#BUT ITS STILL IN THERE. I will obliterate him before he even reaches 2+2 | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

darkpoisonouslove · 6 months ago

Text

Fallen Love Chapter 2

Chapter summary: Griffin and Valtor bait each other to see who will snap first after their long separation. Well... I managed to post this before we hit the actual anniversary of posting the previous chapter so we're going to count that as a success because I said so (for the sake of my sanity). This chapter is more than twice as long as the previous one as compensation. There is actual sex happening, pinkie promise. You just gotta read far enough down to find it. The dialogue references the flashback in the previous chapter so I recommend refreshing your memory on that if you haven't. Chapter 1 Read on FFN | AO3

Her armor collapsed, shattered in her feet.

---

She fought him time and time again to be cornered, pressed into a wall, the floor, caged between his body and a force field that would incinerate her. Spells charged twice as fast in her palms, incantations had dripped off her tongue like the words were all innate to her. Her magic responded eagerly, making no difference between a fight for the fate of the universe and a sparring that she’d end pinned underneath him – sometimes to his bed, sometimes to the nearest available surface. She’d reel for hours, days, tossed between the past and the present, between the memories of satisfaction she could still taste and the biting hunger eroding her from inside every time it rekindled.

The tangle of their magic was an inevitability, a double-edged sword, a necessity against being unarmed. Physical contact was, instead, a weakness admitted, an itch scabbing over with time but driving to madness when scratched.

Touch was dangerous, intimate, even when violent. The precision with which they stalked each other left nothing to accident. Every attack was calculated, every hit – measured. Griffin’s fingers circling his wrist and Valtor’s threading through her hair were fruits of naked vulnerability. They were confessions – of her need to touch his bare skin and his craving for the expected sound falling from her lips.

Her eyes skirted his mouth dozens of times, her heart bursting in her chest, the force of it seemingly enough to close the gap between them. Yet, she never did.

She’d like to say it was decency holding her back from going off to make out with the enemy, with her enemy. The truth was she would betray anyone, most of all herself, if she could be sure he’d meet her halfway instead of letting her heart plunge from her mouth into the open air with nothing to stop its momentum. Her madness was a small price to pay to taste him again – his wrath and the fire on his breath.

She’d have to go to him for another one, wouldn’t be satisfied with her own magic, her own touch and only the weight of his gaze, roaming over her body, always. She could never recreate anything like a kiss, could only imagine his lips in full detail–more familiar than her own–and evoke the faint taste of burned sugar and dry wine to never get it quite right, the potency of the memory only adding salt to the wound that would never heal, would smart more each time they picked it open raw. A wound she’d beg him to reopen if he let her take a breath, if he let her speak his name instead of firing blast after devastating blast at her to keep her dancing around him in a rhythm of his choosing.

He never kissed her once, would lean in close, lips less than an inch away, and spit out the vilest of threats against her and anyone to whom she dared to devote any of her time.

She wanted it more than he did.

She must have if he’d successfully turned it against her.

---

His kiss burned, blazed through her like a wildfire stealing her oxygen, her lungs bursting, drowned in his power. Her ribcage would crumble under the piercing pressure of it and let him reach inside and clasp her heart in his hand. He could as well have obliterated the solid ground underneath her feet.

She’d only ever needed her armor for the space between them, for the divide that made his victory her loss and her victory – unthinkable as much as it was a necessity. All enjoyment she could have found in winning had been locked behind his teeth, kept from her like his lips, his kiss. She’d only had her Pyrrhic victories and the knowledge that he was robbed of that much, without her. Often not even that, without him.

She dug desperate fingers into his lapels, keeping him impossibly close so that she, too, was wrapped in his coat, soaked in his magic and body heat. His warmth was a pull on her flesh, on her pulse echoing through her body like approaching thunder. His scent snaked around her – an agonizing tingle in the back of her mind, a phantom stroke down her spine putting to shame her own memory of it.

Valtor pushed against her, bending her body backwards to create the illusion of forcing her to yield ground. He was unrelenting – like he wanted to make the entire planet tremble before their passion, putting enough force into the kiss to move mountains and oceans and leave an indelible mark of their joint presence. Their teeth collided, the vibration echoing in Griffin’s bones painfully as if to force her away from him.

His growl sparked recognition in her core. He was a predator she’d cornered, locked in a battle, and pulling away was not an option. It would look too much like retreat even if it got her to chase his lips, even if staying in her range exposed his eagerness, his own desperation. He would’ve pinned her down in the snow if that wouldn’t take away his guarantee that the shivers rocking her body closer into his were entirely his doing.

The moans and whimpers starting in the back of her throat he devoured before they’d even fully formed. As if he couldn’t have found her anywhere, hadn’t even had to look. She’d stalked him across the universe when his pursuit of her had taken a backseat to any other objective, when he’d dared focus on magic that was not her.

Reaching to hook her arms around his neck, she had to suppress the sharp, pained whimper stabbing through her throat. It wasn’t too hard to drown it out in the rest of the downpour from her lips but she had to succumb to the injury to her upper arm. It had faded to the background in the heat of battle only to make itself known again with throbbing pangs of hot pain through the full length of the limb. She was forced to drop it back by her side.

Valtor grabbed her wrist like he wanted possession of it and pinned it against his own chest. His free hand cradled her head, brushing her hair out of her face. It was all a tangled mess from the violent winds they’d been exposed to, no evidence left of the braid she’d secured it into before heading into battle. His fingers now sifted through it with ease to weave him there, into her being. It was both mercy and punishment for the crime of leaving him. He wasn’t close enough yet. There was still room inside her, an emptiness that only he could fill.

Her want came in cutting shards, all coalescing into a furious, crippling rush of magic hollowing out her bones when it couldn’t spill fast enough through her skin. It pooled behind her eyes, into the hollow of her throat, the valley between her breasts, her lower belly – everywhere. Burrowed in every cell to reach him from there when his hot breath seeped inside her every fiber like a claim to her soul.

The smirk curling against her lips only hooked her further. She fisted her hand in his hair for leverage, her grip vicious and tousling the perfectly coiffed blond strands with no regard. His pained groan was stifled, ground between their lips to fine dust sticking to the back of her throat, almost choking her. She only clung harder to him and drew him further into her kiss – an encouragement to the arm wrapping her waist to drag her flush against him.

She had not been shy about seeking him out in her own mind, had built there a sanctuary of his fading fingerprints on her body and soul. Now she couldn’t remember why.

She could not remember why anything else had been allowed to exist, why he hadn’t spent every waking moment kissing her like this, why she hadn’t done the necessary to provoke this out of him before.

Valtor was of the same opinion. He held her so close that every movement of their chests engraved their shape into the other. They had always been one in mind and magic. To become one in flesh as well would be the only sane course of action, yet she fought him. Giving the impression that she could succeed in bringing a single shred of space between them only made him crush her to him – hands digging into her hips and teeth – into her lips. He wouldn’t let oxygen itself touch her. She was all his.

Her magic tore through the air, stealing from it the breaths that would have otherwise broken them apart. It lured the rushing torrent of his power, too, into her lungs as if she could live on it when he took her air for himself.

Shock pierced to her core instead of the death-like grip of the silenced blizzard around them. Neither wind, nor mist touched her skin. The blinding whiteness behind her eyelids was gone, replaced by a soft, warm orange-yellow glow. The stone wall against her back was bathed in the heat of a fireplace.

His teleportation spell hadn’t registered, nor the space flashing past them, rearranging itself to avoid the death sentence an interruption of their kiss would become. If there’d been a battle left to fight, he would’ve killed her. Not for a desire to do so–although she had seen it sneak into his eyes at times–but because of her own inability to keep up with the surroundings. Opening her eyes wouldn’t have made a difference without the capability to look around, to focus on anything that wasn’t him.

Valtor’s laughter flooded her mouth, startling.

She was forced to retreat, gulp it down between ragged breaths to avoid drowning in the forgotten taste of it. Her skin tingled from his roaming touch, his palm trailing down her spine and his nails in the back of her thigh. Her eyes opened to a sight she’d dreaded and craved, a sight seared in her mind from the first time she’d met him.

He was luminous with triumph, the glow surrounding him half magic, half pride. The only imperfection in his appearance–his mussed hair where she was clutching it–faded to the background, pushed out of focus by his unyielding poise. His breathing wasn't even ragged. Next to him she had to look feral, half mad with longing and impatience.

His laughter reverberated through her chest when Griffin dived in to seal his lips with hers, swallow the exhilaration and power he was unboundedly spilling. The ugly, discordant sound of her nails clawing in his coat was a pale imitation of the magic buzzing like a nest of angry hornets behind her sternum. If it were up to it, there would have been no trace left of the maroon fabric. All of it would have vanished, disintegrated, in one fell swoop instead of twisting around his arms like a snake and enveloping him – a second skin forcing her to struggle with it for the dissatisfaction of simply hearing it hit the floor.

Valtor was always a step ahead. His cool fingers trailed her arm to soothe the bruises where the Coven’s weapons had been too strong for her armor. His magic streamed through the tender flesh to heal it but the effect rippled further. Her shoulders sagged, her body collapsing against his when the tension keeping her strung-up evaporated.

She had forgotten there was another side to his power. Only the taste of his volatile spells that singed and curdled the breath in her lungs lay heavy and bitter like ash on her tongue, prickled her nose and eyes like acrid smoke. But his Flame caressed her skin from inside now like sun rays, light and warmth infusing her flesh to repair all damage. She moaned into his mouth, appreciation and greed tangled into the sound.

Valtor felt generous enough to reward her for it. His fingertips mapped out a path for the magic – all the way to another hidden bruise at her shoulder blade. He’d gleaned its existence from her movements alone.

A gasp broke her away from his lips. Her eyes snapped open to find his locked on them. There was a hair’s breadth of space separating them and it hurt worse than the brute force of a spell-charged body plowing into her but he wasn’t in a hurry to remedy that.

Instead, his thumb brushed over her lips to erase even the cracks the cold had carved into them. A single blemish left on her was yet another reminder that she’d left his side.

His fingers lowered to her neck. The two thin incisions there, almost atop one another, were even harder to distinguish without a breath moving her throat. His spell, digging into her tender flesh to cut off her incantation, had mimicked the sharpness of his teeth almost perfectly. She’d only found it in herself to mind when a stray attack from one of Belladonna’s descendants had followed suit, drawn to the preexisting weak spot he’d left in his wake. She’d still kept the scars–both of them due to their proximity–which had later proven a brilliant machination to rile him up.

There was no sense in trying to hide her gulps, the little hitches in her breathing when her irritated flesh burned and tickled, weaving together again.

Valtor’s breath swiped over it like a gentle breeze before his teeth grazed over the remaining scar, digging into her just-healed skin only so much as to etch the shape of his bite there. Where he’d usually use his mark to lay claim to someone’s entire being, it wouldn’t be a simple waste with her but rather an insult to both of them. He’d learned her–body and soul–by heart.

His voice was hushed against the shell of her ear, traveling more through her flesh rather than through the air as if the secret he was sharing was too sacred to exist outside the confines of their beings, “I will hunt down every single one of them that dared to leave a mark on you.”

His words were slow, measured, so that he’d have time to savor each one and she could do the same without failing to imagine the way his tongue was shaping them or how it would feel if it were between her legs as it did so.

“I will make them wish they’d had the fortune to die by your hand. I will make them curse your name and regret ever laying eyes on you.”

Griffin’s hands balled into fists against his abs. The accusation was on her lips but the brush of his fingers against the scar at the side of her ribcage demolished it into sand.

His gentle strokes were as much a warning as they were a mockery. Just the contact of his spell-charged skin rattled her ribs, the scar already smarting when the hex in its core was less a dormant volcano waiting to erupt again and more a live wire she’d had to learn to tiptoe around.

She forced a breath out and lifted her eyes to meet his. Pushing back into the wall to brace herself against a single spark leaking from his fingertips would be as useless as all the spells she’d had at her fingertips to heal herself. The hex had interwoven itself so seamlessly with her own magic that it was just another thread of it. To pull it out, she’d have to unravel herself completely.

Her skin itched – with the power pooling under the surface, all of it bleeding viciously as if to drown her as well if it would get a stab at him. To pay him back for all the times a little, nothing spell that otherwise wouldn’t have given her pause had torn through her chest like lightning. Without fail it had turned her ribs into white-hot knives and she’d staggered with her lungs paralyzed in the trap of that cage. Her vision had swum every time, her armor crushing her to the ground, breathing rendered impossible without the assistance of her magic.

Griffin forced her chest to expand despite the bruising pressure that his touch was upon it. “Are you implying you didn’t enjoy all the second-hand accounts of my blight?”

He’d plucked spells and artifacts from her fingers, allowing her to retrieve them just to toy with her, for the sake of stealing them from her. He’d turned around and given them to his mothers’ descendants for the very purpose of using them on her. To deter her from laying down her life to protect her allies if he weren’t there as the sole point of her focus, the only thing she saw.

Valtor’s gaze remained unmoved, like ice trailing along her skin to chill her rather than soothe the burn of foreign, invasive magic in her flesh. “Why don’t you drop the pretense, Griffin? That humble act doesn’t suit you at all.”

Something shuddered in her chest at all the promise of violence he could imbue into her name. He could follow through on it without moving a muscle, without a single word uttered. Outside the distractions of strategy he could have his fill of her suffering, gorge himself on it to make up for the waste it had been on his underlings.

She stayed her lungs, anticipation prickling at her stomach and ribs.

The buzz that jolted her body was instead the warmth of his skin on hers. His free hand found one of hers, raised it to his mouth.

His lips teased her knuckles with the shapes of his words. “What would have impaired anyone’s ability in battle, you turned into an advantage. Spells as old as magic itself and imbued with more power than all the Ancestresses’ descendants could summon together hardly fazed you for longer than a moment.”

The blinding pain racing from her chest through her every nerve-ending and cell had stretched seconds into small eternities, each one driving her to question her own actions, her every decision that had led her to this. Only the knowledge that that had been his intention had helped her find her footing again.

“You were practically invincible – untouchable for all the spells they hurled at you. Weapons hardly ever posed a challenge to you anyway.” Valtor pressed a kiss to the back of her hand as if to seal the truth of his little speech in her flesh. “It was your opponents that were left to struggle against you.”

“Then why sacrifice one of your most powerful witches to a doomed cause?”

As dismissive as he was of his underlings, she could never accuse him of being wasteful. Yet, after their confrontation the witch had disappeared from the Coven’s ranks and the face of the Magic Dimension, taking away with her the only cure for Griffin’s condition.

Her gaze leaped to Valtor’s face when his hand dropped from hers. It was instinct trying to protect her from the violence she was sure to find carved into his features.

He was drinking her in with his eyes, devouring the little tremble of her parted lips and the flush scorching her neck. His gaze only turned more bottomless with every flutter of her lashes as she stared at him, unblinking – lest she missed any of his unabashed, merciless hunger.

“Do you know what I did to her?” the deliberately revealed edge of excitement–sadism–to his voice had her shivering like the magical blizzard they’d left behind hadn’t managed even for a second.

Anyone that’d crossed his path, had learned not to look at her wrong, not to even breathe too close to her. The only alternative was death.

Several Coven members had fallen into battle – whether stricken down by their own partner or being left to fend for themselves against enemies. The rest had learned how little trust and loyalty meant next to receiving scraps of his attention. He’d had them killing each other for her until the very act of whispering in itself had been giving them nightmares and her name had started rolling off their tongues like a prayer.

A burst of magic electrified the air, prickled against her skin harmlessly. Her ribcage expanded effortlessly without the weight of his touch on it so that she could focus on the newly conjured object in his hand rather than on her excited heartbeat.

The transparent crystal was small enough that it could easily be overlooked in his palm if not for the lump of dark red in its middle – like bloodied tissue. Perfectly heart-like and pulsing, it was still striving to pump the body it belonged to full of life and magic alike through the miniature veins extending from it in all directions. Its quiet thumping against its crystal confines was audible in the silences between the crackling of the fireplace.

Griffin reached for it, holding her breath. The flooding relief of letting herself inhale again would sweep away the disappointment of having it yanked out of her reach.

Valtor let her run her fingertips over it, feel its beating for herself. The charge of magic under her skin started pulsing, too, in recognition, rattling her ribs. When she grabbed at him, his hand closed around hers – welcoming and greedy, triumphant.

The crystal was white-hot between their palms, bursting with too much power crushed inside it. Compressing and configuring someone’s magical body into a charm required uninterrupted effort and monstrous concentration. A person’s essence resisted attempts on its wholeness just as well as it would scatter into a million little wisps to escape confinement. Valtor himself would have needed days to channel all that magic, without rest, without a single thought spared on anything that hadn’t been her.

Gratefulness was hard to come by in the current circumstances but she would definitely kiss him until he was the one out of breath for a change. Just as soon as he fixed his mess.

Valtor splayed his palm under her ribcage to steady her against the wall. He caught her eye and she nodded her encouragement, fingers around his wrist to make his actions hers as well, to bind them together in this act of healing.

Exhaling pushed her chest against the crystal’s sharp edges until it sank right between her ribs. Agonized groans spilled from behind her clenched jaws when her teeth would have severed her tongue clean in half to hold them in. Valtor had to pry her hand away to stop its shaking from driving the crystal further into her flesh.

Her heart only settled a little when he intertwined their fingers. She was the one kissing his knuckles now, focused on how solid they were under her lips, in front of her eyes. The pain would grow larger than life in the endless space behind her eyelids so she focused her gaze on his flawless, pale skin to keep the burn confined to the wound in her chest. The pulsing jolts of static flaring through her nerves were easier to ignore–even to welcome–if she imagined they were offshoots of his power.

The hex tore through the scar tissue that had closed around it. It was like a lightning shooting through her brain only for resounding silence to follow rather than the expected thunder. The charge was magnetized, drawn back to its parent magic and reabsorbed into it.

Her blood didn’t have the chance to spill once Valtor extracted the crystal. He covered the gaping wound, his skin coated more with the force of his intent rather than the healing incantation he was murmuring. It stretched her flesh, pulling it together until it threaded back into one whole again and she could breathe without any pain.

Valtor raised the crystal where she could see it. The heart inside it drummed in excitement loud enough to be heard even through her gasping for air. With the last fraction of its power restored, it could fuel countless spells, serve as an amplifier of one’s own abilities, even negate the need for a partner.

Valtor carelessly tossed it into the fireplace, paying no mind to the shock wave bursting from there along with the tongue-like flames reaching to devour the room, too, before the magic fueling them burned out.

She could let herself be flattered, leave herself to the arousal of being worshiped in blood–like a goddess–if it wouldn’t be the end of her. The sheen of sweat covering her skin she could blame on the healing process and the fire but the weakness in her knees and the throbbing in her pussy were only growing more potent. He’d wasted enough time on something as irrelevant as the Coven.

She reached for his vest, unsteady hands feeling up the way to the clasps. The metal yielded instantaneously, practically breaking under her touch. It would have easily melted in the whirl of swift, sizzling spells that he’d known he’d be walking into. It was too frail to be anything but another mockery.

Battles between them had been more frantic–lethal–during the last months, with more blood shed and more scars left that time and magic couldn’t erase. Enchanted armor had become daily wear, a habit even he had adopted. He had changed before he’d come to find her, when the threat had been neutralized, and it hadn’t been enough. He had to twist the knife further, make a show of how untouchable he was to her magic and any desire she kindled inside him. He could afford to help her when she wasn’t in the state of mind to make use of either.

Her fingers curled, hooked themselves into the silk of his shirt and phased right through it. Her nails carved flaming scratches into the skin underneath, revealed further by the fraying fabric. Strips of it shed off his torso and withered into nothing mid fall. The raining buttons never hit the floor, instead dissolved into the waves of her magic splashing against the walls to turn the room into a restless ocean. Ripples ran through it as she soaked up the firmness of his muscles, the heat of his flesh under her palms.

She had assumed he’d heal the angry red lines she’d left in her wake. Instead, his power lodged itself low at the side of her abdomen, burrowed into the scar tissue there to stitch the old wound anew until there was no trace left of it save for the strangled grunt that escaped her.

It had been a deep but not fatal injury. The sorceress she’d faced in a confrontation entirely removed from the Coven had breached her armor and had paid for her overzealousness with a life sentence. Griffin had kept the scar as a reminder that a world existed outside the next battle with Valtor.

Between one breath and the next it was gone. Her fingers only brushed soft, smooth skin. Too smooth – to the point of dissuading touch when it would only slip off as if she were a cold, porcelain doll or a golden trophy to immortalize his victory.

The lazy strokes to her shoulder were a calculated distraction. Valtor’s grin told her that much – there was nothing gentle or absentminded in it, only a predatory triumph that exacerbated her craving for his teeth deep in her throat or her tender breasts. Anything that would mark his downfall in her flesh so he’d have to remember every time he looked at her – he was just as much a slave to desire, just as dependent on getting his fix of her.

His vest bunched up and twisted in her fists as if it were a living being, the metal clasps etching their shapes into her palms into new battle scars. She only had the strength in her fingers–in her arms–to cling to it, the fabric stretching grotesquely, tearing under her nails to leave her stomach plunging in her heels. She’d been hanging by the thread around her neck for years now, waiting for the final, damning snap, for the inevitability of the drop that would shatter her in a million bits.

Her fingertips sank into hot flesh and the sizzling magic spilling from underneath. It scalded her skin as unceremoniously as it’d stripped him of his vest. The burn, the sting of thousands of needles prickling to the marrow, was familiar, yet her eyes watered, making a blur of his face and robbing her of all pretense that this was a ploy of hers, a strategy to lure him under her spell again and steer him as she pleased.

His arms around her, his hips pinning hers to the wall and his cock, hard enough to bruise, against her were the only thing keeping her breathing to a steady rhythm, allowing her chest to move at all. Relief flooded in with every inhale of air, lightly redolent of smoke and trembling with his power even deep in her lungs. It was the only thing left in her ribcage – for once she didn’t have to reach inside herself and work a miracle, pull out strength she didn’t have to resist him. Yielding was acceptable – to both of them, would appease him enough to give her something in return for everything she was allowing him to take.

Valtor’s fingers circled her wrists, squeezed painfully to cut the thought off at the root. Any impulse to twist free was severed, too – less so by his tightening grip and more by his voice.

He leaned in and chuckled, had the audacity to gloat even now.

Her head fell back against the wall as she forced herself to breathe through it, chest heaving, putting on a show for him he was only too happy to ignore.

His words were pointed like daggers against her tender throat, “Allow yourself to savor the moment, Griffin.”

He guided her palm over her own body to caress and cup her breast, expertly silencing her in the process. The contrast of his heated hand on hers and her cool fingers on her own flesh pulled on her mind and shaped her voice into a moan.

Her lungs filled with his breath falling directly into her mouth. All she had to do was lift herself on her tiptoes to kiss him. A masterful deception if she ever saw one – obvious as day but too tempting for that to make a difference.

She had already bridged the distance between them, another meager inch all that separated her from tasting his lips, when Valtor retrieved their hands from her breast.

Robbed of her momentum, she crashed back into the hard wall behind her.

His intention wasn’t to hide his grin behind her fingertips but rather the opposite. Despite the fleeting touch to her skin, his smugness soaked right into it–to the depths of her mind–before he rested her hand against the slope of his neck, her thumb pressing into his throat.

“If I recall correctly,” Valtor’s palm splayed at the small of her back, “it was your suggestion that I should relish my victory with abandon lest someone question it.”

If she had any strength left, she could choke him.

His throat moved with a steady flow of oxygen – a grand statement on the threat she currently posed to him while she was frantically gulping, fighting to weather the heat wave spreading through her body from the generous contact of their flesh.

Instinct itself failed her as she struggled to grab at him and hold on for dear life. Her clenched fist could hardly find purchase against his shoulder as his hand traveled upwards, inching over the familiar curve of her back, arched into him. His pace was agonizing and mesmerizing in equal measure – like he wasn’t starved and instead had all the time in the world just to explore her body, to savor her when simply laying a hand on him ached, bruised her mind with the lack of more, with all of him that she wasn’t touching.

Valtor leveled with her, face so close she could drown in his eyes if they were more like a sea rather than two untouched icebergs in the middle of his being, “I’d be loath to tarnish my reputation and lead to another accusation of deception from you, dearest.”

Her hips stuttered in tact with her fluttering heart.

