning in toward his ear, blowing on it gently as he shudders against her. “Don’t want to rush it though do we?”
“We do,” he mumbles as she chuckles in his ear.
Running her hands up his thighs, she leans back to look at his face once again, his eyes hooded as he watches her every move.
“Maybe that’s enough for now?” she teases, pretending to pull away.
Within seconds his lips are pressed to hers, a surprised gasp leaving her as she leans into him. His lips hungry and urgent against hers.
Her hands reach up to clutch the fabric of his shirt as she gives him control and his hands roam up her back.
His lips leave hers as she looks at him almost in a daze, a lazy smile on his face before he turns his attention to placing kisses up her exposed neck.
“Lewis,” she groans, leaning her head back for him.
Just as his hand goes to slip under her shirt, the door to the dressing room swings open, causing the two to attempt to jump apart. However, failing in that as they both crash to the floor falling off the stool in a tangled mess.
“Oh!” James exclaims backing up from the door before laughing. “I was just coming to check that everything was alright with the two of you, but it appears it’s more than ok.”
Y/N can feel her face flushing red as her and Lewis untangle themselves, “Y-yeah we’re good.”
“Are you sure neither of you need medical attention? That was quite the collapse to the floor,” he teases.
“Nope, we’re fine,” Lewis insists, climbing to his feet and offering a hand to pull Y/N up as well. “And nothing happened right?” he asks hopefully.
“You mean I can’t be the one to announce the new celebrity couple that became a couple on my show?” James continues to tease as Lewis’ face reaches a similar shade of red as Y/N.
“I- well,” he stumbles trying to figure out how to answer before settling just adjusting his shirt.
“I’m just teasing you two,” he finally says. “I’m glad this ended far better than what I was expecting to find back here. I’ll leave you two lovebirds be.” He slips out of the room quickly, pulling the door shut behind him.
As the door shuts, both Lewis and Y/N exhale in relief, immediately glancing toward one another at the sound, and a fit of laughter taking over both of them.
“It only took us about eight years, two record label deals, a worldwide tour, several songs written together, and a fuck up on live television for us to admit we’ve liked each other since we were 16. I’d call that a massive success,” Lewis grins as he pulls her in close to him again.
“Oh is that all?” she says shaking her head, “Couldn’t have gone smoother.”
“So… food?” he suggests, draping his arm across her shoulders. “There’s no use hiding it when you told the world already.”
“Good point,” she muses leaning into his side. “Pizza?”
“You read my mind.”
-----------
Song mentioned as being theirs are ‘All You Never Say’ by Birdy, and ‘lost’ by Loote. Chose those since the vibe of the lyrics fit the type of song I was looking for with this :)
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Masterlist
Request List
#lewis capaldi#lewis capaldi x reader#celebrity imagines#fanfiction#divinely uninspired to a hellish extent#someone you loved
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Jocks and Goths
Fandom: Sanders Sides, Highschool au
Pairing: Intruality
Characters: Thomas, Logan, Remus, Deceit, Roman, Virgil, Patton
Notes: Day 17 for @tsshipmonth2020 - intruality. No this was not written before Dukceit day, I’ve literally written this since posting that. Sometimes fics take three weeks and sometimes they take two hours. This took two hours.
Summary: One's a Goth, one's a Jock. They never really meant to become friends.
AO3
--
Even since moving to Sides High, Patton has successfully managed to avoid Remus Duke. It wasn’t that he didn’t like the guy, although he did find a lot of what Remus said to be… unnerving. And the other did have really large, very toned, mildly terrifying muscles. Plus everything he did was loud enough Patton sometimes flinched.
But! It wasn’t that Patton thought he was bad or anything!! It’s not bad that Remus is healthy, and it’s not Remus’ fault that Patton overhears things, and maybe Remus’ doesn’t mean to be so loud. Patton has nothing against the man himself.
Virgil, however, does.
Patton’s not sure what happened between Virgil and Remus, because it happened before Patton transferred to the school. He’s pretty sure it had something to do with a romantic relationship? Whatever it was, it left the two with a horrible, terrible relationship. They don’t get on, at all. And since Patton is Virgil’s friend (since Virgil is Patton’s first and only friend) doesn’t that mean Patton has to share that grudge? Virgil’s never said Patton can’t be friends with Remus, they’ve never even talked about Remus, but Patton’s pretty sure that’s like… a Friend Rule, or something.
The point is, Patton has managed never to say a word to Remus one way or the other. A carefully held record that’s ruined when they’re paired up for a history assignment.
Okay, Patton tells himself, this’ll be fine. It’s just an assignment, surely Virgil won’t mind. Right?
“Patton Heart, right?” Remus says his name and it takes everything in Patton not to flinch.
“That’s um, that’s me.” He mumbles, letting his pastel blue hair fall in his eyes as he avoids looking at Remus.
