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training4theapocalypse · 2 years ago

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On Her Majesty’s Supersonic Service (Adrian Chase x Reader) Ch. 4

Chapter 4 No Time to Cry

Rating: Explicit - 18+ only

Word Count: 9.9K

Warnings: SMUT (less than usual tho), Plot with a little bit of porn, Mostly fluff, Moving the plot along, Romance, Descriptions of murder, Descriptions of violence, Descriptions of injury, P in V, Praise, Hurt/Comfort

Summary: It’s time to kill the cow. Adebayo reveals two secrets. Adrian is being Adrian and having the best time mass-murdering butterflies.

A/N: IT'S EARLY!! This is mostly plot and I am obsessed with tying things into canon. There’s some pretty graphic injury description and some totally made-up medical bullshit that I hope you can get past. Thanks so much to @stealsteels for your encouragement to get me over the finish line.

Tagging because I think you might like it: @ladymacbeth1987 , @likeficsinthewnd

Masterlist

Chapter text:

The van is gone from the motel car park, and all signs of Peacemaker and Economos have gone with it.

“Go with the others. I’ll find Peacemaker.”

The sun still hasn’t risen but the orange glow of the streetlights is bright enough for Adrian to see you chewing your lip worriedly in the passenger seat of his car.

“Unless we hear different, stick to the plan. We’ll meet at the ranch.” His earnest green eyes meet yours. “I promise.”

You breathe deeply to calm your nerves. Usually, you’re exhilarated before a mission- ready to fight. But that was before you had something to lose.

“C’mon, it’ll be great! We’ll kill the cow, dish out the same ass-kicking as usual, and drive off into the sunset.”

You’re unconvinced.

“Like Thelma and Louise!”

Now you’re even less convinced. You pull out your phone and text him.

Blackbird: You know they kill themselves at the end of that movie, right? xx

His phone pings, and he reads your message. “What? No way!”

Blackbird: There’s a freeze frame as they drive their car into the Grand Canyon xx

“I don’t think so. I think their car took off and started flying away like at the end of Grease.”

You raise your eyebrows but don’t argue any further. Instead, you study every detail of his profile hungrily as he enthusiastically tells you how the movie’s ending can be perceived differently. His curly hair, still a little messy from spending the night in the sleeping bag, the dimples at the corners of his mouth when he smiles, the way he adjusts his wire rimmed glasses- you try to memorise it all.

You lean over to kiss him goodbye. You grip the chest plate of his suit, pulling him closer to you. You try and put a lot of meaning into the kiss- words left unspoken that you probably wouldn’t have the emotional capacity to vocalise even if you physically could. An assurance that you’ll meet later. A promise that you’ll both live long enough to see tomorrow.

You pull back before he does, preemptively avoiding the possibility of getting lost in the kiss. His face is lit up with excitement.

“We’re saving the world- it’s gonna be fun! Well, for me. I know this is, like, your day job.”

He points at a billboard across the street displaying an array of supercars- Evergreen Exotic Car Rentals. “And then that’ll be you and me tomorrow, cruising down the highway in a Corvette.”

You give him what you hope is an optimistic smile- even though your insides are squirming. Then, you climb out of his car and walk quickly towards your motel without looking back so you don’t have to watch his Sebring drive off into the dawn.

As you pass Adebayo’s room, you can distinctly hear the sound of her and Harcourt in a heated argument. Just what we need at 5 am on the day of the mission.

You knock on the door.

“Who is it?” comes Harcourt’s aggressive bark.

Slowly, you open the door and peer around the corner. Harcourt and Adebayo look relieved at your familiar face for a split second before turning on each other again.

“You were gonna lone-shooter the poor bastard?” Harcourt demands.

“He has a history of instability and conspiratorial beliefs. Couple that with violent outbursts- he was the best choice of the two options.”

Your eyes dart between the two of them. What the fuck is going on?

Harcourt sees your confusion. “Adebayo did it. She planted the diary in Peacemaker’s trailer.”

Adebayo?

“That’s why Peacemaker was chosen in the first place,” says Adebayo by way of explanation.

“And that’s it?” asks Harcourt. “Cut the shit and tell her who else was chosen expressly for this mission.”

No. Your stomach drops. Adrian was just a tag-along- he wasn’t even meant to be part of this team.

Adebayo tosses a book in your direction which you catch mid-air.

A black, leather-bound notebook with the UK Government coat of arms embossed on the front in silver.

Not Adrian.

Hands trembling, you open it up. There’s your name written on the inside cover in your handwriting.

You flick through, eyes skimming over pages upon pages of diary entries. Conspiracies about a secret society of aliens in America controlling Her Majesty’s Secret Service and how you’re going to eradicate them yourself. Paragraphs about how you’re not in control of your powers. All easily corroborated with dates and times of places you’ve been, emails you’ve sent and texts to your boss.

Your eyes sting as you read how they’ve described your loneliness since your accident. Some of it they got right. How much you hate having powers (even if they are useful), how you wish you could talk again and how, more than anything, all you want is someone to confide in. It seals the narrative of a very unwell, isolated woman who’d be desperate enough to commit mass murder.

They really did do the thing properly. You had always assumed MI6 had access to your messages, but you honestly have to applaud the handwriting expert- it’s uncanny.

But… Adebayo? You swallow the lump in your throat and look at her pleadingly. Tell me it isn’t true.

She shakes her head.

“You were the preferred choice. Win-win for MI6 and A.R.G.U.S. MI6 lets you take the blame for the murders; they stage an inquest into the actions of a single employee and get off lightly. Nobody needs to find out how close we came to being invaded by the butterflies. And in return, they get rid of a renegade agent.”

Get rid of? Wait… renegade? You look up and try to catch her eye. What does she mean by that?

“Waller, on the other hand…” Adebayo continues to look away uncomfortably. “Waller keeps A.R.G.U.S out of it completely and gets herself a new member of the Suicide Squad.”

This was never a mission to win the favour of MI6 again. You were their scapegoat. And to Amanda Waller - a new weapon.

You lower yourself onto Adebayo’s sofa in shock.

“They were your fucking friends.” Harcourt’s tone is the coldest you’ve ever heard her. “How did you choose? How could you possibly manage to choose which soldier to sell to Waller?”

“It wasn’t a choice- it could only be Peacemaker because Blackbird’s story didn’t make any fucking sense anymore!”

Adebayo looks between you, like it’s obvious.

“Everyone’s seen the way she’s been skipping around with Vigilante. Everyone in this team has seen you guys literallyscrewing around. The texts don’t match the diary anymore.” She looks at you sadly. “Before you met Vigilante, the last message you sent that wasn’t about work was over a month ago. And it was your fucking landlord!”

Before you can hide it, a single tear runs down your cheek as you stare at her in disbelief.

Of course. Now your messages are filled with flirting and two little x’s. And there’s fun and laughter in the 11th Street Kids group chat. No evidence that would hold up at an inquest.

Adrian… Adrian inadvertently stopped you from being thrown into jail with a nano bomb implanted in the base of your neck. And Harcourt made it all possible by adding you to that group.

Air. You need to leave.

You gesture to Harcourt, excusing yourself. Then, you open the door and are face-to-face with Murn.

“Guess what? Adebayo planted Peacemaker’s diary and had another ready for Blackbird to take the fall,” Harcourt calls over your shoulder.

“Only because my mother made me!”

What the…?

“Holy fuck! Your mother is Amanda Waller?”

“Yes, I figured her mother had her do it,” says Murn.

You give Murn a curt nod and blow past him, not waiting to hear the rest of the conversation. You can’t process this right now. You need to call your boss and have her tell you straight.

Your boss.

As you descend the motel stairs, it dawns on you that she hasn’t messaged you once since you landed in Washington. She doesn’t want the paper trail to show she knows you’re here.

What a cunt.

You let out a small groan of frustration, setting off a car alarm. You head around the back of the motel and video-call her. It rings out.

Blackbird: You were going to Suicide Squad me?!

The message is marked as read. She doesn’t respond.

Blackbird: Fuck you.

You grip your phone and consider throwing it against the wall but then-

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The unmistakable sound of gunshots coming from the motel startles you.

You pull your gun out and tiptoe back around the corner. Police cars- three of them. Silently you watch as half a dozen butterflies in police officers’ bodies exit Adebayo’s room.

Not good.

Your finger hovers over the trigger. You’re reasonably confident you could take them all on your own… but you heard three gunshots - you have no idea if Murn, Adebayo and Harcourt are even alive. As far as you know, you could be the last one left to take down the cow.

Then you see her. Detective Song. The queen who used to be Goff. The one who brutally tortured Adrian. Blinding rage vibrates through your very being as you leap out from your hiding spot and scream at the top of your lungs.

A sonic shockwave is sent across the car park- several butterflies are sent flying backwards. Song manages to sprint out of reach and yells for the others to cover her.

“You tried to cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

You’re going to torture her, you decide. And you’re going to enjoy it.

The shockwave sends debris flying across the car park, and you hear the sound of the windows on the ground floor of the motel shattering. The fear in Song’s eyes as she watches you walking towards them spurs you on. The atmosphere above shifts as you breathe in and let out another ear-splitting scream.

The heads of the three nearest butterflies explode into bloody pulps. Parked cars are blasted into the air and come down violently onto the concrete, narrowly missing the remaining butterflies.

Song turns and runs for her life. You’re quick on her heels but are thwarted when you need to duck and cover behind an overturned car as her associates start firing at you. The three of them run towards a police car in the distance, shooting over their shoulders.

Fuck.