His hand slipped over her side and to her front, between her breasts – as if to lay claim to every little movement of her chest.

It should have given her pause – the possibility that the pet name may have been a calculated provocation. The very sound of it after he’d avoided it religiously since her departure–as if it were the most humiliating of confessions–left her clinging to him, arms around his neck in a feeble attempt to draw him closer. His efforts were focused elsewhere leaving it glaringly obvious that the only thing stopping her from tugging him down to her awaiting mouth–with her weight if not with her lacking strength or magic–was her own weakness, her own mindlessness.

The trail of his breath continued down her neck, between her clavicles and to her breasts, tickling the oversensitive skin to compensate for the absence of his touch. His hand dropped from her ribcage to her hips instead to still them. It was the only thing keeping her pinned against the wall when his thigh parted hers.

She would’ve collapsed right down on it, the heaviness in her limbs the perfect excuse to sneak some friction on her already throbbing clit if he didn’t know her to her core.

“I fully intend to make use of your advice, Griffin,” his mockery wrapped around her throat like a python to squeeze all her desperation out in the open for him to feast on, “and revel in all the small joys to be found in the situation.”

His lips barely closed around her nipple, their presence too faint to sever her voice as ruthlessly as it did. Her whine at his perceived bid at freeing himself from her arms remained trapped inside her mouth to frustrate them both.

Valtor’s teeth dug into her vulnerable flesh to drag it out of her. His single-minded pursuit left no room for resistance, yet he got only mangled moans that barely vibrated through her throat.

“And I have no doubt you will find it in yourself to thank me for it,” his words reverberated from her nipple all the way to her pussy.

Her knees went weak. The fireplace couldn’t live up to the feverish heat of his mouth; the room temperature air was a bucket of ice water on her flesh after his retreat. Her magic lashed against her insides like a bowstring he’d pulled taut only to release.

She clawed at his neck to keep herself upright. The wail breaking through her throat finally lured him back in the vicinity of her lips.

His free hand threaded through her hair, roughly grabbing a mess of it. He dragged her up to his mouth–slowly, as if to enjoy her erratic puffs of air hitting his skin–until their lips brushed each other the same way night and day were always one fleeting moment apart, always touching but never together. He could very well be a ghost against her, a phantom caressing her quite the same as the heat from the fireplace, all but intangible.

His iron grip was unrelenting, mercilessly held her in place for him to drink the moans and pants from her open mouth. Struggling against it only yanked on her hair. Tears sprang to her eyes, groans – to her lips from the yearning hitting her like a bullet to the brain, like a bomb bursting inside her and leaving her carved out, hollow.

She was losing it. She couldn’t tell up from down. There was only him, everywhere all at once and nowhere nearly close enough. The heat of his palm against her abdomen wrapped her brain, her body, in a void where nothing but him existed, his fingerprints on her skin, the arousal scalding the top of her thighs, her heart.

Red drowned her vision. All the outrage rising in her clogged her throat, lumped together to choke the screams bursting from her. With all the violence of an earthquake they made her insides rattle, her teeth draw blood from the inside of her cheek, her hands drop from his neck and shake like they were coming apart.

She could be kissing him instead. She should be kissing him for he was so close that it was hard to breathe through the raw emotion he stirred in her chest, for he knew her well enough to tell apart every single blemish left by him from all the rest. Because this was about them, not some fucking war or her betrayal, or even about control.

He was hers and it was time she claimed him again. If he wanted to drive her mad with longing after all these years they had both spent doing a spectacular job of that, he had another thing coming.

Two could play at that game.

---

After a battle with Valtor bruises were a distant memory in her mind.

With the flares of magic still electrifying her knuckles Griffin let her fingers skirt her lower abdomen. She didn’t need much more for her pussy to start clenching around the emptiness inside her. As she dipped her fingertips between her folds–carefully avoiding her clit–weak pulses of magic discharged from her skin to make her quiver.

His power didn’t feel chaotic when it clashed with hers, all of it deliberately explosive. Hers was easily a mirror image of it when he was so close. They were always reflections of each other – on the front lines or between the sheets of a soft bed not their own. When pulled apart though, they were like magnets with only one pole – unnatural, magic savage and out of control with nothing to balance it out.

It would still if he were with her right now. It would all still – his magic, his breath, even his hunger. Maybe even her hips and the wild throbbing of her clit.

For once he’d be content to watch, his striking absence just a pointed strategy. He wouldn’t have to interrupt her and melt her mind with orgasms to sear his claim on her into her being. Not yet.

It’d satisfy him to see her work herself to the edge of orgasm and over with the barest of strokes, so faint that that they were nothing more than a ghostly presence against her skin, all of it a plea for his touch. His gaze was burned into her mind, her flesh; it ran through her body as a shiver as if he were in the room with her right now.

Her hips jerked away from the caresses of her fingertips only to descend right on her fingers. The fullness was different from when Valtor was knuckle-deep inside her. She’d have to add another digit to achieve the same stretch and nothing could recreate the way he curled his fingers inside her, the rhythm of their thrusts – like the secrets of her body were his to know, to use for his pleasure and hers.

Everything seized inside her around that core of intimacy, tucked away and safely untouched in her memory. She came with a cry on her lips that she had to twist and bite into her pillow to stifle. Her legs closed around her hand to hold the warmth pulsing through her in place as long as possible in her hopes–against all logic and sanity–that it would be his palms sliding over her knees and prying them apart, and soon at that. Before the pleasant burn retreated from her muscles and left her hollow again.

He would have defied the laws of nature to have settled between her thighs already and been well on his way to drawing another orgasm from her wound-up body. Her ragged breathing and the hands in his hair, pulling him closer and away at the same time, would have only encouraged him. She would have been writhing with so much, too much pleasure to both their delight, and his lips would have never left her body. He would have never allowed for the hundreds, maybe thousands of light years separating them on different planets.

The crisp night air settled over her skin like a suffocating blanket, siphoning away the soothing, relaxing tingles of orgasm still shooting through her limbs. Her only consolation was the shift in her magic as it settled a little.

Not enough for her to sleep when none of the shadows in her room looked like him.

---

Griffin reached between her thighs, fingers slipping through her arousal effortlessly, grazing her clit only momentarily to send her head falling against the wall behind her, her eyelids dropping on her world. She almost howled with the taste of pleasure, the taste of power.

Valtor had thought his victory sealed with her own kiss and arousal. He’d stripped himself to watch her grab for him and starve herself for more that he’d deliberately stranded out of her reach, drink him up with her eyes and drown in her own wetness, in her need. To choose the weak substitute of her own fingers over submitting to suffering for his vindication was a bold affront, the latest of her crimes against him.

Behind her eyelids his growl was a palpable entity of its own, rumbling against her throat despite the distance between their bodies that only his breaths crossed.

She braced herself for his teeth piercing her skin as if the jolt of pain would disrupt her ministrations.

Instead, he huffed a chuckle that was half stifled.

She opened her eyes upon sensing the space between them growing. His hand fell to her wrist and she let him move it away, let his fingers replace hers. She sucked a whistling breath between her teeth when he flicked her clit, palms braced against his sculpted abs, hips rocking into his strokes.

“All you have to do is ask if you’re this impatient, Griffin.” Even his teeth in her name couldn’t shred beyond recognition the fondness laced in it.

“You didn’t give the impression that you were offering.”

She watched him intently, waited for his retort to make it to the tip of his tongue before she cupped the bulge in his pants. If that didn’t make him bite himself to blood, the squeeze she gave his cock and his hips jerking into her certainly did.

Valtor grabbed her wrist but her grin gave him pause. Or maybe that was the lazy line her free hand traced from his abs to the waistband of his pants – a declaration of her victory. He could only keep a distance, a clear mind and unaffected body if he allowed her the same. Certainly not with his fingers between her thighs.

An aura of boiling hot magic rose from him only to fan out over her skin harmlessly. He rolled his shoulders to shake off the frustration, make space for the smirk to come back to his face.

She’d failed his plans long enough, would find a way to do it again even if he were to chain her to the bed. And he wouldn’t take her magic, wouldn’t take away the ways it responded to him, welled up inside her like the contact between them was an endless spring of power for her. Instead, he covered her hand with his to guide over his cock, keep some control that way.

She wouldn’t let him.

“I did.”

Griffin waited for his eyes to lock with hers in search of her meaning.

“I did call your name into the night. Many a time – just to remind myself of the taste of it, the taste of worshiping it like you never allowed me to do in battle anymore. I couldn’t help myself.”

Valtor rolled her clit between his fingers exacerbating the weakness in her legs, the tension in her muscles–nothing compared to the strain in his clenched jaw–but it was his hips shifting against her palm.

“If I’d told you back then of the ways I had to silence myself–with my magic, my hand, my pillow–the tears springing to my eyes from the pressure of the cries for you building in my chest, would you have managed to hold back in turn? Would you have walked away, left me alone in the middle of the ballroom for the sake of the magical treasure you were after? Or would you have taken me right there, mere feet away from your target and your enemies? Pulled countless orgasms out of me under cover of your glamor, knowing even your spells were frail and unreliable compared to the power of my voice?”

Valtor switched tactics. The heel of his palm pressed into her clit, ground against it like flints setting sparks along her limbs, in her head. His fingertips traced her opening, teased to slip in and stretch her to fit him inside her at long last only to retreat again right as her toes started curling. He only gave her a moment’s respite to draw out her descent into madness, to single-handedly lower her into the deepest pit of insanity inch by inch.

Her chest stuttered more desperately than her hips with the inhuman effort to keep carrying her voice. His cock twitching against her hand was more than enough reason to continue pushing herself if his furious ministrations alone weren’t.

“I-I did slip a hand,” she had to pause to steady her voice, had to gasp for breath after every few words, “between my legs. I couldn’t stop going back to that night, imagining the couples dancing around us... as your lips punished me, as your fingers tortured me, as your cock drove me mad, all in a world of our own, unbothered by anything outside it.

“Only sometimes the illusion would break around us,” her ribcage shuddered at the thought, with the bliss of being free from hiding. “Everyone would bear witness to the force quaking my body–and yours–my arousal on your lips like blood, your name on my lips, immortalized. We would set the universe on fire-”

Valtor pushed her hand away before he could start rutting against it in earnest. He pinned her hips to the wall with his to keep her in place once his fingers abandoned her arousal. If she had air left, she would whine and she would sob, even plead with him. If she hadn’t been distracted by his hands trailing her sides.

He was collecting all the acid-like energy spilling from her every pore, gathering it in his palms as if it were water that could quench his insatiable thirst. As if it wouldn’t burn through spacetime to let her back into that ballroom where she could make her fantasy come true. As soon as she focused her intent on that rather than on her doomed attempts at humping his leg for a little bit of friction, for some sweet, sweet relief.

Her hands slipped off his shoulders when she tried to hold on. She had to dig her claws into his back, into his shoulder blades that were so sensitive that she’d once joked about fairy wings sprouting from there. He’d made her scream for it until her throat had been sore and she’d had to rely on gestures and her magic to get her point across for the next few days.

Words were out of reach now, too, not to mention unnecessary. She drove her nails in the tender flesh, a grin taking over her face at the expletive he fired into the slope of her neck. Slipping her fingers from his back into the strands of blond hair falling over it, Griffin took control of his voice, made it spill from him and soak them both into an undeniable confession of his desire. It was that much more of a triumph when he cursed her name, then moaned it in the next breath.

His lips were a passing whisper over her throat, her collarbone, the top of her breasts. They moved so fast that he wasn’t even kissing her skin properly, just skimming it with his mouth. His teeth sank into her breast, carved into it with a vengeance for driving him so mindless that he couldn’t savor her defeat, had to taste his own instead in the evaporating thought of delayed gratification. His entire being screamed demands to touch her now.

Breathlessness suffocated her voice, her thoughts. Her magic was pooling on her skin, needed just a little direction to get rid of the last barrier between her and him but she couldn’t stand on her own, let alone utter a spell to undress him. She had to twist that to her advantage. She already had him unraveling; she just had to keep pushing.

She pushed herself off the wall, all her weight thrown against his chest... and they were falling.

Valtor’s magic wrapped them, a puffy cloud slowing down their momentum. The softness that touched her skin wasn’t the mattress halfway across the room. Instead, the plush white carpet tickled her legs. She was straddling him where he was sitting on the floor.

Even the sharp crispness of his eyes was nothing more than a blur with their faces less than an inch apart. It should have smoothed the edges of his smugness washing over her to pry the last of her lucidity from her fingers. To distract from the shrinking scope of his magic as she captured his full focus.

He moved her like a doll, tipped her hips to center her naked wetness right against his cock, straining against the confines of his pants.

Grinding on him was both instinct and a conscious decision, more natural than even her own magic, than breathing. The pressure on her clit was divine; the brush of her nipples against his chest raised her flesh into goosebumps. Her heaving, empty chest couldn’t contain her voice. She was moaning like her life depended on it, couldn’t help herself at the delicious burn in her muscles. The pleasure sang through her body, affected him, too, like it had translated from under her skin directly into him, like they shared the same language – both of body and mind.

His eyes devoured every bob of her throat with a desperate gulp of air, every shiver driving her closer into him. His fingers bruised the shape of his impatience–with her pace, with his own inaction–into her flesh. He adjusted her against him, set a harmonious rhythm for their bodies to fit together like the two halves of one whole. He gave his everything to matching the ardency of her movements, never one to be outdone, uncaring of still being on the floor, of the lack of style or poise to fucking there because they couldn’t even make it to the bed.

For a moment Griffin allowed herself the mental image of him – always alone at night, haunted by the blurring lines, the nonexistent space between them in battle or, more often, by another empty day without laying his eyes on her. He’d had to leave her behind, leave her be when the only safe place to take her had been the battlefield. It had never been the two of them anymore with the trio of shadows looking through his eyes for an opening in his resolve or in hers–it was one and the same–to pluck her from his fingers. In the privacy of his hideout she had only been protected as the frustration crawling under his skin, pinching his mind in a vise of white-hot need, a longing like no other that only her closeness could soothe.

In the lonely company of his mirror, he’d have growled like a rabid dog–mad, murderous–as he’d submitted to the ordeal of discarding his pants to take care of his painfully hard cock. Any relief he’d have sought from his own hand, with her name in his mouth where it’d mix with the blood from biting himself hard enough to keep it all in, useless as it might have been.

The metallic taste hit her from her own memory, from that place... Her own need was electrifying like a lightning, fried her nerves with years of touching only herself when she’d wanted to touch him. She’d come and come until a single stroke to her pussy would leave her wailing inconsolably and she’d never reached deep enough to that place she’d kept his name and the pent-up urge to scream it.

“Valtor!”

It tore from her throat like the scab off an inflamed wound, like a relentless river torrent bursting through a crumbling dam. It freed something else inside her that slipped from her mind when Valtor gasped.

His shock would have doused her like a sudden downpour if not for the fire surging through her limbs, her whole body. His cock slid through her arousal with ease, throbbed in tact with her clit as they rubbed together. His free, bare cock.

What had once been the fabric of his pants was now just a mass of atoms indistinguishable from all the rest making up their surroundings. Her desperation to touch him had fueled her magic into a mindless, purely intent-based spell.

She whined when Valtor secured her in place for his cock, the head nudging her entrance. Despite the carpet threatening to swallow even him with its plushness, to take them both, the sound echoed around them. It could just be her imagination. Or it simply echoed on the inside, in her body where she’d been stifling her need for so long it’d hollowed her out, made an acoustic heaven of her ribcage, a temple for her lust. She’d been waiting for this moment for years, had coveted it in secret, knowing she was probably deluding herself, fearing that she wasn’t, that it would indeed come some day.

His cock stretched her – so easily, so swiftly. The moan was still suspended on her lips when Valtor’s hips surged into her and he sheathed his full length inside her.

The world crumbled around her, the sense of her very own magic eradicated from her mind. Her eyes fell shut to savor the only thing that was left – the way her body welcomed him. Her pussy fluttered around him so insistently that it drove tears from her eyes, her clit swollen and overwrought with sensation from the angle of him against her. Her heart was pounding furiously in her ears to block anything else from drawing her attention away. She didn’t need any guidance from her senses to meet his thrusts, to find his lips.

His pulse was wild in his neck under her palms – enough to match the movements of his hips, pushing back into her before she could start missing his cock. It was only gone so long that it overwhelmed her with fullness upon every new stroke and twitch inside her, every little tremble moving from Valtor into her as he grunted against her throat.

She’d craved this for far longer than she’d remembered the actual sensations. No memory could have prepared her for the heat tightening in her lower belly or the tingles running the length of her body as his fingers danced through her hair. Her magic shivering around her in anticipation or the little thrill shooting into her fingertips when he’d tucked a lock of hair behind her ear mid battle had been as deceptive as they’d been insufficient.

He could have fucked her in front of everyone and it wouldn’t have prepared her for his heavy breathing against her skin, the toll that his greedy thrusts were taking on his inhuman physique. Nor for the zest with which her teeth sank into the sensitive skin of his throat and collar bones over and over again, sealing her presence, the vulnerability of letting her so close again, into his flesh. She’d slaved to it for years and she’d still failed to brace for the devastating force building inside them that the hunger for each other had become.

They’d never put it off for so long. Being professional had involved giving into their need with urgency – to avoid potential sloppiness in their business relations, keep their heads in the game instead of leaving themselves high-strung and irritated.

Violence underlay all of Valtor’s motions, only rumbled clearer through his body if he gasped at the tickle of her hair shifting against his chest or arched into the stroke of her fingers. Still, he only drew her closer with a steel grip at her sides that she was grateful for. She was unraveling so easily for him, so quickly, almost by his mere closeness. She didn’t need much more dedication from him for her thighs to start quivering, only for him to support her weight and help bounce her on his cock when her muscles refused to cooperate.

Everything turned blurry with the orgasm washing over her. She couldn’t see straight, the only thing breaking through the crippling pleasure was the symphony of her own climax. Her screams that–without the dam that had held them cramped inside her for years–had to have woken up anyone potentially sharing the building with them. And his gasps, the breathless curses he murmured into her skin, into the curve of her breasts, into the crook of her neck. Either he was trembling under her or her after-shocks were so powerful that they quaked him too.

Another thrust from him–only one–and she was coming again, the new pleasure rolling through her making her burst at the seams alongside the echoes of her first peak. Her nails dug into him so viciously that she may as well have hooked his own orgasm with them and dragged it to the surface, leaving him groaning and his cock twitching, spilling his satisfaction inside her.

She went limp on top of him, slumped over his chest. Her mind was cotton, her limbs – as well. She only clung to him through sheer willpower, greed even. Her whimper barely made it to her own ears when he shifted under her, his cock nudging a spot inside her that made her eyes roll in the back of her head.

Valtor lifted her up like she was feather-light and carried her over to the bed, his smile practically audible as she nestled into him, eyes closed in search more of the comfort that leaving herself to him brought rather than sleep.

With his hands tangled in her hair she could hold nothing back. It all spilled – moans, pleas, truths.

I love you.

---

She was exhausted; her muscles protested every little motion. Her eyelids were so heavy but rest escaped her. Her hips were rocking into Valtor’s hand of their own volition.

He kept a slow pace, not so much looking to have her coming on his fingers but watching the reactions of her body. The way he was stretching her out took over her mind; she didn’t have to think about what would come in its place to fill the emptiness once he pulled away. His gaze was like a blanket on her skin, a cover separating her from the rest of the universe so that she was only his to look at, to touch.

She’d circled his wrist with her fingers at some point, to keep him in place, stay in the safety of the moment. She’d failed to account for the danger of his prolonged stay between her legs. She would drown in the lust for him unless she forced herself to acknowledge something else.

The surroundings slowly filtered in through the soft haze in her head. The architecture was vaguely familiar but was eluding her, perhaps of her own doing. There was a prickle in her stomach, something she didn’t want to focus on lest she started to feel nauseous.

“Where are we?” her voice came out roughed up through the thirst torturing her.

A flick of Valtor’s wrist conjured a glass of water hovering next to her.

She had to prop herself up on her elbows, let go of him to hold the glass with both hands for the sake of not spilling it with the weakness shaking her limbs.

Forcing herself to drink slowly was a challenge. The water was as soothing to her parched throat as the intensity of his focus on her was to her heart.

He had the decency to stop pumping his fingers into her for the time being but his free hand was drawing lazy circles in her inner thigh, soaking up the strain of the muscles below.

It didn’t stop him from holding down her hips the second she moved to leave the glass on the nightstand next to the bed. It flashed out of her hand before it could splash all over her and the mattress from the way he jerked her back into position.

Her arms gave out and she collapsed back on the mattress, Valtor’s ministrations renewed, this time with the addition of his breath teasing her clit – close enough to feel the heat wafting off her skin but still cruelly keeping his distance. One swirl of his tongue on the aching nub and she’d be screaming herself raw again. He had to really be enjoying the way her body screamed in the grip of maddening, insufficient pleasure instead.

“Have we been here before?” Griffin wrestled her voice into cooperating again, failing to mention the familiarity of the place lest he threw the information that was eluding her back in her face in retaliation.

She hadn’t expected him to answer her. When proven right, she could focus on finding the truth for herself, on the obstacles he was putting in front of her, not anything else.

“Does it matter?” His knowing gaze sent shivers down her spine, like she was a trapped animal.

She tried to sit up again but Valtor scissored his fingers apart and her will snapped clean in half.

She plopped back down on the fluffy pillows, her legs quivering from the torment of his fingers. He was rubbing that spot inside her that made her go breathless, paralyzed in bliss but unable to fall over the edge. Tears of frustration rolled from her eyes, her voice grating against her still dry throat, a high-pitched screech the only thing that came out. Her spine arched; she was going to break.

And then she dropped.

Not into the embrace of orgasm; instead skidded back down the slope he’d pushed her up. The tension in her limbs lessened and her vision cleared from tears.

His fingers vanished and there was room inside her to suck in a breath. There was room inside her for-

Her eyes were caught on Valtor’s digits disappearing into his mouth. He made a show of licking them clean, of tasting her on them, his tongue tempting her with the need to feel it on her pussy, inside it.

Her head spun from how swiftly he covered her with his body again. His cock slipped inside her like that was its rightful place; moans spilled from her in agreement, washing away the surprise lodged in her throat.

A golden thread–the same color of her hungry eyes, always devouring him–sliced through her mind with the pain it’d cut into her flesh. She’d stayed her magic, hadn’t freed herself in time to avoid the sharp edges digging into her as it’d squeezed her tight, tighter, only allowing for the smallest gasping breaths. All for the sake of feeling his touch again only to watch him walk away from her, leaving her like a wrapped gift for those she’d chosen over him to find.

She’d only stifled her cries back then for there’d been no way to tell when someone would find her and who it would be. She’d have gladly given him the satisfaction of spilling her tears for him if he’d have considered it satisfaction. He hadn’t given that impression.

Laid bare now, legs spread for him like a sacrifice at an alter, she’d been so vulnerable to his mouth. The chance had been in his hands – to drive apologies and pleas off her lips, to punish her and prove her wrong to have cut them in two separate halves. He’d have had all night and the day after, all the time in the world with no one to interrupt them, no force that could pry her from his grasp.

It hadn’t satisfied him, hadn’t been enough. Not with his cock straining with need for her – cutting just as deep as hers for him did.

She’d had it wrong all along. He’d wanted her just as much, to the point of choosing to keep his distance rather than risk giving into the closeness between them.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, locked her ankles behind him and closed the gap between their lips. His mouth opened for her, tongues tangling together in a soft embrace, the taste of him mixed with that of herself. There was his usual strife to lead but nothing like the raw brutality of their first kiss meant to overpower her completely.

His fingers sank into her flesh like it was home. His pace wasn’t languid but wasn’t fast either, let them both savor every inch throbbing inside her at the way their bodies fit against each other. She was all his, no room inside her for anything else, only the rhythmic beating of her heart when she was all wrapped up in his warmth. It was the two of them together again.

If you made it here, I'd love to hear your thoughts or just a quick note on whether you liked it. :)

#winx club #winx griffin #winx valtor #griffin x valtor #covenshipping #fanfiction #my fanfiction #my writing #fallen love #chapter 2 #fallen love chapters

9 notes · View notes

nomorefstogive · 2 years ago

Note

I now cannot get the image of Lumine pulling a Radahn phase 2 to the Archons xd

Anyways, hi again! Thanks for the ask--amazing by the way--and the addition to the Ranni!Reader post.

