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scarletsky153 · 2 months ago

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(another) continuation for that another plot bunny,,

Part 1 | Part 2

a bit time-traveling fic of our favorite white hair menace, his three crazy first years students, and the reluctant SIkuna aka hawkuna who just want to rest and enjoy his fourth life without chaos

in which i cant stop thinking about the five menaces travelled forward in time to about a year after hawkuna died and got even more confused (and a bit uncomfortable) about sukuna's third life.

this happened after season 1, around late august/early september, so sukuna already spent two months in the past inside yuuji and being trusted Very Reluctantly by megumi and nobara. not yuuji, bcs that pink haired sunshine incarnated trusted SIkuna more, and not gojo, bcs two months are not enough to erase nearly three decades worth of mistrust and apprehension against the King of Curses.

some villain in the future probably has a time-related quirk and SOMEHOW got hold of hawkuna's old feather, and when he (and yuuji) got pulled into the future, the others around him also got pulled bcs they're all near him.

they arrived on a dim-lit old warehouse in a middle of a summoning-like circle, with the villain behind them and, surprise surprise, aizawa and shinsou in front of them. megumi quickly incapacitated the villain while hawkuna yelled at yuuji to switch with him quickly (and yuuji complied which unnerved gojo a bit).

sukuna somehow slide into becoming hawks so smoothly, too smoothly. maybe because he remember being hawks more vividly than being ueno keigo and even sukuna-the-sorcerer, even thought now he has reincarnated as sukuna again. maybe he somehow is more comfortable being human than being a curse.

(but alas, whatever he thought or felt, he is a curse and one day, these sorcerers will kill him for sure. for the survival of itadori yuuji, he will welcome that death. maybe there will be no fifth life for him, and isn't it great to finally rest?)

sukuna : "wait aizawa, shinsou! we're not villains!"

shinsou : "who the fuck are you?"

sukuna, ignoring shinsou bcs he knew his quirk : "aizawa, you still remember protocol TRT, right? this one is TRT situation 02B, you know how to proceed."

aizawa, who regret even leaving his bed this morning : "the fuck did you do, problem child? i thought those protocols are jokes."

sukuna : "one, bold of you to assume that i didn't joke about it, and two, I'M NOT A FUCKING CHILD and not your student either!"

shinsou : "wait, hpsc hidden protocols? they're real?"

sukuna, so done with everything : "yes they're fucking real so can one of you please tell me what year is it now?"

gojo and megumi, having a war flashback : "ugh here we go again."

aizawa : "about a year after your death."

sukuna : "wait aren't you around 50 now? what the fuck are you doing on the field, aizawa?"

shinsou : "he owe me and are you really going to ignore me?!"

aizawa : "it's fine, shinsou, that's definitely hawks. also, i'm not that old."

sukuna : "i know your tricks, shinsou, i help refine some of them. also five years ago you got drunk so bad and complained about your prosthetic, that's why i recommended you as UA's principal."

nobara, so done with everything : "do i have to kill someone to move this conversation to other, more sanitary place?!"

so while aizawa contact hpsc and shinsou took care of the villain, megumi slide closer to hawkuna/yuuji and ask about their power, because they remembered the conversations about curse energy and quirks. gojo, who with his six eyes also saw how curse energy behaved weirdly around the two heroes, as in they pooled behind aizawa's eyes and around shinsou's throat, also very interested with the answers.

sukuna, who knew the two heroes' quirks are public information to some extend : "aizawa can turn off someone's quirks with his eyes, shinsou can brainwash anyone who answer his question. the answers didn't need to be a complete sentence, a simple hum will do."

nobara : "shit, that's powerful as fuck."

soon a big suv arrived and they escort the four time traveler to hpsc side building for interrogation, which sukuna told them if they believe him to be hawks he did remember everything with the exception anything they change after his death, and then he berate the hpsc officer who he also knew about this loophole, and during his rant shinsou laugh because yeah, that's hawks alright.

shinsou : "ah, hawks-senpai, i miss you! life's too dull without you, no one can gang up on bakugou with me like you do."

gojo : "so we knew how hawks like in the past, can you show me hawks in the future like? heard he's some bigshot hero?"

one of the employee then proceed to talk their ears off about hawkuna's accomplishments as japan's top hero and hpsc president, with how he handle the war when he was still 23, how he climb to top 10 before 21, how he protect japan post-war with steadfastness befitting to those with decades more of experience (he did have decades of experience but its not like anyone knew), how even post-retirement he still do good as hpsc president, and even save hundreds of people during a nasty earthquake last year even thought it ended with his death. gojo listened to all of these with ease, masking his disbelief because sukuna, king of curses, a legitimate hero?! that's something, alright.

megumi and nobara also thought those are wild and inaccurate, but then shinsou show them a few videos about hawks saving people. it was very much a mesmerizing and magical sight, because a man, flying? with huge wings, like an angel? sukuna the calamity?

yuuji who saw everything from the inside lamenting about the fact that they didn't have wings now.

sukuna : "shit yeah i miss my wings."

aizawa : "so, you want to tell me about your story and how you came back to life?"

sukuna : "later, i'll wait until everyone arrive. who else did you invite?"

shinsou : "tokoyami obviously, bakugou -because he's the current number one, midoriya -because he's one of the smartest little shit and definitely knew how to handle time travel, todoroki -because you definitely should inform dabi too, miruko -because she will kill me if i dont, hakamata-san and kugo-san because they're basically your parents."

sukuna : "NO THEY FUCKING NOT?! also, how's dabi?"

shinsou : "smooth, man. your husband is alright, still alive and well in prison."

gojo : "you have a husband... AND IN PRISON?!"

yuuji, inside sukuna : "you never tell me?!"

sukuna : "shut up, he's not my husband. and yes, he's a former villain."

nobara then pestered shinsou with more information, while gojo look around the city while contemplating about sukuna being in love with another person. they're in the future, alright, and sukuna didnt lie when he said that in the future curse energy evolve and change humanity. the next few people that came to see hawkuna (and isnt it wild to think that sukuna, the fucking calamity, had friends and co-workers that care about him) are human but more often didnt look like one. hawks intern with a bird head and one of his 'parents' who looks like a fucking killer whale are to name a few.

gojo thought it was wild that hawkuna was short even thought his red wings are magnificent, and then thinking about the possibility of sukuna gained a new set of wings to go with his old body, the tall huge with four arms one. (and if he drooled a bit... well he's still a man and he got a type, ok?!)

when everyone has arrived, sukuna finally told them his story (but not that detailed). how his life as takami keigo aka hawks is not his first but his third, and how his second life as sukuna-the-sorcerer and sukuna the king of curses made him feel very guilty he resolve to save a lot of people after becoming a hero, how he did remember a lot as sukuna and his first life, how when he died he thought that's it but it seems like his life as sukuna hasn't finish yet. he woke up around june 2018 inside yuuji becase the boy they currently see is his vessel, and he foolishly ate one of his finger in which contain his power and soul. he ended his tale with how, one day in 2018, he walk around tokyo with these three and yanked into the future ("definitely not our fault!") and when they checked, the villain did has a time-related quirk and one of his old feather.

tokoyami : "so you became a hero... to atone?"

midoriya : "i think you have done more than enough, hawks-senpai."

sukuna, laughing hysterically : "you don't understand, brat. havent some of you heard about Sukuna? The Disgraced One, the God of Calamity? i was more of a monster than fucking All for One, brats, even thought my reign of terrors are only a few years rather than two centuries like him. how can you scale human lives that was lost during those years? i destroyed hundred thousands of humans, killed them without mercy and even guilt, and you think my atonement as hawks was enough?"

miruko : "yes, fuckface. i didn't know you a thousand years ago, but i knew you for more than two decades. you're a hardworking, caring hero who would rather shouldered all of japan's problems by yourself instead of asking for our helps because you don't want to 'shrink from your duty'. you will say it gruffly, but then you will ruffled your kohai's and employees hair and told them to take care of themselves first, like a fucking hypocrite."

shouto : "we're all there when you passionately defend my brother, a villain who had killed hundred of civilians. you told them about second changes, about how his descend into madness is also a responsibility of a lot of people and not only himself, how our parents, teachers, everyone around us, and society has failed my brother so badly he went mad, but he's not at the point of no return. he can still be helped, and he did get better after you made sure he got the chance to be better."

bakugou : "you must have your own fucking reason about those actions, dipshit, and i had read about heian period, those years are fucking sucks, right?"

hakamata : "you said it yourself, some villains are made, not born, because our society is not and never perfect. but that doesn't mean we can't help those who can and want to be helped, and rehab them into being a better person. you definitely the perfect example of that. instead of becoming one of the most dangerous villain, you became one of japan's best hero."

gojo and his students, who were quiet the whole time, keep thinking about it. if these people, who had been around sukuna for decades but still able to see the best of him, can he really become someone good? not the god of calamity and the king of curses? in a way, they got lucky because sukuna already went through his character development and becoming somewhat a good person, and even when he's currently a curses, he was a human for two and a half lifetime.

in the end, they found out the quirk will pushed them back to their original time in three days, so during those time the four sorcerers plus yuuji found out that sukuna can multitask and very much a busybody. everything he missed before he died he quickly put to rest, including some letters he want to send to his close friends. yuuji definitely became even more attach to sukuna when he saw all those letters.

a day before they need to come back, sukuna finally visit dabi. the four sorcerers have to follow him because the quirk didnt allow them to be far from each other, but the meeting between sukuna and dabi is as private as it can be.

from gojo's pov, it's definitely a heartbreaking scene. they can see them but can't hear their conversations. dabi scarily has his coloring, white hair and blue eyes, pale skin and tall as fuck. but dabi is full of scars, and there's a lot of emotions behind his blue eyes when they saw hawkuna. shouto definitely had told his brother about hawkuna's condition, so when they meet dabi isn't that shocked.

dabi : "that you, pretty bird?"

sukuna, sliding more into becoming hawks it feels scary : "hey, hot stuff, sorry i'm late."

dabi : "you never late, that's how i knew something was off when you didn't visit me after the earthquake."

they talk a bit, but mostly holding hands. yuuji saw the scene with a sad smile. megumi and nobara didn't want to think about whats going to happen next because it's heartbreaking, meeting your lover a year after their death but can only be with each other for a day. in the end, dabi told him off for dying and lectured him about his bad habits and to take care of himself and not to overwork, and sukuna can't help but kiss dabi for the last time.

sukuna : "i hope i could meet you again in the next life."

dabi : "ha, i hope not, because it means you didn't get your rest."

sukuna laugh while trying not to cry, which promptly yanked yuuji outside because he didn't want to cry in front of dabi. yuuji sheepishly introduced himself to dabi, and promised him he would take care of sukuna too like he did yuuji.

in the end, after they got back to the past, gojo ask sukuna whether he could change things now they're back in the past. sukuna didn't think so, the timelines are probably fixed for huge, catastrophic events like the existence of quirks. those things will happen, but the detail? the chain of events that leads to that change? those are lost from history, sukuna-when-he-was-hawks cant find any report about those events.

(sukuna hope the shibuya incident wont end the way it did in 'canon')

(gojo hope he can find out more about this sukuna, the sukuna that was very much different than in the jujutsu's recond. the sukuna that, in his past life, after remembering being sukuna, decided to atone and becoming a hero that was still being remembered and loved even a year after his death).

(gojo thought he will be the one who taught sukuna how to love, but it's more possible that sukuna will be the one who teach him how to live).

(feel free to use this long-ass post as inspiration or something!! i... probs gonna write them on ao3, like, maybe??? probably???? yeah,,)

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writingtoforgetreality · 2 years ago

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Tin Can (Din Djarin x Reader)

Summary: A battle didn't go as planned when someone ran you over with full force. Realizing his mistake, a certain Mandalorian made it his mission to bring you to safety.

Warnings: none, i think (it's been a while since i last tagged my fics), language and humor?

The deafening battle around you restricted your hearing. While you felt your heartbeat thumping in your ears, you couldn't discern anything else. A huge disadvantage during a fight. Your periphery allowed you to notice bodies flying all over the place. It was only a matter of time until they reached you. They? Who were they anyway? At this point, you were completely clueless. Who could you trust and, most importantly, who should you attack?

Natural instinct yelled at you to turn around and so you did. Unfortunately, your reflexes weren't qualified enough to dodge the next blow. And shit, that hurt. Whoever had the brilliant idea to choose you as their next victim sure packed one hell of a punch. For a second, breathing was nearly impossible. Lungs felt as if someone was squeezing them. Your head shook briefly to rid yourself of the sudden dizziness.

One hand lifted itself to your face to shield your eyes from the blasting suns painting the sky. Once the dark spots blurring your vision faded, you could focus again. The figure in front of you received sharp edges and clear lines. You made out who exactly was in front of you. It might not have been your smartest move, yet you couldn't help but scoff.

"Is that all you got, tin can?" you groaned through gritted teeth, brushing off the sand as you got back on your feet.

"I'm a Mandalorian." echoed his deep voice. While his helmet limited your sight of his face, the position of his visor, the slight tilt, betrayed him. Status, you answered in your head, connecting the dots. He wanted you to view him as some higher-up.

You eyed him from head to toe, eyebrows raising in the process. "Well...obviously."

"You aren't scared." though it was a statement rather than a question, you could sense the confusion in between the lines.

"Are you about to kill me?"

"...No?"

"Why should I be scared then?" you left him speechless. A smirk spread over your lips, satisfied to have this effect on him. "Besides..." you paused shortly, redirecting your line of sight. "Somebody traveling with a green little guy doesn't look all too intimidating to me."

"He could easily kill you."

"Hm." you pretended to think really hard. "Guess I'm lucky then, huh?"

"Are you aware of the battle around you or-?" a smile was detectable in his words.

"Oh, very much so. Thanks by the way." you motioned to your side, signaling that he did, in fact, hurt you while running you over.

"You can't just stand in a battlefield."

"Bold of you to assume I was just standing there without doing shit." you mumbled.

A loud explosion to your right gained your attention. Exchanging a quick glance, a silent, unspoken promise was established. Nodding your head, more for yourself than for anyone else, you positioned yourself with your blasters at the ready. It was only then when you scarily concluded that, next to a Mandalorian, you were as good as dead. Hell, you didn't even have a single piece of armor while he was decked with beskar. Whole body protected with the confidence of staying unharmed. Long story short: you were screwed.

Nobody was running towards you so you took the chance to speak up.

"Um? Tin can?"

"What?" he appeared more than pissed at your silly nickname but you had no time to elaborate on that right now. If you survived, he wouldn’t hear the end of it, though. That much you’d make sure of.

"You don't happen to have any more of that armor, do you?"

His shoulders visibly tensed and, as if he hadn't spared a second thought to it before, he faced you with shock. There weren't many options. You could fight and risk your life. Though, risking in that context meant a full-blown suicide mission. You could use the Mandalorian as a shield. Or...you could run. As much as you despised the latter, it seemed like the most logical choice. A modulated voice from your left halted your inner turmoil.

"Follow me." it wasn't a question. Not a suggestion, either. It was a demand. And though you did find humor in this situation, you were the first one to admit that you were scared. Terrified, even.

He sprinted off, making sure to cast one last glance over his shoulder, silently signaling to you to follow his footsteps. You didn't need to be told twice. Trailing close behind the dents his heavy boots left in the sand, you eventually reached a spaceship. His, you figured. The model wasn't the newest or most progressive one you had seen but it was better than nothing. Thick metal doors unsealed in front of you and allowed you a first glimpse inside. Quickly, you walked up the ramp into what you hoped to be a safe place. At least for the time being. Only when the doors shifted and locked themselves could you relax and breathe freely again.

You were about to start a mundane conversation to dissolve the tension but before you had the chance to utter the first word, your knees buckled and you fell to the floor ungracefully. A sharp hiss left your tight lips. It was enough for the Mandalorian to focus solely on your hunched figure. He didn't quite know what to do or how to handle the situation. Awkwardly he got to a kneeling position and extended his hands, without having the intention to actually touch you.

"I'm fine." you breathed out, shutting your eyes.

"Mhm." his acknowledgment sounded funny through the barricade of his helmet. Maybe you were turning insane. Or maybe, and that was more plausible, you were simply close to falling unconscious. Apparently, the pain was worse than you had originally thought.