You jump out from behind the car and chase after them, as fast as possible. But it’s too late. The engine of the police car starts, and rubber squeals on the road as they speed off into the distance.

“Oh my god, my car...” says Adebayo.

“And mine...” echoes Harcourt sounding shell-shocked.

They’re alive. You whip round to face them. They don’t look good- Adebayo has a gash on her forehead, Harcourt’s nose is bloody, and her face is streaked with tears.

“We heard you screaming but our hands were tied with Judomaster. And Murn…” She chokes and blinks up at the sky. “Murn’s dead.”

Your hand flies to your mouth, and you point at the motel room. Judomaster killed Murn?

“It was Goff. I mean, Song,” says Adebayo.

Harcourt takes a moment to compose herself and straighten her jacket. “We need to find the others. None of them are answering their phones. But what are we gonna do?” She looks at the overturned cars. “Get some Uber driver to go around aimlessly looking for them?”

The three of you look around the parking lot despairingly until your eyes fall on a billboard in the distance.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The road stretches out ahead as the three of you speed your way towards Peacemaker’s trailer- the guys still aren’t picking up, but you’ve got to start looking somewhere.

Your phone is connected to the Corvette’s sound system and you blast Stop by the Spice Girls through the speakers. This is the best thing you’ve ever used your MI6 expenses account for.

The car’s roof is down, and the wind whips your hair as you weave in and out between other cars on the road.

“Slow down! Some of us don’t have a seatbelt back here!”

Adebayo sits in the back hatch behind the two front seats. You’re perfectly happy for her to be uncomfortable, considering she conspired to have you thrown in jail. Maybe fearing for her life will do her some good.

Harcourt grabs your phone. “I’m gonna call Vigilante. Maybe he won’t ignore your calls.”

The ringing stops your music and comes through the speakers.

“Birdie?” comes Adrian’s voice. He’s still alive.

“She’s driving. Why haven’t you been answering my calls, asshole?” says Harcourt.

“Did somebody tell her we drive on the right here?”

Harcourt looks at you in exasperation.

“I hope for your sake he’s better at fucking than using his last two brain cells,” mutters Adebayo.

“Why haven’t any of you been picking up your phones? And where the hell are you?”

“Well, we’ve been kind of busy murdering Peacemaker’s dad, and now we’re on the way to the vet with Eagly. We should- ow!” You hear him wince in pain, and you look at Harcourt in alarm.

“Are you guys okay?”

“Yeah, we just went over a speed bump.” Economos answers now. “Peacemaker is just going through some stuff with his dad, and Eagly’s injured. Vigilante was hit by a grenade-“

A what?! Harcourt notices your knuckles turning white as you grip the steering wheel.

“...Who threw the grenade?” Harcourt sighs pointedly.

There’s a pause at the other end.

“Vigilante-“

“It was intentional!” Adrian cuts across him. “And it was fucking badass- ow! Watch the speedbumps, Economos!”

“Listen, I’m dropping you the location of the vet. We’re almost there,” says Economos. Your phone pings and the satnav automatically updates.

“10-4,” says Harcourt, as you do a U-turn and speed off in the opposite direction.

“Y’know, we could have just got a four-seater like I suggested,” complains Adebayo when you arrive and open the back hatch. You begrudgingly help her climb out.

Harcourt marches ahead inside the vet,, and Adebayo seizes the opportunity to speak to you privately.

“Blackbird, I…” She chooses her words carefully. “I’m sorry. But I thought I was doing the right thing.”

You whip out your phone and start typing furiously. She watches your screen.

“Okay, okay! Stop with the expletives. And cut the bullshit! It’s fine if you want the others to think you’re the victim here, but I’ve read your file. I know what you’ve done.”

You raise your eyebrow, calling her bluff. Nobody knows. Not even MI6.

“You thought MI6 wouldn't find out that you were gonna double-cross them and sell that jet to a private buyer?”

You freeze. How…?

“And don’t even pretend you didn’t know who the buyer was.”

Now you’re perplexed. Clearly, Adebayo is too straight-laced to understand. So you shake your head and type a new message on your phone.

Blackbird: It’s always better not to know who the buyer is

She kisses her teeth in disapproval. “Wow… and I thought you worked in intelligence? Haven’t you figured out that the buyer was Goff? Who else would need something that big, fast and powerful? Something big enough to transport a giant cow?”

Bloody hell.

“You might be a traitor but lucky for us, you suck at stealing jets. The cow’s been stuck in that barn for over a year while they build their teleporter."

You’re not naive- you knew you weren’t selling a stolen jet to good guys. You thought terrorists or maybe the KGB or, like, Elon Musk. Not a race of aliens trying to take over planet Earth. She watches the regretful realisation dawn on your face.

“Look, B bird, a lot of what they said about you and Peacemaker in those files is true, and when I read them, I thought you both deserved to be in jail… but I think Peacemaker’s changed. And I think there’s a lot of good stuff about you they left out.”

She smiles at you tentatively.

“I actually believe you didn’t know you were stealing that jet for Goff. If we make it out alive, I promise I’ll make it right.”

Honestly, you don’t blame her- you’re sure that your file paints a grim picture. And to top it off, your previous actions would have fucked up the entire mission if you’d been successful.

You extend your hand to shake hers. Adebayo grips it and looks at you with mutual understanding.

“We good?”

You nod.

The sound of a fist pounding on glass makes you both whip around.

Adrian is banging on the window from inside the veterinarian’s office with a goofy grin on his face. He points at the car, and you smile and jingle the keys at him in response.

“Fuck yeah!” You see his lips moving from behind the glass. He turns back around, and you can see he’s pointing an assault rifle at something inside. Shit.

“Thank God you guys are here. Dr Hurwitz kindly stitched up Eagly, and Vigilante's being a total freak,” says Economos when you and Adebayo burst in.

Adrian is pointing a gun at three people in scrubs. There’s a streak of blood down his face, and his suit is badly damaged from the explosion. It gives him an entirely unhinged appearance.

“Dude, they saw us. Peacemaker and I are wanted.” Adrian turns to look at you. “Blackbird’s not wearing her mask, and MI6 will probably fire her if civilians see her.”

You rush over to Adrian and the vet staff and put a finger to your lips urgently. Stop talking!

“Well, now they know someone called Blackbird from MI6 was here,” Economos sighs.

“Oh, great! Thanks, Economos- now we definitely have to kill them,” says Adrian aiming his gun around you.

“Do we really have to kill these people?” pleads Economos.

Everyone looks at Harcourt. She groans.

“...No. We'll tie them up, and by the time the morning staff comes in, we'll be long gone.”

“They've seen our faces,” says Adrian, still aiming.

“If we can't stop the butterflies today, it won't matter,” she says with finality.

“Okay. But we can't use duct tape. That'll hurt their skin when they try to pull it off. Right Birdie?”

You touch your almost healed lip but then blush deeply when you realise everyone is staring at you. Thanks, Adrian.

“So, you're compassionate about tape but not brutally murdering people?” asks Economos

“...Yes.”

He lowers the gun and grins at you. God, as you come closer, you realise the full extent of his injuries from the grenade blast. Your eyes linger on his suit- the hard exterior chest plate is scratched pretty severely, and his suit has ripped in places, revealing burned bloody tissue across his abdomen and thighs.

You try to get a better look at the damage, but he wraps an arm around you, pulling you into a hug. He winces in pain. You try to pull back but he just hugs you tighter.

“Worth it,” he groans and kisses the top of your head.

You pat the countertop, gesturing for him to sit on it, and grab some cotton pads and antiseptic. When you dab the wet cotton pad on the burned skin on his abdomen, the muscles there twitch involuntarily.

He stifles a moan of pain and it makes you stop what you’re doing to look up at his face. This only causes you to blush again. What’s wrong with me? You bite your lip and try to concentrate on cleaning the debris from his cuts and burns.

“Hey,” he whispers so only you can hear him. “Are you turned on right now?”

You try to give him a defensive look but it falters when you see the longing in his eyes behind his wire-rimmed glasses.

We need to make sure you're okay first. You tilt your head sympathetically. His wounds will probably need further attention later so this’ll have to do for now.

When you’re done, you hop up on the counter beside him and type on your phone, letting him read over your shoulder.

Blackbird: It WAS kind of romantic that you were gonna kill those vets for me xx

“Romantic?...Really? You’re more twisted than I thought.” His gloved hand tucks your hair behind your ear. “I can still kill them for you if you want?”

The vets overhear this and look at each other in alarm. You shake your head.

“Hey, what do you say we find an empty exam room and we-“

“Hey, we should get a move on killing this cow,” Adebayo cuts him off as she and Peacemaker return to the room.

“Okay, how do we do this without Murn?” asks Economos.

You all automatically turn to Harcourt. Adrian nods his head towards her in encouragement. She takes a deep breath and dives into an explanation of the plan to get to the barn to kill the cow before the teleportation device is ready.

“…Hopefully, we can make it in there before they make their move,” she finishes.

“I’m in,” says Peacemaker

“Hashtag me too,” says Adrian

You nod fervently

“I guess,” says Economos

“Yeah,” adds Adebayo

“Fuck yeah!” says the vet, and one of the nurses cocks a rifle.

“No, I think you need to calm down,” Peacemaker replies. “You’d just die.”

“But we are gonna need to sequester your vehicle out there because somebody rented a sports car with only two seats.” Adebayo looks at you.

“Me and B call the Corvette!” says Adrian as he hops off the counter.

“Fine. But keep up. We’re in a hurry.” Harcourt looks at you directly. “No screwing around.”