Always nice to see another Tarnished; I tried to keep myself away due to my horrible internet that likes to work only when it wants to but, alas, with two certain bosses I had to xd

Goes to show that even if my cringe is free from judgement, I still need to have help I guess ;-;

Skdkdkdkd sorry, I'm terrible at conversations ;-;;

It's alright, I'm am probably worse at them lol. Asperger's and social anxiety are a hell of a pair eh?

Also, since you mention being a fellow yuri fan, and I apologize for the shameless self-plug, I am writing a pair of yuri fics on my Ao3, one for AL and one for Genshin, if you are curious the link is: TheGreatestShow

As for Lumine...

Admittedly I have three differing ideas for her. I will have to send them in separate messages but here is the first one.

The first being: Eldritch/Cosmic being Lumine. With her being somewhat based on the Elden Beast.

P.S. Also I am going to put the read more link below this because holy shit this wound up being longer than I thought it would be lol.

Not quite a god, but certainly a being removed from mortal comprehension and existence. The human form we see is merely the equivalent of a porcelain shell, designed to protect her more vulnerable, yet also more powerful, true form, something she would kill to keep secret.

She is less interested in the politics of Teyvat and more in regaining her power and either finding Aether and beating him into a coma for abandoning her, or departing the world and returning at full power to settle her score with Asmoday.

She does not go out of her way to attack the Fatui, something that will be a re-occuring theme amidst these ideas, and even offers to aid them in exchange for their help in regaining her powers.

She is also considerably more ruthless than in canon, her battle with Dvalin almost ending in her killing the dragon over the skies of Mondstadt until Venti removes his power out of fear for his friends life. Her clash with Childe ends with Dottore having to perform surgery to reattach the youngest harbingers arms and repair his damaged organs, after Signora grabs him and bails after he staggers into the bank half dead after she gets the gnosis.

Her clash with Osial ends with her attempting to drain the god's power to fuel her own return to full strength, something which is only adverted when Osial removes one of his own heads to stop her from draining him into nothing before he is hit with the Jade Chamber.

As for Inazuma...That is the point where her patience reaches its limit.

Her first meeting with the Shogun end with her vessel being damaged and her being forced to flee, anger and humiliation that a mere doll managed to injure one of her kind swelling within her veins to match the disgust at the blatant attempts at emotional manipulation done to sway her to the rebels side.

But one does not live for eons without learning when to hold their tongue and blade, and so she smiles and joins Sangonomiya's rebellion, waiting...waiting, until she waits no more.

The delusion factory, the remains of gods and demons bent and warped into a power source...a power source she can drain.

Scaramouche barely escapes with his life, and Miko is likewise almost killed as the Starborn devours the power of the factory and at last manages to shatter some of the seals upon her own power, her smile widening as she obliterates the area before ascending, wings of nebulae and galaxies at her back as she gazes upon Inazuma.

Madness and rage swirl within her, the lingering malice of the delusions clouding her mind and amplifying her own rage towards this land and its people, who have dared to humiliate her so, as she calls forth her power and descends.

Kujou Sara staggers into the Shogun's chamber, drenched in blood. Her bow clatters to the ground as the Anemo Boxer holding her up staggers to his knee, blood leaking from both a gash on his side and his lips as he looks at the startled face of both his lady and the Shogun with dread.

The Tengu general manages to stammer out these words-

"...Encampment...destroyed...only...survivors...Monster...coming..."

Before she fades into unconsciousness, the last thing she hears being her Shogun call out her name as explosions begin to rock Inazuma.

From on high the winged being watches as rifts and tears into the cosmos form, meteors and asteroids pouring from them and laying waste to not only the harbor of Ritou, but to the city itself.

Her smile widens as she sees the resistance soldiers, consumed by madness and mania due to her aura having enveloped them, running rampant, maiming and butchering and mutilating to their hearts content.

Faintly she hears Paimon begging her to stop, but she ignores her, her gaze now fixed upon that loathsome Island in the sky as she reaches up a hand to part the heavens and summon forth-

A lightning bolt strikes her hand.

A snarl of rage leaves her lips as he turns to the Shogun, summoning twin greatblades to her hand as she surges forward to at last settle their score.

The battle is vicious, and even within the Plane of Euthymia, Ei is pushed to her limits, divine blood staining the sands as she struggles against her merciless foe.

Eventually she managwes to deal what should be a fatal blow, the Musou no Hitachi tearing a path straight across the Starborn's chest and sending her flyting into the distance.

Yet just as Ei takes a deep breath, she feels the air grow dense.

The sound of shattering pottery fills the silent realm as Lumine begins to rise to her feet only to stagger forward, her form breaking apart like a fallen vase and revealing not but an ever growing stain of darkness that soon envelops the remains and much of the surrounding land, pulling them into stygian depths.

From the depths emerges an arm, stygian in color for but the briefest of moment before light swells and dances within it, stars and galaxies of colors known and unknown forming within the endless expanse of darkness as the limb pulls out of a double Helix shaped blade, the light of the cosmos seeping from it.

With the arm their comes a body, female in form, yet devoid of all other features save for the swirling galaxies and cosmos within, that is until twin orbs open, blazing with the light of twin stars as wisps of comet trail form under a galactic veil upon the beings head.

Above them forms a halo of asteroids and meteors and comets, swirling and dancing amidst a field of stars, a black hole posed at the center and yet not devouring them as it should.

The being rises without legs, it's body seeming to end in the ever growing stain as tendrils and additional limbs rise from the morass as the command of the Starborn.

"You crave eternity...then behold the eternity of the cosmos."

Comes forth a voice that echoes from all directions, light and wispy, yet dark and crushing as well.

Desperation fuels the following battle, even the Shogun is barely able to match the monster she faces, one arm lost and an eye carved out as she is flung to and fro by the being.

Electro meets the blazing Cosmos as the heavens are rent and the plane of Euthymia falls away to reveal a burning city, the two titans continuing a duel that spans the length of the island and then some.

Mountains fall, and canyons are carved, the heavens are rent and reforged a dozen times over as they clash without respite or hesitation until, at last.

The Starborn seizes the Shogun and casts her down into the ground before the Statue of the Omnipresent Goddess, smiling as she rears back her arm to deal the deat-

An arrow slams into her stomach.

A snarl of rage tears from her lips even as agony assails her senses as she turns to regard the one that dared to strike at her.

Ebony wings are unfurled, bandages yet being soaked crimson as muscles and wounds are pulled to tight, as a general stands defiant to protect her goddess from the being that looms above them.

Stalwart and loyal she steps forward to meet the being that looks upon her in confusion and disbelief, though there is something else that likewise burns within those orbs, a faint hint of...respect as she descends to meet her foe.

Desperately the Shogun reaches out for her general, only to see her vision fade in and out as the two clash, the injured Tengu matching the beast as she sheds her human form and brings forth the full extent of her cursed blood, though even that falls short.

Two blades tear through her stomach as she is lifted into the air before being flung across the city and into the ground, the Starborn actually panting in exertion from the effort of the battle before she turns to-

A scream fills the air.

Lightning writhes and dances the Tengu forces herself to her feet, a hand holding her entrails in her as she does so.

"I...will...not...let...you...hurt...her!"

A roar of lightning descends as a Vision shatters, wings of ebony feathers now burning with violet electro as a bow of lightning forms within the Tengu's hands.

Apotheosis. Ascension into godhood, and all done in the name of loyalty.

The Starborn feels her respect match her anger as she calls forth her own power once more to meet the newly born god in a battle that shakes the island again.

Her victory is certain, yet still she admires the being that fights against her with such fervor and fury that she can feel corruptive power of the delusions and the bloodcraze it brought upon her fade away from her midn as she fights for her life against the being before her.

At last their battle ends, the Starborn wounded and yet still living, her blade raised to deal a death blow before...she stops.

"What is your name?" She asks the panting Tengu, who looks up at her and responds.

"Kujou Sara."

"The name of a clan of cowards who tried to leave you to die does not fit you, noble one." Comes her swirling voice as she sets the Tengu down.

"Let it be known that I, Lumine of the StarBorn, hearby dub you the 'Storm Born' of Inazuma for your birth into your new childhood came from the storm of rage and loyalty within you."

With that said the Starborn turns to look at the Shogun, who has been aided to her feet by a fearful Ayaka and weary Kokomi as they look upon the being before them.

"A pity you were not made Shogun of these lands, a far better job than this witless coward you would have done." The Star Born says as she delicately brushes aside a blood soaked lock of hair from the Tengu's face, watching as the new born god falls into slumber but a moment later.

"Now then," She turns to the Shogun and her fellows, "Shall we discuss the terms of your surrender child?"

Well, what do you think?

I like the idea of Lumine being a more eldritch or cosmic being, and her taking the civil war a bit more seriously and this was the result.

Another version of this idea has her being soulmates with all of the women in Teyvat, well more like the central pillar of a vast soul bound polycule whose arrival triggers its forming, and her being brought to a mortal level was a few members of Celestia's bid to use her to unite the world against the Abyss.

The bond only becomes known when her true form is revealed and the soul marks are made apparent, needless to say it leads to all sorts of chaos lol.

#genshin impact au #lumine #Cosmic Lumine #Eldritch Lumine #genshin impact #Nomorefstogive answer #BAMF lumine #genshin #genshin lumine #raiden shogun #kujou sara

21 notes · View notes

crystallizedkingdoms · 2 years ago

Text

Overture

Day 2 of @johann-appreciation-week ! I have received special intel that this fic may be considered suggestive. its not like porn or anything explicit but like. there’s gay feelings that’s for sure.

you can also read this on ao3 <3

As a gamekeeper and bard, it would come as no surprise that Johann’s job in the Bureau of Balance is far from a physically taxing one. The most arduous task he’s had so far in his seven months of working is carrying his monthly box of writing supplies down to his room at the Voidfish’s chamber. As such, Johann is one of the employees that would rather watch the new tradition of sparring matches at the icosagon, rather than participate in them. That is, if he ever actually went to one.

Sometimes Johann feels a bit bad about not going to those matches, but he assures himself that it isn’t his fault. He just happens to be coincidentally busy, like, all the time. Plus, it’s not like anyone ever invited him to watch or anything. That’s just how it’s been for his months of working in the Bureau. Johann certainly didn’t feel like changing that.

So it comes as a surprise when Avi, one of the newer hires Johann had become acquainted with, is standing right in front of him and offering him to watch a match.

“You, um… wanna take me? To watch you fight,” Johann asks incredulously.

“I mean, yeah! You just mentioned you have never seen a sparring session before and I thought, you know, this could be your first time. See how we rough it up in the pit,” Avi says, leaning against the glass of the cafeteria dome. “It’ll be fun, I think you’ll like it, dude. Maybe I’ll inspire you to join in on the next match.”

Johann raises an eyebrow at that.

Avi smiles awkwardly, though it’s still got that friendly quality to it that all his smiles have. “Hah, okay, maybe you’re not the type to do that. My point still stands though, you should come! You’ve been here longer than me, and you haven’t once thought about watching the others fight?”

“Well, uh, it’s just never really something people ask of me. I think Carey tried to ask me a few days ago, but, um, I really had to go feed the Voidfish so I kind of ducked away before she could ask. Damn. I, uh, shouldn’t have done that, huh?”

“No! I mean, like, no, don’t worry about that. She didn’t mind, she totally saw you were busy, don’t blame yourself—”

Johann’s ears perk up at that information. “Oh, did she tell you?” he asks.

Upon that comment, Avi pulls his lips into a tight line. Despite the chatter of the bustling cafeteria around them, their conversation halts to an awkward silence for a couple of moments. It takes a couple seconds for Avi to speak again, “All right, I’ll be honest. Iiiii might have been there to encourage you to join us,” he admits. He tears his attention away to the crowd of people still eating, and his hand reaches up to rub the back of his neck. “Just something Carey and I talked about. You were the first guy that came to mind.”

“I was the first person that came to your mind?” The corner of Johann’s lip twitches up into a half smile at Avi’s confession.

“Y-yeah, seriously. Brian also came up, but uh, Carey informed me that Killian already invited him and that he was definitely gonna participate in our fight. So, yeesh.”

“Oh, man. Now I gotta come and see that,” Johann says. “You really gonna go up against him? He’s, like, one of the best fucking wizards here.”

“Hey, it’s just a friendly match! He’s not gonna obliterate me… I hope,” Avi reassures. Then he goes silent. And then he scrunched his nose at Johann. “Are you— wait, are you insinuating I would lose?”

Johann has to bite the inside of his cheek to hide an obvious smile. His eyes wander to the side to avoid looking at Avi’s face, which he knows will send him into a giggling fit. “I, um, of course didn’t say that, but I suppose if that’s what you hear…”

Avi scoffs and stops leaning against the glass to land a light hit against Johann’s shoulder. Even though it doesn’t hurt, Johann mouths a soft ‘Ow’ anyway. “Don’t pull that shit with me! You’re gonna eat your fucking words, bro,” Avi laughs. He laughs so openly, with his whole face and chest, that it makes Johann feel a little stupid for trying to hide his own laughter. “Now you definitely have to come. If I catch you skipping I’m going to throw you in the icosagon myself.”

“Okay, chill. I’ll go, I’ll go,” Johann says.

Avi’s face brightens even more than before, which Johann didn’t think was possible until then. He’s beaming with excitement and Johann finds himself wanting to see more of it. “All right, dude, see you at the ‘gon!” Avi claps a hand on Johann’s shoulder and gives it a good shake before he walks towards the exit of the cafeteria dome. Johann watches Avi leave until he can no longer see him.

Great, time to watch some jocks fuck shit up.

—

Johann has been in the icosagon exactly two times before this invitation: once when the inside was still under construction, and the second time when he was delegated the task of introducing some new employees to the layout of the moonbase. It comes as a surprise to Johann when he finds that the icosagon is actually not as barren as he expected; there are racks with all sorts of weapons, projectiles, spell books, even a few instruments. Of course, they look pretty cheap, but Johann is surprised to see them there nonetheless.

What also catches Johann’s attention is the benches surrounding the arena’s ring. He knows people liked to watch their friends during sparring matches, but he didn’t think that they would set up bleachers like some high school gymnasium. Most interestingly, a familiar uniform jacket is laid right on top of a bench closest to the right side of the ring. Made unique by a custom addition of a fur-trimmed hood, Johann gravitates towards it quickly.

“Hey, Johann!” A voice calls out to him. Johann jumps and whips around towards the centre of the arena, where he sees Brian, Carey, and Killian congregating with their training weapons in hand.

“Ah, um… hey,” Johann says back.

“You’re pretty sneaky, aren’t you, darling?” Brian asks with a little smirk. “For a second when I saw the door swinging, I thought Mr. Bradson had finally changed his mind and decided to join and watch, but he couldn’t have been as quick as you. Hardly even noticed you entering! Carey, dear, do you think he has a chance at being a rogue?”

Carey laughs and leans against Brian, swirling a dagger between her fingers. “Hah! I could teach him if he wanted. You want lessons, Johann?” she calls out towards him.

Johann raises a hand and waves her off a little. “Ah, um, no thanks. I’m good, Carey. I’m good at being just a bard.”

“Suit yourself,” Carey shrugs.

Johann makes his way to Avi’s jacket, and when he gets there, he sits right next to it. “Looks pretty empty today. So, um, where’s Avi?” he asks as nonchalantly as he possibly can.

“Oh, he went to go and change in the lockers,” Killian says and points a thumb towards a door near the back of the icosagon. “No clue why he dropped that jacket there, though. He usually puts it away pretty safely.”

“I suppose he used it to indicate where he wished for Johann to sit, hm?” Brian’s voice sounds extra sing-songy when he says that, though he makes the point to not look directly at Johann.

“Oh? What makes you say that?” Carey asks with a similar cadence. She smirks in the same way Brian does, but she quickly stops when Killian gives her a look that Johann can’t read, but takes note of anyway. Just as Johann is about to ask what this inside joke they seemed to be on was, Avi bursts out of the locker room door.

The three in the arena turn to Avi, so Johann can’t see their faces from his seat. “Speak of the devil, eh?” Killian says, a smile audible in her voice.

Though Johann can’t see the three’s faces, Johann can see Avi very clearly. Avi’s wearing a white tank top perhaps a size too small, revealing parts of his body in ways that are usually hidden by his uniform jacket. His geometric tattoos that Johann only ever saw on his fingers and wrists extend all the way up his forearm. Not to mention how that too-small tank top outlines and emphasizes Avi’s fit physique…

Oh gods, Johann is thinking way too much about this.

“Sorry I took so long, guys! Had some, uh, trouble in there. We can get started whenever you’re ready…” Avi’s eyes visibly flicker across to where Johann’s sitting. He perks up and waves at Johann, calling out, “Johann!! Aw man, you really came!”

Johann silently waves back, a little absentminded as his eyes trace Avi’s body. He’s really excited to see me, huh, he notes.

“Are you ready, Avi, dear?” Brian backs away from the group a little, the web pattern on his staff growing a brilliant white as he readied himself for their sparring match. “We have an audience this time around, but don’t let that get to your heads. I’m sure Johann wouldn’t like to watch a bunch of show offs tussle it out, isn’t that right, darling?”

The group all look towards Johann, who’s starting to feel like he should just crawl into the Voidfish’s chambers and never come out again. “Haha… yeah, right. Let’s keep it real, guys,” he laughs, monotonous and flat.

“We— we wouldn’t exaggerate or anything!” Avi insists, shooting a glare at Brian. Brian pretends not to notice, focusing more on his staff than anything else. “Like, come on, that just, that just sounds stupid. We’ll keep it, uh, real.”

Carey elbows Avi in the gut, gaining a little whine of annoyance rather than pain. “Okay, okay, let’s quit stalling! And Killian, this time quit targeting my tail! The dull bolts still hurt like hell up near the base,” she says.

“Wasn’t targeting, it was just there, but I’ll try harder this time. Let’s get started!”

Johann is still silent when the four talk with each other and ready themselves for their spat. Admittedly, Johann almost feels… a little forgotten when they talk with each other, while he sits on the quite literal sidelines. He even begins to wonder idly, Why even invite me to watch? No one else is here. I don’t see the point in watching a bunch of coworkers beat each other down.

Of course, that’s because Johann’s never seen how his coworkers fight before.

Where Johann expects he’s going to be bored out of his mind, his attention is whisked away by the reality of what was in front of him: they were damn good fighters.

It doesn’t take very long for Johann to be whisked by the frenzy of the fight. The four of them engage with each other constantly, switching up their fighting partners on a whim, but always falling into each other’s patterns. Johann finds a rhythm in how they fight each other, how one of Brian’s spells trips up Killian, how Avi blocks off a strike from Carey right behind him, Killian’s quick shots against Brian. Occasionally they shout things at each other, encouragements, criticisms, taunting, but they never stop for any of it. Their bodies flow to that unrelenting melody without resting, and Johann watches it all intently.

Well, it would be more accurate to say Johann is watching a certain part of it more intently than the others. It’s not like he’s trying to stare at Avi the most, honestly! It’s definitely not weird that he’s so focused on how Avi’s ponytail whips around as he lands a hit on Brian’s shoulder. And it’s absolutely not his fault that his fingers tap Avi’s specific rhythm against his thigh, that his gaze lingers on Avi’s flexing muscles as he fights against his three friends. That… he’s never thought about Avi like that, never…

Oh, gods, why am I thinking this about him?

Johann tries to shake himself of his thoughts the entire match, but they never quite go away.

—

Johann isn’t very sure when their sparring match ends. He tends to get lost when he has inspiration for songs, after all.

He does notice when it ends. All four of them collapse onto the ground with their weapons sprawled all around them. They are all sweating and panting right next to each other, trying to get as much air as possible before they can speak.

It’s not very clear what a bystander should do in this situation. So Johann just silently claps. “Uh… wow! That was— that was actually really, really fun to watch. Um, good job, guys.”

“Th-thanks, darling… oh goodness,” Brian wheezed out, his accent sounding even more strangled in this state. “Killian, my dear, it’s your turn to grab the refreshment.��

Killian whines into her hand for a solid seven seconds before she tries to stand up. She stretches her arms and bends her back a little to get all the kinks out. Then, she’s off to grab a little basket of water bottles and towels near the locker doors that Johann completely missed. “Hey, so uh, next time? Next time let’s chill out a little. Avi looks like he’s gonna throw up,” Killian says.

“No I don’t!!” Avi yells and sits up straight at lightning speed. “I definitely don’t!” He gathers his bearings, he pulls himself to his feet, then does a big stretch with his arm way over his head. The way he stretches raises his too-small tank top to reveal his midriff. It’s covered in sweat, flexing just enough for his abs to be more defined, and oh man, the start of a happy trail…

Come on, how the hell is Johann supposed to act normal under these conditions?

Killian makes her way to the group with the basket and tossed each of them their water bottles and towels. When Avi gets his, he makes the decision to take a sip of his water and oh gods, he’s walking over to Johann while he’s taking his shirt off. Johann thinks he might gasp without thinking as Avi approaches him completely shirtless, sweaty, and grinning wildly.

“Hey, Johann!” Avi greets him as he leans against the railing of the arena. The way he leans his body lets Johann get an incredible view of Avi’s exposed chest. “Haha… that was a real fun match! Did you enjoy it? Tell me, I definitely looked pretty cool while fighting, eh?”

“Oh you, uh— you looked really, really cool…” Johann chokes out from his stutters. Johann’s visibly struggling with keeping his eyes where they should be, and though he didn’t move a single inch during that fight, he feels his own body heating up. “Really good. Like, wow. You guys were great, all of you!”

“Thanks, Johann!” Carey calls out to him, but Johann hardly hears it from under the pounding in his ears.

“So, uh… Would you be open to visiting us spar more often?” Avi asks. He’s leaning a little over the railing now, so Johann can get a good look at Avi’s face— sweaty, a little flushed, and his eyes showing a hidden eagerness to them. He’s searching Johann’s face just as much as Johann searches his, and the sudden attention is almost excruciating. “Maybe you can join in next time? Or not, that’s fine too. You can also come watch even if there’s a little less of us…”

Johann tears his eyes away from Avi for a single moment. That last part is too obvious even for Johann, and he knows the others must have heard it, because he can hear Brian trying to stifle a laugh as they discreetly try to shuffle towards the lockers. “I’d love to watch you guys spar more often. This was really hot— um, fun. Very fun… first experience,” he says. Then, to ease some of the dripping tension, Johann looks down and sees Avi’s jacket beside him. “Oh, um, here’s your jacket. You left it here.” He picks up Avi’s jacket, stands up from his seat, then extends it out to its owner.

Avi eyes his own jacket, then back up at Johann. He reaches for his jacket, but his fingers brush against Johann’s and lingers there for a few heartbeats. “Thank you, Johann,” Avi whispers under his breath, “it means a lot.”

Johann has only a second to appreciate everything in front of him before Avi pulls away with his jacket. “I’m gonna go wash up with the three now, okay?” he says. “I’ll see you later?”

A dumbfounded Johann can only nod. “Uh, yeah. I’ll get going, too. See you later.”

#johann appreciation week #taz balance #johavi #taz johann #taz avi #my writing

9 notes · View notes

thekaijudude · 2 years ago

Note

I recently read an old answer of yours on who would win in a fight between Showa Mechagodzilla and Galactron. So, here’s a version of that battle which I think would be more even:

A nerfed Galactron MK1 (no Teleportation capabilities) vs a modified Heisei Mechagodzilla possessing the mobility of Kiryu, the plasma punches and the full power Proton Scream of the Monsterverse Mechagodzilla (the Proton Scream replaces Heisei Mechagodzilla’s Mega Buster, btw) and a 200% power boost to the power of all of its attacks.

The Garuda can also be placed on the back, like with the normal Heisei Mechagodzilla, and would increase the percentage of the power boost from 200% to 300%. Also, when placed on the back of this version of Heisei Mechagodzilla, the Garuda would receive its own 200% power boost to its attacks.

Gosh this ask has been sitting in my inbox for the past few weeks sorry man. Am only getting to this now since I needed time to refresh my memory by researching all over again and my last finals paper had just ended like 2 days ago whoops

So I presume you're referring to this old post here:

And sheesh you've basically presented with me a near composite mechagodzilla here which definitely evens the playing field even more.