"Hey." it was his voice again, cutting through the white noise buzzing around you. Your eyes snapped open, shaken out of your reverie. "There you are." he mumbled and were it not for your surroundings to be eerily quiet, you'd have missed it.

Swimming the fine line between passing out and staying awake, you barely perceived his skilled glove-covered hands working on your injury. No internal bleedings and no fractioned ribs. Though they were badly bruised and sprained. Time was what you needed now. There was no way you were able to waltz out of his ship without any problems. Not for a few weeks. The Mandalorian, after carefully carrying you to his usual sleeping place, released a long, exhausted sigh. Making sure that you were out cold, he stripped his helmet over his head. He placed it on the small table next to him. His hands ruffled through his hair, going through every possibility. Sure, he could bring you somewhere safe, somewhere you could rest before heading out into the vast galaxy again. At the same time, there was guilt sitting in the pit of his stomach. Were it not for him attacking you, which was uncalled for he now realized, you wouldn’t have been injured in the first place. To make things even, he planned on keeping you around for a while longer. Just until you were fully healed again.

Whining sounds ripped you from your dreamless sleep. The first sensation you were aware of was the throbbing in your side. Slowly, bits and pieces of the day before returned to you. Blinking away the tiredness, you took in the room you were occupying. Still the ship the Mandalorian offered for your safety. Rolling your head to your side, too afraid to worsen the pain if you moved too much, you released a surprised gasp. The little green guy from yesterday, you noted. He couldn’t actually kill you, right? That statement was merely a joke…right?

“Oh, good. You’re awake.” the now familiar modulated voice redirected your attention. Wearing that much armor all day long must be tiring.

“Thank you.” you choked out, realizing that your throat was uncomfortably dry. The man hovering above you silently dismissed you. “No. I mean it. Thank you.”

“For what?” a pained chuckle could be heard. “Hurting you?"

“Well.” slow movements brought you to a sitting position. But not without a few moans of displeasure. “There was a battle going on. It was hard to figure out who was on which side. I’d have attacked you too if I were to see you first.”

“Yeah?” you could practically see his raised eyebrows and the features of disbelief under the helmet.

“No.” you admitted right away. “I’d have turned around to run away. You really think I’d fight against all of…this?” arms flailed around you, motioning to the man who stopped whatever he was doing to focus on the conversation at hand.

“I don’t know. I’m still trying to figure out how smart you actually are.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” you didn’t even try to hide how offended you were.

“You were in the middle of a battlefield.” he pointed out, leaning his body against a nearby wall, arms crossing over his chest. “Without any form of protection.”

“I had m-“ your weak attempt got cut off by his much stronger voice.

“Don’t say you had your blasters with you. These things?” long strides made their way over to where he positioned all your stuff the previous night. He picked one of your weapons up, turning it around in his hands before putting it back to its previous place. “The fact that they’re even called blasters-“

“Excuse me, I’m not a Mandalorian. I don’t have the credits to buy fancy weapons or armor.”

“That has nothing to do with being a Mandalorian.” he cleared up, thinking you cared for whatever reason he was about to present to you.

“Who cares?” strangely, you felt the need to defend yourself in front of him. Like you had to come up with excuses why you didn’t own everything that was part of his day to day life. “Whatever…Thanks again for letting me stay. I’ll be on my way.”

“Oh no. You can’t.” his words stopped you in your tracks. Raised eyebrows showed that you were awaiting an explanation. “Your ribs are sprained. You haven’t seen the bruises yet. They’ll get worse in the next few days. You should stay until you’re healed.”

“No.” there was no way you would stay here with a stranger. It wasn’t like the circumstances of your meeting were overly pleasant. “I’ll be fine. I’ve dealt with worse.”

Not sure how to reply, the Mandalorian simply watched as you tried to stand up with your own strength. He expected you to be in more pain than yesterday. That was the way of those injuries. They didn’t just vanish after some hours. No matter how you tended to them. Feeling his eyes, well…his visor, on you, your head snapped up. If looks could kill, he’d have turned to ashes right here.

“Come on. Say it.” you urged while rolling your eyes.

“Just stay here until you’re no longer in pain.”

“How am I supposed to trust you, huh?” your head tilted to one side in contemplation. “You were the one who hurt me, after all.”

“Five minutes ago, you said I couldn’t have known who the enemy was.”

“Five minutes ago, I didn’t know that I didn’t like you.” it was childish bickering, you were aware. But the frustration cursing through your body got the best of you and you couldn’t swallow down your emotions.

“You don’t have to like me.” the Mandalorian started. “The second you feel better, I’ll bring you back there. Or wherever you want to go.”

“Hm.” considering his offer, you ultimately agreed on it. Still, you would stay cautious. “Deal. Just one more question.”

“Go for it.”

“Tame your green child. I don’t wanna have it wake me up.”

“I can do that.” an unfamiliar noise reached your ears. He was laughing. “Anything else?”

“I’m (Y/N).” it dawned on you that you hadn’t introduced yourself properly.

“Alright, (Y/N).” he tested how your name rolled off his tongue. He’d have lied if he said he didn’t enjoy the sound of it. “Yell if you need anything. I’ll be in the cockpit.”

“Wait!” you yelled after him before his figure could vanish behind a corner. Turning around yet again, he came to a halt, his body language giving nothing away. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Um.” there was an inner argument going on, you could tell. “Just Mando is fine.”

“Mando?” now it was your turn to try his name. “You know what? I prefer tin can.”

“Whatever.” his eyes rolled in the back of his skull and you couldn’t see it but you could picture it.

A small smile made its way onto your face. Maybe it won’t be too bad to stay here for a while.

~cathy <3

#din djarin #din djarin x reader #the mandalorian #the mandaloria/reader #din djarin x gender neutral reader #gender neutral reader #no pronouns #star wars #din djarin imagine #din djarin fanfiction #pedro pascal #star wars x reader #the mandalorian season 3 #grogu #din djarin x you

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rose-sophia-isabella-rogers · 2 years ago

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A Tale of Stolen Hearts: Chapter I - How Stealing One Thing Led You to More Than You Bargained for

Summary: You meet General Aleksander Kirigan in an unusual circumstances. You steal something from him. To get out of this mess, you're forced to travel with him all the way to Fjerda. You don't take a liking to each other, but you become stuck with each other for some time. During these weeks, you slowly start to understand each other more… and feel something. Together, you face many dangers but you prevail. But will you succeed in your mission? And will your fragile heart survive the closeness of one handsome General of the Second Army?

A/N: I have returned! With the promised fanfic about General KiriganxReader. It took me longer than I thought, but I had a lot of distractions. But it is here now and I really hope you will like it. Happy reading! As usual, I don't own anything from "Shadow and Bone". Also, remember I didn't read the books (yet?). And English isn't my first language, so if you see some mistakes, let me know.

Chapter Summary: What happens when you steal from the most powerful man in Ravka?

Pairing: Aleksander Kirigan/Reader

Characters: Aleksander Kirigan, Reader

Word Count: 3936

A/N: Inspired by prompts: https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089550833/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533161/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533260/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533275/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533209/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533284/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089550815/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533242/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089533271/ https://pl.pinterest.com/pin/207306389089554932/

Tag list (let me know if you want to be added or removed):

@budugu

@intothesoul

@mizelophsun11

@pansexualwitchwhoneedstherapy

@zeeader

It's night. Caryeva is mostly deserted. Darkness holds the city in its hold and does not want to let it go. It's perfect time for various of criminals and people with dark intentions to walk the streets. Since this is exactly what you're doing, does that make you a bad person? You'd argue about it.

Shadows are your friends. You feel more at ease in them than in the light. Easier to hide, easier to disappear. But you don't think you're a bad person. But you know you're not a good person either. However, the guy that suddenly shows up next to you probably is.

'Money or your life?' he snarls, pressing the gun in his hand to the side of your head. You laugh.

'Bold of you to assume that I want to live,' you say. 'And that I have money.'

The man looks at you, confused. You turn your head. Moonlight shines on your face. The man looks at you, horrified. You sigh inwardly.

Here we go…

'Miss Elizabeth [L/N]!' the man stutters and pulls away the gun from you. You stop yourself from sighing for real. This situation? It's not the first time.

You often get mistaken for your twin sister. It never used to bother you, but now that she's become the most dangerous crime boss in the city it's starting to get awkward. But sometimes, like tonight, it can be useful.

'Scram,' you say to the man, your eyes ice cold. The man is gone in a second. You sigh heavily and continue on your way. You stop a few minutes later in front of one of the bars. You enter it and at once are attacked by sounds and smell of alcohol.

'From all the places…' you say, scrunching your nose. You take a deep breath and get into the crowd of drunk people. Every hand that gets near you gets immediately slapped. Finally, you reach a table occupied by one man. His hair is blonde, eyes are blue and his smile is dazzling.

'Hey, [Y/N],' he says and gets up to greet you with a kiss on the cheek. 'Glad you could make it.'

'I did, Dominic, but next time please pick a different venue,' you ask, looking around you with disgust. 'This place is horrible.'

'Trust me, it's still not the worst place I could think off,' Dominic says, grinning. 'What's your poison?'

'You know very well I'm not here for drinks,' you say, giving him a look. Dominic sighs and raises his hands in surrender.

'Fine, fine,' he says and sighs. 'Sometimes you're not fun at all.'

'You know I'm in a hurry,' you say. 'So? What do you have for me?'

Dominic's eyes shine. He grins.

'Oh, you're gonna love it,' he says. 'Do you know who have arrived to our city? Grisha. And not just any Grisha. They are from the Little Palace.'

'Are they having something valuable with them?' you ask. Dominic nods.

'Some very important pendant,' he answers. 'Apparently, a Saint gave it to one of the Grisha. Don't ask me which Saint and which Grisha, I didn't listen. I hear only words: important, pendant, expensive.'

'I hope you also heard where it is being held,' you say. Dominic presses a hand to his chest in a mock offense.

'Have I ever failed you?' he asks. You raise your eyebrow at him.

'Do you really want me to answer that question?' you ask. Dominic is silent for a moment.

'Fair enough,' he says finally, shrugging. 'So? Did I meet your expectations?'

'I'll tell you once I get this pendant,' you answer. 'Tell me what I need to know.'

'The Grisha are staying in our very fancy hotel,' Dominic says.

'I feel for them,' you say.

'Yeah, I know. Anyway, the pendant is in a room 222.'

'Doesn't sound fancy.'

'Did you expect more from our hotel? The pendant should be kept in a drawer. I think it was next to the bed.'

'You think?'

'Yeah. Also, there's some party tomorrow night and all Grisha from the hotel are going to be there. I'd say it's a perfect for a little theft.'

'I say. Well done. Just tell me one thing. Did you gather all of that information while having sex?'

'Why do you think that?'

'By the lack of some information. It sounds like you were… preoccupied to remember them.'

'… I won't deny nor confirm it.'

'… You're such a dork. Thanks for it.'

'Yeah, no problem. Good luck with that… and that other thing.'

Dominic looks at you with compassion. You stare at him for a moment. You force a smile.

'Thanks,' you say and stand up. You pay him for his trouble and hurry out of the bar. No need to stay there longer than necessary. Once outside, you breath in the fresh air. Or at least fresher.

'Hello, lady,' a drunk man says, staggering toward you. 'Are you up for some fun?'

'Not tonight, sorry,' you answer, scaring him with a knife to his throat, and grin. 'But tomorrow… tomorrow is gonna be full of fun.'

You watch the hotel from the shadows. After a few minutes you walk to the back door and open it using your tools. You hear a click and smirk. You open the door and sneak inside. After locking the door behind you, you look around. You hear voices of the hotel service but they're far away. No one is around.

You take off your coat, revealing clothes of hotel service. You hide your coat, straighten up and walk forward, acting like you belong here. A moment later you're between the staff. You bump into someone.

'Oh, sorry,' you apologise and continue on your way. And just like that you have keys to hotel rooms. You quickly grab some hotel cart with cleaning supplies and make your way to an elevator. You press the button for floor number two and wait. Soon the door opens and you step outside.

You look around the corridor and head toward room 222. After finding it, you use the keys you snatched and open the door. You enter it and cautiously look around. But like Dominic said, no one is inside.

'Perfect,' you murmur and push the cart inside, then close the door behind you. 'Now, if I were to stash something valuable, where would I hide it?'

You leave the cart by the door and start snooping around. Remembering Dominic said the pendant is probably in a drawer next to bed, you head toward it. The room is nothing fancy, same as the bed. There's a cupboard next to it with three drawers. All of which are locked.

'Do I have the key or do I not have the key?' you murmur to yourself, checking the keys. 'Of course, I don't. The fun way, then.'

You take out your tools and start working on the locks on the drawers. Soon you're checking them one by one. No pendant in any of them. You sigh and look around the room, searching for any more furniture with drawers. Your eyes fall on a chest of drawers at the other end of the room.

'Let's try this one,' you say and hurry to the piece furniture. You unlock the drawers with your tools and start checking their contents. In the third one you find a black box that could be used to put a piece of jewellery inside it. You open it… and you find a gorgeous pendant inside.

'Hello, my friend,' you say, grinning. You take the pendant out of the box. You close the box and put it back in the drawer. Then, you quickly lock all the drawers back. You hurry to the cart and stash the pendant among the cleaning supplies. You grab the cart and leave the room. You lock it with stolen keys and walk away. You're almost at the at of the corridor when three men turn to corner.

They're wearing keftas so you know at once they're Grisha. You don't know what made them to return early. You don't wonder about it. You just drop your head and walk past them. None of them pays you any mind. You turn the corner and wait a moment. Then, you look back carefully. Sure enough, the three Grisha enter the room 222. Because life's never easy, is it? And when something can happen, it does.

You grab the cart tightly and walk toward the elevator, praying they won't check the drawer with the box right away. Or the box. You enter the elevator and ride down. You walk past hotel service to the corridor with the back entrance. You leave the cart and drop the keys there, while taking the pendant with you. You find your coat and hurry to the exit, hearing someone's coming. You unlock the door and dash outside.

You don't breathe with relief yet. You're still too close. You tie your coat tightly around yourself and walk away from the hotel. You don't walk fast, so not to draw any attention to yourself. But you're also don't walk too slow, wanting to be as far away from the hotel as fast as possible.

A few minutes later you came across carriage waiting to pick someone up. You walk to the coachman and hand him some coins.

'Where to, miss?' the man asks.

'To the pub "Lady Luck",' you answer.

'Not sure if it's a place for such nice lady,' the man says and shrugs. 'But it's your money.'

You enter the carriage and close the door. A second later you start driving. You reach into your pocked and take out the pendant. You smirk.

'Who said I'm a nice lady?' you ask and hide your loot. You relax and wait to reach your destination. Finally, fate is smiling at you.

It's been a few days since your little theft. You return to your small apartment in the middle of the night. You're in the good mood as everything is going according to your plan. A few more days and you're going to leave this city and start your mission.

You unlock the door and enter, humming a soft melody. You close the door behind you and at once you realise something's wrong. You know it's night and it's supposed to be dark in your apartment, but there's something off about this darkness. It's too… thick. Too dark.

'Did you really think you could steal from me and get away with it?' a voice asks and a figure comes out of the shadow. You stiffen and reach for a knife hidden in your sleeve. The man looks familiar but you can't place where have you seen him.

'I'm afraid you broke into a wrong apartment, sir,' you say. The man glares at you.

'Don't play dumb,' he says. 'We both know you're the one who stole a pendant from me.'

Ah, now it clicks. He was one of the Grisha you passed in the hotel. Still, you're not going down that easily.

'Doesn't ring any bell,' you say, shaking your head. 'Could you leave my apartment, sir?'

'Really?' the man hums and picks up a book from the table. He opens it and points at the library stamp. Ah. To be honest, you forgot about stealing that book.

'Are you really going to tell me you're not a thief?' the man asks. You put your hands behind your back, carefully taking out your knife.

'I'm not a thief,' you deny innocently. 'I'm just really good at acquiring things that aren't mine.'

The man scoffs. He walks closer to you. You stand still, showing him he doesn't scare you.

'You're not as smart as you think,' he says.

'I beg to disagree,' you say. 'Anyway, why do you think I'm the one who stole that pendant of yours? Plenty of thieves in Caryeva.'