As you’re in the middle of typing, ‘We’re not teenagers - we can keep our hands to ourselves’, Adrian blurts “Well, it’s on your conscience that I might die today without ever having sex in a Corvette.”

You delete the message and put your phone away resignedly, rolling your eyes at Adrian.

“Gross dude, that’s a rental,” says Economos as you file out of the veterinarian’s surgery and into the van.

“Surprisingly nice people considering,” says the vet.

“Expect the guy in blue and his girlfriend,” adds one of the nurses.

“Yeah… they’re both a fucking mess.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

A few hours later, after an unsuccessful attempt to get Eagly to drop Peacemaker’s sonic boom helmet onto the roof of the barn, you all watch from the bushes in the dark night as Economos goes undercover to place the helmet inside. He’s the only one who Goff wouldn’t recognise.

“Blackbird, when did Goff see you?” asks Peacemaker, confused.

“You should have seen her this morning when she sonic-screamed the butterflies at the hotel. She nearly got Goff,” laughs Adebayo. “You cut off my boyfriend’s toe, you bitch!”

“Boyfriend? I thought you guys just hooked up!” He turns to Adrian. “I thought you were supposed to share these things with your BFF!”

Pretending to fix your holster, you try hard to avert Adrian’s gaze. You haven’t seen any point in labelling your situationship. But he doesn’t seem phased.

“You tried to kill Goff for me?” Your eyes meet Adrian’s from behind his red visor. “Woah, you were right- that isromantic!”

Just when Economos seems to be in the clear, you hear one of the butterflies on the walkie-talkie yell. There’s sudden chaos outside the barn.

Oh shit.

You watch as the butterflies swarm him. Adebayo fumbles with her walkie-talkie.

“Activate sonic boom!”

You hear the first explosion, and the barn starts tumbling down. The butterflies leave Economos and start running towards the barn.

“Activate sonic boom,” she says again. Another sonic wave decimates the barn- the blast radius sends dozens of butterflies flying back.

There’s one more blast as Adebayo triggers the sonic boom again, and you wait, but the barn doesn’t crash into the depths below, where you know the cow is hidden.

“Yep, that's it for the charges.” Peacemaker pulls on his other helmet.

“We need you to stay here, Ads. If something happens to us, you're the only hope,” says Harcourt.

“The fuck am I?” mutters Economos, offended.

“What's the plan, man?” Adrian asks.

“We’re gonna get into the barn-” Peacemaker gestures to himself and you “- Blackbird’s gonna scream at the cow, then we’re gonna try and find a way out.”

“That’s suicide,” says Adebayo

You type a message on your phone and show Adrian, who reads it out loud.

“She says she and Peacemaker will probably end up in the Suicide Squad anyway. They’ll do it,” he says, mildly confused.

You and Peacemaker exchange meaningful looks.

“Let's go kill a cow,” he says.

You, Peacemaker, Harcourt and Adrian hop over the fence and start running towards the barn.

The atmosphere cracks as you inhale deeply and scream. It bursts the heads of a small group of butterflies running at you.

The four of you start firing, and it draws the attention of even more butterflies towards you.

Adrian laughs as he unleashes a massacre on your opponents. He’s in his element. Sometimes he’s such a goofball you forget how fucking good he is in combat.

“On your right, Birdie!” Shit. You take cover from the bullets behind a haystack.

Adrian brings out a machete and cuts down foe after foe. A group of butterflies round on him, and you leap over the haystack and yell, sending them flying back from him He gives you a quick nod before stomping on a butterfly crawling out of one of their heads.

“Blackbird, Chris- go! We’ll hold them off here!” yells Harcourt.

You and Peacemaker make a break for it.

“Fuck, yeah!” You hear Adrian shout behind you- he’s genuinely having fun wielding a machete in one hand and a handgun in the other.

As you reach the barn stairs, one of the butterflies almost catches Peacemaker. Adrian plants the machete directly in his skull.

“Don’t fuck with my BFF!” yells Adrian as Peacemaker jumps down the staircase as fast as he can.

Suddenly a hand covers your mouth, and your eyes bulge as you realise a butterfly is attacking you from behind. Not again, fucker. You elbow them in the ribs and struggle until the cool metal of a gun barrel pressed against your temple makes you freeze.

“Stop fucking squirming.”

The words make Adrian whip around. You’re about to wave at him, to tell him not to do anything rash, but his reflexes are too quick. Before either you or the butterfly realise what he’s doing, he shoots the butterfly in the head. A warm blood splatter hits your body, and you feel the thud of him dropping to the floor behind you.

“The only person who says that shit to my girlfriend is me.”

You check there’s no butterfly crawling out of the dead body behind you, and as you turn back around to smile at Adrian, you see it- a tiny gleam of silver flying towards you.

Instinctively you whip your hand up to block it. A gasp of pain and shock escapes you, as you see a steel throwing knife protruding through your extended palm.

Another gleam of sliver. Sudden pain. You choke. Your other hand comes up to touch your throat. Dazed, you feel a knife stuck deep in your neck.

“Fuck!” Adrian turns around and shoots the butterfly before they can throw a third knife.

The ground seems to come up from nowhere to hit your side. You gasp, trying to stem the bleeding from your neck with your left hand. The smell of grass and the blood pooling out in front of you makes you feel faint.

There’s the distinct sound of a bullet finding a soft target, then a thud as Adrian drops to his knees beside you. Momentarily distracted by your injuries, he was shot in the back. He falls flat on his front, masked face turned towards you.

You cough more blood. The pain searing through your neck is almost beyond endurance. Adrian fades in and out of focus.

“Birdie,” he groans. “Stay awake… We’re still gonna… drive off into the sunset.” He lifts himself onto his elbows to crawl towards you.

Every breath of air you take hurts- each tiny inhale slightly moves the knife in your neck.

You feel Adrian’s fingers remove your left hand, so he can put pressure on the wound. Even now, you feel comforted by his touch.

Hazily, you think that you’re glad to be dying knowing what it feels like to be loved.

There’s another strange cold sensation in your neck- a rush of air. But before you have time to wonder what’s happening, everything fades to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Beep. Beep. Beep. Beep.

You open your eyes blearily- it’s bright. Daylight. Your throat is raw. You’re in pain. But wait… you can feel pain- that’s a good sign, right? The smell of antiseptic is suffocating.

Looking down at yourself, your eyes try to focus on your heavily bandaged right hand. Your hands fly up to your throat, and you feel more bandages around your neck. There’s a pulse monitor attached to your finger.

“Hey, it’s me. You’re okay.” It’s Adebayo’s voice. As your vision becomes clearer, you see she looks different, as she sits beside you on a blue plastic chair. She’s wearing a white shirt, vest and a blazer. Sort of like she’s dressed for a funeral.

A funeral.

Where’s Adrian? You sit up and take in the rest of the bland room. You need your phone. Where’s my phone? So many questions fly through your mind.

“Hey, hey, hey- sit back down. Adrian’s alive.” You sigh in relief and lie back. “Everyone’s alive. We did it. We killed the cow.”

She tosses you your phone.

“Adrian’s in surgery. The bullet didn’t go too deep, but they need to get the fragments out. He’ll be out soon.”

Blackbird: And the others? x

Her phone pings as your message arrives. She reads it.

“Let’s see… Harcourt was shot right after Adrian- she’s in a coma, but she’ll survive. Chris is fine- he’s waiting with her in case she wakes up. Economos broke his leg. I was human-torpedoed through the cow and didn’t even sprain my neck.” she grins.

Blackbird: I don’t understand how I’m still alive x

“It was Adrian he-”

“Good, you’re awake.” Adebayo is interrupted by a doctor coming into the room. She introduces herself and picks up the chart at the end of your bed.

“The wound to your neck was deep… fortunately, it didn’t hit your spine. Patients with this kind of injury usually die from blood loss. But your boyfriend extracted the knife and stopped blood flow with duct tape.” She shakes her head in disbelief. “Removing a knife from a wound like that is normally very dangerous. But on this occasion, it saved your life.”

Adrian’s impulsivity has somehow paid off.

“Your throat, however-” she hesitates “-we had to do an endoscopy to check for trauma to the larynx, and we’d never seen anything like it. There were strange lesions all along the membrane of your vocal cords.”

You nod, absently fidgeting with the bandages on your injured hand. This is old news.

“We were able to remove the majority of them.” Your eyes dart up to meet hers. “But there are a few tiny ones left that were so embedded they couldn’t be removed without damaging the healthy tissue.”

Her words fly over your head as you and Adebayo exchange glances, clearly thinking the same thing.

“Your powers…” whispers Adebayo. Your heart thumps in your chest. You refuse to let yourself believe what you think might be happening. “Can she use her voice?” she addresses the doctor.

“Sure,” the doctor replies indifferently as she puts the chart back. “Just try not to speak too much or too loudly over the next few days. Otherwise, you’re good to be discharged.”

“I mean her superpowers. Her supersonic scream?”

“Her what?”

You’re unsurprised by her scepticism; this is classified information and unlikely to be on your medical records.

“Uh, never mind. Thank you,” says Adebayo as the doctor leaves the room. She turns back to face you. “...Can you?”

The last thing you want to do is cause an accident. You shake your head.

“C’mon- try and break that old-ass TV.” She jerks her head over her shoulder.

You concentrate and let out a small hum. It hurts. But nothing happens.

“Break,” you whisper- still nothing. Your throat is too raw to try yelling.

“It’s okay, B bird.” Adebayo notices tears forming in your eyes and moves over to sit on the edge of the hospital bed. She touches your shoulder, and the tears spill down your face.