Firstly, a disclaimer, the fact that u included the Photon Screams and Plasma Punches essentially means that this composite mechagodzilla has the hollow earth-based energy, which grants further unknown stats boost ON TOP of your alr boosted stats

And although we never saw how Monsterverse MG fared against a full powered Godzilla and Kong. Considering that we saw how easily the Photon Scream overpowered Godzilla's atomic breath which tunneled into the hollow earth, I dont think its far fetched to say that they're comparable in potency

But the Galactron Spark far surpasses the Photon Scream in strength as for the aforementioned feat of Godzilla, he had to use it for a considerable amount of time before it reached the hollow earth.

While Galactron used his Galactron Spark for about a second which literally scorched square kilometers of land. While for Godzilla, we see that the surrounding land and skyscrapers beside him are still standing even after his atomic breath reached the Hollow Earth.

And the difference in beam potency here far surpasses a mere 200-300% difference and I don't even think being even further boosted by the Hollow-earth based energy would make up for the difference either. You'll probably need like at least 10-20x the multiplier potency by comparing the sheer amount of collateral damage of both beams

So while I don't really see much competition in terms of ranged attacks, I don't think Galactron's durability scales with his beam potency

While I don't think the Photon Scream nor the Maser Cannons could really do much damage to Galactron's armor (See previous ask on how durable he is), but with the added power boosts, they could very well obliterate Galactron

Which sorta makes sense since the MK1 are actually just scouting units and not really suited for combat as explained in Orb, so there's no wonder that they're such a glass cannon

And this is sort of the same situation in hand to hand combat. Without the power boosts, I don't think composite MG could do much either as iirc, the weakened Godzilla 2021 was knocked backed severely but he was really being lifted off the ground with the uppercut. So I'm just gonna go out on a limb and say that Monsterver MG's Plasma Fists had a lower punching power than Monsterverse Godzilla's weight, which in 2021 was about 100 000t. Against a Galactron that was only stunted from multiple 150 000t blows from TB

But with 200% power boost base composite MG would essentially result in a repeat of the TB vs Galactron fight, which essentially means base composite MG takes this rather easily

So rn it seems that composite MG takes this rather easily

However, I don't think composite MG's durability has scaled up much from Heisei MG (note that all of the boosts u applied here are only towards "power")

So he essentially becomes just like Galactron, a glass cannon

And Galactron also has another devastating but unconventional range attack, that being his blade with a ridiculously short cast time

If Zero couldn't even see it coming from hundreds of meters away, neither would this composite MG

So Galactron has to quickly extend his blade to pierce through this composite MG, best is to first take away his ability to use Photon Scream as without the Garuda equipped yet, that's the most dangerous weapon this composite MG has in ranged

And the Blade most likely could pierce through the NT-1 alloy since while its main purpose was essentially to convert Godzilla's atomic breath to power its own Plasma Grenade, this niche purpose has made it more "vulnerable" to bulgeoning and piercing damage, as seen from GvMGII itself against Godzilla. And considering how ridiculous the knockback was against Zero, yeah its probably pierce through MG's armor.

And given more time on Galactron's side, he could scan MG for more specific weakpoints he could target MG to shutdown multiple areas at once since its still a mech at the end of the day

Same with firing his own Galactron Spark first

So long as Galactron avoid grappling with composite MG and take out its ability to use Photon Scream, he could technically cheese MG using this method

Tho now that I think about it, Galactron could also detach its Arm Cannon to engage the Garuda and probably still win since the former has far greater mobility than the Garuda (assuming Galactron can keep composite MG occupied)

But assuming that composite MG alr has the Garuda equipped, Galactron could still technically cheese using the same method, avoid melee and piercing through both composite MG and the Garuda

However, since this composite Super MG has more weapons, Galactron has a far smaller window to do this

But note, Galactron literally only stands a chance to win if he decides to attack first using his blade extension to get rid of at least one of MG's ranged capabilities, or just nuke with Galactron Spark since it'll definitely overpower whatever ranged attacks composite MG could throw at it

So it all comes down to the "who's the first to act" type of battle result

Thanks for the question!

#ultraman #godzilla #asks

1 note · View note

idoun · 1 year ago

Text

pirrhyc:

“ Me? Amazing? I don’t know… ” Exhiliration floods him at the compliment, raw power feeling as if it is actively seeping into him moment by moment. Rosado’s backup feels comforting, even if the swing of his axe misses, the grand arc of it feels intimidating all in itself. Sain’s healing provides an extra reassurance, that his allies might be fine after all.

Even Byleth has regained their footing. With a swap of their weapon, they move unhindered, dodging one enemy and barely being grazed by another. If Pelleas doesn’t do something, he fears he might be left behind, undazzling in comparison.

He wants to help. He wants to be of use. He wants to be important.

And so when he moves to take advantage of the way the first soldier’s foot slips, twisting a bit in ts effort to hit the professor and failing, Pelleas moves like a shadow before he swings his spear.

Pelleas 7.5/10HP crits Shadow Soldier A with Shockstick (Shatter Slash activates!) [Roll: 18 + 2 = 20; -4, Shadow Soldier A 0/4HP] Shadow Soldier A has been defeated!

A loud crackle resounds in the air as a burst of electric charge brightens the immediate area, obliterating the enemy into a smoky, charred demise before it evaporates into nothingness, the only sign of its existence the faint thrum of energy in the air and the self-satisfied smile its reaper wears for its fall.

Pelleas feels powerful. Pelleas feels great. In a wreck of carnage, Pelleas wields a smile as soft as heaven’s light.

—— next: @idoun or @rozyrne !

The battle seemed to take a turn once more- this time in their favor. Idunn watched as her teammates successfully felled two of the apparitions with relative ease, however her focus wasn’t on the battle in itself- no, it was on their reactions. That man with the aura of a mage, in particular. The dragon saw, or rather felt how he seemed to express glee as he managed to defeat one of the ghouls with a lance-like object imbued in electric energy.

It was hard to point out to her, that source of happiness. Was it excitement? Genuine glee? Relief? That smile looked gentle and natural, it reminded her of Fae holding her hand as they walked through the gardens of Arcadia.

A warm, gentle breeze.

But one that didn’t quite reach her. She didn’t understand this, how a battle could bring such feeling.

As the man finished his attack and the enemy was left disarmed and confused, Idunn assumed it was her turn to make an attempt. Once more, she adjusted her grasp on the weapon, trying to find a proper grip- figuring that it felt better when she held it in a way that she couldn’t feel the tips of haw claws poking at her palm.

Idunn attacks Shadow Soldier B! Roll1D20-2= 16, hit! Shadow Soldier B HP= 1/4

Shadow Soldier B is broken! It can’t counterattack!

Feeling her muscles pull just at the right spots, the blade connected with the enemy- but Idunn knew it had been fruitless. After all, this apparition was armored much like how she was, so in reality the ax dug into a plate of metal instead of what would represent soft and fragile flesh. The enemy was incapable of attacking back, giving her time to return to her group without injuries.

“Armor…” She mumbled to herself. So, perhaps these apparitions did have a sense of self-preservation instead of being mindless puppets sent to do battle. Somehow, this detail bothered her slightly even though she still couldn’t sense consciousness from the illusions. After a pause, she quietly looked over to her teammates, wondering if they had caught on to that as well.

@rozyrne

✩ .　LOOKS ARE HALF THE BATTLE 　　　　　　　　　　— team two | bronze —

#looks are half the battle [bronze round] - thread #toaarena2023summer #i feel that long...I met a person much like you. [ threads ]#[support] rosado #[support] pelleas #[support] sain #[support] byleth f

24 notes · View notes

angstysebfan · 3 years ago

Text

The Past Can Break You - 1

Pairing: Bucky x Reader

AU: Avengers

Summary: You and Bucky have been dating for aa few years. As far as you’re concerned he is the one. But what happens when a blast from the actual past shows up?

A/N: Ive seen a lot stories of Bucky getting his first love from the 40′s back. And I’ve always wondered... what would happen if he was dating someone already? Reader is from this time. Not proofread.

If someone asked you what you loved about being an Avenger, you would definitely say the people. Not even the people you save, but the other members of your team who have become your family. See, you didn’t have a family growing up, and when Tony brought you into the Avengers you had no idea that he was also bringing you into the family.

Sam, Steve, and Thor were your big brothers, always protective. Natasha and Wanda were your best friends and sisters. Tony was definitely a father figure to you as well as one of your favorite people in the world. Bruce and Vision were two very good friends that you knew you could always count on. And Scott was the funniest person on the planet and always made you laugh.

But none of them compared to Bucky. When you first joined the avengers Bucky was new too. You guys became very close friends and eventually developed a very loving relationship. He was nervous at first to ask you out because it had been so long since he dated anyone. When he was back in the 40s he was definitely a ladies man but now he was more reserved and shy, which you didn’t mind.

Before you started dating he did tell you about his first love, Dot. You knew that she was his first love and tried not to be jealous of a woman from the 40s, and you tried not to compare his love to her to his love for you. You knew he missed her, but hopefully now that he was dating you, not as much, as selfish as that sounds.

You now have been dating Bucky for 2 1/2 years, and it’s safe to say that he is the love of your life. You both moved into the same room and spend as much time together as possible when you’re not on missions. In fact you’re out with Natasha and Wanda right now getting a special gift to wear tonight with Bucky.

“What’s the occasion for this again?” Natasha asked.

“Oh nothing, just feel like making him feel special,“ you say with a wink. Both girls rolled her eyes at you and continue searching for the perfect lingerie for you to wear for him.

When you got back to the compound you walk to the common room with your new purchase super excited to show your soldier later. you see everyone standing around staring at this big contraption that’s now in the middle of the common room. You walk up and stand next to your boyfriend staring at both the contraption and Tony who looks super excited.

“What the hell is this?“ you ask.

Tony looks at you and see the excitement in his eyes like a kid on Christmas. “I’m not sure. I found it in the archives when I was looking for something. I thought we could all open it up together,” her says.

You look at your boyfriend who gives you a shrug of his shoulders and a smirk, “He has been like this for a half hour,” he says as he wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you closer, kissing the top of your head.

“Where were you off to?” He asks, ignoring the commotion for a moment.

“Oh just picking up something for you… for me to wear… in bed.. tonight,” you say.

You see Bucky’s eyes darken as he leans closer to you, “well can’t wait to see it and rip it off of you then, Doll,” he whispers in your ear before placing his lips on yours.

You giggle as you then lean your head toward Tony and the contraption. You see Tony pressing a few buttons before some air or steam come out the top and the door opens. When the steam clears you all see there is a woman inside who appears to still be alive.

“It’s a cryogenic chamber!” Tony shouted in excitement.

Everyone stepped back to give whoever was in the chamber a few moments to awaken and come out slowly. After they clambered out you realized it was a red headed woman. You hear Bucky’s breath hitch as you all get a look at her face. Suddenly the woman looks at Bucky.

“Jamie?!” She asked.

You look at your boyfriend who is in shock looking at the woman before him. His hand around your waist falls away from you as he starts to step toward her.

“Dot? Is… is that really you?” He asks in amazement.

Suddenly your own breath hitches as you realize that your boyfriend is looking at his first love. The woman you felt you had to compare to. The one you thought he would never see again. She was now in your living room staring at Bucky in disbelief.

“I thought you were dead! How are you alive?” She asks.

“It’s a long story,Doll. One I’ll have to tell you later,” he says as he smirks at her.

She reaches out and pulls him toward her in a strong hug. Your heart slowly begins to break as you feel completely helpless, and selfish at the same time. You see all your friends, Steve included, are giving looks of sympathy.

You start taking slow steps back, not wanting to draw any more attention to yourself. You stumble and stop though when you see her kiss him. Your heart is officially obliterated. No way will you stand a chance next to Dot.

Bucky had his first love back. He didn’t need you anymore. You quickly turned away and leave the room: no one calls for you, letting you go. Bucky and Dot don’t even notice.

Bucky pulls away from Dot, “I’m sorry, I can’t. There is so much we need to talk about, but I can’t…”

He trails off as he finally turns toward the room and sees that you are gone. He feels terrible and steps away from Dot.

“You should go down and see Bruce. Get checked out. I’ll meet you down there. I just have to check on something first,” Bucky says.

Dot grabs his hand, “Please don’t leave me. I don’t want to be alone,” she begs.

Steve steps up, “I’ll go with you Dot. Bucky will meet us down there,” he says.

Bucky gives his best friend a thankful smile before nodding at Dot and turning toward your shared room. He didn’t know what to say. He didn’t even know what to think. All he knew is that he was at a crossroads where one or all of the participants will get hurt.

He was terrified.

- -

Chapter 2

Ok so as I said up top, I always wondered what would happen if Bucky’s 40s gf came back while he was dating someone else. I feel for both reader and Bucky in this situation because this is a tough situation. Looking forward to writing it! Feedback is appreciated!

Permanent Taglist: @hailmary-yramliah @tuiccim @comedictragedy @cap-n-stuff @thefridgeismybestie @swiftmind @aleaisntcreative @lookimtrying @pinknerdpanda @morganclaire4 @iamvalentinaconstanza @verygraphicink @im-squished @joannie95 @peace-love-hobbitness @connie326 @amandamdiehl @harrysthiccthighss @its-izzys @roserose26 @rebekahdawkins @elegantobservationstudentsblog @broco8 @shinykoalacat @white-wolf1940 @jessyballet

#bucky angst #bucky x reader #bucky barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #james buchanan barnes #bucky x y/n #james bucky barnes #james barnes #sebastian stan #bucky barnes angst #Bucky #bucky x dot #bucky x you

423 notes · View notes

nagipops · 4 years ago

Note

hii I love your blogs sooo much you're really talented (I just needed to say it sorry) so straight to the point, I already made 2 requests to you and I really enjoyed your writing so I would like to make another again. As I'm clueless about what to request I'll just ask for random hcs for konoha 11, idk if it's too much but if so then you can do with Neji (I love him so much), Kakashi and Naruto. Thank you in advance and sorry anything ^^

RANDOM KONOHA 11 HEADCANONS!

FEATURING: naruto, sakura, shikamaru, ino, choji, neji, rock lee, tenten, kiba, hinata, and shino

WARNINGS: mentions alcohol, drugs, food, bugs, and the tiniest nsfw mention if you get the joke. hehe

A/N: AHHHH ANONN this seriously made my day, im so so glad you enjoy my work!! 💖

NARUTO

you know how we all have “the chair”, where we throw all of our dirty clothes onto?

yeah, imagine that, but from the seat to the fricking ceiling

its just a GINORMOUS MOUND of clothes, you wonder how he even goes through that many clothes so quickly???

definitely shoves it under his bed whenever guests come over (somehow)

holds chopsticks really weirdly. but it works.

asked tenten to put his hair into space buns to mimic his sexy jutsu and went around flirting with the village

jiraiya was so proud of him T-T

comes up with the WORST pickup lines

they’re so bad, its almost charming. almost

has gone AWOL multiple times, disappearing from everywhere, just everywhere

it scared you a little, so you searched the entire village for him

you finally found him sitting on the ledge of a cliff, gazing out at the vast sea

concerned and panicked, you cried out to ask him what was wrong

he turned to you with a crestfallen, devastated look on his face and said,

“i bought shrimp ramen instead of chicken ramen.”

you’ve never searched for him after his disappearance ever again.

SAKURA

100% makes origami shurikens and chucks them at you

they are deathly precise and deathly sharp. seriously, how are these not illegal weapons yet???

writes threatening motivational notes to herself on the mirror

“u got this!” “make sure to smack naruto today!” “ino sucks!”

her backpack would always be way too high up on her back. idk why but. it would

does her hair all nice and pretty before she goes out but once she arrives to her destination SHE KEEP. TAKING. IT OUT. and redoing it over and over and over again

like it’s impossible to make eye contact with her because she’s holding a bobby pin between her teeth while braiding her hair

her guilty pleasure would be hostess treats

ding dongs are her favorite. don’t ask me how i know, i just know.

eats the yellow starbursts just to spite naruto and all her haters

loves small lap dogs, she think’s they’re so cute and cuddly

but she especially loves chihuahuas

they’re so feisty and naruto HATES them, so of course she had to go and get one for herself

dresses the poor dog up in little bonnets and jackets and ties its tiny fuzzy hairs into pigtails

she and the chihuahua are not that much unlike <3

SHIKAMARU

this man is a god at shogi but he absolutely SUCKSSSS at cup pong.

is this an ick? idk. but he is absolute trash at this game.

it gets even worse when he’s got a couple drinks in him

tries to calculate the velocity and acceleration and angle and shit but his shot is always a good two feet off BYE 😭

just mutters an “aw, shit” before awaiting his turn again

hates checkers, loves chess

“checkers is for WUSSIES” - shikamaru nara

i said this in another post, but he is Very Good at whistling

like that’s his hidden talent

can copy any tune with the perfect pitch and rhythm

speaking of, he can do really cool tricks with his tongue

like making a four leaf clover, touching the bridge of his nose with it, flipping it upside down, you name it

he has slanted, scrawled handwriting, to the point where it’s almost illegible

wbk he cheats in school SO OFTEN. but he never gets caught. he’s not stupid, he just couldn’t care less about his classes.

thinks weed and e-cigs are stupid, cigarettes are where it’s at

you just can’t replicate the feeling of taking a drag from a cig after a long, tiring day

plus he looks hella cool while doing it B)

INO

teaches the boyz™️ how to braid their hair

like they all gather in a circle around this feisty fashionista and fail attempt to braid their hair

sakura was just fuming in the sidelines

“OI, INO-PIG, THAT’S A DUTCH BRAID, NOT A FRENCH BRAID!!”

yeah, ino 🙄

the only one that can actually do it is neji because a) this man is talented af and b) he’s got the long hairrr

ino probably envies his thick, sleek hair because hE’S a bOy

also asks everyone for their blood type and zodiac signs and tells them if they’re compatible with her or not

and definitely judges you for your sign 😣

“oh, you’re a gemini? hmm, what a shame...”

makes bouquets for her favorite people and kin assigns everyone a flower

only assigns the pretty nice ones to the people she likes (sorry sakura, you’re out of luck)

one of her favorite hobbies is crafting! she’s really good with details and small things so she loves making those miniature dollhouses and stuff

also really good at watercoloring. especially painting flowers and landscapes

also i feel like she would be really good at playing any instrument because of her skilled hands

can play a badass flute solo. period.

CHOJI

would honestly rather die than get anywhere NEAR an asparagus

he just thinks they’re so gross and bitter and NOT SALTY

he always eats his yakiniku a little bit undercooked because he’s way too impatient to wait for it to cook fully. who do you think he is??

whenever he cloud gazes with shikamaru, when asked what he thinks a cloud looks like, he just says some sort of food

“oi, choji, what does that one look like to you?”

“a... yakiniku grill... with... pineapple rings on it! ooh, and a wagyu steak right there!”

he thinks pringles are an abomination to society. where’s the crisp? where’s the grease? where’s the saltiness?!!!

asks ino to teach him how to do his hair all fancy and the two of them devote an entire day learning different hairstyles

it’s his new favorite thing to do now :D

he really likes crayons!!!!

like he’ll write with them, draw with them, color with them, do everything with them

he’s even tried to eat them. he said they tasted good.

definitely had the 128 crayon pack WITH THE BUILT-IN SHARPENER, and everyone thought he was the coolest kid in town

he ate it UP, he even scored some bbq dates with the ladies

i also feel like he loves basketball, and he has a MEAN slam dunk

like his vertical isn’t that high, but the man can REACH

he loves when people laugh at him when he challenges them to a 1v1 and then proceeds to absolutely destroy them <3

NEJI

he seems like a cucumber kind of guy.

just cucumber

like i feel like he puts it in everything; soba, salads, sandwiches, his face, yeah

it’s mellow and cool, just like him!

speaking of, i feel like he lives for spa days and facials

it just lets him be alone in his little cucumber scented world for an hour or two and he gets damn clear skin from it as well

seriously he has PERFECT skin. flawless. not a single blemish. his cheeks feel like baby butts they’re so smooth.

i feel like he’d be a god at solving rubik’s cubes, don’t ask me why

like if anyone scrambled theirs on accident they would just take it to neji and he’d solve it in the blink of an eye

CAT PERSON!!! loves the little meow meows

who are we kidding, neji basically is a cat; agile, aloof, does silly things without trying to, very cute

he just feels akin to the little fuzzballs and he thinks petting cats are extremely therapeutic. good for the soul

he is a golf man. he would take his juniors golfing and everyone thinks he’s uncool. cmon neji let them go to the skate park at least T-T

also very good at karaoke, definitely surprised everyone once he got a few drinks in him since he started serenading you

LIGHTWEIGHT!!! do not get more than one shot of alcohol in him. he will go berserk.

i also feel like he’d really love photography; not taking pictures of people, but of nature

he loves taking a quiet stroll through a pretty forest and snapping pictures of all the unique flora and fauna

it’s so serene ︶ ‿ ︶

ROCK LEE

100% milly rocks everywhere

gai got in on it too once he asked what lee was doing

“is that what all the youthful cool kids do these days!”

they also dab together. a lot

DO NOT BE SEEN WITH THESE TWO!!! you are not associated with them.

definitely is the one breakdancing in the middle of the dance circle at a high school party

he’s mad skilled at it too

headspins and windmills galore

challenged naruto to a dance-off and completely OBLITERATED him

lee then asked if naruto wanted a rematch, this time with one hand tied behind lee’s back

naruto obliged, and he STILL lost

RIP naruto and his fangirls, they all scrambled to lee afterwards T-T

i feel like his favorite subject is science

not the boring physics equations and laws and theories but the fun EXPERIMENTS

definitely has singed all of his hair off one time and he went to gai blubbering to help him grow back his precious hair

but he loves experimenting with different combinations and chemicals to get different reactions each time

created a potent love potion and carried it around with him all day one day

and it was actually working

girls were flocking to him left and right, staring at his lips and his face

he was so abashed at the sudden attention

heck, it even worked on sakura

“oi, lee-san!”

“hehe, yes, sakura-san?”

her eyes shifted downwards to his lips and his heart thumped harder

“hey... lee-san?”

“what is it?”

“you have something on your lip. we’ve been trying to tell you all day but you just winked and blew kisses at us.”

legend has it lee has still not recovered to this day.

TENTEN

has THE prettiest handwriting. and she can write SUPER fast

it’s like a superpower

like she transcribed five pages of a report in less than two minutes with perfect handwriting

naruto is so jealous.

she is also super good at origami! those diligent, accurate hands aren’t just for throwing things

taught sakura how to make shurikens but does NOT endorse any violent uses of them

she can replicate all of her weapons with paper and they can actually function, it’s so cool

made paper kunai knives one day and the wholeee village wanted to get their hands on them

i feel like she’d listen to mitski. idk i just get those vibes

LOVES BIG DOGS!! especially fluffy wuffy samoyeds

like man’s best friend?? no, GIRL’S BEST FRIEND!!

hugs and cuddles and squishes all the big dogs

she thinks small dogs are spawns of satan

sakura and her have definitely quarreled over this

but at the end of the day, all dogs are adorable fur babies, so she lets it slide :,)

KIBA

kiba always looks SO GOOD in photos you take of him, candid or not

like you could just whip out a camera and snap a photo of him at any given moment and he would look perfect

you framed a picture of him yelling at akamaru for peeing inside the house

it’s pure artwork

i feel like he tries to swagger around with his hands shoved in his pockets but it fails MISERABLY and the girls are wondering if he broke his leg or something 😭

kiba just walk normally. for the love of god please just walk normally.

he tries to slump back in his chair really low but one time he slouched way too low so he slipped off of his chair and onto the ground LMFAOOOO

he just wallowed there... in shame...

also.. he LOVES when the girls put makeup on him!!

he tries to act like he hates it. but it secretly gives him so much confidence

not to mention the girls hyping him up are a huge ego boost

okay the inside of his jacket hood is the warmest. thing. EVER!!!

seriously, no wonder this dude is so happy-go-lucky all the time, he’s living in literal heaven 24/7

it’s like you’re sleeping on a cloud inside a warm, cozy bed during a cold winter morning

10/10 would recommend letting him give you his sweatshirt when you’re chillin with a hair tie ❤️

HINATA

always smells like lavender soap. always

also has the cutest pencil pouches with little puppy faces and kawaii things

oH and she has those mini yoobi highlighters, she thinks they’re so cute (and functional!)

everyone flocks to her to try them out and marvel at the cute tiny highlighters

and they try to steal them from her but she doesn’t even stop them because she’s too timid to 😭

naruto goes BALLISTIC over them

she lets him have all of them <3

tennis girl!!! tennis girl.

all of her opponents always underestimate her because she’s so timid and shy and quiet

but she has a KILLER serve

and then she takes her opponents to the slaughterhouse with a complete shutout ;)

she’s really athletic believe it or not, she can beat most of the boys in a mile run and she has incredible endurance

i feel like she really loves velvet scrunchies

she just thinks they’re so pretty and they keep her hair soft so they’re cute and functional

also takes the PRETTIEST notes!!

color codes, dividers, headers, you name it, it’s all super readable too its insane

everyone asks her for her notes, not to study but just to appreciate the pure artwork that it is ^w^

SHINO

shino is SO easy to prank

“how do you catch an eyemaster?” *cue naruto and kiba snickering*

“eyemaster bait. that is because—”

even when everyone’s laughing their asses off, he still continues to explain his answer since he does NOT GET THE JOKE

tried his hand at writing haikus

here’s his best one so far:

“Bugs are amazing. That is because they are bugs. Bugs are very nice.” - Shino Aburame

VERY proud of it, since it took him weeks to perfect

praise it, pls

had one of those ant farms and bug-catching kits as a kid

and he would fill the kit TO THE BRIM. LIKE IT WAS HEAVY BECAUSE THERE WERE SO MANY BUGS.

he loves the little chitters of the different bugs

he had jars of different bugs all lined up on a wall shelf in his room

collects silkworms off of trees and sticks them into his pockets (no i definitely did not do this as a kid...)