'It took some time to find you, I admit,' the man says. 'But when I asked questions, no one would dare to lie to me. Everyone I talked to said you're the only one who would dare to steal from me.'

You blink and stare at him. That's all? You have no idea who that man is. You stole the pendant because it was valuable. Not because you're the only one who'd dare it. He has to try harder than that.

'And…?' you ask. 'Any other leads on me? Because, sorry, sunshine, but I have no idea why stealing from you would be so outrageous.'

'You really have no idea who I am?' the man asks, frowning slightly.

'You'd think the confused look and blank stare would have answered that for you,' you answer. The man stares at you. You stare back. Were it different circumstances, you'd call him handsome. Dark hair, dark eyes, dark beard, dark clothes. It gives him the air of mystery. But he's in your apartment and is not happy you've stolen from him. Oh, well.

'Where is it?' he asks.

'I don't know,' you answer, shrugging. 'I didn't steal it.'

'Very well,' the man says after a moment of silence. 'If you really want to keep insisting.'

Before you can even move, you feel something grabbing your arms and pulling them up, causing you to drop my knife. Yes. Something. You look up and see… shadows? Another one grabs your throat and squeezes it. You look at the man and see his hands close to each other. Ooooh… Now you know who he is.

'I will ask again,' General Kirigan says, slowly walking to you. 'Where is my pendant?'

'Hard to say… when you choke… me…' you manage to say. Instead of letting go, shadow squeezes your throat tighter.

'Will you tell me where you hid it?' the Darkling asks. You stare at him defiantly. Shadow chokes you harder.

'Think if it's really worth your life,' the Black General says. You clench your teeth. Shadow holds your neck even tighter. You start to see spots. You're going to pass out in a minute…

'I'd appreciate it if you let go of my sister, kind sir,' you hear a familiar voice. General whirls around. At once the apartment is flooded with light. You see your darling sister with her always present guard that consists of at least ten muscly men.

'I am not kind,' Kirigan says. 'And if she wants me to let go, she has to tell me where my pendant is.'

'I don't… need your… help…' you choke out, glaring at your twin sister. Elizabeth gives you a dubious look. Then, she turns her eyes to Kirigan.

'Let go of my sister,' she demands. Darkness seems to become even more thicker.

'Don't you know who I am?' the Darkling asks. You can hear anger in his voice.

'Yup. I just don't care,' your sister answers. You'd snort if you could.

'General, there's no need for this hostility,' Elizabeth says. 'I'm sure we can work something out.'

'Oh, really?' Kirigan asks, his voice dripping with sarcasm. But your sister smiles in that way you hate. There's that glint in her eyes that she means she knows much more than the person she's talking to.

'Yes,' she answers. 'Because I know why you've arrived to Caryeva. And I may know the solution to your problem.'

The hold on you lessens a little, letting you know General is intrigued. Your sister looks at him meaningly. He sighs but the shadows let go of you, dropping you on the floor. You groan and stand up, sending glares at your sister and the Darkling.

'Now, let's talk like civilised people,' your sister says, sitting herself behind your desk. 'My name is Elizabeth [L/N].'

'Ah, the uncrowned queen of Caryeva,' the Black General says.

'Give her a few more years,' you murmur and cross your arms at your chest. 'And yes, sister, you can sit there, no problem.'

'Thank you, hon,' your sister says, smiling at you. You scoff and stand next to General in front of the desk. Your sister forms her hands in a pyramid. She has now her 'business look' on.

'Now, let's chat,' she says. 'I've heard the rumours about Fjerdans' new invention.'

'The one that allows to neutralise Grisha?' you ask. Your sister and General look at you.

'You know about it?' Elizabeth asks.

'Please,' you say, rolling your eyes. 'I'm one of the first to now about new things. Why does that matter? That thing?'

'It's a threat to all Grisha,' your sister says and turns her gaze to the Darkling. 'And General Kirigan wants to take it from Fjerdans and make sure they will never invent it again.'

'I still fail to see how could you help me with that,' Kirigan says to Elizabeth.

'Me? Oh, no,' your sister says, shaking your head, and smirks at you. 'But my sister can.'

'What?' General asks.

'Huh?' you ask at the same time, surprised. 'No, I can't.'

'You can and you will work with General Kirigan,' your sister says, giving you a hard stare.

'What do you mean "work with him"?' you ask, astonished. 'He tried to kill me!'

'And you stole from me,' General says, glaring at you. 'Where's my pendant?'

'I already sold it,' you answer smugly.

'You…' General growls, taking a step toward you. Your sister clears her throat.

'No killing, please,' she says. 'We can make it beneficial for all of us.'

'How so?' Kirigan asks, crossing his arms.

'My sister is the best thief there is,' Elizabeth says and smirks. 'She did, after all, managed to steal from you.'

You smile smugly. General glares at your sister.

'And in return I'd forget she stole from me?' he scoffs. 'Or is there something else?'

'I want nothing from you,' you snort.

'Yes, you do,' your sister says and gives you a pointed look. 'The invention is in Fjerda after all.'

You shoot your sister a warning look. Your sister ignores you.

'My sister is going to Fjerda anyway,' she says. 'Help her get there and maybe deal with her stuff and she will get the device for you.'

'I will not!' you protest angrily. 'And don't order me around!'

'What business do you have in Fjerda?' the Darkling asks, frowning slightly.

'Her friend was taken by Fjerdans,' Elizabeth answers. 'She's about to be put to trial. And then killed.'

'She's a Grisha?' General asks.

'No,' you deny fiercely. 'She was just at the wrong place at the wrong time. Fjerdans assumed she's the Grisha that was responsible for an attack of their forces. But it wasn't her. She's human.'

'Are you sure of that?' Kirigan asks, raising his eyebrows. You glare at him.

'Yes,' you say through clenched teeth. 'The Grisha that really attack them was a coward and didn't come forward. But I know who it was. She's innocent. And she's going to die along with other Grisha that were taken with her.'

'That's actually why she stole your pendant,' your sister explains. 'She needs the money to get to Fjerda and get her out. Even though she could just ask me for money.'

'I don't need your charity,' you spat. General looks at you for a minute.

'Very well,' he says, surprising you. 'I accept this.'

'What?' you ask, dumbfounded. Your sister smiles.

'Excellent,' she says. 'I will feel so much better knowing she's not travelling alone. She loves to get into troubles, this one.'

'One more word…' you growl and look with suspicion at the Darkling. 'Why do you agree?'

'I do need someone to steal that invention from Fjerdans,' Kirigan sighs. 'And I don't like leaving Grisha in need. So, this is something I can help you with.'

You fight with yourself. You don't want to work with him. But it would be useful to have him with you to save your friend…

'Fine!' you finally spat and walk to the front door. 'I will do it!'

'I didn't catch your name,' the Black General calls after you. You look over your shoulder.

'I didn't throw it,' you say and leave your apartment. Your sister shakes her head.

'[Y/N],' she says. 'Her name is [Y/N].'

'[Y/N],' General repeats. 'Can't wait to work with her.'

You enter the basement of the building. Only you're allowed to enter here, you bought that right from the landlord. You light up the room and are greeted with a sight of knifes of all kinds.

'You know, normal people don't have a basement full of weapons,' you hear behind you. You sigh internally and turn to face General Kirigan. He's leaning on the doorframe, his legs and arms crossed.

'I'll have you know that every single one of these knives saved my life at least once,' you say.

'What about that gun over there?' Kirigan asks, pointing with his head. You turn and your eyes fall on an old gun.

'Oh, that?' you ask. 'That's just for decoration. But you may be right.'

You walk to a wall and open a secret storage. You take out a simple gun from it and attach it to your hip.

'I may need a gun,' you admit and start picking out knives. 'When are we leaving?'

'Tomorrow would be ideal,' Kirigan answers. 'Will you be ready?'

'I was going to leave tomorrow or soon anyway,' you answer, shrugging.

'Good,' General says and walks toward you, putting his hands behind his back. 'Now, I think we need to establish some rules. Just to make sure we're on the same page.'

'Page?' you scoff. 'We're not even in the same library!'

Kirigan exhales through his nose slowly. You seem to really annoy him.

'Look, we don't have to like each other,' he snaps. 'But we're going to be stuck with each other for the next weeks, so we have to learn to tolerate each other.'

'Don't send your shadows on me and we're going to be fine,' you say, crossing your arms.

'As long as you don't steal from me,' Kirigan says, also crossing his arms.

'Fine,' you say, shrugging.

'Fine,' Kirigan snaps. You glare at each other. After a moment the Darkling runs a hand through his face, sighing.

'I know you don't really want it… but your sister may be right,' he says. 'We can help each other out.'

'I know,' you say. 'It doesn't mean I have to like it.'

You stare at each other for a moment. General walks closer to you. You have to look up to meet his gaze.

'Trust me, I don't like it either,' he says, looking at you with disdain. 'I'm not happy to work with a thief.'

'And yet I'm sure I still have more honour than you,' you say, glaring at him. His lips curl upward in amusement.

'Keep telling yourself that if it makes you feel better, little thief,' he says. In a second the gun is in your hand. You point it at his face. He stares at the barrel of your gun and smiles.

'Do it,' he says. After a tense minute you lower your gun.

'I won't give you the satisfaction,' you say. Kirigan chuckles quietly and walks to the door.

'I expect you at the entrance to the hotel in the morning,' he says. 'I hope you know the way?'

He sends you a smirk over his shoulder. Oh, you want to strangle him so hard!

'I'll be there,' you say flatly. Kirigan nods and leaves the basement. You huff and cross your arms.

'I hate you, Elizabeth,' you murmur. 'How could you get me into this mess?'

A/N: Thank you for reading! Let me know your thoughts! Reblog, like and comment if you could.

This can also be found on Archive of Our Own: https://archiveofourown.org/works/47256868/chapters/119072821

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horizon-verizon · 8 months ago

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https://www.tumblr.com/maomao92/751232091976531968/aemma-would-have-never-let-rhaenyra-get-away-with

I’m very intrigued by this post and my immediate thought is that if Aemma survived then Baelon probably would’ve too so, Rhaenyra would’ve likely been passed over as heir and she probably would’ve been free to marry who she wanted because there wouldn’t be a need to fix a rift between the crown and the Velaryons since Viserys would’ve never married Alicent over Laena.

But anyways, it’s a loaded question but I’d love to hear your opinion on this post and how you think things would’ve played out in regard to Rhaenyra marrying and having children if Aemma had survived.

As you say, Rhaenyra would have never become heir/queen if Aemma AND Baelon survived.

I've already stated several times how it not "discipline" because the set of ethics and rules you'd be "disciplining" Rhaenyra from are themselves bigoted and worked to make both Aemma and Rhaenyra breeding machines for men, so let's not get highhorsed, OP. There's nothing morally superior or natural and un-sinister that obliges Aemma to castigate Rhaenyra's attempts at compromise and happiness as themselves morally evil or "bad" for there to be "discilpline". Objectively, and no IDC abt "diff cultures". Tell that to girls underogoing genital mutilation and trokoshi.

What the OP means by "what she[Rhaenyra] did", I assume they meant marrying Laenor and having Harwin's kids instead. Well not only was Laenor gay and Aemma would have known, I think thats she would have taken that fact in and berated Viserys and tried to convince him not to marry her to Laenor of all people. Bc of course Rhaenyra would look elsewhere, where would she get her damn heirs?! And Rhaenyra likely tell Aemma that she and Laenor TRIED to no avail bc Aemma of all people would be in her confidence. Aemma of the show likely wouldn't have approved of Rhaenyra being bold enough to be in a full blown relationship with Harwin and ask her some questions that some fans who don't care abt Laenor being gay still say (a closer looking husband or sperm bank) but the argument against that still stands--would you trust that that man wouldn't try to use Rhaenyra' and their kids for his own gain? In which case, again, Viserys' fault.

In the case of only Aemma surviving, if Aemma showed signs of inability to become pregnant again or insisted that she would not have more kids, Viserys would receive some subtle, quiet, and the a few unsubtle pushes to set her aside (which kings can do in this world) and remarry to another chance of an heir. But I don't think Viserys would have on the show at least. idk abt the book not enough info for me. Because he simply seemed that attached to Aemma. Could be wrong, I'd love to hear arguements.

We also have to remember that Aemma of the show explicitly said no more kids and in the event that she survives but Baelon doesn't, she'd know that she nearly died and Viserys had the power to force the kids out by killing her/allowing her to die WITHOUT her being told. Something that even Alyssa Velaryon was allowed, that opportunity to choose. How would factor into how Aemma seeing her girl having to choose a rock and a hard place and finding intimacy/love in a situation where's she's forced into. How do we know that Aemma wouldn't have had some insight or epiphany or some sort of renewed understanding about herself and reproduction after near death?

#asoiaf asks to me #aemma arryn #rhaenyra targaryen #westerosi history #westeros succession #hotd theories #asoiaf theories #hotd #hotd comment #fandom critical #hotd fandom

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sincerely-sofie · 11 months ago

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One writing idea that I think could be interesting is a piece exploring how Kip and Twig’s relationship with Grovyle developed during the dark future and after they found out that Twig used to know Grovyle. Since it seems like Grovyle’s attack at Crystal Cave was much more severe in your version of events than it was implied to be in the game, injuring Kip to the point that he almost died, I was wondering if their dynamic was a bit different then in the game. Like did it take Twig longer than finding out that she and Grovyle used to be friends to be ok with him? I imagine that there would probably be more animosity there since Kip was almost killed by him rather than just beaten up a bit like in the game.

Here you go! Angst train pulling into the station!

Grovyle hadn't suspected for a moment that Charmander was actually Twig— why would he? She was so bold, so self-assured in her every action— nothing like the timid human he'd found scrounging in the dirt for food all those years ago— he would've been quicker to assume that her mudkip partner was really a former human than this rambunctious youth before him. But Dusknoir hadn't been lying when he revealed the little fire-type’s name. Twig was alive. She'd survived not only the blow that sent her falling through time, but the aftermath thereof as well.

Twig was alive, and she hated him.

***

It was clear in the Dark Future that she didn't trust him— combined with her partner Mudkip’s own blatant misgivings, he couldn't help how irritated he was by their lack of faith in him. Perhaps it was the built-up frustration of having been framed as a villain for so long now, but he couldn't stand to look them in the eyes while they watched him with such open suspicion. Even after hearing his side of Dusknoir's tale, one that wasn't woven thickly with falsehoods, she was wary.

“Maybe…” She paused and considered before continuing to address her partner. It was the first time Grovyle had seen her hesitate. “Maybe Dusknoir would tell us if he's lying. He would, right? We can go back and ask him. This has to be a misunderstanding. It has to be—”

“I find it hard to believe waking up tied to a stockade with executioners preparing to gut you alive is a simple misunderstanding,” he scoffed.

She rounded on him. “What, do you think you're any better? You almost killed Kip! Why should I believe you're not just trying to get a chance to finish the job? I can believe Dusknoir more than I can someone like you. Without him, he would've died!”

The mudkip— so Kip was his name, then— set a paw on her clenched fist at her side. “I think he's right. We can't go back to Dusknoir. Sticking together is the best thing we can do right now.”

“I don't trust him!”

“Then there's still no reason for us to continue on together.” Grovyle couldn't help the bitter scowl that found its way onto his face. “I wish you luck, but don't follow me again unless you believe my story.”

She called after him as he stormed off. “Go kick rocks, you fricking jerkwad!”

(He should have recognized her odd vocabulary. He should have known. He shouldn’t have abandoned her before, nor at that moment. Twig was always so small. She couldn't keep herself safe in a fight. He'd regret treating her so coldly for the rest of his days.)

***

Twig tackled him out of the way of Dusknoir's attack as Grovyle stood in stunned horror. She'd been there the whole time— she was alive, she was right there next to him—his mind was going hundreds of miles an hour and yet had ground to a halt at the same time. The noise of pain she made when her tail was caught in the path of torrential shadows jolted him back into awareness.

Celebi called his name. The passage of time was ready. His every thought might be stuttering back and forth between rapid fire anxiety and blank-minded stupor, but he didn't need to think to know he had to get Twig out of harm's way. She darted for Mudkip, arms outstretched, but Grovyle caught her under his arm in a dash for the passage of time, barely noticing that she grabbed the boy by his scarf and bundled him up in her arms as they passed.