“Happy tears.” Your voice is hoarse and incredibly sore. “There’s no way they’ll want me for the Suicide Squad now.”

She beams at you. “About that… I’m on my way to a press conference exposing Project Butterfly. Nobody’s joining the Suicide Squad. I made a deal with MI6 behind my mom’s back-”

“Bad idea-”

“Well, after this, I’m basically untouchable. I told MI6 I’d keep their name out of the press conference if they fired you. They still keep their hands clean, and if you check your email, you should be getting a pretty sweet severance package on Monday.”

“Kind of sounds like blackmail,” you whisper as you pull up your emails on your phone.

From: HM Government Secret Intelligence Service MI6

Subject: Agent Blackbird - Notification of redundancy

“Eh, I call it negotiation.”

“Thank you, Ads,” you say softly but sincerely.

She gets up from your bed and goes to leave but pauses at the door and laughs.

“What is it?”

“Adrian told the doctors he wanted to see you before his surgery. He was asking- asking for-“

She snorts and has to stop speaking. She begins laughing so hard that she’s struggling to breathe.

“What is it?” you ask hoarsely, waiting for the punchline.

She composes herself, “He was asking for someone called Blackbird. He said it was one name. Like Cher.” She cracks up again.

You bite your lip, trying not to laugh. It’s kind of sweet, but Christ…

“Did you even tell him your real name?”

You shake your head, and the ridiculousness of the situation hits you both simultaneously, and you can't help but burst out laughing. Adebayo doubles over, clutching her stomach, and you dab tears of laughter from your eyes with the hospital bedsheet.

“It never- “ you choke with laughter “- it never came up.”

You both collapse into hysterics. Ouch. Your good hand runs over the bandages on your neck.

“Damn, and I thought Adrian took his secret identity seriously.”

God, poor Adrian. You make a mental note to give him your real name when he wakes up from surgery.

“Hey, I almost forgot.” She tosses you a set of car keys which you catch with your uninjured left hand. “Think you have a few days before you need to return this.”

Once you’re dressed and discharged, you go to the car park for fresh air while you wait for Adrian to wake up from the effects of anaesthesia.

Blackbird: I’m alive. Text me when you’re awake xx

You find the Corvette and sit in it with the top down, the sun on your face. You listen to the radio and hum along gently. It’s raw on your throat, but the vibrations of the tune seem to come from your very soul. It feels… good.

Your phone pings twenty minutes later.

Vigilante: DUDE are you watching the news? xx

You flick through the radio channels on the car's sound system until you hear Adebayo’s voice.

“Peacemaker never wrote any diary. He was part of a team working in a deep-cover operation for the U.S. Government called "Project Butterfly."

Blackbird: She’s actually doing it… xx

“This is all part of a black-ops program known as ‘Task Force X’, where convicted criminals are undertaking dangerous missions in exchange for time off their sentences. It's been running for years, under the command of a woman named Amanda Waller…”

Vigilante: Which room are you in? xx

“Who happens to be my mother. Now, I'm calling for an immediate investigation into these inhumane conditions-“

You turn off the radio and breathe a sigh of relief. No mention of MI6, as promised.

Blackbird: I’m outside in the Corvette- I’ll come back upstairs now xx

You look over at the hospital and clap your hands over your mouth when a man in a gown jumps out of a window on the second story. He lands inelegantly in a flower bed and gets up.

It’s Adrian.

Of course, it’s Adrian.

He waves as he jogs towards you and hoists himself into the open-topped car without opening the door.

He twists his whole body to face you, clasps your face with both hands and kisses you passionately. It happens so quickly that it takes your brain a second to catch up.

He’s alive. We’re alive.

You return his embrace, and your hands wander down his back, trailing along the bare skin not covered by his hospital gown, resting on his waist where you feel the bandage wrap around his back.

Just feeling his warm skin beneath the medical coverings sends a wave of gratitude through you. Your heart races as Adrian kisses you deeply and tangles his fingers in your hair like he’s trying to feel every different texture of you. You’ve missed him so much, and the relief of being back in his arms is almost overwhelming.

You never want this moment to end.

He presses his forehead against yours. “God, I’m so happy you’re okay,” he murmurs “I thought. Fuck… I don’t wanna say what I thought.”

You know. You thought it too when you heard him collapse next to you in the field.

“I can’t believe you jumped out a window just after having surgery,” you whisper.

“I’m fine. I just-” He pulls back in surprise. “Wait…what the fuck!?”

“They removed some growths on my vocal cords,” you say, your hoarse voice barely audible.

Stupidly, you feel tears coming on, remembering your first FaceTime conversation.

‘Birdie, I fell for you the first time I saw you burst someone’s head open with your sonic scream.’

“I… I don’t think I have powers anymore.”

God, the lump in your ragged throat sears in pain. He gives you a concerned look. You don’t know how else to phrase what you’re about to say next, so you blurt it out.

“Do you still like me?”

You stare at him determinedly, refusing to let yourself cry.

He laughs. A loud, maniacal laugh that goes on way too long. You scowl.

“That’s hilarious, Birdie. I love this back and forth we get to have now you can speak.”

“Adrian, I’m serious,” you say sternly, but you think your heart might burst with joy. “I'm not the same person anymore. And I know you… I know you liked that I had powers.” You emphasise the word ‘like’ - you both know you mean ‘turned on’.

“Oh no,” he says mockingly. “I’m so sad that my girlfriend is going to moan all over my dick and scream my name.”

Even after all you’ve been through, your stomach twists in excitement when you hear him say girlfriend again.

“That… that was actually really good sarcasm, Adrian.”

“Uh, yeah, I learned from the best. The most sarcastic, second-best marksman in the team.”

“I’ll be the best marksman again soon. I was getting lazy when I had my powers.” You stretch your injured hand.

“Well…” He tries to sound upbeat. “We could squeeze in some more target practice before you go?”

“That can wait til we’re both healed…I have a bit more time than I thought.”

“How long?”

“MI6 has basically fired me. So I suppose until I find a new job.”

Grabbing your uninjured hand, he turns to look you in the eyes.

“Stay,” he says simply.

“Adrian, I…” you hesitate.

What’s waiting for you back home? Conversations with nobody except your landlord?

“Birdie, this feels right. Me and you. Tell me I’m wrong and I’ll drop it.”

“Adrian, you hardly know me… If you knew half of the things I’ve done… I mean, Adebayo read my file and wanted to send me to Belle Reve.”

“Oh, come on! I was in jail like last week.”

You chew your lip.

“Don’t go back to London. Not yet, anyway. Crash at my place… or if you decide you never want to leave, that’s cool too.”

You grip the wheel as excitement courses through your veins. “Okay.”

“Okay?” He looks at you like he doesn’t quite believe you. “Wait… really?”

“Were you not serious?” You raise an eyebrow.

“No, I was! I just thought you’d take more convincing.”

“I’m never getting rid of you, Adrian. Just like you said, remember?”

He lunges forward again and kisses you again with unbridled enthusiasm. His glasses push against your face. Butterflies - the good kind, not the alien kind- flutter in your stomach. You’ve fallen for him. Adrian. Vigilante. All of him.

You unbuckle your seatbelt. “Can you drive a manual?”

“What?!”

“A… a stick shift?”

“I know what it is. I just can’t believe you don’t think I can drive one.”

You hop out of the car and round to the passenger side. “You can drive us to your flat then.”

“You sure?” He launches himself into the drivers seat and turns on the engine, not waiting for your reply.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The first few days, you hadn’t had the strength to do much more than just lie in Adrian’s bed. You ordered food. Watched TV. Changed each other’s bandages. You’re grateful to have been able to rest during the day because your sleep has been interrupted by vivid nightmares.

Tonight, you wake up in another fit of sweat, hand clutching your neck. You dreamt that a butterfly had snuck up on you again from behind. Adrian wasn’t there to save you. And so they opened your throat with a silver throwing knife.

“Birdie?” Adrian says blearily, as he wakes up, and his eyes make out your hunched-over silhouette in the dark. He finds his glasses on the bedside table. “Did you have a nightmare again?”

You nod, heart still pounding in your chest.

“You can use your voice,” he reminds you again gently. Sometimes you forget you can talk after spending so long suppressing it. “Same as last time?”

“Same as last time,” you echo.

The light-up display on his alarm clock shows that it’s two o’clock in the morning. Adrenaline from your night terror pumps through you. You’re wide awake.

“We’ll work on disarming someone from behind as soon as you’re feeling better,” he says in an effort to reassure you.

Adrian stretches his arm out, giving you the perfect space on his chest to nestle into. You lie back down on his burgundy sheets and breathe deeply as you rest your head on him. He smells so good. Like home. Your shoulders become less tense, and your heart rate starts coming back down as you relax into his warm embrace.

“Can you put on a film for us to fall asleep to? Preferably something long and boring.”

“Have you ever seen Titanic? It’s like 3 hours long.”

Before you know it, you’re both engrossed and eating popcorn in bed.

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen this,” he says, absent-mindedly stroking your hair.

“I never understood the point. I mean, we already know what happens at the end.”

You both sit quietly as Jack and Rose kiss passionately in the back seat of an old car.

You roll your eyes. “We need more popcorn.” You get up from his bed and walk down the hall into the kitchen.

“I can skip this scene if it’s getting you too worked up?” He grins as he calls after you.

You hold up a middle finger behind you as you walk away. “Shut up.”

“Aha! You’re being a big meanie, which means you’re horny.”

You scoff and call back towards the bedroom. “It does not! I’m rude to you all the time.”

“You’re giving me the same look you gave me the first time we had sex. Like you’re so annoyed with me that you want to shut me up by kissing me.”