HELP I FEEL LIKE he would record a timelapse of his ant farm growing and upload it to youtube with a movie maker title screen that says

“my ants”

if you enjoyed this post, likes and reblogs are much appreciated :) feel free to request here, and make sure to read the rules first! have a lovely day everyone <3

562 notes · View notes

cheesybadgers · 3 years ago

Text

Narcos Fic: Old Habits Die Hard (Chap. 11)

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 4, Chapter 5, Chapter 6, Chapter 7, Chapter 8, Chapter 9, Chapter 10, Chapter 12, Chapter 13, Chapter 14, Chapter 15, Chapter 16, Chapter 17, Chapter 18, Chapter 19, Chapter 20, Chapter 21, Chapter 22, Chapter 23, Chapter 24

Read on AO3

Masterlist

Pairing: Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo

Words: 5,778

Summary: In the aftermath of chapter 10, the consequences of the ambush are felt by all, whilst it’s a race against time to save Horacio.

Warnings: 18+ ONLY. Canon-typical violence, non-graphic description of a gunshot wound/being shot, flashbacks, near-death experience, survivor’s guilt, discussions of sexuality and unintentionally coming out, angst, swearing.

Notes: I had hoped to post this sooner, but life, (minor) illness and Christmas had other ideas! I was determined to get this up before the end of the year though lol. I’ve made a tentative start on chapter 12 already, so I’ll be cracking on with that shortly. Thank you so much to anyone still reading/interacting, it’s greatly appreciated 😊

Whilst obviously I do not own Narcos or its characters, please do not copy, re-post, or plagiarize this fic in any capacity on this or other platforms. If you wish to create any fan works inspired by it, please provide a credit or send me a message if in doubt.

Chapter 11: Second Chances

The last comms received were the distressed cries of Trujillo confirming the convoy was under attack. Despite several more attempts to make contact, it was no use. They were blind and deaf to what was happening, making it far too easy to assume the worst.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Javier slammed his fist down on the dashboard before scooping up the radio once more. “Jacoby, come in, do you hear me?”

When the transmission came through, though, it wasn’t Jacoby. It was Messina. “Peña, whatever you and Murphy think you’re doing, I suggest—”

“It’s an ambush! We need immediate assistance from all available units to 9th Street!”

“What the hell happened?”

“Look, you can hurl our asses home all you want after this is over, but are you gonna help, or are you gonna let us go into a fucking bloodbath without backup?” The urgency in Javier’s voice left no room for diplomacy or contrition. Not that he was sorry in the slightest, and he wasn’t in the mood to pretend otherwise. His ultimatum hung in the air for what couldn’t have been more than a fraction of a second but still seemed like precious time wasted. “It’s your call, boss,” he spat out, his patience obliterated.

Messina may have been many things Javier didn’t care for, but she wasn’t heartless. “I’ll alert Search Bloc now. You two need to stay put wherever you are until they’re on the scene. No arguments this time, Peña. We’ll talk about this later. Is that clear?”

“Clear. Over and out.” Javier threw the radio back down in disgust before turning to Steve. “Keep driving.”

“Javi—”

“I said keep fucking driving.”

Steve gave no response, but the speedometer steadily crept up as they travelled in sombre silence.

Javier reached under the collar of his shirt and clasped the warmed silver of the crucifix in his chilled yet clammy palm. He regretted not returning it to its rightful owner before they left base, and out of sheer desperation, he wordlessly recited a prayer for the first time in years. Or rather decades.

Even when he’d knelt with Trujillo on the cold tiles of Carlos Holguín, he hadn’t asked for anything. But now, he pleaded and begged with everything he had that they weren't too late. Clinging to hope and whatever remnants were left of his faith as though they were a life-raft on the brink of the abyss. It was all that kept him afloat and from drowning in an endless sea of blind panic. He was willing to trade anything by this point; he couldn't care less. None of it mattered anymore. Just as long as Horacio was still alive.

As they approached the corner of 9th Street, clouds of smoke billowed high above the buildings in the vicinity. A miasma of charred rubber and fumes filled the night air, along with the all too familiar echo of gunfire.

No sooner had Javier and Steve stepped out of the car than shots skimmed past their heads and forced them to duck for cover behind the vehicle doors. Although the smothering mist hampered their visibility and made it almost impossible to distinguish which direction bullets were flying from.

Javier squinted and could just about make out the silhouette of two figures he assumed were Pablo’s men heading towards them. But something made him hesitate. As they drew nearer, it was obvious one of them was injured from his laboured gait and the way he rested against the other. “Wait, Steve, hold your fire!”

Before Steve could respond, Javier left the safety of his hiding place and ran towards the two men; their identities shifting into focus the closer he got.

“Peña, give me a hand. He’s been shot!” Trujillo battled to hide the alarm from his voice almost as much as he struggled to hold Horacio’s limp form up.

Without hesitation, Javier swooped into the other side of Horacio. His prayer had been answered – just, but overwhelming relief was soon tempered by Horacio’s apparent condition. “We need to get him to the car, it’s just up ahead!”

They stumbled forwards, miraculously dodging the relentless bombardment whilst Steve did his best to cover them.

They were almost home and dry, the car merely feet ahead, when Horacio’s legs gave way beneath him with a defeated groan.

“No, no, no, we have to keep moving. Just a few more steps.” Javier dropped to his knees on the rough asphalt, arm secured around Horacio in an attempt to break the fall. Dread skirted at the edges of his voice as Horacio lolled heavily against his shoulder with half-lidded eyes. “I’ve got you. I’ve always got you,” he whispered whilst cradling Horacio’s head for the briefest of moments.

“Come on, Colonel, let us help you to the car!” Trujillo soon joined Javier on the floor, the pandemonium surrounding them thankfully drowning out such a subtle gesture of affection.

With their combined strength, they heaved Horacio up and manoeuvred him into the back of Steve’s Jeep.

Javier had never been happier to hear grunts of pain as Horacio’s shoulder caught the upholstery whilst they positioned him across the seats. He shoved down the urge to clamber in alongside him, even though that was where he should have been. “Let’s go, Steve!” he signalled instead as he closed the door.

However, as he made to jump in the front passenger seat, something blunt and heavy punched into his chest and knocked him backwards to the ground.

He lay gasping for several seconds, wondering whose anguished howl he could hear before it dawned on him it was his own. It was as though all of the air had been snatched from his lungs and replaced with a lead weight crushing him down into the depths of the earth. A high-pitched ringing filled his ears, and he was only brought to his senses by Steve frantically yelling his name as he crouched by his side.

“What’s the damage?” Javier eventually puffed out, although each syllable was like a dagger plunging through his thorax.

“Well, the vest did its job, so that’s the main thing.” Steve hung his head as he let out several relieved breaths. “Can you move at all? We need to leave now.”

Bullets ricocheted off every surface, and it was sheer luck that Steve hadn’t been hit as well. Which was why Javier pushed past the sensation of hot pokers ripping through his rib cage as he was helped back onto his feet. From there, he was all but hurled into the passenger seat before Steve resumed his place behind the wheel.

Javier tensed and hissed sharply through his teeth as his back hit the seat from the sudden movement of the car, but distracted himself by peering through the rear-view mirror. “How is he?”

“Unconscious again. Still breathing but he’s lost a lot of blood.” Trujillo had rummaged under the seats for any First Aid supplies he could get his hands on. They were basic materials, but anything was better than nothing when it came to stopping the bleeding. “Murphy, we need to get to Hospital General and we need some of our men over there. Nowhere’s gonna be safe. Too many people on Escobar’s payroll.”

“Got it.”

Javier was vaguely aware of Steve taking charge of the situation and Messina’s voice on the other end of the radio. Her livid tones washed over him with ease as he kept his focus on the mirror. He could just about make out the rise and fall of Horacio’s chest – shallower breaths than normal but signs of life nonetheless – and was compelled to place his palm against it. Just to be sure his eyes weren’t deceiving him.

Not that he deserved that privilege. Once again, he was reminded why alone had always been safer. Not just for him, but for everyone else involved as well. When people got close to him, they tended to get hurt one way or another. He’d always assumed the worst damage he could cause someone was to their feelings, but he’d really fucking surpassed himself this time.

“Javi? Can you hear me? Javi? Are you okay?”

Javier blinked out of his daze to find Steve staring at him with a quizzical look of concern. “Yeah, yeah. M’fine.” They both knew he wasn’t, but at least he was responsive, which was enough to satisfy Steve for the time being.

“A team’s been sent to the hospital to meet us there. All remaining units have been deployed to 9th Street to rescue any survivors. Messina’s losin’ her shit, but nothin’ new there.” Steve attempted a smile with his last comment, needing to find a release somewhere, no matter how trivial.

Javier understood, though and reciprocated. “Thanks, Steve.” For everything, he wanted to add. Along with Sorry that I dragged you into this shitstorm and nearly got us all killed, but he had neither the strength nor the courage.

------------------------------------------------------

Armed CNP officers were stationed outside the building by the time they arrived at Hospital General. A stretcher had already wheeled Horacio off to be assessed before Javier even made it out of the car. There was no time for anything. No time between them. No time for words of reassurance – or words of any kind. No time for potential goodbyes. Nothing. And it was all his fault.

There was a stretcher waiting for Javier too, which he’d initially waved off, but now he was without Horacio, he was glad of the soft landing when his head span and his legs buckled.

“Woah, easy now, Javi,” Steve reassured as he helped Javier lay back.

“I need to know how he is.” Despite his woozy state, Javier tried to sit up again with a grimace but was immediately halted by a gentle hand on his shoulder that forced him to abandon his feeble attempt.

“You need to let them treat you before you do anything else.” Right on cue, several medics arrived to move Javier. “He’s in the best place right now, Javi. You gotta hold on to that,” Steve continued, dropping his voice low enough for only the two of them to hear.

By the time Javier had been wheeled through the hospital – with Steve following behind the trolley – and into a treatment room, Trujillo was in the next bed receiving stitches.

“I’m gonna call Connie and fill her in, let her know I’m safe. Will you two be okay for a while?”

“Don’t worry, blondie, I’ll make sure Peña stays out of trouble.” There was that smile again; the same weary, grief-tinged one Javier had seen after the attacks on the CNP.

“Good luck with that,” Steve quipped before leaving them to it.

They remained in silence whilst the nurse finished suturing, which gave Javier more time to tie himself in knots contemplating what to say. Not that he was even sure his input was wanted right now.

“What you and Murphy did…” Here it comes. Javier was already bracing himself. It’s what he deserved, after all. “I just wanted to say…thank you.”

“What?” Not the response he was expecting.

“For going against your orders and coming after us. You saved our lives, Peña.”

Javier couldn’t stop a humourless laugh from escaping. “You really shouldn’t be thanking me.”

“It wasn’t your fault. Coulda happened to any of us.”

“But it didn’t, did it? They knew I’d fall for it and they were fucking right.”

“He’s in good hands.” Trujillo side-stepped Javier’s self-deprecation in favour of getting to the heart of the issue. They’d both avoided addressing the obvious until now, but Horacio’s presence was so loud between them, it was unsustainable to avoid the subject for much longer. “And the bastard’s too stubborn to die, anyway.” A sentiment which raised a knowing, wry smile from them both.

Whilst they talked, a nurse had carefully eased Javier out of his tac vest. She lay it at the edge of the bed, and he couldn’t help but stare at the bullet lodged in the fabric of the Kevlar. Why had he been so lucky, and Horacio hadn’t? All because he’d fallen for the old damsel in distress routine. Again. She’d played the part so well, though. How could he have allowed himself to be taken in so fucking badly?

Lost in thought, Javier hadn’t been paying much attention to the nurse’s actions. She’d given him a shot of pain relief and helped him peel off his shirt. The bruising to his chest was prominent and would no doubt develop further in the following hours and days. It wasn’t until he glanced down at his torso that he remembered the necklace. Shit.

He attempted a subtle glance in Trujillo’s direction, but it was too late. Javier caught every stage of Trujillo’s reaction as he stared at the no doubt familiar pendant at the base of his neck. What surprised Javier, though, was he didn’t note any trace of shock or disgust, but rather a look that screamed Of course. As if the final piece of the puzzle had slotted into place at last.

Before either man could say anything, the nurse informed Javier he was to be taken for an x-ray. Javier mumbled his thanks as he was wheeled out of the room, unable to bring himself to meet Trujillo’s eye again.

------------------------------------------------------

The x-rays confirmed Javier had sustained several broken ribs. But there was nothing more to be done for him other than managing the pain and resting. Something he was finding impossible to do whilst waiting to be discharged.

What made it even worse was, to the outside world, he was nothing to Horacio. Officially, he was just a colleague with no entitlement whatsoever to be consulted on Horacio’s condition. All he could do was lie there in the dark, in every sense of the word. Helpless and fidgeting, which did nothing to aid his own recovery. He didn’t want to sit still – couldn’t. He had the compulsion to pace in the same way he had done after the bombing in Madrid. In the same way that the monotonous ticking of the second hand on the clock above his bed hammered into his skull, mocking him with each hour that passed without news.

Eventually, he was saved from his sleepless nightmare by a knock at the door and Trujillo clearing his throat. It prompted Javier to sit up with a jolt as he fumbled for the light switch on the wall beside him.

“There was damage to his blood vessels, and he needed a transfusion, but he’s gonna be okay. And he knows you’re okay too. Just thought you’d want an update before I brief everyone else.”

Javier closed his eyes, his shoulders visibly sagging like a deflated balloon. “Thank you.” He looked up to say more, but the words died on his tongue in their usual fashion.

Trujillo dipped his head in reply and lingered in the doorway, sensing the conversation wasn’t done with.

“Listen, about earlier—” Javier tried again.

“It’s okay,” Trujillo interjected, his expression unreadable, but then he had learnt from the best. “I won’t tell anyone. You have my word.”

There was no hiding the warmth in Trujillo’s eyes, though, and Javier found his chest swelling for reasons other than pain or anxiety for the first time in hours. There were so many things he wanted to say – should have said – but the lump in his throat had other ideas. He swallowed it down and gave a firm nod instead. One that was returned in a silent acknowledgement that meant more to Javier than Trujillo would probably ever realise.

“He’s still coming round from the surgery, but as soon as he’s stable, we’re gonna have to move him,” Trujillo pressed on. “We can’t stay here for longer than necessary. Too many eyes and ears.”

“Right, yeah, of course.”

Javier’s mind raced a mile a minute as Trujillo excused himself to update the rest of Search Bloc and Steve. Escobar wanted Horacio dead and not just in a casual way, either. That was what the ambush had been about. Javier was the bait, and Horacio had taken it all too willingly. And now, it looked as though Horacio would need to go into hiding. All because Javier had yet again satisfied his pathetic fucking need to play the knight in shining armour. As though it was even his place in a country that wasn’t his.

He stared up at the ceiling illuminated by garish, clinical lights that made him feel like he was under interrogation, or rather that he should have been. No matter which way he looked at it, this was on him. And whilst it may not have cost Horacio his life, it might have cost him just about everything else.

------------------------------------------------------

As an interim measure, it was decided to transfer Horacio to Carlos Holguín. They were going against medical advice to transport him so soon after surgery, but they were left with no choice. It wouldn’t be long before Escobar or his men got wind of Horacio’s whereabouts, so the sooner they moved, the better.

Javier sat by Horacio’s bed in the school’s medical wing, which contained limited facilities by comparison to the hospital. There was still a drip line attached to Horacio, but the main damage had been repaired. Thankfully, the bullet had entered and exited straight through his shoulder, so there was no need for the surgeon to attempt to fish it out or leave a permanent reminder beneath the skin.

Horacio was still on the groggy side and the colour hadn’t returned to his cheeks yet, but he was at least propped up by pillows and able to talk now. He’d been sedated when he first arrived and with Trujillo’s help, Javier managed to go unnoticed at his bedside for some time before he woke. Long enough for Javier to rest his head against Horacio’s chest, soothed by the sturdy, rhythmic beat of his heart. At last.

They may have both been conscious, but words clogged in the back of Javier’s throat like choking tar. His chin rested in his clasped palms, heavy eyes drawn to the floor and unable to meet Horacio’s.

“This wasn’t your fault.”

Javier scoffed against his hands, wincing at the shooting pain the action sent across his bruised chest. He still refused to look up, although the fact Horacio had read him so accurately rendered any attempts to hide pointless.

“Hey, come on, look at me,” Horacio continued, his voice weak but full of determination not to be put off by defence mechanisms he knew all too well.

Javier submitted and raised his head. How could he deny Horacio under any circumstance, least of all when he was in such a vulnerable state? But then they both were. Battered and bruised in all respects, they shared a look that somehow encapsulated the pain, rawness and injustice that had led them here.

“I got played.”

“We all did.”

Javier shook his head with vigour. “No, you trusted me because I trusted her. I fucked up. End of story.”

“She probably got played too, remember. This is how he operates. And anyway, it was me he wanted. For coming back. For going after his business. For Gustavo. So, if you want someone to blame, this is on me, not you.”

“Bullshit. A lot of your men are dead, and…I nearly got you killed as well.” What started out as a sceptical huff ended with Javier’s voice cracking at the seams, the unforgiving lighting exposing the glossy sheen that had formed across his pupils.

“You saved my life and put your own at risk – yours and Murphy’s. What if I’d survived and you hadn’t? You think I’d be able to live with that?” Luckily for Javier, Horacio was in no position to judge as he struggled to finish each sentence, every glance at Javier only making it harder.

“We knew what we were getting into. And it was either that or sitting there listening to you all—” Javier cut himself off and took a deep breath, desperately trying but failing to blink back tears. “You think I’d be able to live with that?”

Horacio let out an exasperated sigh that doubled as an opportunity to regain a semblance of composure. It was clear this was an unwinnable and circular argument that they were both too wrung out to be indulging in. “What will happen to you and Murphy?” he asked instead.

“Haven’t spoken to Messina yet, but I’m guessing suspension and a flight home. Before you say anything, we knew it was a possibility. If we’d killed the fucker tonight, we’d be leaving Colombia anyway.”

It was the truth. A truth that Javier had accepted as soon as it became clear Escobar had slipped through their fingers again. He wasn’t sure if it was numbness caused by shock, but he couldn’t bring himself to care. Good men had lost their lives because of his decision-making, and Horacio could quite easily have been one of them. Whatever punishment the DEA had in store for him, he doubted it could compare to the well-established guilt he bore for his role in the proceedings.

Horacio cast his eyes towards the linen bedsheet that cocooned him; the flimsy material now all that remained of his defences against the bombshell he was about to drop. “I’m stepping down too.”

“What? No, you can’t—”

“Wait, just hear me out. Please.”

Javier conceded with a reluctant tilt of his head, accepting he didn’t really have any choice in the matter.

“I can’t keep doing this. I – I can’t keep putting my job above you. Above us. Not anymore. Not when Escobar is prepared to go this far, and further no doubt.”

There it was. An admission he’d known he was going to have to make ever since he came round from the anaesthetic. When he’d found out how close to death he was.

He couldn’t recollect much detail of events, but he remembered how distant everything around him had become. How all he could sense were glints of light and a shimmer of silver in his peripheral vision. How bone-deep cold and dog-tired he was as the hazy image of a cross faded in and out of view. How easy it would have been to give in to the lure of sleep if it hadn’t been for the voices of comfort and strength pulling him back from the precipice. And how close he was to succumbing when he’d heard Javier’s cry of pain. How he’d had no idea what had happened when he awoke rambling incoherently until the doctors allowed Trujillo in to calm him down and explain that Javier was safe and well. No, there was no way he could put either of them through any of that again.

“I’m too much of a liability. And I’m pretty sure my superiors agree,” Horacio continued after a pause to let Javier digest everything.

“What are you talking about?”

“After Vélez’s news report, they made it clear they were looking for my replacement. Even reeled off a list of potential candidates when they called me. Some of the names I didn’t know, but one I did recognise – Martínez. His father served with my father. He’s well-liked, above board. A safe pair of hands compared to me,” he scoffed. “I think they’ll go with him if they can persuade him to take the job.”

“But what about Gaviria?”

“You think he’ll care after this? More dead officers on his watch and two DEA agents caught in the crossfire? It’s too risky for him and his party. I’m not worth it.”

As much as it pained Javier, he knew Horacio was right. Bureaucracy, political scandals, ratings, and reputations were the major players at this level. It didn’t take much to bring about a shake-up if the powers that be deemed it necessary. The DEA was no different, either. It was easy to imagine Horacio being viewed as too much of a hindrance and his conflict with Escobar overly personal.

“What are you gonna do?”

“For the next few hours, I should be safe here, but after that, I don’t know. I – I might have to leave Colombia again.”

Javier’s heart sank, scarcely able to believe what he was hearing. It didn’t matter what comfort Horacio offered; if it hadn’t been for Javier passing on the intel, they wouldn’t be sat here now. And then there was the magnitude of Horacio giving up his job. For him. For them. The gesture should have left him elated, but he mostly felt sick, ashamed and unworthy.

“I’m sorry, Horacio. I’m so sorry. For everything. I—”

“No, stop that. I won’t let you do this to yourself.” Horacio leaned forwards, ignoring the shockwaves of pain as he gripped Javier’s face, gently coaxing his gaze upwards. “I’m not sorry we’re both still alive. You said this won’t be forever, remember? Maybe this is where it ends.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I want us to have a future together, Javier. And I – I think you want the same. This could be our chance. A second chance.”

Flashbacks of his previous visit to see Gabriela filled Javier’s mind. What was it she said? There’ll come a day when the decision will be taken out my hands one way or another. Was this finally that day? Were they both getting out at long last?

Even just thinking about it made his heart flutter and his stomach soar before he reminded himself that he didn’t know for definite what his own fate was yet. However, he couldn’t envisage a scenario where he and Steve were allowed to waltz back into the Embassy or Carlos Holguín as if nothing had happened. Not given how serious the situation was, or how they had disobeyed direct orders. Twice in one night. Which was why, just for a moment, he let his mind drift to a future of hope and peace.

He breathed deeply against Horacio, nuzzling their foreheads together with his eyes closed. “I do want the same,” he whispered, capturing Horacio’s mouth with his own. A soft, delicate brush of lips that acknowledged the fragility of the situation and each other.

Horacio pulled away, his eyes beginning to flicker with a dogged determination that Javier had seen on numerous occasions. “We need to get Trujillo and Murphy in here.”

Javier froze at the mere mention of their names. He couldn’t believe it had slipped his mind with everything else going on. “Before we do, I need to tell you something.”

“Go on,” Horacio urged.

“They both know. About us. And I, er, I’m pretty sure Connie knows too.” Javier’s eyes met the ground as he spoke, fearing the sacred moment they’d just savoured had shattered and broken in an instant.

Horacio gulped, the tension in his jaw solidifying his features into a statue of fear that no attempt on his life could ever instil. “H-how?”