He threw himself through the Passage as it closed, managed to turn himself in the air so that he'd break Twig's fall when they hit the ground— and the first thing she did as he lay dazed and in pain wasn't to fret over him like she always had as a human, but instead was to rush over to where Mudkip had fallen and check him for wounds. When she found none and Grovyle pushed himself up onto his elbows, she pulled her friend into a hug and glared at Grovyle from over his shoulder.

She was alive.

She was alive, and she hated him.

Judging by the venom in her gaze as she tightened her embrace protectively around her new partner, that wouldn't change anytime soon.

***

Kip offered his old home as shelter for the unlikely trio. That night was an uneasy one— it seemed none of them were quite ready to relax enough to sleep after nearly being executed not even a day ago— but one by one, they all dropped off.

Grovyle was the first to wake. It was a grounding ritual to watch the sunrise, and he never missed the opportunity while in this era, so he quietly slipped outside and settled onto the ground to watch as the ocean reflected pinks and golds amongst vivid blues. He took in a deep breath and exhaled slowly, letting the bite of the cold dawn air settle his nerves.

Twig's appearance beside him did away with whatever progress he'd made towards calm.

She hugged her arms tightly against herself, teeth chattering as she stared at him with a vicious hatred in her eyes. “You didn't finish the job last night,” she muttered lowly.

It took a moment for Grovyle to grasp what she meant. “I don't have any grudge against Kip. There's no need to worry about that.”

“You almost killed him. What do you mean you don't have a grudge against Kip?”

“I mean exactly what I said. Twig, I'm sorry that we reunited like this, but I'm so relieved that—”

“Don't. Don't act like we're friends. Maybe I was dumb enough before to think you were a good person, but I'm not so stupid now. I know exactly what things you'd do to get your way. Just because you're on a mission to save the world doesn't make you any less of a terrible person.”

He swallowed dryly. “I…”

“Kip nearly died because of you. Do you even know that? I keep saying it, but it's like it doesn't land in your head. He almost died. I was practically holding him in one piece after Dusknoir showed up and you ran off. There was—” Her voice broke. “There was blood everywhere, and I couldn't get it all off of me until I healed up enough to wash myself.”

Legends and Life, she was shaking so hard. “He… He wouldn't stand down. I had to get to the time gear. Azelf would have lowered the crystals if—”

“If what? If you beat him within an inch of his life?”

His words were barely audible. “A mortal can't kill a Legend. He would have survived.”

She gave him a look of such potent disgust that he wondered how much further he would have sunk without her there to keep him on the straight and narrow. As a human, she was always arguing for peaceful solutions— things like subterfuge and stealth— where he was inclined to leap in head first with a more… direct approach. They'd been separated for only a year now, hadn't they? And look at the lengths he'd stooped to achieve his mission.

“You're awful,” she hissed. “Don't think that just because I used to know you or whatever that we're friends now. We're not. You didn't care about me before you knew my name. Remember that.”

She stormed off, heading back into Kip’s home.

She was right. That was the worst part. He didn't care before he learned who she once was, and by letting his desperation to save the world harden his heart against any chance for mercy, he'd turned to a depth of cruelty he didn't recognize himself in.

Twig hated him.

And in that moment, Grovyle couldn't help but hate himself.

#stuff by sofie #the present is a gift au #pmd fanfic #pmd fanfiction #pmd fic #pmd2 #pmd eos #pmd sky #pmd #pmd explorers #pokémon mystery dungeon #pokemon mystery dungeon #pmd hero #pmd2 hero #pmd grovyle

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syndianites · 10 months ago

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I really like the way you write Alyssa! I’m curious on your interpretation on her as a whole?

So I've always been annoyed that she was a child compared to the rest of the alts, but I did like the fact that they gave Mot and Alyssa a relationship because in the og TR Tom and Sonja are the farthest apart, especially irl.

When it comes to Alyssa, I tend to give her a more independent, free-spirited vibe. Sure, she's a child (I normally put her around -14-16) but she also had to witness her home burn down and survive alone. I think in canon Mot picked her up almost right away, but I like to headcanon that she had to survive alone for a while and became hyper-independent because she was one of the few survivors and was already from a low-income family (the family part we don't get much information about, but I always wanted her to have come from a loving family).

For how old she was when the fire happened I'm kinda wishy-washy on because S2 canon tends to trip over itself when attempting to establish a timeline, but I generally put her around 6-8, so that she had enough time to remember her family but also be able to survive alone.

In terms of personality, she is very resourceful and self-taught in most things. Contrary to canon, I actually have Alyssa be more wary of the gods- Dianite included- because I imagine her town being less god-aligned than the others and also, being a child, Alyssa would have blamed the gods for not saving her town and family. She warms up to Dianite, of course, because through Mot she learns that the gods aren't as all-powerful as they are made out to be, but she's not the biggest fan of Ianite and definitely not a fan of Mianite after meeting Andor and Anya (who I personally love to have her be besties with).

I also imagine that she gets VERY clingly once she's warmed up to you. She lost basically everything in the fire, with only a few of her townmates surviving (I think in canon she is the only survivor, but I want her to have a heritage she can come back to and keep alive). So once she gets over the "Who the fuck is this Mot guy and where is he taking me" and the "This guy thinks I'll trust him just because he feeds me?" she ends up getting very attached to the point where people assume Mot adopted her (before he actually does).

Mot helps he re-learn to let others help her, and she helps him learn that others aren't always going to take from him without giving back.

From surviving on her own for so long, she has a great fondness for the wilderness, the woods especially, and is very outdoorsy as a result. She also tends to be adventurous and reckless, except when it comes to fire. For a long time she had a deep-seated fear of fire and even though she's gotten a better grip on it now that fear was one reason she had a hard time connecting with Dianite.

She portays herself as bold and brave, but she is always wary and nervous around new people, partly afraid to get attached and partly afraid they'll take her loved ones from her. I imagine that if she met TR she'd be very untrusting of them, Tom especially, and take a long, long time to open up to them. Ironically, I think she would take to Tom first, because Tom is a very open book and predictable, but also because he can relate, as a zombie, to losing all his loved ones and his home (which ties back into my personal backstory for Tom). Sonja would be the next she gets close to, because Sonja is gentle but also fun and silly and doesn't treat Alyssa like a child. Tucker she'd warm up to over time through Tom and Sonja and his general goofiness, but she'd take the longest with Jordan, because she initially sees him as having ulterior motives in everything he does and just wanting powerful gear and good gadgets (which is ironic since Tom acts the same, but she sees that Tom has a line when it comes to friends that she doesn't think Jordan does).

I think in canon she was taught how to use a bow by Ianite? But I generally imagine her being more of a cross bow/lance user, crossbow because when you're flying trying to keep the bow drawn can be difficult while also trying to keep your wings in check whereas a cross bow you just have to load and aim, and lance because its good for dive-bombing attacks and what she would have crudely made after the fire for hunting. The reach also helped keep the more dangerous creatures farther from her and give her a better chance to escape.

I feel like this mostly turned into a headcanon ramble, but in brief, I generally have Alyssa as outwardly bold and reckless and adventurous, while internally being very paranoid about the intentions of those around her and having a deep seated fear of fire and losing the few people she allows herself to care about. This all creates a genera show of Alyssa acting outgoing while also being very careful and feeling like she needs to be able to do everything and anything alone, even when help is available. She also generally doesn't trust the gods as /gods/ but she does end up trusting Dianite as family and Ianite to a degree.

Thanks for the ask! I have so many thoughts about all the characters

#mianite #alyssa countrybat #mianite alyssa #mainite country bat #mianite asks #honestly alyssa is my favorite alt so I'm a bit biased #totally unrelated by i still think Steve and Wag being alts was dumb and rushed

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ngmn2002 · 2 years ago

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Hello,Sis! 😊

Wizard Tsukasa or Searcher T,which do you perfer more?

Hello, Sis!

Aww, such a tough question you asked me, I mean... how can I choose one of them, both are awesome.

Haha, of course I will choose 'Wizard Tsukasa'! This guy is the absolute perfection to me among all the other versions of Tsukasa.

I love researcher T! butttt... if it came to "who is my favorite", wizard Tsukasa will win.

After all...

He is... so... dreamy...

I mean...

He is just... perfect.

I mean... everything about him is perfect...

starting from the simple fact that he is simply so handsome, going to the path of him being so amazing, super cool, full of confidence AND a wizard?! A powerful one!! How can I survive that?!

In a way... he feels to me like he is the older version of canon Tsukasa... like... I love how playful he is? And at the same time... how confident he is... He is super confident!! Full of himself... I can't... handle that either... with a look from those sharp eyes of his... I'm done for. Ah... that little smirk of his... it kills me, ok?! I can't handle that!

And need I to add... he is a cute little brother???

Look at how cute he looks when Amane calls for him, how he just drops everything when Amane needs him? Nothing is more important than Amane to him! (because of this little something, sometimes I assume the very first thing Amane made was a tracker for Tsukasa's movements so he will make sure his chaotic (mischievous at times) little brother is safe and out of harm's way, since said little brother wonders around a lot. Call it a great, caring and responsible big brother doing all he can to protect little brother!♡ Hmm... and I think this thing he sent to call Tsukasa kinda works the same way? Given that, sometimes it's fun for me to think of the possibility that Amane does know Tsukasa is a wizard, but keeps it to himself and trusts Tsukasa to be able to take care of himself, yet keeps a close eye on him from afar. Doesn't that make him a wonderful older brother? He gets that Tsukasa has to keep it a secret and doesn't mind that, yet makes sure to take care of him just right... that's Amane for youuu... aww.... great and supportive older brother!! Tsukasa is sure super lucky to have him! their relationship feels so soft to me...!)

Hmm… I have to also mention his way of talking? It's awesome and fits his character perfectly??? All his lines were on spot during the whole AU!

Some examples:

"Shall I teach you?" 💘

"～♪ ... Ah! It's a candy! There's still one left, huh. It looks so sad, all alone... ... But my stomach is full right now~ ..." That sing-song voice of his.... awww...

"... Then I wonder what happens when they're eaten by a familiar that is neither a witch, nor a wizard?" His curious side shines... "I don't know, either! Ahaha!" cheerful and playful once again... "If you're curious, then it'll be fun to see what happens, right? Bye-byeee!" This fun-loving guy! Oh!

"Sure thing. And your magic didn't really blow up in the first place. What I taught you was the "Turn People into Candy Spell", after all." Hit me boldly with the truth! That "sure thing" was gold!! what he said next was so smooth!

"Woah there. I didn't say anything because I wasn't asked. Sorry about that. But it's Halloween, so you'll forgive me, right?" You smug mischievous little thing!! I love you!!

My boy is... sly. As sly as a fox!!! Or a cat? Haha.

"Playful, cheerful, carefree, fun-loving, curious, mischieous, sly, bold, super confident, has a strong gaze, a super cool guy, a powerful wizard, SO capable, great personality... best little brother ever…" ♡

Mix all these together and hit me with them in one blow... how can I not see him as perfect???

You know what?! I may go as far as Nene in here in describing him!!!

You know what?! judging by what she said in there... I always laugh to myself and say... according to that... how was she doing in here???

Here is your ideal guy in person??? Too close and... ooh...

Such a strong gaze, captivating smirk and dazilling confidince he has in there...... such a powerful aura...

Of course, I'm only joking about Nene. But it's fun to point out.

Soooo....

He is so mush fun to have around!!!

A perfect example of a teenager 'wizard' boy to me? If I was a girl his age in his school, I have no doubt I would be one of his fan girls (with/ without knowing he is a wizard). Haha.

Ehhh... this level of confidence and grace are too much for me... I can't help but feel so submissive to them…

So yeah, that's about this wizard guy, who I don't care much about, obviously. ~

Researcher T! I actually talked a lot about how awesome he is in my posts lately...

... sooo... he had his share of the praise. ♡

And to make sure I'm fair to both of them!!! I LOVE BOTH! BOTH ARE AWESOME AND SUPER COOL IN THEIR OWN WAYS.

*******

Thank you so much for the ask, sis. It was so fun to answer! ❤️

#and here I am... once again... having wizard Tsukasa's “always see me as the best” magic spell working on me.#it's hard to break it #and i don't want to... really #i allow him to keep it ~#it's awesome then... i love Mr. T without him doing anything! or maybe he did... give me a poison of some kind...#.............#both are playing with me then!#I love it! ♡

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nosleeppotions · 2 years ago

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"I don't need to fix the world." Tommy states matter of factly, taking on a more proper sounding accent as he looks up from his work. Covered in dirt and oil with a big grin.

Six was leaning against a sturdy piece of wall and looking out into the dry and cracked distance, only a few tumbleweeds and stary patches of not-quite-grass disrupting the view. Bluebell was seated on a blanket just outside the crumbling old structure with the dogs curled up on either side of her while staring up at the sky.

Six chews on a piece of jerky thoughtfully before peering around the edge of his old cowboy hat with a raised brow. "Ya don't?" to be fair, that's all anyone ever seemed to care about. The old world. Even though none of them or their parents were even born back then, it was something older folks wanted to cling to... a noble aspiration though highly unlikely. It's especially something that comes up if you're familiar with... spesific groups....

"No, who needs a perfect world? I've got you guys."

Six doesn't even try to hide his smile, shaking his head with a huff. "You're awful sentimental today Tommy. You sure this heat ain't getting to ya?" He teases, getting an eye roll in response before he returns his gaze back to the horizon. "You're not wrong though." They DON'T need to fix the world and that's okay, they might help along the way but at the end of the day? Keeping themselves safe and happy, their own survival... their own friends and family... THAT'S what mattered. And the world didn't have to be perfect or fixed for that.

"Hey Blues, spot any UFO's yet?" Tommy quickly calls out, realizing she probably heard all that.

Bluebell, along with the two dogs turn their heads to look at him. "None you can catch a ride on. I'm putting you on a no fly list." She shoots back, sticking her tongue out at him.

Tommy clutches his chest in mock hurt.

Bluebell looks like she just remembered something, eyes going wide for a second. "By the way, which way are we going tomorrow? I don't know how long I want to leave the kids with Butch-"

Six scoffs. "Bold of you to assume I trust that man with a paper bag, much less my nephew. I ran into Tommy's pops and sent him down to have a look."

At that Tommy lights up like a string of fairylights. "Malcolm's in the area?"

Six pulls his hat over his face with a groan. "Damn it, I spoiled the surprise." He grumbles to himself.

#fallout ocs #writing #my ocs #fallout 4 #fallout 3 #fallout new vegas #fallout #fallout au #post apocalyptic #random #just fun #mapping out their friendship and personalities #I'm thinking about reworking some of my Fallout ocs to fit into some original work #at some point

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ironbloodcd · 3 months ago

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A purpose - yet another thing that he was never afforded. The homunculus doesn't know what plans his creator had intended for him (if they'd ever existed to begin with), but they'd surely been tossed away the moment she'd dropped him into Durin's maw. Rhinedottir had stripped away everything that could have given her creation an identity, likely because she hadn't thought that he would need one - after all, his mother had likely assumed that the homunculus wouldn't survive for long within the belly of her poisonous dragon.

What good was a name - a purpose - to a being who was not expected to live? That said, he hadn't died as expected.

"Kuni... kuzushi," he repeats softly, speaking in a tone laced with reverence - as if that simple act of his god choosing a name for himself were enough to inspire awe. It was such a simple suggestion, and yet the homunculus couldn't imagine ever being so bold. A name had always felt like yet another gift that he'd never deserved.

Until the puppet before him had, in the artificial man's eyes, deemed him worthy to do so. With that, however, came another question - what were his hopes for the future?

He seems to have forgotten the book entirely now, his eyes fixated on the smirking Harbinger. He is the first follower of Kunikuzushi - an honor that seems to leave him feeling lighter with every passing day. The desire to strive for something has filled him in a way that he's never felt before, like a force guiding him along a path that he can't yet see, but is compelled to follow nonetheless.

And one that he trusts will not lead him astray. Is this... what it feels like to have that which has evaded him for so long? A purpose?