“I am not. I just find it boring watching people pretend to have sex.” Especially when we’re supposed to be taking it easy right now.

“Fine. I’ll find something else to watch.”

You run back to the bed and grab the remote control before he can. “No! I want to know how this ends!”

“I thought you knew how it ended?”

“And I thought you said it was boring!”

“Sit back down and watch it with me then if you’re so interested,” he challenges.

You forget about making more popcorn and sit beside him on the bed defiantly - much more upright than before. Both of you remain silent, eyes fixed on the TV. You watch as they grope each other in the back seat of the car. You clench your jaw, trying to ignore the heat between your legs. You discreetly push your thighs together, but the seam of his borrowed boxers that you’re wearing to bed rubs up against you dangerously.

“Stop looking at me, Adrian. I’m fine,” you say, feeling his gaze linger on you from the corner of your eye.

He moves closer to you. “I don’t think you are.”

“Ugh, please. Do you honestly think I’m horny for softcore nineties romance?” You keep your eyes fixed ahead, trying to look disinterested.

“I know what you look like when you’re turned on.”

“You’re projecting. But if you can’t wait a few more days and need to take care of yourself, then...”

“Yeah? Maybe I will. I’ll even let you watch.”

“Oh my god, Adrian,” you scoff, trying to ignore the hot, sticky feeling in your underwear. “If I need to wait, then so do you.”

“I don’t think you can, B.”

“I can wait longer than you.”

“Well, you don’t have to look at you all day. And you’re always wearing my stuff - it’s killing me!”

“Yeah, well, I have to look at you all day too.” You turned to face him. “You and your stupidly pretty face and your fucking abs. I mean, Christ, who actually has abs?”

He looks pleasantly surprised that you’re finding it difficult to be around him.

“Now I know you’re all riled up because even your compliments are super aggressive.”

You cross your arms. “We’re supposed to be resting.”

On-screen, Rose presses her hand against the car’s fogged-up glass, and you close your eyes involuntarily.

Your weight on the mattress shifts suddenly as Adrian leans in, and his lips meet that sensitive spot a few centimetres behind your earlobe, making you softly sigh. You tilt your head, exposing more of your neck to him, your body leaning into his mouth on you. He plants kisses across your sensitive skin, avoiding your fresh scar.

“Adrian…” you say warningly but it falls on deaf ears as you feel his warm tongue trail over your neck. His hand cups your pussy through the fabric of the boxers, and your body responds automatically, hips tilting towards him.

“You might be able to use your words now, but I can still read your body language like a book.” His firm hand squeezes and puts pressure between your legs. “I think you’re done waiting.”

Of course, you are. It’s been torture being stuck in this apartment with him for days. You want to fuck him, obviously. But more than that, you want to please him, thank him for saving your life yet again, and show him how much he means to you with your body. To fulfil his every desire and fantasy-

Fantasy.

You sit upright suddenly.

“Oh.” He withdraws his hand, surprised. “Is everything okay, B? I was just teasing, sorry, we can just-”

“I don’t believe the window would steam up like that if you had sex in a car.” You cut across him and walk over to the bedroom door. You turn back with a smirk. “Would you like to find out if it does?”

He doesn’t need to be asked twice.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You don’t even make it out of his apartment complex’s underground car park.

Adrian sits in the driver’s seat of the Corvette with you straddling him. In a state of semi-undress, you’ve ended up in just his t-shirt that you were sleeping in- everything else you were wearing lies forgotten on the passenger seat beside you.

His hands grip your hips as you grind yourself on him, rubbing your wet pussy along the length of his shaft. Your thighs are soaked. The friction feels so, so good, and your chest heaves as you feel his hips rocking, desperate to be inside you.

His hands leave your sides and lift your shirt up. “You are so fucking hot.” His tongue swirls over your nipples sloppily, and you grab the back of his head, pushing his face into your chest. He lets out a muffled moan with pleasure.

You help him pull his T-shirt off and toss it in the seat next to you. You drag your hands down his lean chest, avoiding the newly healed scars from the grenade blast a few days ago.

“You look so beautiful like this,” he says, watching your flushed face as you grind back and forwards in the constricted space of the Corvette, feeling the sensation of his hard cock against your clit.

The space in the car is limited- his legs take up most of the room on the seat. You lean back in the tight space between him and the steering wheel to give him a better view and feel the cold wheel against your shoulder blades.

“Hey, careful you don’t lean on the horn.” He steadies you with one hand on your lower back, and gripping his cock with the other. You lick your palm and move his hand away, replacing it with your own. His thick cock is warm as you grip the shaft and move your hand up and down.

“Fuck, how are you so soft?” His hips jerk upwards into your clenched fist. “We have the same fucking job.”

He loves the softness of you as much as you love the sculpted, sharp edges of him. Your grip of him falters when his hand moves between your legs, fingers sliding through your folds, making direct contact with your clit. His fingers are broader and rougher than yours, and a small whine escapes your lips when he begins rubbing circles onto the bundle of nerves there.

Your fist keeps pumping up and down the length of him, and you feel pleasure begin to wash over you as his fingers deftly tease your pussy. He traces the entrance of your wet cunt, and your walls clench desperately over nothing.

“Tell me what you want, baby.”

You eagerly adjust your hips over his, and position the head of his cock so it’s pressing up against your lips. He grips both of his hands under your thighs and stops you from lowering yourself onto him.

“Use your words.”

Oh.

“I… I want you to fuck me. Please,” you whisper. For some reason, it makes you shy. You’re out of practice when it comes to dirty talk.

“That’s my girl.”

Adrian’s green eyes meet yours, and it makes your skin feel red hot. His hands return to your hips, helping you down slowly, and you feel the familiar pressure as his length disappears into you.

“Holy shit,” he murmurs, leaning his head back. You get a glimpse of his Adam's apple moving up and down as he swallows.

You pause at the base, getting used to the intrusion. Rocking your hips slowly, the sensation forces you to take a sharp inhale of breath- even though your pussy is sopping wet for him, you still need time to adjust to how thick he is.

“C’mon, nice and easy. You’ve got this.”

His praise spurs you on. You grip the headrest, giving yourself leverage to ride him.

You lean in and suck on his bottom lip, realising that this is the first time you’ve ever been able to kiss him while his cock has been inside you. You allow yourself a soft moan into his mouth. It feels alien to be able to express yourself like this while sliding up and down on him.

The realisation seems to hit him too when he hears you moaning. It makes him hungry for you- his tongue enters your mouth and rolls over your own.

He bucks his hips, and his hands move to your ass so he can control the pace of your movement on his cock. The obscenely slick sound of his achingly hard cock driving in and out of you is only amplified in the constricted space. You bury your face into the crook of his neck, tasting the slightly salty sweat of his skin on your tongue.

“Fuck, you’re taking it like such a good girl,” he says through gritted teeth.

A searing heat ebbs through you, and you feel it creep up to your neck at his words. His words. You remind yourself you don’t have to stay silent either.

“Your cock feels so good,” you say, lips moving to press against his ear. You hear Adrian’s breath hitch in his throat.

You pull apart so he can watch your still-exposed tits bounce as he guides you up and down, fucking you open. The swell inside you begins as you watch his brow furrow in concentration, looking from your tits to the desperate look on your face as you grapple the headrest behind him helplessly.

“Is this what you needed, baby?”

You nod, feeling the heat in your lower abdomen tighten.

“C’mon, say it,” he instructs.

You hear the wet sounds of your pussy and thighs slapping into him. You’re on the brink as he rocks up into something heavenly inside of you, hitting your g-spot. It feels so good- you can’t stop yourself from babbling what comes out next.

“Yes… Needed you. Wanted to - to make you feel so good. For saving me. Again.”

He pushes down on your hips, fucking you with newfound ferocity, and continues hitting that one spot that makes your whole body sing for him. Your fingers move to grip his shoulders, and you lock eyes with him.

“Fuck, tell me… Tell me,” he says urgently.

“Always- fuck- always fucking saving my ass... My fucking hero.”

You clench around him, holding on for dear life as he quickens his pace, working you higher and higher. Your ass slaps against the front of his thighs, faster and faster in rhythm with your panting.

“Don’t- I’m gonna cum if you say that,” he warns.

“That you’re my hero?” you whisper, staring into his eyes, his pupils dilated and swimming with lust. He leans his head back and groans in response. “You are, Adrian. My- my hero. My Vigilante.”

You suck the skin of his neck, squeezing your eyes shut, squeezing everything below your waist as you tumble into sheer ecstasy. You bear down on him as he jerks his hips up, fucking into you like a starved man. The force of his thrusts makes you bounce so hard that you need to lift your arm to stop yourself from hitting your head on the roof of the car.

“Shit,” he gasps. “You can’t say that. I’m gonna cum- oh, fuck I am. I’m cumming. Fuuuck.”

His rambling doesn’t even register clearly in your head- you’re too busy burying your face into his neck again, and with a muffled moan, you cum with him- hard. Your teeth graze his neck, and your walls contract around his cock, as you feel him coat your insides.

You slump into him, your dead weight on top of him. Every inch of your sweat soaked body in contact with his. He wraps his arms around you as you both catch your breath, endorphins lighting up your insides like fireworks. You nuzzle into his neck as his cock still pulses inside you, and cum leaks out of your pussy.

The windows of the Corvette are, in fact, steamed up. His glasses are too. You both silently enjoy the post-orgasmic bliss for several moments. From this position, his heart is pressed against yours, and you can feel them both beating loudly against your ribcages as you begin to resume normal breathing.