“Trujillo accidentally saw my – your – necklace earlier when the nurse examined me. Steve…figured it out when I went after you back at base, but that’s hardly surprising with all the other near misses. And Connie, I’m not sure, to be honest. She went back to Miami before we could talk.”

“Fuck,” was all Horacio could manage after a heavy silence, his left hand raking through his hair.

“Yeah. Guess we weren’t as discreet as we thought.”

“What did they say?”

“Steve was, well, Steve to begin with, but he calmed down. And I think it’ll be okay. If Connie knows, you can trust her. Trujillo, you’ve got nothing to worry about there either,” Javier finished, the beginnings of a smile emerging as he thought back to his earlier conversation with Trujillo.

Almost as though they had been overheard, there was a faint knock from the other side of the room. Trujillo hovered awkwardly in the doorway, not wanting to intrude on a private moment.

A warmth spread through Horacio’s chest as he caught the eye of his right-hand man. Not just because of what he’d been told by Javier, but for everything they had been through. For his unwavering allegiance and bravery, even when Horacio asked far more than it was fair for a Colonel to ever ask of a subordinate officer. But then, their bond ran deeper than work colleagues, than compatriots, than even friendship. They had fought, killed, survived and grieved together. Not to mention, Trujillo had lost more than most in this war, and if anyone deserved to see this through until the end, it was him.

As Javier excused himself for a smoke, Horacio gestured for Trujillo to sit down.

“How are you feeling, Colonel?”

“Like I’ve been shot.” To a casual observer, it would have been easy to misinterpret Horacio’s dry humour for rudeness, but Trujillo didn’t miss a beat or the hint of a smirk pulling at his Colonel’s customarily pursed lips.

It was nothing Trujillo hadn’t witnessed countless times before. Although he couldn’t deny he never tired of watching him confuse and terrify new recruits with little more than a withering comment or look. New recruits who hadn't made it home again, he noted with a lurch to the gut, but there would be time for mourning when the dust had settled. Trujillo didn’t want to place an extra burden on Horacio now, although knew full well Horacio would already be carrying the weight of it regardless.

“Better than I was, though, thank you,” Horacio continued with more earnest this time. “How’s your head?”

“Oh, it’s fine. Just a few stitches. I told you it was only a scratch.”

Horacio’s memories of the ambush were blurry and muddled, but he just about remembered that part of their conversation before he’d passed out. “You did. I don’t know how I’d have got through it without you, to be honest.”

“I was just doing my job, Colonel.”

“No, I mean it, Trujillo. I – I know I ask a lot from you. Too much sometimes. But you’ve always come through, even when most wouldn’t. So, thank you. For everything.”

Trujillo was stumped by Horacio’s uncharacteristic openness, but then, he knew what everything really meant. Horacio didn’t need to elaborate any further. Trujillo had seen Javier in here just before he arrived; there was no need to make a fuss beyond what had been said. So, in the end, he simply settled for a shrift nod. “I guess I must have a good teacher.”

That earned a full-blown laugh from Horacio. “Naturally.” As they joked and reminisced, it hit him how much he was going to miss this. And how he owed it to Trujillo to tell him the news ahead of anyone else. Which was why he took a steadying breath before he began.

------------------------------------------------------

It hadn't been easy for Horacio to explain his reasoning for stepping down, but of course, Trujillo respected his decision. And given Escobar's thirst for vengeance, he agreed it was the safest option.

Javier had filled Steve in too, and now that they were all on the same page, the four of them gathered in Horacio’s room to thrash out a plan of action.

Steve also brought an update from Messina: as expected, he and Javier were suspended until further notice. “It’s way above her head, apparently. More like she wanted to save her own fuckin’ neck.”

“I’ll tell them it was all me, and you were just following my orders,” Javier offered. It was the least he could do in the circumstances. If he could salvage at least one of their jobs, it was better than nothing.

“Oh no, you fuckin’ won’t. You’ve never once pulled rank on me, Javi, so don’t start now. I knew what I was doing; you don’t need to protect me. And I’d do it all again.”

“Well, I’m grateful you did it, Murphy.” Horacio was just as caught off guard by his own response as everyone else, as all eyes fell on him. “I, er, I just wanted to say thank you. For what you did. For me, and for my men. We won’t forget it.”

For once, Steve was speechless, although was mildly suspicious Carrillo might have sustained a head injury in the ambush or was at least still high on pain relief. But any sarcastic jibe that was usually forthcoming didn’t materialise. Instead, he attempted something resembling a half-smile and a brief bob of the head. A truce and a mark of mutual respect between them that didn’t go unnoticed or unappreciated by Javier.

“Colonel, are any of our safehouses still secure?”

“Hard to say by this point, given how much the cartel already seems to know. Probably can’t risk it.”

“What about your old place in Madrid?” Steve suggested in trepidation. Since finding out about Javier and Carrillo, he looked back on the Colonel’s redeployment in an entirely different light. He was reluctant to raise it as an option for obvious reasons, but needs must.

“My transfer was no secret. I can’t make my problems Spain’s problems.” A strange protectiveness surged inside Horacio as fond memories of Señora Romero leapt into his mind. He’d seen the aftermath of the car bomb in Madrid and couldn’t inflict that danger – or worse – on a country that had been so good to him.

Javier had zoned out of the conversation for the last couple of minutes as he stared into space with his fingers habitually stroking across his moustache. But he was roused by a sudden thought, a realisation, a moment of clarity.

He excused himself under the guise of needing to use the bathroom, shrugging off any offers of help given his current state.

He hobbled his way out of the medical wing, down several corridors and towards the nearest unmanned phone he could find. He let the receiver hover in his hand, the dial tone droning in his ear as he went back and forth on whether this was the most ridiculous idea he’d ever come up with. In the end, he concluded there wasn’t much alternative, and with that, he punched in the number he’d known by heart for as long as he could remember.

His grip tightened on the receiver as he waited for the familiar click. “Hey, it’s me,” he began once his call was answered. “Yeah, yeah, I’m fine.” His right hand drummed on the desk in front of him as he stalled for time. Asking for help had never come naturally to Javier, but this wasn’t about him. Which was why he swallowed his pride and bit the bullet. “Actually, I need to ask a favour.”

#Narcos fic #Narcos #Javier Peña #Horacio Carrillo #Carrillo #Javier Peña x Horacio Carrillo #Pedro Pascal #Maurice Compte #Narcos fanfic #Narcos fanfiction #Narcos fan fic #My Fan Fic #My Narcos Fic

52 notes · View notes

cheekygreenty · 3 years ago

Text

Little Witch - Part 4

The Darkling x Reader

You stood still for a long time, pondering over what to tell him. There was so much he didn't know and so much you didn't want to share. You needed him to ask specific questions. You really couldn't afford to let your mouth run.

'Okay.'

You sat down at the end of your bed, fiddling with your hands. You felt nervous now. Should you lie? Was it worth feeling his wrath at a later date for a couple more months of peace? For a brief second your eyes went to his hands. The hands that can do unspeakable things, that can inflict the worst pain and kill in an instant. But they can also do other things too. You craved the power he possessed because you knew you could have it again one day.

'What happened that day?' He said softly, still not moving from his place beside the door.

You had imagined this day thousands of times, finally seeing your Aleksander, him asking you where you went. What happened. You gave the same answer every time. It was memorized and clung in the back of your mind. Yet now, finding yourself in the dream you lived over and over countless times, you were stuck for words. You didn't know where to start even though it was obvious, start at the beginning. Your palms were sweating now and your breath became erratic.

'Well ummm-' you were uncomfortable. Your walls were breaking down. He always had this effect on you. Get yourself together you fool.

‘-It wasn't my fault. I swear it. I don't know what you've heard but I swear on the Saints I didn't mean for it to happen.' You became frantic and words were coming out of your mouth unfiltered.

'Y/N what are you talking about?!'

'When I went to look for those Grisha that day, near the Fjerdan border, there was a scuffle. One of the villagers knew what I was, started getting in my face. He wouldn't stop talking and screaming about how horrid I was; about how disgusting I was. I- It happened before I knew it I swear, I didn't wish anybody any harm.'

I'm not like you.

'I didn't mean for it to happen, I pushed myself and got cocky. I lost all control.' A tear slipped out of your eye.

'Y/N It's okay, it's over no-'

'No. You need to know what happened, you wanted to know and I'll tell you.' You wiped the tear and went on, your eyes focused on your hands.

'He was cut in half by the time his daughter started running for the door.-' You gave a weak laugh.

'- and then I went after her. and her mother. her brother. their neighbors. Everybody. Even my own kind. My own Grisha.' You were sobbing, hearty cries left your throat. 'There was nobody left.'

You had killed before but never like this. This was completely unmotivated, there was no reason to obliterate a whole village. You could still remember every detail, the smell of copper in the air and the labored last breaths. With shame, you could also remember the buzz of power and how euphoric it felt.

'I have seen red, Aleksander. And 98 years later I'm still having nightmares about my doings. I don't know what happened. I swear. All my abilities vanished after it. I was just a murderous otkazat’sya standing in a village of dead bodies. I was exactly what he said I was.'

'Why didn't you come back to me?' His voice was strained, sad. He moved closer to you but you refused to look at him. You sniffed.

'I tried. I got close. But then Baghra sent me a lovely message. It was simple. 'Don't come back'. An inferni managed to escape me but not before being killed by your sweet mother for knowing what had happened-'

You finally look at him. He looked heartbroken, but not for all those people you killed; for you. His hands reached for your fumbling ones. A feeling of warmth and confidence spread through you while the guilt grew.

'-I believe my massacre was covered up very well though, what was it again? Oh yes, the Druskelle attacked and left no survivors? burned down the remnants? I can only imagine what would happen if the truth got out, what would the King think? He would have your head on a spike before I even came back.'

'They told me you were dead. That the Druskelle killed you on sight.'

His thumb caressed your hand, trying to soothe you. Truth was, there was no soothing to do. You faced the facts of your experience, or rather inexperience, a long time ago. You were dangerous when you couldn't control yourself; when anger and arrogance took over. You don't have the luxury of being a normal person with the ability to feel when you needed to feel. You never will, no matter the control you have.

'Well, you know now.' You stood up and got away from him. He was an amplifier, whatever you felt without him, you felt x10 more when he touched you.

'What did you do next?'

'I hid. It wasn't hard. Nobody knew what I looked like. I wasn't a Grisha in anybody's eyes, not even mine. I grew weak and sick since I had no power to use. It went on like that for 2 years until I came across a heartrenderer near Poliznaya. I was on the verge of death, he tried to help, and as soon as he touched me I flipped the card. He was gasping for air while my body felt like my body again. I ran off before I had any more blood on my hands.'

'Is that when you started seeking out other Grisha?' He was trying to follow along. He was intently listening and not interrupting. You were surprised he wasn't mad that you killed his Grisha in cold blood.

'No. I went to Shu Han. Learned to fight. To survive without the comfort of the Little Palace or a hospital ward.' The Little Palace and its luxuries spoiled you beyond repair. Aleksander made sure you had everything you ever needed, except the one thing you needed most: self-control training. He tended to subdue you, but you couldn't blame him, not after all you've done.

He reached for you once again.

'You're safe now Darling. I'm not judging you. I wouldn't dare.'

You didn't know whether to run into his arms or move as far back as you could. You always tied his darkness, his shadows, to the event that took place. His shadows were what you killed with and it was his power that brought you over the edge yet you still craved it regardless.

But for the first time since yesterday, his mere touch and comfort were needed more than his power. His arms enveloped your waist and pulled you into him. You finally relaxed. You could hear his heart pounding in his chest through his thick kefta. You allowed yourself this moment to block out the world. It was just you and him, the Darkling and the Witch.

'Y/N, you have no idea how much I have missed you.' He whispered into your hair and held you tighter, his true emotions showing.

It wasn't long before you broke away from Aleksander and awkwardly stared at him.

'Okay.......I'm done talking for today' you joked with a sad smile. Your tears now completely dried on your face but your eyes still puffy. Aleksander took this as a very clear sign to leave. Although the last thing he wanted was to leave you alone in this state, something told him you knew how to handle yourself.

'Alright then, I shall leave you to it' He about to head for the door when he remembered what brought him to your room in the first place.

'Y/N?'

'Yes?'

'Impressive kefta orders might I say. Should I be alarmed?' Fedyor must have reported to him right away when he heard your requests for the seamstress. You rolled your eyes and let out a genuine laugh. Aleksander's heart skipped a beat.

'I'm making up for lost time'

'I'm hoping' His words carried a weight you didn't expect and didn't acknowledge.

'Do you wish to dine with the rest of the Grisha?'

'Where would I sit? I'm sure my chair has been removed.' You once had a proud chair next to The Darkling. He never dared put you into a single Grisha order, much like your keftas, he always went along with your idea to not conform.

'I can bring it back if you like.'

'Maybe next time, I'll eat here for now'

'Alone?'

'Yes.' you breathed.

'Very well. '

'Goodbye General.' You mocked and seen a smirk on his beautiful face. You missed him too.

------------------------------------------------------------

Part 5

@xceafh @fire-in-her-veinz @cleverzonkwombatsludge @wizardwheezes @aleksanderwh0r3 @tomhollandisabae @hotleaf-juice @justmesadgirl

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #shadow and bone #black heretic #aleksander morovoza #ben barnes #general kirigan #black general #shadow summoner #oneshot #series #fanfic #kefta #grisha

210 notes · View notes

mandoalorian · 4 years ago

Text

Borrowed Time [Din Djarin x F!Reader]

ੈ♡˳‧₊*: • Chapter 2: The Way ✩࿐ ˚.✧

Summary: You are the princess of Mandalore, held hostage on your own planet by Moff Gideon and his army of Imperial troopers. Left with no choice, you send out a distress signal; a plea for protection— and who comes? None other than Din Djarin, a foundling of The Death Watch. He, by creed, is your sworn enemy. And where you have asked for his protection, he has been told by his mentor that he must marry you and gain the ability to restore Mandalore to its former glory.

Word Count: 2500>

Warnings: Domestic!Din comes with his own warning.

Series Masterlist **reblogs appreciated!

Din pulled up the throttle and exited hyperspace, thankful that he was now in the perimeter of the hot and arid world of Mandalore. He'd never been to Mandalore before, only heard talks and folklore from the creed who raised him. He had thought that, since the war, Mandalore had become inhospitable. He'd thought a lot of things— but now, as it turned out, not everything was as it seemed.

When the Imperials took over Mandalore, it was said that they slaughtered the monarchy, ruthlessly, and showed no remorse. Whilst no body of yours was ever discovered, the absence in communication from you, the princess, was enough to assume that you had passed away alongside the other Mandalorians. Kriff— even a memorial had been held for you.

Din didn't know how to feel… he was being sent out to protect and marry a princess. Him, out of all people. Din sighed, leaning into the plushness of his leather pilot chair. "I don't understand kid," he hummed, shaking his head as his ship glided through the stars. He watched as he neared your planet, anxiety nesting in his tummy. "Why couldn't she assign Paz to marry her? Or one of the other Mandalorians."

Grogu, Din Djarin's little green bean of a son, garbled something incoherent, blinking his big black eyes innocently. "Hey! Speak for yourself!" Din chastised, wiggling his finger. Grogu giggled and Din rolled his eyes under his beskar helmet. He had no idea how this would possibly go, but as long as he had Grogu by his side, he knew he'd be okay.

As he approached Mandalore, he set the ship for landing. He apprehended some Imp infiltrating the comms system, requesting Din to state his business; although strangely, nothing of that nature occurred. He wasn't going to argue over it. It just meant he'd spent the last four hours making up excuses as to why he was going to Mandalore for no good reason.

"I could say we're going to Mandalore for…. a farmer's market. Do you think they have a farmer's market?" Din quizzed. Grogu spluttered in disagreement. "What about… sourberry picking?" Din shrugged helplessly and Grogu made another sound of dismay. "Well I don't see you having any bright ideas!"

The child reached over to a lever on the ship and groaned wantonly, his little claws flexing as he yearned to grab the ball his father would always let him play with. Din sighed in defeat, unable to resist his son, and unscrewed the silver ball from the lever. Grogu squealed excitedly and immediately used his special powers to lift the ball in the air. He watched it float around the cockpit with a curious glint in his eyes and Din let out another deep exhale.

"No doing the magic hand thing on Mandalore either, especially not in front of the princess. You heard what the Armorer said about you guys… the Jedi. If there was a war between the Jedi and the Mandalorians then the chances are she's not going to take a liking to you lifting up rocks at your own free will. Just please be on your best behaviour. Please?" Din asked. Grogu curled his large ears in understanding and Din smiled. "Thank you. Now, I'm going to make some bone broth before we land. Want some?"

Grogu grinned happily in affirmation, his two little teeth pointing over his lips and the corners of his round eyes crinkling with delight. Bone broth sounded yummy right now.

"Your highness, The Razor Crest has requested permission to land in docking bay 94 of the palace. Do you accept or deny?" An Imperial soldier asked you.

You blinked momentarily. Razor Crest? That ship was pre-Empire. "Yes, that's fine." you nodded casually, looking down at your hands until the guard had left your quarters.

You had to play it cool. Nobody knew that you had sent out a distress call and nobody could know— it had to remain a secret, because if an Imp found out, they'd have no choice but to tell Moff Gideon. And if Moff Gideon found out that you were communicating with surviving Mandalorians, he'd have you done for treason. You may have been the princess, but he was still technically the Manda'lor, and not only that, he was a high ranking Imperial officer. You couldn't mess this up.

You pulled yourself out of your bed and slid your feet into your fluffy slippers, grabbing a silk robe and draping it over your body. They were here already. You couldn't believe it. Your protection. You wondered many things; would they be human or another far off species? How many eyes would they have— and what colour? Blue? Green? Brown? Pink? Would they have hair, and if so, is it long or short, curly or straight? So many questions.

Din held Grogu tight in one arm as he left the ship, and let a nervous hand drop his thigh holster just in case he encountered any trouble. He was thankful to be able to dock within the palace walls because it meant he didn't have to walk for miles in order to reach you. The anxiety was beginning to settle in. Mandalore was important to all Mandalorians, and the monarchy was something they respected very much. Din couldn't even think about marrying you and what that meant, even though the beskar wedding rings that the Armorer had forged were already weighing him down... all he could fixate on was how he was even going to talk to you. You were literally royalty. You came from the Kryze bloodline who were some of the greatest Mandalorian leaders. He'd read about you and your people in storybooks. Leaving Nevarro was one thing; because Din had left his home planet many times to do bounties and Guild Work. But this time, he wasn't even sure when he'd return or if he'd return. Mandalore could be his new home. If he were to marry you, this could be his new life, and Din wasn't sure if he was ready for such a commitment.

As he approached the palace, a cold chill hung over his shoulders and Grogu scowled at the onlookers. The Imperials who guarded your home watched as Din walked through the gardens, their own fingers feeling very trigger happy. A Mandalorian on Mandalore? What were the chances? It was said that the Mandalorians had been obliterated; wiped out and scattered amongst the galaxy to fend for themselves. Of course it would be ridiculous to assume that their entire creed had become extinct, but no Imperial would have ever expected to see a Mandalorian, suited up in full beskar armour, back on Mandalore. Especially since the princess had been announced dead by Moff Gideon after the great take-over. Immediately, the Imperial guards knew that something wasn't right. A Mandalorian had no reason to be on Mandalore— not after everything that had happened to their people.

As Din approached the gates, he couldn't help but feel the glares of his enemies grow colder, and their stares burned into his sheathed body. Grogu made a questioning noise and Din shushed him.

"I don't know…" Din mumbled, not wanting to cause too much fuss or bring too much attention to him and his son.

The point was; the princess had accepted the Mandalorian's request to land in the palace docking bay. The princess was apprehending his arrival. She knew about this.

The two troopers who manned the entrance of the palace did open the doors to Din, although begrudgingly. The strange feeling that surrounded the duo was not lost on Din. He wondered if it was in fact a trap. Maybe the plea the Armorer had received was an old holo recording of your voice that the Imperials had utilized to get a Mandalorian sent out. Either the Imperials were expecting Din, or they weren't expecting him at all. But Din had just assumed the princess had at least made it safe for him to come.

The lobby of the palace was enormous. Beautiful marble floor that must have been centuries old. Ornaments and flower arrangements stood erect on every corner and tall, gold pillars held the building together. Din wondered where he'd find you, but his pondering was cut short when he heard your delicate footsteps clicking against the floor. He turned around, his grip on his son tightening in anticipation, but the moment his eyes met yours, his whole body deflated.

There you were; the Princess of Mandalore.

Din couldn't find words. His whole body involuntarily tensed up as his gaze raked your body. It was perfect; you were shaped like a goddess, or perhaps one of the angels from the moon of Iego. Your hair was the most beautiful colour and Din admired the way it shone under the amber candlelight. Your eyes were doe-like and sparkling just like the stars, and your lips were simply the perfect plumpless.

But your heart was struck with fear when you saw the Mandalorian; fully dressed in beskar armour and a helmet. Not a single inch of skin was on sight, and your vision immediately turned red. There was only one Mandalorian tribe who never took off their helmet; and it was the tribe who was responsible for the death of your mother. It couldn't be…

Grogu's sweet little voice interrupted the silence, his garbles echoing throughout the extensively sized yet empty room.

Your lips curled into a smile as you approached the child, extending your arms and taking him out of Din's grip. "Hello friend." you cooed, and the little green bean giggled under your touch.

"He likes you," Din said, his voice modulated from under the helmet. "He doesn't like many people."

You ignored Din's comment, too busy fussing over the child. Grogu laughed and squeaked as you caressed his floppy ears. "Grogu, hm? You're a cutie."

Din furrowed his eyebrows together, perplexed. He wasn't the best at understanding Grogu, but how did you know his name already? Din hadn't told you.

"Oh, you like it?" You asked curiously, taking your earring out of your ear and placing it in Grogu's claw. "It's a ruby."

Wait— you were talking to him. You could understand him. The only person who could fluently communicate with Grogu was Ahsoka Tano, and that was because she was force sensitive. Of course Din could understand menial gestures and phrases, but here you were, the princess of Mandalore, having a full conversation with the little green bean. For a brief second, Din considered if you had any force-like abilities similar to what Grogu and Ahsoka had. But the thought passed fleetingly. There was no way a Mandalorian could have force powers. Not after the war between Mandalore and the Jedi sorcerers.

"His name is Din Djarin… I see." you nodded knowingly at Grogu before glancing up at the Mandalorian.

"Uh- yeah, that's me," Din said awkwardly, taking a step closer to you. "It's an honour to meet you, your highness. I must admit, I wasn't expecting to visit Mandalore tonight. Or ever- really." Din rambled, picking at his mustard coloured gloves.

"Do they still… do they still think I'm dead?" you asked uncertainly. Din nodded and you swallowed. The Imperials had really done a good job of covering up your existence then. You glanced back down at Grogu, and back up at the Mandalorian. "You walked through the palace gardens… dressed like that?" you asked him with a frown.

Din looked down at his armour in bewilderment— your comment suggesting that there was something wrong with what he was wearing. "Uh- yes?"

Your eyes went comically wide and you thrusted the child back into Din's chest. "Are you out of your mind?" you gasped, slapping your hands over your mouth in distress.

Din placed a hand on his hip. "Excuse me?"

"Take off your helmet." you demanded, your eyes stone cold.

"What? No!" Din gasped, taken aback. "Why aren't you wearing your helmet?"

You blinked. "Why would I? I'm not in battle!" you argued, raising your voice slightly. "Take off your helmet, that is an order from your Manda'lor."

"How could you ask me to do such a thing?" Din asked defensively, his fingers curling around his blaster pistol. "Are you really the Manda'lor— or are you an imposter? A true Mandalorian wouldn't ask me to remove my helmet."

No. You weren't the Manda'lor, you didn't have the darksaber anymore. But Din didn't need to know that.

"Are you… are you a Child of the Watch?" you whispered, feeling genuine fear wash over you.

"What?"

"What is your tribe's mantra?" you beckoned further, your eyes desperately trying to search for his through the visor of his helmet.

"Our secrecy is our survival. Our survival is our strength. This is the way." Din informed you.

You gulped and looked away. He was Death Watch. His people were the ones who teamed with Darth Maul and attacked Mandalore. They were the ones who killed your mother, and now, for the very first time, a Death Watch Mandalorian stood right before you.