"... I'm... not sure if I know where to begin when it comes to choosing a name for myself," he admits, though there's a gleam in his eyes that shows that the gears in his mind are turning with an idea. Slowly, the homunculus moves to stand, the previous reading set aside as he steps closer to the Balladeer. He stops just before the puppet, and lowers his eyes then, bowing his head, before the rest of his body follows. As if approaching to offer prayers at an altar, the homunculus goes down to his knees, bowing forwards in a show of respect - of devotion, as he has come across in his readings. Though Kunikuzushi hasn't yet ascended to divinity, the homunculus sees no reason to not afford this gesture of loyalty to the being he's to serve.

"But... I believe that I have found a hope for the future. A future... where I hope to follow you as dutifully as you deserve." He doesn't raise his head, doesn't push himself up from his position, because what he's about to request is no small matter - in fact, he would argue that it's weight is worth more than any amount of mora that could be offered.

"You have given me the purpose that I've lacked since the day of my creation, and for that reason, I... I would like to ask that you name me as you deem fit." A pause before he continued softly - sincerely. "If... I'm worthy to receive such a thing from you."

Because if he's to be born anew from the Balladeer's guidance, would it not be fitting for the homunculus to be molded as the Harbinger so desires?

@windsfavored

a slow nod — why yes, he did choose his own name. if his mother didn't care enough to do so, then he would take matters into his own hands. ❝ it's TRADITIONAL for parents to bestow a name upon their children that serves as a wish for their future. ❞ the balladeer muses, resting a cheek upon his knuckles. ❝ that's why it's so common to find names with complementary meanings ... prosperity, good health, happiness... someone particularly uncreative might even choose to name their child after a person they respect. ❞ a powerful warrior. a figure of legend. the specifics hardly matter — a name is still a name, after all. regardless of how unique it might be, it's still A GIFT neither of them were afforded.

❝ in that sense, ❞ kunikuzushi continues, ❝ you could argue a name is synonymous with a purpose ... even if that purpose is something as simple as living a pleasant life. ❞ he allows the words a moment to SINK IN. it may sound like a stretch at first glance — yet is it really so inaccurate? the balladeer doesn't think so. he believes his follower is sharp enough to understand what he means as well. ❝ going by that very same logic ... and considering my creator opted to give me neither, i chose a name that doubled as my own hope for the future. ❞ his eyes seem to glitter like freshly shined amethyst. with a smile that hints at far too many teeth for comfort, he declares, ❝ kunikuzushi. ❞ he wonders how familiar the homunculus is with traditional inazuman theater. he supposes it hardly matters; the sixth's INTENT seems to bleed through every syllable. it sounds like a threat. like a declaration of war. in a sense, one could very easily view it as such.

❝ you're not obligated to follow my advice. ❞ the harbinger says. ( even if he DOES worship him as his god. ) by contrast, his tone sounds almost jarringly casual. ❝ but it's something to consider — don't you agree? ❞

#petrae ;; verse ;; aimless #oc muse ;; petrae ;; ic #windsfavored #homunculusscaramouchetag #ANNNNNNND WE'RE BACK WITH INFLATING SCARAMOUCHE'S DELUSIONS OF GRANDEUR #I'M SURE THIS IS A COMPLETELY HEALTHY DYNAMIC #DON'T EVEN WORRY ABOUT IT #DNSJKFDSJKFKSJDF

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thepictureofsdr · 3 years ago

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“controversial opinion alastair carstairs has potentially had the hardest life out of any of the main characters in the shadowhunters universe so far” now you may be thinking to yourself “WHOA tumblr user thepictureofsdr back it up there, that is an incredibly bold, broad, and obnoxious take” HOWEVER i have a case to make.

(disclaimer this isn’t taking into account the villains or immortal characters while i personally understand cringe teenager psychology i cannot personally understand the psychology of people over 300 nor those with murderous urges, im not finished my degree. one more disclaimer in the notes)

there is one singular thing that i think sets alastair apart from any of his other mc shadowhunter colleagues: the fact that he has been alone his whole life.

you can pluck any mc from any cassie series and create a web of support for them, whether it be family or friends, whether the characters believe they have that support system or deserve it or not, that support is STILL THERE. at all points in TMI, clary, jace, alec, izzy, and simon were all there for each other. alec was pretending to believe jace was evil in coa? izzy was staunchly defending jace. clary had a falling out with the others? she had simon. this pattern continues into the books, with gideon and gabriel being forgiven by institute and allowed a place to heal, with jem and will each going through hell but having each other and then having tessa, with the blackthorn siblings having each other to fall back on (including emma), with kit finding a home in LA and then with the carstairs, with the merry thieves considering each other brothers, with cordelia spilling her heart out to lucie, hell even grace had jesse. obviously i haven’t named every character but you get the trend im going for. every character has had SOMEONE, a friend, a significant other, a parabatai, a sibling, the rare parent.

then we have alastair. he had a roughly normal childhood for a few years despite the moving around, having a healthy relationship with his baby sister. but then he turned 10, something changed and he lost everything. on top of having moved around a lot and not having a single stable friend, in a way, he lost his sister and parents. it’s impossible to have a carefree sibling relationship when you’re actively giving up your life and time to protect them. it is by no means cordelias fault that their relationship was lost, but its a sad truth. he loses that reliable open sibling relationship, he loses that relationship with his father, and his mother ceases to be a mother and becomes more a coworker in this panic to keep the family afloat. by taking on this adult role so early on in life he loses the innocence and unconditional reliability of those relationships, and he seemingly never turns to them for comfort ever again, with cordelia only finding out about part of his emotional ordeals in cog, and even then he doesn’t burden her with everything. with this breakdown of the parental units and relationship as well as being isolated, alastair also loses his only example of what a healthy romantic relationship should look like, he has no real idea how a partner should act, which we know will come into play later. let’s also not forget how the one family member that could’ve helped, jem, was actively pushed away by elias who raised his children to not trust silent brothers for his own personal selfish needs.

then he goes to school, desperate for friends and what does he get? a year of verbal and physical bullying, with rumours being spread about his family and bruises slowly covering him. he then has to spend years pretending he’s awful just to survive and by some miracle he gets out and makes 1 (one) singular friend who then publicly friend breaks up with him by threatening to throw him in a river at an engagement party attended by what i assume is the entire enclave (thank you matthew). THEN (yes this tragedy is still going) we get to one of the most unsettling relationships in the series, mostly because the bizarreness of it is just… never addressed? we get alastair and charles who were together in 1902 when they wouldve been about 18 and 23, meaning we got a man who would’ve graduated college by then going after someone who would have just graduated high school… on top of that it was an incredibly toxic relationship with charles making him feel as though he were worthless and a dirty secret and centered the entire relationship around him, his own schedule, his needs, his wants, never making time for anything on alastair’s terms. on top of the love sick teenager syndrome, alastair had never personally witnessed a healthy relationship so on top of that AND being desperate for the closeness and intimacy and support he’d gotten from no one before, he had no way of knowing he was being treated badly, he didn’t know any better until much later, after witnessing charles propose to not one but TWO GIRLS while still keeping alastair sidelined.

so to summarize, alastair has never had a lasting, appropriate, healthy, unconditional, relationship with 1. a parent 2. a sibling 3. a friend 4. a significant other 5. family. he has never been loved for the sake of being loved, hes never had someone care for him because he simply exists, everyone wants something from him and he’s never felt what its like to be truly cared for. for every trauma he has endured, for every night he went out as a child to find his drunken father passed out in a bar to drag him home, for every beating he suffered as a school boy, for every friendship that crumbled to nothing, for every time his only relationship used him and sent him to sleep unsure of his worth, he didn’t have a single person. there was no jem to assure him that no matter his faults he deserved love, no cecily to hand out forgiveness and remind him to not dwell on the past, to just move forward, no julian to turn to when he couldn’t hold up anymore, no izzy to tell him he deserves better or to point out the flaws in how he’s treated, no alec to let him rest and defend him, he has never experienced those healthy dynamics.

not only has he been dealt an awful set of cards, hes never had a single person to help him through life to the point where hes not only alone but the few relationships he does experience actively cause him more problems and pain. mind you this post doesn’t even really address the main traumas he endures this is just the breakdown of his relationships so just mentally add on his MAIN story to all of this… everything elias made him endure, all the bullshit the thieves throw in his face, every time hes given up his life for the sake of someone else… this is just the background to all of that.

in short i think alastair has had one of the hardest lives maybe even the hardest, not because i think hes suffered the worst traumas of all or i think he wins the sadness games, but because he has never had a single person to help him through what he’s experienced, to love him because he exists, never had a single person to care for him through it all and not only is he aware of this tragedy, he thinks he deserves it. he pushes people away, keeps his walls up, thinks he doesn’t deserve love from others, thinks he is too damaged and twisted to burden someone with his existence, and despite his genuinely kind soul, he still thinks he’s cruel and awful and deserving of nothing, but are we surprised? its not like he has anyone to tell him otherwise.

#disclaimer this is lighthearted i dont agree with pain olympics i just want to draw attention to the hell alastair has been forced to endure #obviously opinions can vary this is just my personal take on the series and as someone who heavily values having people around me i think #perpetuatal aloneness would make a life harder than most #i personally feel all traumas are easier to handle knowing youre not alone but if you dont agree? amazing please tell me your opinion #JUST PLEASE DONT BE MEAN TO ME I AM S E N S I T I V E #chain of iron #chain of thorns #the last hours #chain of gold #the shadowhunter chronicles #tsc #tlh #the infernal devices #tid #alastair carstairs #thomastair #thomas lightwood #sdr hc #sdr essay

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bosspigeon · 2 years ago

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The Heart Doesn't Lie

what's up catch me reposting old DA fic i wrote in 2017 instead of writing anything new 😎ft the art by @styliferous that actually encouraged me to finish it! <3

It takes time, of course. It takes time, and planning, and a fair amount of Wynne’s secret wine stash that she thinks no one knows about, to gather up the courage necessary to do what needs to be done–to say what needs to be said.

The camp is near-silent when he does it, everyone tucked away in their tents, resting up for the battle they can all feel creeping closer with each passing day. None of them say it, of course, but it hangs over them all. Their forces are growing, and soon, they will take their support to Denerim, to challenge Loghain, and then further, to challenge the Archdemon and the Blight itself.

Sten is seated by the fire, stripped out of his armor but not settling in for bed just yet. He sits, silent and unmoving as stone, and Barktholomew’s heavy head rests comfortably atop his knee. It’s a bit comforting to see his hound there, and he’s not sure why. Maybe it’s because, of all the people who are relying on him now, his dog is the easiest to accept. He’s been told all his life how stalwart mabari are, how their trust is rarely misplaced, and it makes his stomach feel strangely warm knowing that, even if he screws up, he’ll still have the faith of his loyal hound.

Or maybe he’s just drunker than he thought.

“Sten,” he says, blinking a bit to clear his eyes. He’s standing right in front of him now, and even seated on the hard-packed dirt, the qunari’s head easily clears the highest point of his hips.

He looks up almost lazily, and his sharp lilac eyes fairly glow in the firelight. The breath leaves Andrael’s lungs in a rush, and he is very suddenly aware of the heat high in his cheeks.

“Yes, kadan? What do you need?”

There it is. That word again. Kadan. He says it so easily. Just as easily as he says anything else. Plain and flat, no flourish, no inflection. But Andrael is not stupid, and when he gets it in his head to learn something, he will chase every shred of knowledge wherever he has to find it. It got him in plenty of trouble back in the Circle, and he’s sure, if he survives this Blight, it will continue to get him into trouble out in the world. He knows what it means now, to be kadan, and it dredges up so many feelings inside every time the word passes Sten’s lips.

“I know what it means,” he blurts, and he’s not quite tipsy enough not to be embarrassed by the way it falls clumsily from his mouth. “I found a book. An old one. It had... words in it.”

“Like many books, one would assume,” Sten returns without pause, heavy brows lifting slightly in the faintest indication of amusement.

Andrael snaps his mouth closed again, feels the heat creeping beyond his cheeks and towards his ears. He clenches his fists at his side, curls and uncurls his fingers as if trying to grasp at the thread of the conversation he fears he’s already lost before it’s even begun. An errant breeze makes him wobble a bit, and he plants his feet a bit more firmly, before he inhales deeply, puffing out his chest and doing his best to look the qunari square in the eye– but then he compromises with himself and looks at Sten’s mouth instead, and even though it makes his stomach squirm for a different reason, he decides it’s close enough.

“Qunari words,” he amends, tugging at the pockets of his loose nighttime trousers. “The- Um, th-the book, I mean. It had qunari words. What they mean. Like a, um. L-like a dictionary?”

Sten’s face is nigh unreadable, but that’s hardly new. And with the alcohol in his blood, Andrael is feeling marginally more bold than usual. Somewhere between baby deer and larger-than-average nug, maybe. Sten doesn’t say anything, doesn’t blink.

“I know... know wh-what you mean, when you say... k-kadan?” He fumbles the unfamiliar word, the syllables heavy on his too-loose tongue.

“I was not aware it was a mystery to be solved,” Sten offers.

“You can’t say that!” he shouts, claps a hand over his mouth and whips his head around to make sure he hasn’t woken anyone by accident. He continues, voice carefully lowered. “You can't just… Just say that, when you know. And now I know! A-and it's... Do you… What does it mean?” He's vaguely aware he's not really making sense, but too addled and flustered to really do anything about it.

Sten makes something close to an expression, but Andrael can't figure out where it falls on the usual scale of faces Sten makes that aren't anger and bland disapproval. Faint confusion, perhaps? “You said you know what it means. Why ask if you already know?”

“Because I… I know what it means i-in general!” he exclaims helplessly. He's wringing his hands now, twisting his fingers and trying to keep them from fidgeting about too much and failing miserably. “I know… I know what it means o-on paper. But not… not what it means to– What it means to you.” He swallows hard, and finds that his eyes are on the ground now, and he can't bring himself to lift his head and look at those piercing mercurial eyes and see what they hold. Not enough liquid courage, he supposes. “Language… is, um. It’s complicated? Doesn't always… mean what it means, right?” He shakes his head, but that just makes him feel dizzier, floatier. He's starting to lose his buzz, and with it, his nerve. He makes one last bid for it, takes a deep, deep breath and tries to steady his quaking nerves. “What… does it mean to you?”

Sten still looks… like Sten, like he’s carved from stone, his expression carefully blank. Barktholomew is sitting up now, looking between them. Sensing something amiss. He seems to ponder a moment before he shoves his nose between Andrael’s grasping, fidgeting hands and gives him something to do with them other than fret. It helps quite a lot, actually, steadies him. His heart slows down a bit and doesn’t feel so much like a panicked rabbit’s, thumping away in his narrow chest.

“It means many things,” Sten rumbles once the silence has stretched out so taut and still it shakes Andrael to his core. “It can mean many things.” He almost sounds hesitant, and it’s strange to hear from someone so blunt. “It is a term of endearment, I am sure you know, but it is… difficult to explain.” “Try,” Andrael says, breathless, fearful, though he’s not quite sure why. The heat suffusing his face has spread down his neck and now he sort of feels uncomfortably warm all over. “Please,” he adds weakly.

“It means… someone who is dear. Important.” Sten’s brows furrow a bit, as if he’s trying to find the right words. “The center of the chest, where the heart lies. If it is gone, your life is lesser for it.” He looks down, pensive, then back up again. “You have done a great deal for me, kadan. Things you did not have to do. That means something.” Suddenly, his expression looks much less stoic, the lines and angles of his face softening into something tender… intimate. Andrael feels as if he shouldn’t be seeing it, it’s so unguarded. “To me, kadan is someone who makes me feel like I am home, even if I am thousands of miles from everything I’ve ever known.”

There is always a measured weight to Sten’s words; he says nothing without first thinking on it at length. He does not like to speak without meaning, to waste breath on frivolities and untruths. Still, to hear him say such things, as heavy and insistent as ever, strikes Andrael’s chest in a way that leaves him breathless. He falls to his knees as if borne by the weight of the words alone, and flings his arms loosely around the qunari’s broad, bare shoulders, hiding his burning face in the crook of his neck.

For a moment, just one breathless moment, Sten’s body is as hard and unyielding as stone. And then, it passes, and he is just as much flesh as Andrael, with a surprising amount of give considering his powerful warrior’s build. He holds steady as the elf slumps against him, unable to hold his own weight anymore. “Y-you can’t mean that,” he whispers, thick with tears just beginning to overflow down his cheeks. “You can’t…” He’s not sure what else he would have said, can’t quite choke out anything more. The only sound he can get to pass his lips is a broken little whimper that erupts from his chest when Sten’s big, strong hand splays across his shoulder blades and holds him closer still.