“Great.” Remus grins, dragging a seat to Patton’s desk and sitting in it the wrong way round. “You got your heart set on anything for this because I think we should do Bloody Mary, or maybe Genghis Khan, oh! Or Vlad the Impaler!”
“That sounds a bit… graphic.” Patton says. For their project they have to represent a historical figure and the impact they had on the world from a ‘unique’ angle (Virgil would probably complain about how vague the word ‘unique’ was, or maybe he’d complain that Patton has to work with Remus for the project. Should Patton even tell him?)
“Yeah!” Remus grins, like that’s a positive thing.
“Can we do someone that didn’t cause so much bloodshed?” Patton asks.
“I mean, I guess. If you can think of anyone more interesting.” Remus says, sighing like it’s some big request.
“I, um, I can’t think of anyone off the top of my head.” Patton admits, wincing. Remus lets out an exaggerated hum.
“Okay, meet me in the library after school. We can try and find someone.” He suggests.
“Okay.” Patton agrees meekly. Satisfied, Remus gets up from the chair and moves to a different group. A group that has popular people with tone muscles and busy lives.
God, Patton thinks with a sigh, this is going to be a long project. Any project with a jock was doomed to be long.
--
“You want to get ice-cream or something?” Virgil asks Patton after school that day. Rare is the day Virgil doesn’t have some show rehearsal to get to - lights to set up, props to organize, actors to chase down. The life of a theatre geek is never boring, he often tells Patton, especially a theatre techie.
Which just makes Patton feel all the worse for having to say no.
“I’m sorry.” He says. “I have to work on a group project for history.”
“Who’d you get stuck with?” Virgil asks. Patton hesitates but he can’t exactly lie to Virgil, can he? Just hope that Virgil doesn’t get annoyed.
“...Remus.” He admits.
“Ouch.” Virgil says with a wince. “Good luck keeping him on track for long enough to finish a project.”
“We have to pick a historical figure and everyone he’s suggesting is really gory and brutal.” Patton says, feeling physical relief that Virgil doesn't seem to care.
“Sounds like Remus.” Virgil huffs, rolling with his eyes. “Maybe pick a doctor, that should have enough blood and gore to keep him interested.”
“Oh!” Patton lights up as an idea comes to him. “Mary Seacole! Virgil, you’re the best.”
“I try.” Virgil grins.
--
Remus likes the idea of doing the unrated nurse from the crimean war and so they quickly get to work.
And they quickly get distracted from work, too, because it seems impossible for Remus to keep his mind on any one thing. At first it’s… well, Patton doesn’t like it. He just wants to get this project done and over with.
But then Remus wears him down.
“I’m just saying, names influence who we are in like. I mean, just look at Ms Maricolt! She looks like a horse!” Remus says at some point near the end of the second day and Patton really, really doesn’t mean to laugh because it’s Remus and the joke is a little mean. But it’s also a pun, and Patton has a soft spot for puns.
“That’s mean.” He says once he’s collected himself, if only out of principle.
“But it got you to laugh!” Remus grins. “And to look at me.” He adds.
Oh, Patton realizes as he quickly looks away again. He hadn’t noticed he hadn’t looked at Remus.
“Aw, no, don’t look away again I like your eyes! They’re really eye-inspiring.” The pun is bad, really bad, but Patton still chuckles.
“That was terrible.” He complains.
“Are you remus-manding.” Remus continues, grinning.
“Oh my gosh.” Patton laughs. “They’re getting worse!”
“Aw, don’t be like that. I think I’m Patt-on the right direction.” Remus says.
“I Seacole what you’re doing here, it’s bad.” Patton returns, laughing at Remus’ gasp.
“Oh it is on goth-boy.” He decides. They don’t do any more studying that day, distracted by their pun-off.
--
“So are we meeting up again tomorrow?” Patton asks the next day as they back up.
“Can’t do tomorrow, I’ve got training.” Remus shakes his head.
“Oh, right.” Patton says.
“You could come if you want.” Remus suggests.
“I don’t think that’s really my crowd.” Patton mumbles. He can just picture it now, Patton sitting in his black attire, the only colour his blue hair, while the popular kids are right there. Definitely within name calling distance.
Nevermind what Virgil would think. God, Patton doesn’t even want to imagine how bad his best friend would be.
“You’ll fit in just fine!” Remus claims. “Or, maybe not. But I’ll make sure everyone leaves you alone.”
“I think Virgil and I were heading out anyway.” Patton says and then immediately regrets it as a frown takes over Remus’ face. Like he’s tasted a lemon or something else unpleasant. Oh no, now Remus was going to hate him. Maybe he’ll tell Virgil he and Patton were almost-friends and then Virgil will hate him too and Patton will go back to being the friendless loser all over again.