You had sworn that, on the occasion you met a Child of the Watch, they wouldn't live to see the dawn of a new day. But this man… this man was a father. And killing him would orphan a child, just like you were orphaned as a young girl. You could never do that. You were not a fighter.

"I think you should go." you whispered, hating the way the words left your lips. You sounded weak.

You were struggling to hold it together. You didn't realise how much it would hurt, seeing a Child of the Watch. You didn't realise how it would bring to life a million memories of your beautiful mother.

"What? I just got here."

"I am sorry for bringing you out here, and I'm even more sorry for asking you to remove your helmet. But you need to go." You said more sternly. Din didn't move. "Go!" you shouted, and Grogu flinched slightly.

"No." Din insisted.

The tears were spilling from your eyes now, and there was nothing you could do to stop them. You shuffled backwards until your ankles hit the first step of the grand staircase. You sunk down onto the steps and held your head in your hands, sobbing. You missed your mother so much; it was like every bone in your body ached for her touch. You missed the way she'd comfort you and hold you and whisper the Songs of Eon's Past to lull you to sleep. She was the greatest of leaders— a pacifist who would never hurt a single soul. She renounced all wars, even at the cost of her own life. She wouldn't want you to hurt Din. All these years you told yourself you'd kill the Children of the Watch for vengeance. But how could you now?

Hesitantly, Din placed Grogu on the ground, and padded towards you. He sat down next to you and wrapped a big arm around your body, pulling you into his beskar clad chest and hugging you. It was the first time in over a decade you'd had the pleasure of feeling human touch. You sunk into him and whimpered, letting your tears fall and dampen the black material under his chest plate. Din said nothing, only shushed you and rubbed comforting circles into your back.

He had no idea what caused the onset of your tears, but he knew better than to ask. There was no shame in crying. None at all. All Din knew was that he was not going to leave you. Not now, not ever. He was going to make you his wife.

Permanent taglist: @paintballkid711 @supernaturalgirl @phoenixhalliwell @ah-callie @luvzoria @stardust-galaxies @wickedfrsgrl @goth-topic @nerdypinupcrystal @wonderfulfluffer @kiwi-the-first @pedroepascal @castiel-barnes @honeymandos @rocketqueen @ladycumberbatchofcamelot @dybalalover10 @girl-obsessed-with-things @elena-myth @moth-guillotine @pedro-pascal-love @hayley-the-comet @pinkninja190 @maxiarapamaya @autumnleaves1991-blog @artsymaddie @harrys-stan @kennedywxlsh @cripplingmoon @cheekygeek05 @mrschiltoncat @rye-flower @theamuz

Borrowed Time taglist: @technicallykawaiisoul @terrormonster55 @and-i-swear-we-are-infinite @justawilddreamerchild @ilikechocolatemilkh @fleurdemiel145 @kaermorons @katdog1996 @sarahjkl82-blog @robinwlw @the-cactus-boi @pascalpanic @lowkeyodinsong @zapsalis-d

Let me know if you wish to be added to my permanent taglist or my Borrowed Time taglist.

#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #jose pedro balmaceda pascal #the mandalorian #din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian x reader #baby yoda #grogu #the mandalorian fic

386 notes · View notes

rainydaydream-gal18 · 4 years ago

Text

The Mandalorian - Imagine Din Being Protective (Part 4)

Wow. I got it done during a lunch break, and I’m so happy. This is set near the end of Season 2. It is pretty long, just a fair warning.

Warnings: spoilers for near-end of Season 2, blasters, brief fighting.

You watched the unusual exchange unfold before you before Mayfeld’s gaze swept over the group before flickering back to land on you. He seemed to puff out his chest a little as he eyed you with interest. “And who’s this lovely miss?” Wonderful. Just fantastic.

Over the last several days, you learned that the Empire had been steadily recuperating behind the scenes. The Razor Crest had been obliterated in the matter of seconds. But worst of all, the Grogu was taken. It was like one giant nightmare that you were waiting to wake up from, only to find yourself lying in a cot aboard the Razor Crest. But you didn’t. Instead, you were standing in the middle of a junkyard to recruit a prisoner who could help locate the child.

Now to top it off, this scruffy guy was hitting on you?

You gave him a look, arms folded across your chest. “The name is _________.”

“Yeah? Nice name for a nice girl.”

Cara Dune made a fake wincing sound. “I would back off if I were you.”

He gave a shrug. “I don’t hear her complaining.”

“You better hope she doesn’t,” Cara taunted, giving him a warning look.

Mayfeld narrowed his eyes. “Or what? The Mandalorian is going to shoot me?” He gave a laugh, shaking his head at the idea.

“Thinking about it,” Din sighed in annoyance, the beskar chestplate rising and falling dramatically with the gesture. He stood, hand resting on his belt in a casual stance just across from you, completely unaware of how content you were observing him in moments like this. A part of you wondered if his annoyance with Mayfeld stemmed from his past experience working with the man, or if even a small part was because of the obvious flirt attempt he made at you.

The prisoner’s eyes widened and brows lifted incredulously as he gestured to you. “What, is this your girl now? Finally got over Xi’an, eh?”

You tried to keep the surprise and curiosity from your expression at the mention of this female, but your eyes instinctively darted to Din, whose visor was still glued to Mayfeld and refused to look your way. The man caught this subtle expression and smirked.

“Oops, sorry,” he shrugged with mock regret. “Didn’t tell her about the ex, I guess. I’ll try and keep things on the down-low then until you have a chance to talk about it.”

You hadn’t asked Din too much about his past. He expressed his disdain for the way he used to be, so you figured it was something best left untouched until he was ready to speak more on the subject. Of course you didn’t want to assume that he had never had a love interest before, but he seemed so closed-off when you met him. It was hard to imagine anyone could melt that ice. Unless this Xi’an was something special.

You felt a twinge in your chest. It was like jealousy walked through the front door unannounced and picked a place to crash for a while. It wasn’t taking over, but could be bothersome if you paid too much attention. So you decided not to. There were too many other things to worry about.

“Alright, let’s get moving,” Cara said impatiently. “We’re wasting time.”

You boarded Boba Fett’s ship, taking your seat as the others did. The new ally began the take-off, and several seconds passed in silence before Din spoke up. Mayfeld scoffed at the idea of obtaining coordinates to Moff Gideon’s ship. Cara sighed and informed him that the kid was taken.

The kid. The child.

Your little baby. You kept seeing his face, his tiny green features and big brown eyes. You pictured him happy as he sipped some broth and smiled at you. Or the time shortly after you learned from the former jedi that his name was Grogu. You and Din spent the afternoon calling him that and sharing laughs at how his ears perked. The image was replaced with the most recent memory you had of him, when he was ripped right from your arms by strange droids at the seeing stone. You glanced down at your arms, heart sinking. The bruises those droids left had already healed from bacta patches, but your arms had never felt so empty.

Your thoughts were interrupted by Din’s disbelieving tone. “Morak? There’s nothing on Morak.”

“It’s a secret Imperial mining hub, okay?” Mayfeld replied. “If you can get me in there, I can get you the coordinates.”

Silence fell over the group again. Cara glanced your way, looking as if she wasn’t sure whether to believe the prisoner or not. You gave a shrug. This was Din’s idea, and if he thought it would work, you trusted him.

Din commed Boba. “Fett, punch in the coordinates to Morak.”

“Copy that.”

----------

“I did an initial scan of the planet,” Boba said. “This is what you’re talkin’ about, right?”

Mayfeld gave a nod, pointing to the holomap. “Yeah, that’s the refinery right there.”

“Wonder what they’re refining in there,” Fennec mused.

“Looks like rhydonium. Highly volatile and explosive.”

“Yeah, kinda’ like this one, huh?” Mayfeld chuckled, gesturing to Cara.

From where you stood, you could see Boba’s look of unamusement and practically feel Din’s annoyance as the two stared at him. That sight almost made you laugh, but the situation wasn’t exactly a laughing matter.

The group speculated on the measures the Empire had taken to keep its refinery secure. It didn’t sound like getting in would be very easy. Fortunately, between a criminal, three bounty hunters, a New Republic officer, and you, a pretty decent plan was cooked up. They were going to hijack a delivery truck and infiltrate the refinery that way.

The question was, who? Who was going to hop into the truck with Mayfeld?

As it turned out, neither Cara nor Fennec could. The ex-ISB had rigged the scanners, and both of them would be recognized in the database. Even Boba couldn’t, and while the others stared at him in confusion, you chuckled under your breath. You even heard a hint of amusement in his tone as he said that they might recognize his face.

“Great, so it’s me going in alone,” Mayfeld shrugged.

“No way,” Cara protested. “The minute he gets inside, he’ll tip ‘em off. He’ll be a hero.”

“Hey, this wasn’t my idea,” he pointed out, offended. “I’m doin’ you guys a favor.”

“I can go.” You spoke up much quieter than you intended, and the bickering didn’t stop, so you tried again. “I can go with Mayfeld.” At that, the conversations around you came to a halt as they considered the idea. Cara nodded, impressed, while Mayfeld eyed you curiously.

“You, uh, sure you can handle it?” He folded his arms.

“I’ve been traveling with Mando for a while now, and I’ve helped him and Cara on multiple occasions,” you told him. “I think I can handle walking in there and laying low while you get the coordinates.”

He held his hands up in understanding. “Well, okay. I think it’ll work.”

You stole a glance at Din to see his visor already fixed on you. It was that stare. The protective one that made you feel safe from everything else, yet vulnerable to him. It was like the air was stolen from your lungs for just a moment. You figured he would protest, but you hadn’t expected what he’d say next.

“I’ll go,” Din volunteered.

Mayfeld’s gaze traveled to him, and he scoffed. “Hey buddy, I might be good at fast-talking, but I don’t think I can explain away a guy in a Mando suit to Imperial guards. So unless you’re gonna’ take off that helmet, it’s gonna’ be me and _________ heading in there. Or say goodbye to your little green friend.”

“That’s not an option,” you argued, feeling the pain well up at his words. You couldn't imagine what Grogu was going through, even now as the lot of you debated how this situation was going to play out. You didn’t want to think about it, but you kept seeing him reaching for you.

Din’s words drew the gazes of the entire group. “__________ isn’t going in there. I’m coming with you instead. But I won’t show my face.”

“No, Mando, even if you’re going, I’m going too.” You blinked away the tears that had just started to blur your vision, fortunately catching them before they fell, and looking at him with resolve. “I can’t stand by and do nothing. Not with our baby being held by the Empire.”

It was suddenly quiet. Much too quiet. And that’s when you realized your mistake. You hadn’t called Grogu the baby. Or even just his baby. You had definitely used the word our. It made you want to vanish into the jungle- especially when you took in how the group was looking at you. Cara’s lips parted in a surprised smirk as she tipped her head slightly. Fennec raised a brow, though her expression didn’t betray her intrigue in any other way. Even Boba Fett’s eyes seemed to soften; whether it was over your expression of care for the child or out of pity at your slip-up, you weren’t sure. You didn’t even want to look at Din, but you found yourself staring into his visor, searching for some indication of his feelings on the matter. There was nothing, just silence. Mayfeld sighed, though it didn’t sound like exasperation. It almost sounded sympathetic.

“Look, typically for a delivery like this, there’s only two troops,” he pointed out, scratching the back of his head awkwardly. You looked to him, glad for the attention to be taken off of you. He caught your pleading gaze and let out another sigh. “It’s uncommon, but not unheard of. I think we can get by with the three of us. But you gotta’ lay low, like you said.” He pointed at you, and you nodded. “Alright. We’ve got to go.”

The nerves were building up in your chest as you, Cara, Din, and Mayfeld dropped onto the juggernaut. This wasn’t like going undercover at the cantina. This was a whole other experience entirely, but you felt ready. Before long, the two troops were taken out, and their armor taken away.

Din disappeared around a corner to change out of his Mandalorian armor and into the Imperial trooper gear. Mayfeld complained about the smell of his newly acquired armor, and you were grateful to be wearing the spares that were tucked away. You found a spot on the juggernaut to slip the armor on. It wasn’t built for a female, so it wasn’t the best fit. Still, it would have to work.

Suddenly, Mayfeld chuckled. “Look at this.” You peeked your head out of the juggernaut to see what looked like a trooper approaching, but you knew to be Din. “Oh, the shame. Now that right there is worth the price of admission.”

“Wish I could say it looked good on you,” Cara said, smirking. “But I’d be lying.”

Din ignored her statement. “Just make sure you take out the rooftop gunners, or we’re never getting out of there.”

“We got you.”

“Take care of this.” Din handed her the duffel with his Mandalorian armor. “Keep it safe.” As Cara took it, she assured him with a sincere look that she would. You knew she would. Like you, she knew what it meant to him.

“Hey guys. Still on the clock,” Mayfeld reminded them. “Me and _________ are all ready to go. Right?” He leaned over and gave your boot a nudge from where he sat.

You shrugged and were glad to pull the trooper bucket over your head. For once, you could be the mysterious face under the helmet. “I’m ready when you’re ready.” Not to mention your voice sounded pretty cool in the modulator. Such a shame that it was a stormtrooper helmet because you could get used to this.

While Mayfeld was busy taunting Din in an unsuccessful attempt to get a reaction, you looked to Cara.

“Wish me luck.”

“Oh, I will.” She shot a glance at the chatty man. “Considering the company you’re going to have.” Then she looked back at you with that smirk from before. “So what was that about earlier?”

You pulled the Imperial bucket off your head so that the modulator wouldn’t broadcast your voice. “I don’t know what happened, Cara. I can’t believe I said that. We’re definitely more than travelling companions at this point. I care a lot about him. I think I even... ”

She nodded, smirk becoming a more reassuring smile. “I understand. It seems like he feels the same about you.”

“Still, I’m afraid that I overstepped in calling Grogu our child.” You shook your head. “He hasn’t spoken to me since.”

“Well there’s not a whole lot of time to talk, and it’s the kinda’ thing that takes time to sort out,” she pointed out. “I’m sure it’ll be fine-”

“Hey, if you two ladies are done, we have to get moving,” Mayfeld called.

“Yeah, yeah,” you groaned, pulling the helmet over your head again. You clambered into the front of the juggernaut to get situated. The two guys were already seated and taking a look at the vehicle’s controls. Mayfeld seemed content to be with his helmet off, while Din of course kept his on.

“Feels better when it’s off,” he commented, glancing over at his companion. Din’s trooper helmet simply turned to look in his direction. He gave a smile in response before turning his attention to the road again. “__________, you too, huh?”

“I don’t ever get to wear a helmet, so I’m just enjoying this while it lasts.”

“You’re enjoying this?” Din asked. His tone didn’t seem to carry any disdain, just innocent curiosity.

“Well, not this. I mean the helmet. It’s nice to have some privacy when I’m surrounded by people who get to cover their faces. You guys don’t know whether I’m smiling or what in here.”

“You’re smiling right now,” Din said, making you turn your visor in his direction suddenly.

“How did you know that?”

“I can hear it in your voice.” And as if to prove his point, you picked up on the amusement in his tone as well.

Right. You forgot for a moment that he had a lifetime to discern emotions through helmets, being that he was a foundling in a Mandalorian community and all.

“You know, you two are just adorable,” Mayfeld interjected humorously. “Seriously, I’m touched.”

The conversation died down again after that. You were rather pleased with the exchange you had with Din. At the very least, he didn’t seem irritated with you about your earlier statement. Things seemed to be going rather smoothly.

- - - - - - - - -

You’d never been so happy to see Imperial troops in your whole life. As Mayfeld pulled the juggernaut into the safety of the Empire base, they flooded the bridge and fought off the oncoming pirates. Din had re-entered the vehicle, groaning in pain from his fight. You noticed his armor had been busted off in some places from the fight.

“Mando,” you said softly, hand on his forearm.

His visor looked to you as he said in a strained voice, “I’m alright.” His reassurance put you somewhat at ease. You knew he wasn’t really fine- he had injuries- but he was okay. He made it.

“Never thought you’d be happy to see stormtroopers.” Mayfeld saluted the line of troops that saluted and waved as the vehicle passed by, most likely to make things convincing. He and Din stepped out of the juggernaut to be met with actual applause and cheers. One even clapped a gloved hand on Mayfeld’s shoulder in congratulations. It would have been heartwarming if not for the fact that it was the Empire, and these people were working toward an oppressive future. You hopped out of the vehicle, glad to be on solid ground and not on a shaky roadtrip with rhydonium in the back.

“Okay,” Mayfeld said. “All we gotta’ do is find a terminal.” You moved to Din’s other side, and the three of you began making your way through the crowd of cheering troops. His gloved hand took yours for just a moment and gave it a light squeeze, and you returned the gesture before separating. “Should be in the officers’ mess.”

“I’ll stand by and keep an eye out,” you said.

“Good,” Mayfeld nodded. “We’ll make it quick.” You watched as the two men headed for the mess hall, and you found a spot along the wall to wait, bucket tucked under your arm. The occasional trooper stopped by to congratulate you or give you a pat on the back. This extended contact with Imperials was starting to get to your nerves.

Mayfeld and Din still hadn’t returned. Whether you were being paranoid or not, you weren’t sure. Better to play it safe. You headed in the direction they had gone earlier, helmet still under your arm, and tried to act casual. Mayfeld was standing at the doorway, eyes shifting between the floor and his surroundings. No sign of Din.

“Where is he?” you demanded. “Is he okay?”

“He’s in there.”

You followed his gaze to the mess. Everyone in the room had their helmet off.

“I don’t see him.”

Mayfeld sighed. “He’s over there by the terminal.” Both of you leaned in to sneak a glance, and you gasped softly. You saw his form standing there in the very back, head of messy brown hair. “I couldn’t go in. He had to do a facial scan to get the information.”

“You could’ve gotten me to do it.”

“That’s exactly what I said.” He shook his head. “But we wasted enough time as it is. He was worried about you going in there alone. You know, he’d really do anything for that kid, and for you.”

Oh, Din.

“Trooper,” an officer said, and his eyes were fixed on the dark-haired man in the corner that you knew was the man you’d fallen for. He rose from his seat, and your heart was pounding.

“We need to do something,” you said.

Mayfeld shook his head, eyes on the floor. “I can’t. I already said can’t go in there.”

“Fine, I’ll do it.” You straightened up, taking a deep breath, and quickly walked through the mess until you intervened the officer’s path. “Sir. You called for me, sir?”

He paused, eyes narrowing, as he stared at you. “I was referring to another trooper. The one by that terminal.” He moved to get around you, but you side-stepped to block him again. “I’m sorry, you’re sure there’s nothing I can help you with?”

He gave you a condescending look. “No, but thanks anyway.”

You hoped that Din had escaped the mess because there was nothing more you could do unless you caused a big scene, which was not in the plan.

“Trooper,” he continued, stepping around you. But to your surprise, he was faced with another. Din had walked over. Inwardly you burned at the thought of the Imperial officer looking at his face. You averted your gaze, feeling as if it would be wrong not to. Even though you wanted nothing more than to drink in his features while you could.

“You should pay attention when a superior officer addresses you,” the man said. He tipped his head to one side in observation. “What’s your designation?”

Din spoke, voice unmodulated and sounding so small. You’d never heard him sound so unsure before. “Transport crew.”

“What?”

“My designation is transport copilot,” Din said, forcing his tone to sound confident as possible to make it more convincing.

“No, son,” the officer chided. “What’s your TK number?”

“My TK number is…” He hesitated, and you could do nothing but stand aside and wait, holding your breath. How many numbers were in a TK number, anyway?

“This is my commanding officer, TK-593, sir,” Mayfeld’s voice interjected as he strolled in front of you. He spoke so casually that you were sure he’d pull it off. “I’m Imperial Combat Assault Transport Lieutenant Tk-111, sir.” He gestured to you. “This is TK-501.” Then, he glanced at Din. “I’m afraid you’ll have to speak up to him a bit since his vessel lost pressure in Taanab.”

Your eyes wandered past Mayfeld, catching another glimpse of dark, messy hair. To some it might seem a minor thing, but to you it was adding to the escalating situation. Brown eyes locked with yours, and your breath hitched. Din was looking at you. There was a trace of warmth in his eyes, and your hesitation vanished. You took in the way his brows furrowed slightly over his eyes, crinkling them at the edges. You memorized each feature. His nose. This cheekbones. The handsome way he seemed to be looking right back you. You quickly turned your gaze back to the officer in front of you who looked in Din’s direction.

“What’s your name, officer?” he belted, enunciating each word. Seeing Din’s face had been a shock, and in the middle of the stress, this officer’s behavior almost made you laugh, but you swallowed the giggle that threatened to make things worse and kept your composure. The officer leaned in, waiting for a response.

Mayfeld took the liberty of answering instead. “We just call him ‘Brown Eyes.’ Isn’t that right, Officer?” Din’s eyes flickered over as he gave a hesitant nod.

“Come on,” Mayfeld landed a hand on his shoulder and his other one on yours to lead you away. “Let’s go fill out those TPS reports, so we can go recharge the power coils...”

“You’re not dismissed.”

- - - - - - -

In short, things had gone from bad to worse. Mayfeld was growing shakier by the minute as this guy ranted about the Empire and the sacrifices that were made so far. You kept glancing at Din, who looked just as concerned as you, as Mayfeld visibly became more distressed.

Finally he raised a blaster and shot the sick man across the table. It turned into a firefight that ended just as swiftly as it began. Once the mess hall had quieted, Mayfeld handed Din his trooper helmet.

“You did what you had to do,” he said. “I never saw your face.”

Din stared at him for a moment before accepting the helmet. He quickly put it back over his head just as more troopers arrived on the scene. You sprung into action, pulling out the blaster at your belt and firing.

From there, it was just a quaint little trip out the window and along a ledge above roaring waters of the refinery with several stormtroopers in pursuit. Shots were fired. You ran.

It wasn’t until you were pulled further onto Boba’s ship by Din that you were able to stop and breathe. Mayfeld was set free by Cara and Din after he blew up the Imperial refinery, and after he left, Boba set a course for Moff Gideon’s ship. For the first time in a while, you and Din had a moment alone as he found the duffel bag of Beskar armor. He paused as if thinking it over, before setting the duffel back down. The stormtrooper visor was focused on you again. You had long removed yours, and so you gazed back with your own eyes. Suddenly, he placed a hand on either side of his helmet and slowly began to lift.

“Din,” you whispered, quiet enough so no one else would hear, as you gently stopped him with the touch of your hand to his wrist. He let go of the helmet only to put his hand over yours.

“You need to know,” he began. “About Xi’an.”

“What? No, no, there’s no need.”

“I could tell it bothered you.”

“Well, yes… Mayfeld made it sound like she was rather important, like you just finally got over her, and it bothered me that you never mentioned her.” You shook your head. “But I guess there was no reason for you to.”

“There was nothing to get over,” he said simply. “We flirted here and there. It wasn’t anything real. It wasn’t love. I think Mayfeld was just bitter because you weren’t responding to his attempts.” The chuckle that emitted from Din’s stormtrooper helmet made you smile. It was a sound that you never imagined getting used to.

You couldn’t help the sigh of relief that escaped your lips. “Thank you.”

“For what?”

“For talking with me,” you replied. “I was worried that after earlier you were irritated.”

“Earlier?” His tone went higher ever so slightly in realization. “Oh, right. Your turn to talk.”

“My turn?” you gulped. “No way. Let’s just forget it happened.”

You could almost hear the amusement as he tipped his head, the visor staring at you in silence.

You sighed in defeat, observing your hands as you fiddled with the stormtrooper gloves. “Alright, well...the truth is, it sort of slipped out. I think of the kid as yours because, well, you’ve been looking after him since before I met you. And the Mandalorian we spoke to said that you are as his father, by creed.” You paused, glancing up at his visor before continuing. “But...I’ve also come to think of him as my own as well. When I met the two of you, of course I thought he was a cute little guy, but I never imagined I could love someone so much. I adore Grogu, really, even though I haven’t cared for him as long as you…”

“That does not matter.”

“What?”

“It doesn’t matter that I’ve known him longer. You care about him, and that’s what’s important,” Din nodded.

“I do care about him. As my own. And with the two of us…”

His visor was so close all of a sudden. “The two of us…?”

You ducked a little, recalling how he embraced you on that planet after a tense training session. “You know.”