“The heart does not lie, kadan,” Sten murmurs. Andrael can feel the thunder of his words shared between them where their chests are pressed tight together. “You mean a great deal to me.” And the simple, blunt honesty of that is devastating. Andrael trembles, feels as if he’s going to come apart at the seams without Sten holding on to him like he is.

The firelight is warm on his back, Sten’s hands even warmer, and he can even feel Barktholomew settling in beside them, his thick furry bulk pressing against Andrael’s leg. He thinks, warily, that the world will be tilting and unsteady and a bit nauseating when he opens his eyes, but, lucky for him, there’s no need for that at the moment, not with Sten’s arms around him and that word– kadan– echoing like a heartbeat in his ears.

#dragon age #dragon age: origins #sten #surana #i just found this in my docs after Literal Years and tbh i still kind of love itt?#reposted with minimal editing so like... sorry ghjdkslg #i wanna write again so bad so #ANYWAY this wasj ust a result of me thinking of my boy andrael and how interesting it would be for him and sten to get together #is this a world where zevran isnt his LI or is zevran cheering his man on from the sidelines #you decide!#oc: andrael surana #i miss dragon age #maybe i should just write dragon age fic again #pidge writes #yes andrael named his dog barktholemew #let him live

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sleeping-on-cracking-ice · 4 years ago

Note

can you please write an imagine for nigari?? he have a love/hate relationship with a girl where they throw shades to each other but they always have the other's back during games, and one day a guy flirts with her at the beach and he gets mad

I’d love to. Thanks for requesting! 😉

A Bullet Between The Eyes | Suguru Niragi

{Alice In Borderland Masterlist}

Character(s): Niragi (ft. OC’s)

Summary: Niragi and you have a bickering relationship with each other. One night a guy tries to buy you a drink, not noticing the psychotic man standing nearby.

Warning: a lot of swearing, smoking, violence, threatening

Word Count: 2.6k

*reader is female

Niragi gif credit

Music was blaring through the speakers at the highest volume possible and made your ears almost bleed. You swore you could feel the bass in your bones, shaking them against each other to the beat. You had become immune to the deafening dubstep music and the annoying yells of everyone in the large crowd. People were pushed up close and personal to one another, grinding against each other like a pack of horny animals. It made you sick.

You leant against the neon-lighted bar that was fixated about twenty metres from the dance floor. You watched as people pushed each other into the pool nearby as you took a large puff from your cigarette. You had never smoked before being thrown into this horrific world, but the stress and worry brought you to consider the damaging habit.

“Bunch of idiots,” you muttered angrily under your breath. “How the fuck are they having fun? Do they not realize their brutal fates are waiting to creep up on them?”

Your close friend Sara sat in the stool beside you. She glanced at you and then in the direction you were staring. “I mean, I guess that’s why they’re having fun. They only have such a short life ahead of them,” she responded, turning back to the bar and taking a swig of her drink.

“I mean to be honest Y/N, I’m surprised you’re not letting loose of your cold attitude and having fun,” Sara stated over her shoulder to you.

You broke your gaze from everyone else and looked at her from the side. “Why is that?” you asked, curious as to what she meant.

She looked at you and smirked. “Don’t play dumb. I’ve seen you,” she chuckled.

“Huh?”

“You and that militant. You’ve been getting awfully close to the psychopath. When did it all start?” she sneered.

You pulled a confused expression before realizing what she was referring to. “Oh you mean Niragi,” you said, “We just help each other out at games, it increases our chance of surviving.” You brushed off her accusation and took another puff of your cigarette.

“Sorry if I’m being nosy, but it’s just strange,” Sara assured. “In the months I’ve been here, I’ve never seen Niragi warm up to someone. He’s always remained the same unempathetic, abusive bastard that I’ve always known.”

You stared at her side profile, not being too sure what to say.

You wouldn’t say that you had a good relationship with Niragi, considering the fact that he really did know how to push your buttons. If anything he was your enemy. But for some reason when you two were placed into the same groups to complete a game, you work together and against the others.

It was like he completely changed his persona from a cold-hearted prick to an overly protective (still a prick) figure. It gave you whiplash at times.

You let out a small chuckle and smirked at Sara. “And how would working with Niragi make me want to go and dance more Sara?” you questioned, going back to the topic you started at.

Sara turned herself around fully and stared you down right in the eyes. “All I’m saying is, if you’re looking for a quick way to die, keep sticking around Niragi. You know how he is Y/N, and when he gets the chance, he’ll put a bullet between your eyes with that rifle of his.”

She stood up off her stool and strutted towards the pool with her drink in her hand, probably to have some fun herself, considering the games were beginning in the next couple of hours. No one knew which night would be their last.

Your eyes followed her figure as she walked away. “Huh, maybe she’s just jealous,” you muttered.

You turned around and leaned over the bar, asking the bartender to make you a drink. The blonde girl nodded and got to mixing it for you. You sat in the seat that Sara previously was and let out a big sigh. You honestly were getting tired of the constant parties every single night, it was starting to get old.

No matter how hard you tried to ignore it, your mind kept bringing you back to what Sara was saying about Niragi and you. Was it really getting that obvious? Were other people noticing?

The bartender slid the drink towards you and you thanked her. You lifted the cold drink to your lips and tipped your head back, taking a big amount into your body. You wanted to be at least slightly intoxicated when the games start. It always helped ease your anxiety.

As your head began to feel heavier and your limbs became a bit numb, you noticed that the usual warm chatter that surrounded the neon bar had dissolved, almost to silence. You were confused, whipping your head around to see the cause.

You felt your face drop into a scowl as you noticed the familiar face that you hated so much. Niragi’s black and white button up turned turquoise from the lighting, and his eyes which were a deep dark black as he peered around the bar looking for something. You locked eyes with the all too familiar rifle that hung on his shoulders effortlessly, obviously just there for show.

You pointed that out to him one time which ended with your back against a hallway wall and the barrel of the rifle pressed harshly against your temple with Niragi’s disgusting spit in your eye. “You still think it’s for show?” he hissed.

He tried so desperately to get you to be scared of him at The Beach. Why in the hell did that brutal and bully personality of his fade at the games?

You swiveled back around in your seat, facing your back towards the frightening man.

‘Why can’t he just fuck off,’ you thought to yourself. ‘Why do I have to run into him everyday.’ It was becoming a bit suspicious, the amount of times you would catch Niragi around the corner of a room you’re in. He would always play it off as by chance but you’ve begun to think otherwise.

A hand slowly placed itself on your bare lower back and someone leaned in close to your ear. “Hey there sweetheart, I’ve been looking for you all night. A little birdie told me you would be here,” you heard Niragi purr into your ear.

You cringed at his sickening sweet tone and turned away from him. You could smell the slight tang of metallic blood on him. He’d probably ‘took care’ of someone some time earlier.

“What the fuck do you want Niragi,” you growled, not looking him in the eye. Niragi chuckled at your tone.

“That’s not a very nice hello. I thought you would’ve warmed up to me by now. You seem to put an awful lot of trust in me at games.”

He tucked a piece of hair behind your ear and pinched your earlobe gently between his thumb and index finger. You rolled your eyes into the back of your head in annoyance and slapped his hand away from your face.

“Piss off. If you’ve come here just to get on my nerves then you can beat it.” you spat at him harshly. He seemed taken back by your bold movements.

“Are you sure you want to speak to me that way? I might just leave you to die if you’re rude enough to me.” he snickered, keeping that smug smirk on his face that made you want to bash him over the head.

“So be it then, at least when I’m dead I won’t have to deal with your annoying ass.” You stuffed the rest of your cigarette into a tray on the table and stood up out of your seat to face the tall man head on.

He towered over you, that annoying and insolent smile never leaving his tanned face. Just his face alone created a rage in you that was indescribable.

“I don’t need some psychotic man with a machine gun to protect me Niragi. I am fine on my own. If anything, I could beat your cocky ass with my bare hands alone.”

“Well you seem awfully confident. Keep that same attitude when I have you cornered during a game, you might have to prove yourself right in order to survive.”

“Is that a threat?”

“It’s however you want to take it sweetie. A threat or a head-start.”

You frowned up at the man, not knowing how to respond. You walked back to the seat and grabbed your jacket that hung off it. “Have fun by yourself you prick. Why don’t you choose a fucking personality and stop switching between the two. You give me bloody whiplash.” You spat down at his feet, narrowly missing his shoe and marched away from him towards the pool to look for Sara.

You didn’t want to put up with his bullshit that night. You weren’t in the mood to start a verbal war with him, especially in front of everyone.

You found Sara sitting on the edge of the pool. There weren’t a lot of people around her, as everyone was either at the bar or on the dance floor.

You placed your hand gently on her shoulder and sat down next to her with your feet in the heated pool. It was a kind of awkward silence for a few moments before Sara spoke up.

“Sorry about before, I shouldn’t have assumed anything,” she started, looking into your eyes. “I understand that it must be hard for you, being the object of a psychotic man’s desires.” She said empathetically.

You appreciated her concern, as there were times where you were honestly scared for your life around Niragi. He really wasn’t the best person to be around, but you had already known that before you got closer with him. You never thought he would become as annoying and insistent as he had.

“I’m just worried about you. He’s a manipulative and untrustworthy person and I would hate to come back from a game one day to see your body with a bullet through your head.”

You stared into the water thinking about Sara’s words. “I know, I would hate that as well. I don’t trust him like that Sara. I would never put my own life in his hands, because I know he would hurt me with no remorse whatsoever.”

You both sat in silence for a bit with Sara leaning her head onto your shoulder. You wanted to spend this nice time together before leaving, just in case anything was to happen.

“I better go,” she announced after a while. She stood up and placed her hand on the top of your head. “Good luck Y/N. Make sure you don’t die out there. If anyone can survive, it’s you.”

You smiled at her words and looked up at her. “You too Sara. Love you.”

She said it back and then trudged off into the direction of the entrance to the hotel.

You wanted to be alone with your thoughts for a bit, but that didn’t last long when a tipsy young man with brown hair decided to plop himself right next to you, a little too close to just be friendly.

“Hey love! You’re looking awfully gorgeous tonight,” he beamed, placing an arm around your shoulder. You were taken back by his boldness, not knowing how to react.

“Oh, thanks I guess? I mean I’m dressed the same as I always am,” you said trying to keep the conversation light.

“Hmm really? Well I guess you’re just always gorgeous then,” he giggled and leaned closer to you.

You started to panic a little bit. This boy was a bit too flirty for his own good.

“Hey! Do you want to maybe come get a drink with me at the bar?” he asked in a cheery tone. You looked at him in shock and shook your head quickly. “No it’s fine really! I just had one so I don’t feel like another.” you insisted, laughing awkwardly.

“No really it’s fine! Actually you know what, I’ll grab it for you. You just wait here and I’ll be back soon,” he said with a big smile on his face. It seemed very contradicting to his pushy behaviour.

You started to get annoyed. “Please, it’s fine. I was just about to leave anyway,” you lied.

The young man still pushed. You found it quite pathetic really. Was he really that desperate?

Before you could even say anything else, you suddenly saw the man fly sideways and land in the pool. Your mouth fell open in shock and you watched as he came back to the surface gasping for air. “What the fuck? Who was that?!” he yelled out frustratingly. Everyone around the pool had gone silent to see what the commotion was.

You looked back to the side of the pool to see none other than Niragi himself who had a proud smile on his face. “It was me you little bitch.” The young man’s eyes widened in fear.

“Are you sure you want to go flirting around with a militant’s woman? You might just be looking to get your head blown off!” Niragi cackled psychotically. “Go find your own toy to play with.”

Niragi aimed his rifle towards the man and everyone surrounding the pool panicked and ducked down. The man screamed in fear and started yelling to do anything that might spare his life.

“My deepest apologies Niragi! I didn’t know she was with you! I promise I’ll stay away from her from now on!”

You felt somewhat belittled. How dare he apologize to Niragi but not you. You were the one that got harassed.

Niragi let out a giggle and pulled the trigger of his rifle. The deafening sound rang in your ears and you watched as the bullet narrowly missed the young man’s head by an inch, creating a splash in the water next to him.

Niragi kneeled down with an evil smile on his face and harshly gripped the boy by his hair to lift him closer to his face. “If you ever touch her again, I won’t hesitate to put multiple bullets between those annoying ass eyes of yours. You understand?” He growled.

“Yes! I understand sir! I promise!” the boy cried desperately.

Niragi let go of his hair and watched as he swam to the left of him to scramble out of the pool and sprint away from him towards the dance floor. Probably to hide among other people so if Niragi changed his mind about sparing him he would be harder to find.

You breathed heavily in shock, not believing what you just witnessed.

“What the fuck was that?!” you yelled at Niragi. He looked down at you with an emotionless expression.

“Huh?”

“That was so over dramatic! Niragi I don’t know if you know this, but we’re not together! We’re not even friends! You can’t go around threatening anyone who lays eyes on me!”

Niragi rolled his eyes and kneeled down to get closer to your face. “Look, that idiotic boy was just trying to get into your pants. He didn’t want anything else from you. I just did you a favor, you should be thanking me!” he exclaimed.

You furrowed your eyebrows in annoyance. “I was very aware of that fact Niragi, but I had it under control!”

“Did you really Y/N? Because from the way you were shaking it didn’t seem like you did.”

You stared into his deep, evil eyes. For once, you actually felt small underneath his gaze.

“Whatever, I’m going back to my room.” You stood up from your position and scurried away from the scene. As much as you hated to admit it, you were partly grateful to Niragi from saving you from that situation. You would never admit it to him though. You just wish he didn’t do it with so much aggression.

“Would you like me to walk you back-”

“Niragi! Fuck off!”

Author’s Note: Sorry this one took a while anon. I really hope it’s what you wanted!

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ev-pierce-writes · 4 years ago

Text

Doll

Pairing: Bucky Barnes (Winter Soldier) x F!Reader

Words: 7.7K

Rating: Very much 18+

Warnings: P in V, oral (fem receiving), light (consensual) choking, praise, James Buchanan Barnes is a sad boy and only you can make him happy, mutual therapy over past trauma, a couple light spanks, and some sexy sparring

Note: Reader had a run-in with Hydra that gave you invisibility powers. Bucky is tasked with training you. Totally not canon, I just kept the parts I liked. Got the idea from a tiktok but I can't find it anymore oops. I'm thinking of turning it into a series of all the places you can fuck Bucky Barnes at Avengers HQ. Enjoyyyyyy....

---

"Alright, so I'm thinking absolutely the first thing you need is a suit. Because we can't have you sneaking around in clothes that give you away."

Tony Stark and Peter Parker stand before you at Avengers HQ, furiously tossing ideas back and forth, trying to come up with ways to build you the best possible suit. Last night had been...interesting, to say the least.

"Who's that?" Stark had said when you appeared all of a sudden from your room. "Come on Agent Hill, don't tell me you're taking in lost kids nowadays."

Your mother had only laughed, slightly inebriated and feeling loose because of all the drinking that was going on in your penthouse apartment. She was hosting one of those parties where too many superpowers drank too much alcohol and got a little too rowdy. "That's my daughter."

Usually, you stay away from such events, go out with friends, and avoid the house until it's all over. For the past four years, you hadn't even been in the house to need to avoid it. But now you're 22 and a recent college graduate and something about the party was drawing you in so you had emerged from your hideaway to join in the fun.

"Alright, Maria, how'd you manage to keep that one a secret?" Romanov spoke up.

Until this point, you'd remained silent, in shock at the sudden attention a group of superheroes had focused onto you. But you couldn't help yourself from responding now. You'd managed to hide away long enough. It was time to come into the open.

"I'm a ghost," you said jokingly, approaching the couch and stealing the drink your mother had been drinking to take a sip. It was strong and burned on the way down. The group laughed at your words, unaware of how true they really were.

It was then that you'd performed your little trick, the one that only a few of your closest friends had ever seen. You became invisible.