“Sorry.” Remus’ voice cuts through his panic, making Patton look up.
“Huh?” Patton frowns, confused.
“You looked like you were freaking out a bit.” Remus says. “I didn’t mean to stress you out. Virgil and I just don’t get on. Bad breakup and all that, but that’s on us not you.”
“Oh.” Patton says, though he can’t say anything Remus just said commuted just now.
“Hey! Pass me your phone, I’ll put my number in so we can study on the weekend.” Remus decides, changing the subject before Patton can catch up. Patton does what he’s told and soon he has a new number in his phone labeled ‘Hot Jock’. “Alright, I’ll see you then.”
“Okay.” Patton says. “Um, bye.”
--
The project lasts two weeks and in those two weeks Patton and Remus chat. A lot. They talk during their study sessions, they text each other all the time, Remus even gives him a wave when they pass each other in the hall.
It’s official, they aren’t ‘almost friends’ they’re friends. In fact Patton… Patton will admit that he might want to be more than that.
Which means Virgil’s definitely going to hate him.
The thought bubbles in his stomach the day after they hand in the assignment. When Patton has no more excuse for messaging Remus, and yet he doesn’t stop. How is he meant to explain that to Virgil?
Worse yet are the messages he gets that night, when they should both be asleep.
Want to go out this weekend?
On a date
A romantic date
Patton’s half way through answering ‘yes’ when he stops.
He can’t say yes. Isn’t there some kind of code against dating exes? Patton can’t say yes.
Except he super wants to. Very, very wants to.
Maybe, he thinks, maybe he should ask Virgil first. Then there’ll be no bad blood, right?
Patton hopes so.
As for the message to Remus, he doesn’t answer.
--
Virgil and Patton always walk to school together. They’ve just hit their school’s street when Virgil sighs and stops.
“Okay.” He says. “What’s wrong?”
“What’s wrong?” Patton squeaks. “Nothings wrong!”
“Patton, I know you better than that.” Virgil rolls his eyes, crossing his arms. “Just tell me what’s up.”
“Well…” Patton starts slowly then, with a deep breath, he tries to say it all at once. “You know how Remus and I were doing that project? Well we sort of maybe got along and we’re kind of maybe friends, and he asked me out last night. Like out, out. And I want to say yes but I know you don’t like him and I don’t want to lose you as a friend, so can I say yes?”
For a moment Virgil just blinks at him, brain trying to commute the word vomit Patton just unleashed.
“Okay,” he finally starts, “let me get this right. You and Remus are friends, and he asked you out on a date, and you want to say yes but only if I’m okay with it because you don’t want me to be mad you’re dating him?” He rephrases. Patton nods. “Patton, of course you can say yes.”
“You don’t mind?” Patton checks.
“Not at all. If you like him, go for it. We’ll still be friends, I promise.” Virgil says and Patton feels his shoulders slump a little.
“But didn’t you two date? Won’t it be weird?” He asks.
“What?!” Virgil frowns. “Remus and I never dated!”
“What?” Patton frowns right back. Hadn’t Remus said something about a ‘bad breakup’ the other day?
“We used to be friends, us and Dante. I dated Dante, and when we broke up the friend joke kind of fell apart.” Virgil explains.
“Dante?” Patton repeats. “The school captain? I didn’t think he was your type.”
“He’s not.” Virgil confirms. “I just found that out the hard way.”
“Oh, so you haven’t dated Remus and you really don’t mind if I do?” Patton repeats, just to clarify.
“Patton, even if you dated Dante I’d still be your friend.” Virgil assures. “The important thing is that you're happy.” Patton doesn’t mean to start crying but well, it’s just so nice to hear that. Especially after the stress of the past couple weeks. “There, there. You’ll wreck your make-up.” Virgil says, even as he pulls Patton in for a hug.
As soon as Patton’s reapplied, he tells Remus he’d love to go on a date.
--
They go ice-skating. Patton’s a little nervous, because he’s never gone before, but Remus goes all the time so he’s happy to teach.
“Patton, I’m wearing knife shoes. This is literally my favourite thing. Except you.” Remus says, grinning when Patton’s face goes bright red. They exhaust themselves over the next few hours, skating together and just… enjoying their time. It’s the most fun Patton’s had in a while.
And when it’s over, and Remus has walked him home, he gets a soft kiss (that quickly turns heavy) to remember it by.
#tsshipmonth2020#sandersides#sanders sides#writing#thomas sanders#ts#intruality#remus#remus sanders#dark creativity sanders#patton#patton sanders#morality sanders#goth patton#jock remus#because i like that#virgil#virgil sanders#anxiety sanders#theatre techie virgil#anxious and insecure patton#because i like those too#did i fool anyone into thinking patton was the jock and remus the goth?#cause i hope i fooled some peeps#now time to pass out before the headache comes back
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