“So that was like…That was like my kryptonite,” he says, breaking the silence.

“Being called a hero?” you ask hoarsely. Your throat feels scratchy again.

“Yeah…” And for the first time ever, you think, he sounds embarrassed. “I guess it’s something I always wanted to hear.”

“You’ve saved my life at least three times in the past month.” You trace your fingers across his chest. “And you literally saved the world from an alien invasion five days ago.”

He cups your face, and you lean into his hand, kissing his palm softly.

“Do you think we’re the good guys?”

You hesitate. “I don’t think it matters. We’re good enough for each other.”

“But what about, like, Superman?”

“You don’t wanna be a hero like Superman.”

“What?! Why not?”

“He’s an idiot. Peacemaker told me that Wonderwoman says he can’t find the clit.”

“Well… at least I can do that.” He pauses. “Wait, I can, right?”

“Are you serious?”

“No, I'm totally joking… I think.”

“You can.”

“Thank god.”

You laugh and clamber off of him into the passenger seat.

“He didn’t even offer to fly you and Harcourt to the hospital either,” he adds in disbelief.

“Superman? When was this?”

“Right, I forgot to tell you that Adebayo’s mom did send the Justice League to the barn after all! They turned up super late. The cow was already dead.”

You laugh. Ouch, your throat feels raw. You lean back and massage your neck, swallowing thickly.

“Is your voice sore from using it too much?

You nod.

“Well, we probably should be resting.”

You give him a stern look, and he grins.

“There it is! You’ve still got it!” He pulls his jeans and boxers back up and switches on the engine. “Do you wanna go and get ice cream for your throat?”

That does sound good, you think and hastily pull your clothes on. When you’re both decent, he puts the car in first gear, and it starts moving.

“Ooh, okay, I’m gonna guess your favourite flavour, and you tap the dash one for yes and twice for no.”

You smile at him fondly, secretly pleased that he’s finally mastered the art of yes-or-no questions.

Chapter 5: From Gotham with Love

#adrian chase #adrian chase imagines #vigilante #vigilante peacemaker #vigilante x original character #adrian chase x reader #vigilante x reader #vigilante x you #peacemaker #adrian chase smut #fanfic #vigilante smut #smut

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legendofmorons · 2 years ago

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Bruised knuckles and whole hearts (Four)

Pairing: Four x reader

Rating: T for blood and creepy men

Summary: You are a BAMF and Four had heart eyes

Warnings: a little blood, a little harassment, you knock a man out because he insulted four

-------

Four tries to have a good day - or at least an okay day as often as he can. This is often ruined, but he tries.

Today, his plan to have an okay day is ruined by rude and creepy people in the market. Courtesy of alcohol if the way they smell is any indication.

The crowd is just this side of thick as ypu and the boys walk through the market square.

Four is holding your hand happily as you all browse the stalls, the people all background.

You seem right at home- though to be fair this is your hyrule.

"Huh, guess we lost the others," You say, looking around curiously.

"Yeah, I guess so."

You turn to look at him, smiling warmly.

He knows it's sentimental and sappy, Vio is always quick to call them on it... but he likes when you smile at him like that- the smile you only ever seem to have for him.

You smile at others like that sometimes- but it's not quite the same. You smile like mean the world to you.

You smile at him like he is your world.

Which isn't to say you don't have a life outside of him, that would be unhealthy. But you jist- you smile brighter at him.

Or maybe he's just biased.

Also totally possible.

"(Y/n)!" A voice calls from the right, earning a groan from you.

Four looks to you in concern.

You fix a polite smile on your face, "Hello Jim."

"It's been a while." Jim says, looking like the type of man who finds himself very charming.

The way you smile a little sharper betrays your unspoken 'not long enough '.

"It has been. " You say, already sounding uninterested. "Did you need something from me?"

"Just your time. You really are beautiful -"

"I've told you before, Jim. I really am not interested in anything like that."

Four decides in this moment that he might actually resort to violence against a fellow Hylian. This man has obviously done this before.

And you're obviously told him no before. Which means he's being rude and pushing boundaries.

"Aw, come on, (Y/n)." Jim says, leaning forwards so he can set a hand on your cheek.

Oh violence. Violenve for a million reasons. All the colors are raging.

You just grab Jim's wrist with your free hand and push his hand away before dropping the offending limb.

"If you touch me again, I will knock your lights out." You say evenly.

Four has to agree with you on this. He'd punch the man himself- except he knows that'd make a scene.

He squeezes your hand- the one still in his. He wants you to know he's here and supports you.

Jim laughs, reaching for you again.

"Come on, babe, we all know you are just playing hard to get."

He touches your shoulder gently- intimately.

Oh. Okay. He has chosen death.

You growl, letting go of Four's hand so you can ball it up and slam your fist into Jim's nose.

The resounding crack is more than satisfying as he doubles over with a groan.

"You fucking asshole!" Jim snarls out, holding his nose as blood seeps towards his chin. He's looking up from his vent over position and looks enraged.

"They warned you." Four says, not bothering to fight of his smug grin.

You are amazing and Four thinks he has every right to fall more in love with you for this.

You wipe your hands off on your pants as if Jim is little more than an unpleasant tea bag to be thrown away.

Turning away you take Four's hand again.

"C'mon, love." You say gently, always so much calmer with Four than any other.

"You kicked his ass. I doubt he'll bother you again." Four says, smiling up at you with the softest eyes and half-baked plans of your future together

"Shut the fuck up kid, if you weren’t so young I'd kick your ass." Jim says through his bloody nose and pig headed pride.

Four turns to say something back, but is stopped short as you drop his hand and walk back to Jim.

You grab the man by his dark hair, snarling viciously as you sock him in the nose again.

"You will not insult my boyfriend like that."

Jim groans, eyes rolling back. And something in Four swells at how quickly you defend him.

You drop him, and the man falls like a sack of potatoes.

"Holy shit." Four says, unsure if he should be concerned that you were so enraged you knocked a man out after breaking his nose. Or if he should feel the warm emotion in his heart that he does.

"You okay?" You ask, moving back to four.

"Yeah. Just- suprised... I knew you could fight- but that was something new."

"Oh.. yeah. Sorry."

"It's okay. I was probably gonna kick his ass too."

You just smile, wiping the blood off your hand and onto your pants. "Let's go find some lunch, I'm starving. "

"Sounds perfect. "

#lu #linkeduniverse #misty writes #linked universe x reader #lu four #lu four x reader #linked universe four #four x reader

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hauntinghyrule · 1 year ago

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My vote for Four Swords Fright Fight week 4, Evil Root Beer vs Pumpkin Spice Latte

Just a short, fluffy fic! Can be read either on Ao3 or under the cut here.

Shadow dropped down to sit on the hay bale next to Vio, wheezing breathlessly with laughter. Across from them, a scowling Blue was still picking pieces of straw and corn husk out of his hair.

"The purpose of a corn maze is to solve the maze," he grumbled. "Not to magic up monster illusions to chase people with."

"My way's more fun," Shadow replied, unrepentant.

"You can't really argue it's outside of Harvest Festival tradition," Vio pointed out, inclining his head toward a group of children who were running past, their faces hidden behind snarling masks.

"We probably wouldn't have gotten out if you hadn't busted a hole in the wall anyway," said Red, plucking a piece of straw from the back of Blue's tunic for him. "Given our track record with navigation..."

"Ugh, don't remind me."

Shadow was still snickering when Green and Zelda returned to the group with drinks. He accepted the cup Zelda handed to him and raised it to his lips — expecting, perhaps, more of the apple cider they'd drunk earlier in the day. Instead, he only had a moment to process the cold fizz of carbonation before he was dumped head-first into a memory.

Sugar and bubbles bursting on his tongue; something that felt very similar singing through his chest. The smell of fire, of volcanic ash. The sound of partying Hinoxes, loud but distant, muffled. A balcony, a horizon, a starry sky, and Vio—

"This is evil root beer," he realized aloud.

"'Evil' root beer?" Zelda repeated, eyebrow raised.

"We drank this at the Fire Temple," Shadow clarified.

"Oh, you mean the contents of the Hyrule Castle cellars, which you stole." Zelda's voice could have rivaled the Gerudo Desert for dryness, but there was a spark of amusement in her eyes.

"There's nothing especially evil about it," Green said, looking down into his own cup dubiously. "It's just root beer."

"Well, it was stolen," Vio said with a shrug, taking a sip of his own drink.

"In that case I guess this isn't evil root beer," said Red. "Because we didn't steal these."

Shadow eyed the others' cups speculatively. Zelda leaned away from him and Blue gave him a 'don't even think about it' look, but Shadow just shrugged, reached over, and snatched Vio's cup right out of his hands. Vio didn't so much as blink before reaching back to steal Shadow's original cup.

"There," Shadow said, voice echoing into the cup as he raised it to take a drink. "Now it's evil root beer."

There was laughing, and eye rolling, and a couple fake grossed-out faces. Then Red set about making a fire, and Green pulled out a bag of some squishy white sweets that were apparently meant to be speared on sticks and burned before eating.

Shadow leaned back against Vio's shoulder, surrounded by warm, friendly chatter and savoring the sugary bite of carbonation.

#fsff23 #four swords #shadow link #vio link #blue link #fs zelda #zelda #red link #green link #my writing #fanfic #nothing against pumpkin spice but... c'mon! it's evil root beer! it's quintessentially Four Swords! xD

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shattered-reflections-au · 1 month ago

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Fluffvember 14, In the rain // “Let me help you”

--- --- --- tw: implied nonsexual nudity.