The laughter had immediately stopped. The girl who suddenly appeared out of thin air had disappeared right back into it. They could still tell where you were of course. The glass in your hand remained visible, floating in mid-air, giving away your position. And your clothes were still perceptible, not being able to change with you. But your features were otherwise undetectable, not even a shimmer revealing your face. You took another sip of the drink, liquid disappearing into an invisible mouth.

"I want her. On the team," Stark had said.

And that was it. The start of your superhero career.

"Explain again exactly how this works?" Parker asks.

You sigh and start from the beginning, again. "I can distort the absorption wavelengths of my cells so that the reflected light is in the invisible range, usually infrared."

"And how long can you hold it for?"

"About seven minutes now," you explain. "It's sort of like holding your breath. You can go underwater for a while, and you can practice holding your breath longer and longer, but eventually, you need to come up for air. Eventually, I have to 'recharge.' But I've been working on extending it."

Stark turns to one of the many holograms of his supercomputer, working with Friday to design a brand new suit to accommodate your skills. You're so engrossed in watching his process you don't even notice the shadowy figure appear in the doorway that leads to the training facilities.

"How'd you get these powers? Agent Hill isn't lacking in skill but it certainly isn't supernatural."

You knew Stark's question would come up eventually. It always did. Over time, it became easier to tell the story, but now you really don't feel like explaining fully, so you tell the short version.

"Hydra. When I was seventeen. They used me as a bargaining chip against my mom in a mission gone wrong and decided to experiment on me in the process. Left me with a lot of scars and a lot of therapy. Almost dropped out of school."

You don't remember much from the experience. But enough for it to leave lasting damage.

"Hydra?" a familiar voice asks behind you. Only now do you notice that Barnes is behind you. How long has he been watching?

You remain silent, just like you did the night before when he'd arrived late to the party, unable to speak under his gaze.

You had planned to leave not long after you joined the festivities. But when the elevator doors opened, a pair of blue eyes halted you in your path. James Buchanan Barnes, the Winter Soldier. You'd recognize those eyes anywhere. Crystal clear and icy, freezing you under their gaze. He wore a leather jacket and leather gloves, concealing his metal arm, but you knew it was there, hiding behind the layers.

Barnes had always been the one that caught your eye during your mother's briefings. His transition from the greatest warrior Hydra had to offer, and thus S.H.I.E.L.D.'s greatest enemy, to the trusted companion of Captain America and official Avengers member intrigued you. At first, he had been more of a schoolgirl crush, the little girl grappling with her new powers seeking guidance in someone who didn't even know she existed. But age had not reduced your admiration of him. Barnes' face was hard set in serious determination and his glance barely grazed over you before turning to the rest of the group. He paid you not a single ounce of attention, yet you felt dumbstruck in his presence.

But Bucky had noticed you that night. Noticed you in a way he wanted desperately to hide, so he disallowed his eyes from lingering on you. Who were you and why were you wearing pajamas at a party and how did you make them actually look good?

And not only did he notice you, but he recognized you. He wasn't sure how, but something at the back of his head buried beneath decades of blurred half-memories told him he knew you. It was a stupid thought, though. How could he know you?

From the doorway, his eyes narrow in concern, making you feel smaller than ever beneath him. How is that 5 o'clock shadow so enticing? You just want to run your fingers across--

Stark gestures at Barnes, completely ignoring his comment. "Good, you're here. Our young Agent Hill needs to get started with her training immediately. I want her in the field but she can't be going in inexperienced. Teach her the works."

It's rather bold of Stark to assume you have no combat skills. And to assume you even want to go into the field. But you follow behind Barnes in silence anyway toward the training facilities. It doesn't matter what you know and don't know. He's going to kick your ass anyway.

"Feet wider," he says, coaching you on your swing. His blue eyes have somehow darkened, and along with the faint beard, he looks positively dangerous. "Not too wide."

"I know how to punch, Barnes," you whisper under your breath. He's not meant to hear your words, but he does anyway.

"Oh yeah? Punch me then. Go for it." His voice is challenging in the way that reveals he knows he could block any swing that comes at him. But he wants to see what will happen. Your mention of Hydra loosened a memory in his brain somewhere, and though he can't quite place his finger on it, the memory told him you're anything but the kid he's treating you like. He wants to know what you really have inside you.

Your annoyance gets the best of you. You aim for his face, the way your mother taught you. And she taught you well, teaching you all the self-defense skills you might need moving through the world as a woman. But she did not teach you how to fight super soldiers. That's an entirely different world.

Unsurprisingly, Barnes predicts your move and his metal arm comes up to meet your human one, halting your punch mid-swing. His palm fully engulfs your fist, your knuckles slamming into the metal with a ringing sound.

"Fuck, that hurt," you seethe through your teeth, gripping your hand in pain. And yet, you still smile. You mean for your words to sound irritated, but they betray how much you enjoy getting a swing in. "Didn't have to do me like that, Barnes."

He ignores your pain, though secretly it pleases him to find how much force is truly behind your punch. Nothing, of course, his metal arm can't take, but strong enough. "Language, kid. Go again. And this time, try not to be so obvious."

Despite his advice, it's impossible. He predicts every one of your strikes and counters them with four times as much strength as you possess. You give him everything you have, and nothing lands.

"This would be a lot easier if you let me use my powers."

So far, Barnes has refused to let you fight invisible, not that it would have done you much good without a proper suit. But you're tired and sweaty, your hair falling from its ponytail and sticking to your face, your muscles aching and your heart beating fast. Barnes hasn't even broken a sweat.

"Unless you learn to fight without your powers, they'll do nothing more than level the playing field. You need to be at an advantage if you're going to survive."

Survive. You've done plenty of that already. You want better than survival. Barnes recognizes the look on your face, the one that expresses the desire plainly. He knows the feeling, drifting from one day to the next and wanting more than that.

His voice softens a bit. "We can call it quits for the day. Get some rest. We'll go again tomorrow."

He didn't intend to be so kind. It just sort of happened, drawn out of him by the not-so-innocent girl who still has a lot to learn but can hold her own better than most.

---

Tomorrow. Tomorrow's8 like the day before, 9 am at HQ, wait for Parker to get his ass up the elevator so Stark can begin, get sidetracked by coffee, and then finally return to the task at hand.

"Give this a shot," Stark says, handing you what looks like nothing more than a vaguely human-shaped paper suit. "Not exactly protective, but it's a new technology. Should conform to your abilities."

"You did this overnight?"

"Of course. Get changed."

The suit has little support and definitely no protection. You feel like a fingernail could rip a hole through it if you pull on it wrong, let alone a knife coming at you from an angry enemy. But it's a start. An impressive start. You stare at yourself in the mirror of the bathroom as you shift, the suit shifting along with you.

Back in the training facilities, where you know Stark and Parker will be waiting, you remain in your shifted form. They don't look up as you enter, somehow having not heard you, and instead are engaged in a heated discussion with Barnes about something you don't understand. So you creep up behind Parker, lean in, and whisper into his ear.

"I think it works."

You feel a little bad, but only for a moment. Parker jumps straight out of his skin, screaming a scream you didn't know was possible from the kid. Stark lets out a laugh as you rematerialize, and Barnes even cracks a smile at your prank.

"Yeah, yeah, I'd say so." Parker's voice quivers.

"Well, what do you think?" Stark asks.

"Very thin," you say, aware that much more is visible than you really want. "I feel like it's going to rip at any moment. And there's not a whole lot of support in this area."

You gesture vaguely at your chest, not knowing how best to explain to a group of men that a sports bra is a necessity for fighting, but knowing you have to make them aware all the same. You can feel Barnes' eyes on you, a little less polite than the others, and you find you like the way he eyes you up, a bit like a puzzle to be solved or a strategy to be devised.

"Right, right, I'll get on that. Only a prototype anyway," Stark responds nervously. "Back to work, Parker. Hill, Barnes, back to training."

Bucky tries his best not to picture what you might look like without that suit, but it leaves little to the imagination as you saunter away to change again.

And so the days move forward. You've never before been so busy or exhausted in your life. You just graduated college, which is a feat in itself, but all the training, all the work, keeps you on your toes so that by the end of the day, both your brain and your body are tired.

Still, you improve and get better at sparring Barnes, even taking him down a couple of times on your own, though you suspect he's going easy on you.

"Again." Barnes is already on his feet and helping you to yours. Today the sparring room is particularly warm, and you've long forgone your sweats for shorts and a sports bra. Barnes has lost the shirt as well, and his chest glistens with sweat beneath the fluorescent lights. Maybe it's the heat or maybe it's him, but the whole thing feels a bit dreamlike. Here you are, sparring with a man who could take you to the ground with one arm alone, and he's letting you kick his ass every once in a while.

But there's no way you can do it again. You feel destroyed by all the slamming onto the mat.

Barnes is doing his best not to be distracted as well, but those tight shorts and the top that reveals your midriff have to be on purpose. It's easy to admit to himself that he likes you, might even be attracted to you. You fight hard and relentlessly, rising to every one of his challenges and not backing down even when you're tired. You've already come a long way since that first encounter, and Barnes has come to look forward to the two hours a day you spend together in the gym. He had tried to tell himself it was the fun of having a new sparring partner, but in truth, he knows it's the determined glint in your eyes, the way you bounce on your feet in excited anticipation of the fight, the way you collapse on the mat after a hard session, chest heaving deep breaths in and out. But what he likes most is your heated gaze when he pins you to the ground, or even better, you pin him.

"Knock me down one more time and you can be done," he challenges. The familiar determination returns, though a flicker of doubt remains behind your eyes. He can tell you need encouragement. "Remember to use your size to your advantage. Don't let me get ahead of you. Keep me guessing."

You do your best. You really do. You hold your own for almost two minutes, but it's obvious you're only barely staying ahead of him. As soon as you falter, Barnes has you flat on your back on the mat without much resistance, immobilized by a knee on your thighs and his metal arm trapping your hands over your head. His free hand plants by your head and holds him up to prevent him from actually hurting you.

You gasp underneath him, trying to disguise the weird flicker of desire with breathlessness. He looks good from down here, all sweaty and dark and serious. But you're also a bit too tired to care. "I'm out, Barnes. Let me go."

Let me go. Please.

And that's when the memory returns. The full, real memory, the one that has been tickling the edges of his brain since he first saw you. You, a kid, his mission. Kidnap, don't kill. A small voice, your voice, begging. Please, let me go. What has he done?

"Fuck," he curses under his breath, standing up quickly.

"Language, Barnes," you say teasingly. But he doesn't laugh, simply exits the sparring room, abruptly leaving you, speechless and alone on the floor. What just happened?

After a moment of confused silence on the mat, you brush it off and stand, heading to your room for a shower. Stark offered you a place to stay at HQ, and you happily agreed. Though you loved being back with your mother after four years away at college, you cherish your independence. A room at HQ offered you just that.

A nice shower would certainly make you feel better after that confusing interaction. You pull on your robe and shower shoes, leaving your clothes behind so as to carry one less thing. But as you pass down the hall toward the showers, you can hear Barnes' voice drift through the slightly open door to his room.

"I remembered," he says. "It was her. I'm the reason she's--" He cuts off, appearing to be interrupted by whoever he's talking to on the phone. You pause by the open door.

"I know that's not me anymore but I'm still responsible," he continues. "I have to tell her."

Again a pause. By now it's apparent he's talking about you.

"No, Steve, we aren't a team. We aren't partners. I'm helping Tony out. I don't care if she doesn't want to work with me anymore, this is part of my redemption. I have to tell her."

The conversation seems over. You rush to the showers, not wanting Barnes to realize you were listening the whole time. Apologize, he said. Apologize for what? You've known him for a whole of four days and he's been nothing but polite to you. Cold, at first, but he warms upon acquaintance. And then he's downright sweet.

So sweet, you realize, for someone so damaged. He has every right to hate the world, and though he walks through it with a healthy dose of cynicism, he never lets that cynicism touch you. If anything, he's outright positive around you, an undeserving brat. A kid, really, though you don't like when he calls you that. You know you can be naive, positive on the verge of artificiality, and yet he never tries to burst your bubble. In fact, he seems to relish it.

The shower feels nice, but it does nothing to assuage your fears. Maybe it's you who has done something wrong? Now you're spiraling. You have to find out what's going on or it's going to drive you crazy.

You know what you have to do. You have just about seven minutes of invisibility before your shifting gives out. In those seven minutes, you can duck from the showers, sneak into Barnes' room, snoop around, and make it back to the showers unseen. Plenty of time. But you have to go nude. Now would be a great time for the suit, but no such luck. Naked it is.

Out in the hallway, all is quiet. Barnes' door is still ajar, but when you peek your head in, the room is empty.

Easy.

Where to start? His phone is a dead end, being one of those ancient flipping kinds rather than a new, high-tech smartphone. He has few personal belongings, the bed is made perfectly, and his closet contains only clothes.

The drawers of the nightstand are empty. Or nearly empty. At the back of the top drawer is unceremoniously shoved a small booklet with a pen stuck between the pages. It's worn and supple, as though held a thousand times and read a thousand more. You flip through, finding a list of names, some crossed out, others not. Your name does not appear, but something about the list tells you these are not ordinary names. These are the names of his victims, people Barnes hurt as the Winter Soldier. Your heart aches and your stomach clenches, the reminder of his past jarring against the kind demeanor you've come to know. But deep down, you know this isn't him, know he's a good man, despite it all.

You know better than most the first-hand horrors of Hydra's super-soldier experiments. Of anyone, you can relate best to the experience Barnes has been through. Your memories of that long week are blurry, but the pain remains, forever seared into your mind. You can only imagine a lifetime of that pain.

The sound of the door opening jolts you from your reverie and you close the drawer quickly. But you soon realize your mistake. Barnes would know he left the door open, would know exactly how he placed his book in the drawer, would recognize something was off. Unfortunately, you're right.

"Hello?" he calls into the darkening room. The evening is coming on fast and the sun dims to barely glimmer, casting the space in shadow despite the large windows on the south wall.

Bucky knows something is off the moment he finds your room unoccupied, having gone there with the express purpose of confronting you about his actions earlier in the afternoon. And though he has no way of truly knowing, he suspects you are now here, in this room with him, invisible to his gaze. Bucky shuts the door behind him and waits.

You're trapped. You don't have long before your powers give out; already the suffocating feeling that begs you to take a breath is coming on. And Barnes has closed the door, effectively sealing you in, as you can't open it without him knowing for sure that you're here. On top of that, you're clothingless. You've run out of options and Barnes seems to sense this. So, he waits, drawing out the moment of tension, building the suspense.

"I know you're here," he says finally, his voice soft and barely audible. "You can't hide that well. Next time, dry your feet off before you go leaving wet footprints all over the place."

Oops.

"I--" you begin, and immediately Barnes' eyes snap to where your voice originates from. "I'm sorry. I overheard your conversation with Rogers. I shouldn't have but I know it was about me."

Barnes sighs, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Yeah, you're right. I have some things to explain. Though I'd much prefer talking to you if I could see you."

You hesitate. "Only a slight problem there. I'm not wearing any clothes."

If it had been any lighter in the room you would have seen Barnes blush. Instead, you watch him pull his shirt over his head. He hands it to you blindly, the shirt off his own back, soft with wear and long enough to cover the tops of your thighs. It smells of him, salty with sweat and sweet with the scent you've come to recognize only as him. You shrug it on and shift back.

"I'm sorry," you say again, having trouble concentrating with Barnes' bare chest at your eye level. Is that an old bullet wound on his shoulder? The reminder of a knife across his stomach? You can't look away, even at the seam where man meets metal.

Barnes shakes his head. "No, I should be the one apologizing."

He pauses for a moment and tries to begin several times before finally forming a complete sentence.

"It's my fault you're like this, that Hydra tested on you. It was me who kidnapped you, it was me who followed orders, it was me who completed the mission and got you hurt. And I'm so sorry."

You're so frozen in shock that the absurdity of the situation doesn't even register. There's nothing under this shirt, no underwear, no pants, no bra. And here you are standing in the bedroom of your greatest inspiration, listening to him apologize for being the one that facilitated your kidnapping, for being responsible for all the injury, the pain, the nightmares, the isolation, the...

It all comes flooding back, the things you had forgotten, or simply chose to not remember, and one of those things is his face.

You thought you'd dealt with impact. So many hours with a therapist, and you realize all you did was suppress the feelings, not confront them. And then you break, all the anger and sadness and frustration flowing from you at once.