“Do I?” he teased in a low voice, helmet even closer.

“With the two of us together, sort of, I guess I thought of us as a family...I guess. And it slipped out earlier. In front of all those people.” You raised a hand to cover your face in embarrassment at the memory. Din didn’t say anything for a moment. He reached up to pull your hand from your face gently, and with the other he lifted the stormtrooper helmet off with a deep breath.

As you peered into those brown eyes once more, you smiled. He smiled too then, the movement making his eyes crinkle. It was a lovely sight, and you lifted a hand, pausing just below his chin.

“Is it okay?”

He gave a small nod, and you reached up to touch his cheek. It was a little stubbly toward his jawline. Then you went up to start at the crease between his brows and trace down the length of his nose to his lips. He tenderly took that hand in his and kissed the fingertips.

“We’re going to get him back,” he said.

You smiled again. “I know we will.” Then, your smile faded. “And if we find where he belongs, with a jedi, then I am prepared to do what’s best for him.”

His eyes look sad as he responded, “me too.”

“For now,” you said quickly. “Next stop is Moff Gideon’s ship. We are going to take him down and get Grogu back.”

With that, Din leaned in and planted a feathery light kiss on your lips. It was something you had not expected since the moment you first laid eyes on the Mandalorian. You never imagined that you’d end up with him, seeing his face, or kissing him. You returned the kiss, touching his cheek again as you let him pull you closer, wrapping both arms around you.

The last few days had felt like a nightmare that you hoped to wake up from. But now it seemed that even in the darkness there was a glimmer of hope. The nightmare would give way to a dream.

#the mandalorian #mandalorian fanfiction #star wars #star wars the mandalorian #mandalorian x reader #din djarin #din djarin x reader #din djarin imagine #mandalorian imagine #the mandalorian x reader #star wars reader insert #mandalorian reader insert #din djarin reader insert

223 notes · View notes

kaizokuou-ni-naru · 4 years ago

Text

The Voyage So Far: Enies Lobby

east blue (1 | 2) || alabasta (1 | 2) || skypiea || water 7 || enies lobby || thriller bark || paramount war (1 | 2) || fishman island || punk hazard || dressrosa (1 | 2) || whole cake island || wano (1 | 2)

this is still one of my very favorite nami panels. i think she’s really great through all of water 7 and enies lobby in general, actually, even though she isn’t really one of the characters in focus for a lot of it- like zoro and sanji, she stays pretty steadfast and very badass even though everything that happens, and never gives up on robin for a moment despite being one of the ‘weaker’ members of the crew. and it’s always fun to see her playing with lightning.

one of my favorite jokes from the first half or so of enies lobby is the strawhats both being completely unsurprised that luffy charges in ahead of them as soon as they arrive AND being able to find him immediately by following the explosions. they know him so well.

luffy’s never been scared of dying, going all the way back to when he told coby he was fine with dying for his dream back in chapter two or three. that conversation is what his exchange with blueno here reminds me of- blueno asks him how long he intends to keep fighting, and luffy says until he dies, like there’s nothing to it.

it’s always been a trait of his to face death unflinching with a grin, so long as it’s for the sake of something he cares about, be it his crew or his brother or his dream, and i just really like that about him.

i’ll go into it in the dressrosa post too, but i think it’s really impressive just how long oda held off on giving luffy any sort of significant power-up. he gets his first big power boost in the whole series here, forty volumes in. i’ve always liked that oda is very conservative with power boosts like this, because it both keeps the series’ powerscaling in check and makes the times it does happen much weightier. this is a monumental moment, and it feels like it.

also, i love the way gear two is drawn pre-timeskip, especially with the steam. it looks very cool and atmospheric.

i really like how united the strawhat crew feels throughout enies lobby, after all the internal turmoil and discord of water seven. even though the matter of usopp leaving the crew is still unresolved, they’ll all together once more, on the same page, and fully united in the goal of saving robin, whatever consequences it might bring.

the tree of knowledge has such a cool design- it looks massive, and even more than that, it looks old. you look at that tree and you know its been there for easily thousands of years. its seen entire eras of history, and it would be priceless even without the countless books stored inside it.

and then it burns.

i’m so endlessly sad about the tragedy that is robin’s relationship with her mother. they never even got to see each other until their world was ending, and even then only for a couple minutes.

olvia is a very interesting character, because she’s someone who chose her dream over the people she loved. that’s not an inherently good or bad choice, but it is a choice she made, and it’s what led to the ending she and robin had to have. i’ve wondered a lot what might have happened if she chose the other way, if she never left or if she came back sooner or if she chose to flee the buster call with robin, and how different (and almost certainly better) robin’s life would have been if she had.

in a way, olvia reminds me a lot of kouzuki toki. they both die in order to fling a light of knowledge and hope into the future, and they both send their children away and choose to stay behind to choke on ash for the sake of a better tomorrow.

i didn’t really notice until putting these panels together, but a lot of things burn in enies lobby. ohara burns, and the pluton plans and the world government flag, and enies lobby itself, and at the end, the going merry burns, too. if you extend it back to water seven, there’s the galley-la headquarters, too. in an arc that deals so much with the preservation and destruction of history and knowledge, it’s a fitting motif.

the world government flag burning is still to this day one of the most striking panels out of a series full of them, in my opinion. in one act, the strawhats proclaim their absolute defiance against the world government, and their willingness to make enemies of the greatest power in the world for the sake of their friend.

it’s also another one of those moments that’s interesting to think about in the context of luffy’s past. it was a ship flying that same flag that shot sabo down, and while luffy wasn’t there to see it, i don’t think he’s oblivious to that fact, especially given how he says just before this he understands robin’s enemies perfectly.

dadan told him and ace that there was nothing they could do against the whole world, and luffy went and did it anyways.

sometimes i just think about how scary it must have been for robin, someone who’s been weighed down by the shackles of her past with no escape in sight for so very long, to open herself up and let herself hope, for life and freedom and a dream that’s always been out of reach.

franky has a lot of really great moments between this arc and water seven- his conversation with usopp as usopp is working on merry and his talk with robin on the sea train are two others. it’s almost impressive how quickly he becomes an immensely likable character once we start getting to know him, given how he’s first introduced as an absolute piece of shit.

his burning of the pluton plans is a favorite of mine, and i think it might be because, like so many people before and after him, he’s choosing here to stake all his hopes on the strawhats, on luffy’s ability to pull off the impossible and on robin’s goodness. when robin’s only ever been chased and hated and called a demon by the world, franky chooses to trust her and luffy with the legacy his dad died for, and neither of them let him down.

monster point looks SO FUCKING TERRIFYING in enies lobby, and i LOVE it. look at that. franky is seven and half feet tall, and in front of monster point he’s tiny. monster point is huge, and dead-eyed, and a force of absolute destruction. i do kind of wish we got to see chopper go completely feral like this more often. he deserves to be terrifying!

i love how much FAITH all the rest of the strawhats continue to have in usopp throughout enies lobby. he left the crew and they really would have a right to be angry at him if they chose to, but it doesn’t even seem to cross any of their minds. they’re just happy he’s okay, and they include him again without missing a beat, because he’s still their friend and they know down to their bones they can trust him, even after everything.

i’ve always really loved zoro and kaku’s little moment of post-battle banter here- zoro relays paulie’s message about cp9 being fired, kaku says he’s out of a job, zoro tells him to try the zoo, and kaku cracks up.

it feels very real to me for whatever reason, and i think part of it ties back into how well one piece handles morality with its characters- zoro and kaku are genuinely pretty similar people who get along decently, it just happens that they wound up on opposite sides. there are series where you’d never see moments like this due to the lines between good and bad being so firmly drawn, and i love how one piece blurs those lines so much they may as well not exist a lot of the time.

this is the other sequence, along with luffy climbing the drum rockies barehanded, that always makes me physically cringe to look at. it looks so painful. robin is so nearly powerless here, but not quite- she can still buy time for her crew to catch up, even if it’s only seconds, even if she risks shattering her teeth or even her jaw in the process. she’s spent so long giving up and has only just started daring to hope- she’s not about to go gentle.

there aren’t many panels that give me catharsis like this one. there really aren’t.

oda’s villains are usually complicated and awful and often a little admirable, if only for how clever or how terrifyingly powerful they are, but every now and then he comes up with someone who’s just pathetic and cowardly and pointlessly cruel. spandam is like this, obviously, and so is orochi, and the celestial dragons, and i’d argue flampe from whole cake island as well. and there’s nothing like seeing characters like them- weak, cruel people so assured in their own power and rightness- get obliterated.

one of the things i really like about enies lobby is that nobody really gets sidelined- everybody gets multiple chances to shine. luffy, usopp, and obviously robin are the most in focus, obviously, but zoro, sanji, nami, chopper, and even franky all get a bunch of individual awesome moments. oda’s ability to handle his cast satisfyingly is consistently really impressive (if sometimes strained in huge ensemble arcs like dressrosa or wano) and it really shows here, i think.

i just really love the entire climax of enies lobby. much like the arc as a whole, it just feels triumphant, even though the situation is extremely dire. luffy unlocking gear three, robin’s cuffs getting unlocked, usopp shooting spandam and the marines all the way from the tower of justice- it’s all just good, a long chain of much-needed victories and catharses, and it feels very good to read.

i’ll always be impressed by just how much characterization oda manages to give merry, a boat. she’s only really a character in water seven and the end of enies lobby, only about two chapters of which she actually speaks in. and yet i don’t think you’d find a single one piece fan who disagrees that merry’s death is easily one of the most heartwrenching in the entire series.

i love the reactions of the strawhats to robin’s thanks. they’ve just gone through hell to save her, most of them are beat to shit and they all risked their lives, and yet they all just smile, or brush it off, because to them there’s nothing else they could have done. it’s all worth it, so long as they got her back, so long as she’s safe and happy.

merry’s funeral just hits me in the chest every single time i read it. it’s tragic, of course, but there’s also something almost lovely about it, something peaceful about her getting to go out on her own terms, carrying her crew to safety one last time, defying every rule of the universe to do it. just like a strawhat pirate.

oda’s ability to communicate emotion through expressions really comes through here, too. merry has the only lines in this scene, fitting for her death in the limelight, but the shots of every other crewmate’s face let us know at a glance just what they’re all feeling and just how strongly they’re feeling it.

you know, i’d forgotten we only learn the name of the new world after enies lobby. we only get proper exposition about the revolutionary army and the yonkou here, too, despite them being set up since loguetown and jaya (or alabasta, or even chapter one if you count from shanks’s introduction) respectively. oda’s ability to parse out exposition and explanation so we always have just the right amount of information is really impressive- we always have more questions, but we also always have the feeling that those questions have answers, and that sooner or later they’ll be revealed.

points at shanks. i just think he’s neat.

it’s my opinion that one of the great joys of one piece is seeing luffy and the crew rise up in the world, and seeing them gain more and more notoriety. i love nothing they do ever happens in a vacuum- everything has impacts, and there are always outside eyes watching, and often those impacts are things that they never could have predicted.

ace and blackbeard is still, i think, definitely one of the coolest looking fights in the whole series. it’s not all that often we get to see two people with extremely flashy and showy abilities go all-out against each other, and the resulting fireworks are still really something to behold, despite how badly it all ends.

#the voyage so far #one piece #opmeta #long post #arc: enies lobby #arc: post enies lobby #not japanese

202 notes · View notes

monsoonblooms12 · 3 years ago

Text

The Butterfly Effect (Ethan Ramsey x f!MC)

Summary: The Journey from where it all began to where they are now. From a 2-minute power nap to a Miami kiss, Pooja and Ethan have come a long way. From Pooja's POV (Set in OH Bk 1 Ch 10 and contains flashbacks from OH Bk 1 Ch 1, Ch 4 and Ch 5)❤

The Butterfly Effect: Discovered by Edward Lorenz, this theory suggests that something small and insignificant, can alter situations in such a way that leads to utterly drastic changes. For example, a butterfly flaps its wings at an Amazonian Jungle and subsequently a storm ravages half of Europe. (This has to be one of my favorite theories ever🦋)

A/N: I got inspired from a dark Academia quote and here we are with 2.4K of mess. But I enjoyed providing all the fbs from Poo's POV and filling in the gaps of the unknown. And all the DbC peeps, I am trying to finish ch 8 believe me😭

Thank you so much to @jamespotterthefirst for Pre-reading! Love you🧡

If you enjoyed the story, please like it, leave a comment or reblog. Your feedback keeps me going🦋

Pairing: Ethan Ramsey X f!MC (Pooja Sharma)

Word Count: around 2.4K

Rating: General

Category: A messy mix of Fluff and Angst

Warnings: None that I found

A grain of sand, almost imperceptible to the human eye, 2 millimetres in diameter. Just a tiny little grain of sand, a single one. One would wonder how great of an effect that could produce?

A single grain of sand, eliminated from the base of a sand sculpture, can set on fire a cascade of events that result in something as drastic as the demolition of the entire sculpture. Just a trifling 2 mm sized grain of sand.

Tufts of hair gently swayed with the swooshing ocean breeze, the very grains of sand of which her mind was thinking about slip through gaps of her toes. It's a calming atmosphere, having a Zen-like effect on her racing heart and confused reasoning.

The echoing crash of ocean tides, the hushed ruffle of her shimmering purple dress, and the pattern of her footsteps of the white sand, now silver under the enchanting moonbeams.

She could not think about bad ideas and good ideas anymore. Nor could she obliterate the delicate touch of peach lips ingrained in her mind. Everything was a lock of tangled hair, a chaotic mess in her mind.

And when you can't disentangle a mess, you just tear it off.

That was what she was doing, tearing herself away before her mind got engulfed by a cocoon of ambiguity and concealed probabilities, restricting her to get out without getting transformed into someone else.

Legs exhausted after strolling for who knows how long, Pooja sits down, not bothering about the sheet of sand fragments that adhered begrudgingly to the purple satin.

A simple motion ensues, the florid hair tie holding her brown hair strands in a ponytail, now lay in her hand, giving them the liberty to enjoy the tranquillity of the idyllic scene they found themselves in.

Relaxation. That was what she anticipated. The soothing of her racing heart, the clearing of her muddled head, the easing of her bothering thoughts.

But it never came, the relaxation she desired.

Instead, her fingers, for a reason mysterious even to her, fidgeted the diamond imitation bracelet that embellished her left wrist. A twitch unveiled a vague scar, a remembrance of an old episode entirely cleared off from her mind.

Flashback

Pooja was a Potterhead. An extreme one indeed. Sometimes the thought made her chuckle. How she despised the books once, presuming they were overrated. And then, as if a magic trick had been performed on her, she became the Maven of the Harry Potter club.

But being a Potterhead and having to live in a niche under the stairs did not go hand in hand. The room under a staircase was still a room under a staircase. And every day, her mind replayed the poem of curses to her, as if to warn her to never search for an apartment on a Facebook Group ever again.

And now she stood, waiting for the century-old toaster's ping, as sleep struck like pin-pricks on her eyelids, threatening to close them off. It was a bad day today, the phone battery drained, and she, coffee drained. And the cherry on the top? Today was the first day of her residence at the most prestigious hospital in the entire States.

Uff!

She yawned the hundredth time, sleep playing a tiring game of chess with her mind, and giving it a Check! every now and then.

I don't even know a goddamn coffee shop around in here!

Displeased grunts accompanied the thought as she took the knife and began slicing the apple she had been floundering around for quite some time.

One Slice, and Another, and Ano-

Snorr!

What an ability it was to fall asleep anywhere, in any position! What harm would a "Power Nap" of a minute or two do? Right?

AAHHH!

The scream came out in bits, first when her eyes fluttered open with the sudden pain. A pause followed when she actually looked at the source of it and after her eyes and mind registered what was happening, came the second scream.

She was getting the taste of just how profitable the power nap was.

Hurrying away, she rummaged around for a first aid box, failed to find it, trotted to her Harry Potter adobe and took out the medical goodies she had brought with her. After ransacking through it, she found the antiseptic and the swabs she was looking for. Then a faint sound came from the blinking cellular and she picked it up, not waiting for breakfast. Just as she clicked the unlock button...

HOLY SHIT!

What? How? Her mind could not register. The only thing she understood was that she was notoriously late for her first day, and now she would have to do all the running that she had avoided for all the preceding years.

Letting out another pained groan, she kicked two flowerpots on her way to the kitchen, took the toasted slices of bread, switched off the stupid piece of machinery and ran.

She was sure she would have come first in any marathon if she had run in them with the speed she was racing right now.————————————————————————

Did she know about Dolores Hudson? No, she didn't. Had she planned on telling about her to Dr Ramsey? No, she hadn't.

The two words had inadvertently slipped off her tongue, not envisioning it as an indication. But as soon as they reached his ears, it felt as if a domino had been pushed. One pushed on to the other, leading to a chain of events that had given no hints, no warnings at all.

And now she was in the NICU, chatting with the man whom she considered an idol, a role model as if they were old companions. It was an enchanting experience to see the intern-terrorizing gentleman, so ... normal.

She questioned her mind's choice of word, but she did not completely disagree. To see Dr Ramsey, sitting here with an intern, talking with her, for no particular purpose other than the fact that she decided to stay back here in contrast to any other person, who would have valued their sleep than watching over a premature baby with whom she had no connection.

When sleep muddled her thoughts, she didn't realize what she was doing. Head lowered into his shoulder in a motion that felt like a reflex embedded in the nerve cords of her spine. She missed the gentle smile, decorating the handsome face of his, as he watched her from the corner of his eye, his eyes holding an emotion unrecognizable.

Was it affection? Pride? Adoration? Or something completely different? Who knew.

But if there was something she did know after that day, it was that she felt lucky, damn lucky, for that slip of the tongue.————————————————————————

How idiotic of her the decision was, she didn't want to talk about it.

Pooja had only found herself running the way she was running now on the first day of her residence, and she had only herself, and no one else to blame.

Why did she think that giving up on the most wanted position for every medicine intern in Edenbrook for friends when every one of them participated in it was a good idea?

If only her brain comprehended her priorities appropriately, she wouldn't have to rush through roads like a person who was missing their train.

Panting, grunting, and completely tensed, she arrives at Edenbrook. Steps don't slow down until she arrives before the light beige door, huffs and puffs, not pausing for a split second. She doubted if her legs still had the power to walk or if she would have to crawl into the office.

Nah, no more embarrassment, she would not be able to bear it. With the power that remained in overworked limbs, she knocked, entered and gave her reasons for the delay. And then, by a margin of a minute, she signed the sheet, absolutely normal but still holding the power to twist her entire life in an unforeseen way.

But did she regret it? She couldn't, and she wouldn't.————————————————————————

Miami. The city of gorgeous beaches, giving the aesthetic of peach and teal life. The expensive marble-floored hotel rooms in which she found herself was unreal. Definitely not made for some random intern.

Gorgeous decorated interior, delicately manicured lawns, elegantly made fountains, all standing majestically, giving a fight to each other. She glided through the vast space, joy overcoming job as she breathed the calming salty air coming from the oceanfront, which appeared like a picture frame in front of her. She had never seen anything so perfect in her life.

It was like Ataraxia.

She preferred Mountains over Beaches. She always had, and without a doubt, she always will. But when something looks so heavenly, it would be absolute stupidity to forego the chance of visiting it, even if it contrasted her preferences.

Forgetting the not-so-pleasant interaction with Declan Nash, which appeared like a stone in her perfect day, she let her sensations delve into the delicious culinary masterpieces that melted in her mouth like wax.

All the merrymaking and socializing drained her. But the gentle talks, soft giggles that she shared with him, an extraordinary, priceless moment, seemed to charge her, rejuvenate her. A corner of her heart did hope for something to happen. But she hushed it, not wanting to spoil the casualness, the beauty of the simplicity that blew in the air between them.

It felt like existing in the setting of one of those Michael Faudet quotes, one of them particularly being emphasized by her mind.

"As our eyes meet, all-time seizes to exist. The dying second frozen like petals of red roses kissed by autumn frost."

Pooja's mind still reeled, falling freely into the void as passion and some unnamed emotion overtook them. His heart steady under the touch of her palm and hers racing under the touch of his. She would not be able to remove the unreal image from her idiot of a heart, even if she wanted to.

Sleep refused to come to her, even after calling it repeatedly. She sat up, relieving the memory, playing in front of her like a sepia movie on the silver screen. Eyes travelling around, only to fall on a bouquet kept neatly at one of the antique corner tables.

It was white lilies and purple orchids.

Pooja Sharma didn't know the language of flowers when she received them, with a tag casually signed as E. A vague tag like that did not help to know the actual sender. The man whom she kissed had a name beginning with E, the hotel she was staying in had a name beginning with E.

Hell, even the hospital she worked in had a name with the letter E.

But if she had known the language of flowers, she would have pinpointed the symbolism hidden in it.

The White Lily carrying the meaning of Purity, Sweetness while Purple Orchids a clear cut indicator of admiration and elegance.

She would have been able to tell which E had sent the delicately wrapped piece that now lay uncared for in the corner of her room.

Feelings overcrowded reason, and she found herself suffocated in the very room that seemed heavenly to her in the morning.

Slowly and silently, she walked away to find the solace which he or she could not give her, in nature.

Flashback ends

As the amaranthine ocean glistens, waves crash and the foamy water rushes to engulf her feet as she stood, hands wrapped around herself, she felt she had truly found solace. There was a spiral, an unending coil of memories, a string which, when pulled, tugged in emotions hidden in darkest corners, forgotten but related, all tied together.

It was surprising, enigmatic, how much the little brain of hers, the soft heart of hers, holds in them. A constant battle of reason and emotions ravage the tired battlefields of her body. How casually, reminiscences of a bygone day appears, flicker like the reflection in the mirror of the calm pond water, but remain clear through the ripples that spread on the surface from time to time. That's how memories work, still clear, still dear, even after passing through chaotic ripples of time.

As she reaches the end of the spiral, the helix of her thoughts, she finds herself even more astonished than she was when she reverted to the first pages of the memoirs of her stay in Boston.

It was just a minute, or a word or two. Always so insignificant.

Every ignored act added one upon another and resulted in the catastrophic mess of heartbreak and affection she found herself today.

The 2-minute Power Nap of her first day? It led to the 2-degree shift of the knife and the scar that her finger was tracing now.

That 2-degree shift led to the delay in her reaching the hospital?

It resulted in her meeting her mentor, which gave her the chance to do the thoracotomy with him, to experience how it felt when his hand enveloped hers.

Those two words that slipped as a nonchalant thought off her tongue? It was why she could know how Ethan Ramsey was, behind the tough exteriors, the short-tempered demeanour, how it felt to place her head gently on his shoulder, to wake up to his glowing face.

And that one minute past midnight, when she signed up for the challenge that would change her life? That is why she is here, hair ruffling and eyes glistening, the Leucos Moon reflecting on the glistening water, the crepuscule spread mystically around her. That is why she knew how it felt to be touched by him, kissed by him, to get lost in him.

When Edward Lorenz discovered the butterfly event, he had correlated mathematics and meteorology. Had he thought that the same butterfly effect had turned an unassuming intern's life upside down, pushed her so back in the void of circumstances that it was impossible to come back?

Just a 2-degree shift of a knife, and now she was here in Miami. Just like the unassuming butterfly's flap of wing, which now ravaged a storm through her life.

Glassy droplets make a slow trail down the curve of her cheeks and drop on the scar as if trying to meet the origin which has brought her to the coordinates of the present.

And even though she did not know what would happen in the days to come, she was happy, truly happy, for that shift of her knife and for the 2 minutes of the power nap.

For the butterfly effect of love.

PS: Thank you so much for reading and I hope you have a great day ahead! Love, Manamee🧡.

Tags (Please let me know if you want to be added or removed or if I forgot you):

Perma: @gkittylove99 @neotericthemis @udishaman @aestheticartsx @twinkleallnight @schnitzelbutterfingers @sophxwithers @sweatyrysconnoisseur @nikki-2406 @choicesfanaf @trrfanaddict @starrystarrytrouble @gardeningourmet @parkbarks @mvalentine @lovablegranny @mercury84choices @helloayz

Open Heart (All fics and edit): @lucy-268 @maurine07 @bellcat2010

Ethan x Pooja (fics): @aleynareads @stygianflood @choicesaddict5 @mysticaurathings @jamespotterthefirst @ilikemenbutonlyethanramsey

@choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @choicesbookclub

70 notes · View notes