"I fucking hate fall." Red grumbled, kicking at another puddle with his shoe.

"i know you don't mean that." Blue replied.

a simple grocery run. that was all it was. it wasn't even cloudy when they left. Blue and Red had chosen to walk since they didn't need much from the store. those plastic grocery bags now filling with water as the torrential downpour they had been caught in rained down on them.

They were both soaked to the bone, wet hair sticking to their face while swamps squished in their socks. "just a little farther. home is close," Blue persuaded. "then we can be dry." Red just grumbled, trudging along, dragging his feet in anger.

---

Red dropped the groceries on the porch, wet apples rolling out of the bag. he ran his hands through his hair, wringing out the extra water.

"you coming inside?" Vio asked, already handing blue a towel and pointing a box fan at Blue's wet shoes.

Red sighed, stepping inside and peeling off his shoes. he put his in front of the box fan, shivering at the water drying off his skin.

"you can put the rest of your wet stuff straight in the wash, no use drying it since it's laundry day," Vio continued, holding out a laundry basket and getting Blue's soaked hoodie dropped into it.

Red still stood grumpy, trudging to his room and stripping down. his wet clothes ended up in a heap on the floor.

Blue peaked his head in, still scrubbing at his wet hair with a towel. "you okay?" he asked.

Red stayed on his bed. "i hate the rain." he spat.

Blue laughed. "you don't mean that, you're just upset because you're soggy."

"our groceries are wet." Red grumbled.

Blue smiled, sitting down beside his boyfriend. "they'll dry." Red's hair dripped in his eye, him shivering as another drip landed on his bare chest.

Blue frowned, "let me help you with that," taking the towel he was previously using for his hair to drape around Red's shoulders, scrunching the ends of Red's hair in a corner of it. "i'm cold." Red complained as he shivered again.

"you're also naked." Blue offered, pulling some pyjamas off of a shelf and tossing them to Red, handing Red some underwear and socks as well. Red grumbled, drying his legs and covering himself back up again.

Red covered his hair with the towel, giving a final shiver as he shook the rest of the cold out of his body. he pulled a blanket around himself.

"can we make cocoa and watch a movie now?" Red pleaded, tired.

Blue laughed, pulling red in and placing a gentle kiss on Red's forehead, "of course."

#four swords manga #four swords #four swords adventures #four sword #shattered reflections au #red link #blue link #sr red #sr blue #sr fiction #fluffvember #fluffvember 2024 #sr vio #vio link #red link x blue link

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aeriona · 2 years ago

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Wrote a random, dumb little scene for my Eldritch AU, set during the events of the manga, before the betrayal.