"You piece of shit." Your voice begins as a whisper but soon amplifies nearly to a shout. "You monster, you bastard, how could you? How could you?"

All this time you forgave him for the damage he'd done, excused it as brainwashing and manipulation from Hydra. But now that it's you he's involved, you have somewhere to direct your anger, and you take it out as a shove straight to his chest.

He didn't expect that one. The words he understood. He accepted those, accepted that you would hate him forever. But then you're pushing and hitting him with all your force. Barnes could fight back, could hold his ground. But you need this, so he lets you shove him into the wall with a newfound strength. Finally against the wall, with nowhere left to go, you turn to pummelling his chest with your fists, repeating the words over and over, how could you, how could you, how could you.

For a moment, he lets it happen. But eventually, Barnes reacts, grabbing your wrists and holding them to his chest in an attempt to calm the fury that rages inside you. Surprisingly, at his touch, you still, slumping against him once the anger is replaced with nothing but sadness. That anger, one you never truly realized you'd harbored since your capture, bled from you all at once, leaving you exhausted.

You don't notice you're crying until a soft thumb wipes a tear from your cheek. Barnes releases your hands and wraps his arms around your sobbing body, pulling you close. "I'm so sorry," he repeats in your ear, his words a whisper against the rage inside your head.

Is it hours, or only minutes, standing like that, wrapped up in him, his skin so soft against your cheek? Time has ceased to exist, melting into the nighttime that encompasses the room in near pitch-black darkness. Your breath calms, your heart rate slows, the tears dry. He's only a man, a broken, misplaced, lost man. But he's also impossibly kind to you, caring enough to train you day after day, to pick you up when you fall down, to ensure you're happy here at all times. That's the man you know and rest your cheek against and seek out for comfort in this moment, despite him being the reason for your anger. But he's not truly the reason for your anger, only an easy outlet standing right before you.

This is not how Bucky had expected this to go. Perhaps to never see you again, yes. But to hold you in his arms, certainly not. And not just hold you, but comfort you. It surprises him how much he finds he likes it. And he can't ignore the fact that you're here in his room, wearing his shirt and only his shirt. He doesn't try anything improprietous, just wraps his arms around your waist, but it's not lost on him that your supple chest is pressed against him and the delicious scent from your still wet hair is filling his brain with a flowery cloud. His stomach clenches at the thought of burying his face in that smell for the rest of the night but he pushes it aside. That's not why you're here. That's not what you want.

But your next words surprise him. You pull slightly away, tilting your splotchy face upward towards his to look him in the eye. You take a ragged breath and speak.

"I forgive you."

Bucky is taken aback. That's not why he made this confession, not to seek your forgiveness. "You don't have to do that."

"I know. But I do. And I know you think I'm just a kid--"

Barnes lets out a short laugh, cutting you off immediately. "Jesus Christ, that's not true. You're not a kid. You're smart and strong and capable. And you've seen the ugly world for its true self and choose to remain good and happy all the same. I'm not like that and that makes you wiser than I'll ever be."

He takes a deep breath, unsure if he should admit to the feelings he desperately wants to express to you. The way you're looking at him, with a mixture of hesitation and admiration, makes the words tumble from his mouth without a second thought.

"But somehow being around you makes me want to be good again. Not for my sake, but for yours."

"James, I--" You've never used his first name before, but it falls deliciously from your lips, the sound of it nearly distracting him from the finger you run across the stubble on the cleft of his chin. Nearly. He captures that hand in his own, holding it there against his face.

"You don't have to forgive me. I don't deserve it," he repeats, eyes falling shut to the feeling of your thumb pressed to the corner of his lips. He still holds you close, the other arm wrapping tight around you, and though verbally he rejected the comfort your warmth offered, his body says otherwise, desperate for the acceptance his brain refuses to give into.

"Stop punishing yourself," you whisper. For a moment, he almost feels that he could.

And when your lips find his, soft and delicate, he forgets why you're even here in the first place, forgets his guilt and your anger, forgets even to react.

His lack of response has you pulling away, worried you've done something wrong, but then he's chasing your lips with his own, leaning forward to meet you halfway, gathering you impossibly tighter to his chest. He pauses, mouth mere centimeters from yours, eyes still shut, a deep breath heaving from his chest. He wants more, wants to kiss you again in all the places that count, but he can't quite yet.

"What was that for?" The question's not an accusatory one but simply curious. Have you always looked at him in this light since day one? Has he just not noticed?

"Are you blind, Barnes?"

He laughs and shakes his head. "None of that last name shit, doll, we've moved on to a first-name basis."

But your words are enough to surge him forward, this time capturing your lips in a dominating kiss that leaves you gasping for air. He takes advantage of your open mouth and presses his tongue to yours, seeking to fill his soul with your all-consuming warmth, to wrap it around him like a cocoon of your scent. His fingers slide down your back and slip under the shirt you wear, his shirt, grasping at the bare skin of your ass, filling his hands with your supple flesh.

You moan softly under his touch, relishing in the feeling of being encompassed by someone so large and so strong. The vibranium arm, which you expected to be harshly indelicate against your relative fragility, caresses you with the same gentility of the other. The intense contact sends your heart racing like it did all the times you were pinned below him on the sparring mat. Will he pin you like that in bed? Hold you down while he fucks you within an inch of your life?

The thought rouses a heat between your legs and stirs butterflies in your tummy. You don't even know if that's where this is going, but it invades your brain anyways. You're sure Barnes can feel your racing pulse beneath his lips when he kisses your neck, sending your nerves haywire as he creeps toward the neckline of your shirt. He inhales your scent, the hot air of his breath fanning your cool skin.

Everything about this is sloppy, the wet kisses dragged across your skin, his tongue tangled with yours, your fingers tugging at the hair that brushes the nape of his neck. Even his hips against yours are messy and rough, the heat of him leaving your core feeling slick, the wetness of it rubbing between your naked thighs. And then Barnes is sliding his hands back up your body, this time under your shirt, and tugging it over your head, his lips leaving your skin just long enough to toss the item to the ground.

You expect him to keep surging forward, to lift you in his arms and take you to bed like you want him to. But he pauses instead, hands cradling the back of your head, his eyes staring intensely into yours. Or you think he's staring into your eyes.

"Are you okay? Is this okay?" His voice is full of concern but raspy with arousal all the same.

"Yes, James, yes, I need more."

"Well, I would, it's just that you've disappeared on me again." One look at your hands and you know he was looking right through you, not at you. The swirl of emotions--pleasure, arousal, timidity even--sent you shifting without your knowledge. You can't help but laugh.

"Let me see you, doll," he groans, sounding exasperated that he can't rake his gaze across your naked flesh or find all the places he wants to touch you because they're invisible.

"You first."

A heated understanding lights up his eyes, still vibrant in the darkness of the room. Slowly, he releases his grip on you, relenting to not knowing where you are in space. You take an invisible step back to get a better view of the specimen before you. With one hand, he unbuckles his belt, sliding the leather from his pants and dropping it to the floor with a thunk. And then his pants are gone and he's left in his boxers, tight against the bulging muscles of his thighs.

And other bulging things. He doesn't hide his attraction to you. But still, you do not reappear.

Bucky begins to worry you're never going to, that maybe he's taken things too for. But then, a soft finger trails across his neck and he jerks in surprise. You're tracing the plain of his chest with a feather-light touch, dipping into the indent between his collarbones, feeling along the puckered scar of a bullet wound and the long slice of a knife. He feels healed beneath your touch, but it's not enough to satisfy the insatiable hunger building in the tightness of his groin. This entire evening has been a long, drawn-out, build-up of tension, and if he doesn't release it soon, it will snap like an overstretched rubber band.

He makes his move.

Apparently, Bucky's senses are just as perceptive here as they are on the sparring mat. His metal hand shoots up and wraps around the wrist of the hand on his chest, despite being unable to see it. The other reaches out and grapples at your invisible body in the dark, somehow finding your waist. He doesn't need to see you to manage to flip you around and press your back against his chest. In your surprise, your invisibility falters, and you flicker out of your shifted form with a flustered squeak, one hand suddenly pinned between your back and Bucky's rock-hard chest.

He holds on with an iron grip and walks you toward the bed, holding you up to prevent you from tripping in your ruffled state.

"You're taking too long, doll," he mumbles into your ear, and you feel his chest rumble with the vibrations. Your free hand flies to the one around your waist, which is slowly creeping upward toward your breast to twist at the sensitive nipple. "I know you like it when I pin you on the sparring floor. I can see it in your eyes. I'll take you like that right now if you give me the word."

Fuck, you want nothing more but you can't breathe enough to get the words out, opting for nodding vigorously instead. But Bucky wants words, gently prodding you forward to get a verbal commitment out of you. He will never take you against your will again. So you manage a long, drawn-out please and suddenly you're face-first in the sheets, bent halfway at the waist, your ass grinding against the delicious bulge pressed against your aching cunt. It pleases you that he has been thinking the same wicked thoughts as you when he slams you to the mat over and over again in training.

Bucky pulls your arm out from underneath you, joining it with the other and holding them together with his metal fist at your lower back, forcing your chest further into the mattress and your ass higher in the air. There's no way for you to move, no matter how hard you try. But you don't try, won't try. Bucky has you right where you want to be.

"Tell me if it's too much," he murmurs in your ear and you breathe an affirmation. His teeth nibble suddenly at your ear lobe and you squirm, the sensation of his breath fanning your skin sending goosebumps along the trail of kisses he leaves down your spine. Somehow, you know this is only the calm before the storm, the gentle caresses of a man who's about to rearrange every organ in your body, all the way up to your heart if you aren't careful.

It doesn't matter to you that it's pitch black in the room; you wouldn't have been able to see anything with your face shoved into the comforter, even if the lights were on. But Bucky's starting to regret having left the lights off, wishing he could better see the curve of your hips, the swell of your thighs, or the bloom of his handprint on your ass when his hand comes down with a smack. He resigns to being satisfied by the mewling gasp that escapes your lips and your soft pleas to Do it again, harder.

So he does. Smack.

And then he's sinking to his knees and you can tell because he leaves a wet stripe of skin with his tongue over the globe of your ass and blows a shock of cool air across the rawness of your skin. He replaces the sting of his hand with the bite of his teeth and then a kiss to soothe you again. The rollercoaster of sensations has you moaning against the mattress and rocking your hips toward his face and Barnes chuckles at your movement, your actions giving away the desperation you feel to have his tongue move to more sensitive places.

He is happy to oblige. You hadn't even noticed you'd been squeezing your thighs together until he slid a hand up between them, forcing them apart. It's a blessing your legs aren't doing any work to keep you up anymore because they feel like jelly under his touch. The hand between your thighs moves higher still until you feel his thumb pressed to your sensitive clit, warm and twitching with anticipation, desire coursing through your veins and dripping from your wet cunt. Your ears barely register that he's speaking, the blood is pumping so hard in your ears, but his words are exalting.

"Look at you, so wet for me." The hand around your wrists tightens just slightly. You are surprised by the extreme control he has over the cool metal fingers, and you almost wish he'd use those on you instead. And then he says, "you like it, don't you, doll, being at my mercy," and you forget all about the arm and decide it doesn't matter what hand presses down with a gentle strength on your clit as long as he doesn't stop. And he doesn't. Doesn't move, doesn't flinch or twitch or falter, just holds steady until your gasping mewls die down just enough for you to say, "yes, all for you, all for you, all..."

With those words, his thumb slips, between your slick folds into your pussy, finding the soft spongy flesh and pressing down again and you cry out with a careening moan that tapers off into a silent sob. He's taking his time, picking you apart, pulling at the laces that bind you together, and undoing them to release the tension he knows you harbor. But what about him? Is it not torture for him?

You breathe in a rough gasp, enough to squeak out a few more words. "I thought we were going too slow for you."

He laughs, he actually laughs, at your words, but relents.

"I hear you, doll."

I hear you. Oh wow. His tongue replaces his finger and you lose all coherence, able only to blubber some iteration of his name as the smooth muscle traces circles around your clit, finally allowing your orgasm to build with a steady contraction in your pelvis. Barnes moans between your legs like he's never tasted chocolate or buttercream or any of those other wondrous flavors and there's only you. And that moan sends you overboard, the vibrations diffusing down your legs and you tremble into your first orgasm. Your first orgasm.

He keeps going, riding out the waves of your high until you're crying that it's too much, James, too much and he pulls his tongue away from your oversensitized clit only to move down your legs. He's working you up again, teasing the smooth skin of your inner thigh with gentle nips and kisses until your body is craving release again, your cunt clenching around nothing but the memory of his mouth. He is deliberate in his ministrations, methodical in the way he must be with his missions. The flood of your first orgasm has dripped steadily down your thigh and he cleans you with his tongue, dragging upward along the sticky trail of your musky release until his tongue makes contact again and he pulls an orgasm from your desperate body once more.

He still hasn't released your arms.

"You know how long I've wanted to do this?" he groans, as you shudder again into the pleasure of his touch. He kisses back up the length of your spine while you twitch under him, his free hand dragging shock wave after shock wave from your cunt. It strikes you that this man is truly 106, not 26 like his body suggests, and you absentmindedly wonder if that's why he's so good at it, that he's had years to practice. And then his cock is pressing against your folds and you forget the notion halfway through thinking it. "You're so good to me doll, so good for opening up for me. Wanna feel your tight pussy around me."

You push backward, or do your best to without the employment of your arms, wanting desperately to feel him inside you. He is warm and all-encompassing and part of you thinks his cock spilling his seed inside of you would complete you like nothing else. But you know that's a bad idea and you can hear him already unwrapping a condom (where did he get that from?) and your body trembles with the anticipation. You haven't even seen him yet but you know he must be big, the way he grunts when the tip of his erection teases your entrance.

When he enters you it isn't gentle like the stroke of his tongue. It splits you open with a rough thrust, the laces of your heart fully undone and releasing you from their confinement. You choke on your own air.

And then he's releasing your arms, and before you can react, Barnes has you lifted, your back to his chest, your knees shoved roughly into the mattress so he can stand and fuck you from behind. The metal arm finds your neck and forces your head back, his lips dragging hot against your soft skin and muttering filthy praise into your ear, his hand gently on your throat to hold you there. Your hands fly to his, not to pull him away, but to convince him to squeeze, just a little bit harder. The pressure is grounding, and then the hand around your waist is trailing toward the bud of your clit and rubbing in urgent circles and you let out a silent gasp as he thrusts into you at a pace astounding for the position you're in.

You come hard, over his hand, around his cock, and for the first time Barnes falters, stunned by the intensity with which you clamp around him and if he hadn't made you come two times already he might have held out a bit longer to pull another one of those stunning orgasms from your slick cunt. But you're sagging, using him to hold you up against the exhaustion of repeated abuse so he releases, riding the wave of pleasure you started. Bucky groans out your name, surprising you with the gentleness of it on his tongue despite the rough hand around your neck.

When he releases you softly back onto the bed, you sink heavily into the mattress, feeling high on pleasure and drunk on his hands. He pulls away and shuffles around the room, and if you had had any energy left you might have complained at the loss of him but as it sits nothing will rouse you from the intense desire to simply fall asleep.

He continues to move about and then... the lights go on? You groan at the harsh treatment of your eyes as they adjust. But Barnes returns and pulls you against him and apologizes for the rude awakening.

"Sorry, doll," he mutters. "Wanted to get a better look at you." His fingers glide along your back and his face nuzzles into the top of your head, breathing into your hair as you press your forehead into his chest. Despite being exhausted himself he trails his hands all over your body, exploring the side of you that has been shoved into the sheets for the better part of the evening. You let him, although your nerves feel fried and oversensitive to touch.

"Watch what you do with those hands," you giggle as his fingertips brush over a nipple, "unless you're ready to go again."

"Already looking forward to next time?"

"You wish," you tease, but already you know for certain that there will be a next time.

#bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes #winter solider fanfiction #bucky barnes smut #winter solider smut #definitely not canon #i refuse to believe steve went back in time for some 1940s kitty kat and left his best friend behind #tony and nat are alive bc they are the only truly valuable characters #sebastian stan #also youre the daughter of agent hill #bucky fanfic #bucky x reader #winter soldier #wEiNeR sOlDiEr

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