I'll eventually make more of these, and when I do I might put them all up on AO3? maybe? idk. anyways hope you enjoy my blatant self indulgence goodbye-

~~~~

Vio had returned to the Tower a bit later than he'd expected, the sun was well and truly gone from the sky. According to Vaati, there’d been a sighting of some Hyrulean soldiers wandering through the forest a little too close to the Tower’s entrance. Vio was smart enough to know it was probably an excuse to be rid of him for the day. He understood, the feeling was mutual.

He didn’t even find anyone out there anyway, thank Hylia. Vio shrugged his room’s door open with his shoulder and set down his belongings on the floor, stopping completely in his tracks as he processed what was in front of him.

A gigantic, ash-coloured creature was sprawled out on the bedroom floor, with a myriad of unnaturally-bent limbs and tendrils spread out across the carpet. After a brief moment of panic, Vio realised that he was indeed looking at his friend Shadow, and not a deadly eldritch monster.

No, this monster was nice and not at all deadly. Very fortunate for him indeed.

Shadow had two and a half pairs of arms folded under his head, a few exposed fangs gleaming in the dim moonlight. His breath came out in gentle, rhythmic huffs that reminded Vio a little bit of a dragon.

Vio wasn’t aware that Shadow could sleep, he’s never seen him do it before. Did he even need sleep? Curious, the violet hero quietly approached the sleeping monster with featherlight steps, careful as to not to wake him up. Vio realised with a huff of laughter that anyone else in his situation would have probably found the many-limbed, many-mouthed beast asleep on his bedroom floor horrifying, but Vio did not.

He found him fascinating. Very much so. Besides he was fond of Shadow, with his stupid jokes and that stupid grin and okay he's getting off-topic let's thinkofsomethingelse.

Vio didn’t want to pry too much, especially while Shadow was sleeping, but he was simply too curious not to pass up an opportunity to know a little bit more about his unusual friend. After ensuring that Shadow was truly asleep, Vio knelt and gingerly held a hand to the beast’s head, carefully avoiding his eyes. Surprisingly, he found the monster was utterly freezing to the touch. Did he not give off body heat? Maybe he was cold-blooded, like a lizard. Or, a less-interesting option, maybe he was just chilly. The windows had been left open, after all.

Upon further examination, Vio found that Shadow had smooth, ash-black skin that seemed to spike up in strange, fur-like tendrils along his spine. A particularly long patch crowned his head, resembling a tuft of hair not unlike the stupid, messy bangs he had in his more ‘Hylian’ form.

Vio leaned back on his heels, admiring Shadow as he slept for a long moment. When he was awake, Shadow typically wore this dumb, lopsided grin that crinkled up his features in a way the violet hero couldn’t accurately pinpoint with words at the current moment (nor did he want to, lest he sound like an idiot). It was odd, he thought, to see his friend with such a genuine, blissful expression. It was a rare sight, but an (admittedly) appreciated one.

Vio suddenly wondered if the room was too cold for Shadow, or if the beast was actively radiating a chill in his sleep with how bloody freezing the carpet was.

Or, maybe this wasn’t sleep, Vio’s mind couldn’t help but unhelpfully supply. He didn’t know too much about cold-blooded creatures, but what he did know stipulated that, if Shadow were one, the room was likely far too cold for him to possibly be comfortable in. And, even worse, ectotherms had a tendency to shut down if their body temperature reached low enough levels. Maybe Vio was being paranoid, he probably was. But it couldn’t hurt to be careful.

Vio quietly rose to his feet and hurried over to his bags that he had left by the door earlier, fishing around for their contents. Finding his desired item, he returned and sank down to be level with Shadow on the freezing floor. Carefully, he lifted one of his friend’s large, clawed hands and quickly slid the object beneath his arm so it was snug under his jaw. One of them, at least. He had a few at the moment.

The object Vio had given him was was a fire rod. The sanguine gemstone at its end gleamed with heat, already doing its job to warm Shadow up. Vio suppressed a chuckle as he eventually stirred, lazily manoeuvring the rod under his chest with a sleepy huff. Vio concluded it was cute. factually so, shut up.

#this is might be the longest thing i've ever written... I think i'm making good progress in writing longer scenes lmk i guess lol #my writing #four swords #four swords manga #fs eldritch au #vio link #shadow link #vidow #vio x shadow #fsa manga

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lets-just-daydream · 4 hours ago

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I Loved You First

Chapter 13: Places, everyone!

“My love…” A smooth, familiar voice whispered in your ear.

You nuzzled into your pillow, closer towards the voice with a small smile on your face. “Astarion…” You whispered back.

His lips met your ear in a kiss and tingles erupted all over your skin.

“I love you,” he whispered, his breath tickling your ear.

“I love–”

A knock on your door woke you, pulling you from your dream with a start. You pressed your hand to your forehead and groaned, recalling the events of last night. Astarion in those vile kennels and his confession to you. That had broken your heart, honestly. Of course it had. You thought what you and Astarion had was… love. Your face soured at the thought, half chastising yourself for being so stupid. Then you also remembered Cazador's own confession which had shocked you, but at least you didn't have to pretend to like each other anymore.

Of everything, Astarion telling you that his feelings were fake, that he was seducing you for his own gain… it was the most heartbreaking thing you’d felt. Perhaps in your whole life. His feelings had seemed so genuine and as you replayed the last few weeks in your head, you felt like a fool for falling for it. And perhaps you felt like an even bigger fool for still missing him.

You didn't just miss him. Your heart ached for him. You yearned for him.

Another knock at the door. You sighed.

“Who is it?”

Violet's voice came through the door. “It's me, my lady.”

“Come in,” you called back, sitting up and rubbing your eyes.

“Good morning,” she greeted, her hands clasped in front of her as she walked in.

Violet hovered in the doorway, her lips pursed and her body language stiff. Uncomfortable.

“What is it?” You asked, keeping your irritation at bay. Whatever your current battle, it wasn't her fault.

“Y-your wedding is tomorrow, my lady,” she said. “And Lord Cazador is planning for a rehearsal this evening.”

You rolled your eyes and dropped back into your pillows, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes. “Of course he is,” your voice came out muffled under the pillows and blankets. “As if things could get any worse.”

Violet only gave you a sympathetic look and walked to your closet to pick out clothes for you for the day.

“I think I'll spend the day hidden away in the library until someone comes looking for me,” you murmured as you sat up once again and swung your legs over the edge of the bed.

Violet hummed and helped dress you before you sat on the ottoman in front of your dresser and stared at your reflection. Tell tales of a rough night of sleep made themselves known as you stared. You had slight bags under your eyes and your hair was a mess. You jumped when suddenly you felt Violet brushing your hair, her lack of reflection catching you unaware.

“I suppose the cat is out of the proverbial bag,” you said, turning your head slightly to look at her.

“Yes,” she replied. “Master Cazador told us that you know of our vampirism.”

Master Cazador… You shuddered and looked back at your reflection, slightly disconcerted that your hair appeared to be moving around all on its own.

“Vio–”

“I told you to be careful, my lady. The master is on a rampage now. Any slight misstep and we're all being beaten or taken straight to the kennels.”

Your eyes dropped to your lap and you fiddled with your fingers. Yes, she had warned you and you thought you could continue your blissful double life until the time to strike. But now you'd made a mess of everything for yourself, for Astarion, and for the rest of the spawn. Your cheeks warmed in shame and embarrassment, feeling responsible for their mistreatment.

“I'm sorry,” you whispered. “I…” You trailed off as tears welled in your eyes.

Violet sighed and finished your hair. “That was unfair of me and I forget my place.”

“No, but you're right,” you turned in your chair and looked up at Violet. “I'll make this right. I don't know how, yet. I'll make a new plan and… I don't know yet.”

You weren't sure if the rest of the vampires were privy to Cazador��s plan to undertake the Rite of Profane Ascension. You wanted to tell Violet but she and the rest of the spawn were at their master's mercy and unable to fight back. You were going to fight this fight for them and for yourself. They deserve better, you deserve better and you'll fight for it before you submit to Cazador. Though it seemed your plan might no longer include Astarion, you were determined to take this oppressor down.

You of course found yourself in the library, curtains drawn open to let the sunshine stream in since you didn't much feel like being disturbed and doubted Astarion was going to come seek you out after last night's ordeal. Or ever, now that you really thought about it. But that thought made your heart hurt and you didn't dwell on it for long at all. You sat back in a plush armchair with your head cradled in your hand and a book over your lap.

You heard voices outside the door to the library, your brows furrowing.

“--speak to her, Astarion.”

“If you don't mind your own–”

You strained to hear but the door opened and you were met with a scowling Astarion and annoyed Violet. He peered into the room and saw you sitting there, bathed in sunlight. He and Violet stepped back and you stood quickly, fiddling with the fastenings around the curtains and pulling them closed. Violet shoved Astarion into the room and he stumbled in before Violet turned and left.

“What are you doing here, Astarion? You made your feelings quite clear yesterday.”

You looked back down at your book, feigning disinterest but your heart beat in your chest, desperate for him. Yearning.

“Well,” he hesitates before schooling himself back into confidence. “Yes, but Violet believed I should speak with you.”

He may not love you, the thought made you gulp and a hollow feeling in your heart grew, but you still had a common enemy and goal. He wanted Cazador dead and you wanted out of this marriage, if Cazador had to die to achieve that then so be it.

You take a deep breath. “Actually I'm glad you're here.” He gives you a rakish smirk and you roll your eyes. “Not for that reason. Not like you'd care anyway.”

You missed Astarion's brows knitting together before you looked back up at him and continued. “My feelings regarding being here and marrying Cazador haven't changed. I still need your help and I assume you don't want to become some sacrificial lamb.”

Astarion turned and shut the door to the library before approaching and standing over you in your chair. His cool hand wrapped around your wrist and pulled you out of your seat and in amongst the stack of shelves, pushing you against them. “Are you trying to get me killed?”

You remained cool and distant. You couldn't let him know that despite his betrayal, your heart still ached for him. “The way I see it, you're dead if he goes through with that ritual. And he doesn't control me, so I'm your best chance at freedom,” you said, crossing your arms. “We kill him, I'll leave this godsforsaken palace once and for all and you do… whatever it is you do.”

Astarion's eyes flicked around the room before landing back on you. “My lady…” Astarion hesitated, his hand twitching around your wrist.

You crossed your arms over your chest and pulled away from his hand, hating how wrong that title sounded from Astarion's tongue. “Don't call me that,” you muttered.

There was a pause in which you stared at each other, but said nothing. Astarion had the decency to look ashamed at least, and you tried your best to look like you didn't care.

“About yesterday,” Astarion suddenly said, drawing to his full height and looking down his nose at you. “I hope there are no hard feelings. I'm as desperate to get out of my… situation as you are.”

Your eyes narrowed at him and you scoffed. “‘No hard feelings?’ Really? That's all you have to say?”

Astarion's jaw hardened and he stepped closer to you, his scent wafting over your nose. “I apologised already, what more do you want?”

Your eye twitched and it took all of your self control not to lunge at him. “Do you have any idea what could have happened to me if your master decided to toss me aside for having let you deflower me?”

It was Astarion's turn to scoff now. “Deflower you? Nothing we did was without your enthusiastic consent,” he said, stepping so close that his nose nearly touched yours. Your heavy breathing all but made his lashes flutter. “So don't play the blushing maid now when only two days ago you were a mess beneath me; whimpering, screaming my name and begging for more,” he mocked with a snarl.

Before you could think about your own actions, the crack of your palm against his cheek was your response. Your eyes widened and your mouth dropped open in the beginnings of a stammered apology. You were rendered speechless when Astarion grabbed the wrist of the offending hand and pulled you flush against him, his angry eyes boring down into yours.

You squeezed your eyes shut and opened your mouth to apologise but his hands tightened around your wrists before his cool lips met your own in a possessive, feral kiss. Your eyes shot open and you watched as his eyes softly closed, his brows tentative, the screaming opposite to how he now claimed your lips. You could barely make heads or tails of what was happening before his fangs nipped at your lower lip and a deep growl escaped from his throat.

You battled with yourself, unsure if you should pull away or melt into his embrace but your fingers reflexively scrunched into his shirt and you let out a shaky breath as you desperately kissed him back, your eyes falling to a close as you submitted yourself to him. He whispered your name between mouthfuls of your tongue and your head spun from the whiplash of your exchange and his mouth pressed against yours.

You lamented having to pull away for air and your stomach churned with anxiety. “Ast–”

You were stopped by his pointer finger pressing against your lips. “Everything I said yesterday,” he whispered. “Was untrue and compelled out of me by Cazador. To make you distrust me.”

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise.

“I had truly hoped I could keep to myself and figure this out on my own but I simply can't stay away from you,” Astarion's brows furrowed in worry and he straightened, his chest against yours as he cupped your jaw. “When you're not near, I yearn for you,” he said your name in a hushed whisper, his words only meant for the two of you and not for the gods or any other vampires with keen ears. “I want you.”

“Oh, Astarion,” you whispered back, kissing the tip of his finger that was still against your lips before throwing yourself against him in an embrace.

He held you close, his arms around you tight. “We'll find a way out of this, I promise.”

You pulled away from him, a twinkle in your eye. “Actually, I was reading something the other day when I was looking for a way out of this mess.”

Astarion quirked a brow, waiting for you to continue.

“Firstly, have you heard of vampire brides?”

Astarion tilts his head. “Well, yes.”

“Do you know if…” You trail off and clear your throat. “That's what Cazador intends to do with me?”

Astarion levels you with a hot gaze. “Powerful vampire with his bride by his side. I should think so.” His jaw is stiff as he answers you. “Why?”

You gulp. “If… he does and I don't get out of this,” you shudder. “If he makes me his… b-bride, I'd have free will. I'd be a full vampire, Astarion.”

His eyes widened. “Are… are you sure?”

You nod and step to a set of shelves and pull a tome. “I read about it, in here.” You flipped the tome to a marked page and pointed to a passage.

He read through the passage. It detailed how a vampire will first choose a mortal he is obsessed with. “Check,” Astarion murmured to himself. He read on, learning about something called ‘The Dark Kiss,’ which detailed that the vampire would need to sample the blood of his intended bride thrice, to the brink of death. Just before she is about to take her final breaths, he will then open a wound on his own body and feed her his blood. His eyes widen as he reads the next passage. The bride will then enter a feeding frenzy which must be stopped before she overfeeds, lest she go insane and die in agony.

“Gods above…” Astarion murmured.

“But if she feeds properly and is cared for by her vampire groom, she'll die and rise as a vampire, she will have her own free will,” You supplied. “Astarion, we could… We could do it. We have a backup plan if this all goes south.”

He looked at you with a slight frown. “My love, you… You don’t want to become a vampire. Trust me. The hunger, the ache.” He shudders out a harsh breath. “Never seeing the sun again.”

You closed the tome and replaced it on the shelf before taking Astarion’s hands in yours and giving them a squeeze. You looked into his eyes with conviction, love and sincerity. “To be with you and rid ourselves of Cazador, I would do it. I would do anything for you.”

He pulled back slightly and looked down at you, his eyes misty and a hopeful smile on his lips. He leaned down to kiss you again and you met him halfway, about to claim his lips in a desperate kiss before a knock at the door made you spring apart. Your heart thundered and you whipped your head around to the door from the shelves.

You relaxed when you heard a familiar voice.

“My lady, Astarion…” Violet's voice tentatively called. “Everyone’s gathering downstairs for the rehearsal.”

Your eyes widened and you worriedly looked up at Astarion. You really did not want to go through with this. His hands slid down your arms and he squeezed your hands.

“I've got your back, love,” he whispered before kissing your forehead and leading you to the door. Your heart dropped as you approached the staircase and Astarion stopped you. “I'll go down first and then you and Violet follow. Can't have Cazador knowing about us… again.”

You watched as Astarion left the room and gave Violet a nod on his way out. Violet stepped in and you looked down at your feet. “Thank you, Violet.”

She gave you a small smile. “It's quite alright. You're such a kind soul, my lady and I couldn't bear to see you in Cazador's arms when you could be so happy without him. I don't know what you and Astarion are planning but I crave to be free just as my brother does.”

You looked up as you heard her rustle through her pockets and pull out a bottle of perfume and shake it in her fingers. “To mask his smell on your skin,” she said with a smile.

After you'd been perfumed up and your hair hastily done up, Violet led you to the stairs where murmurs of conversation and music met your ears. It wasn't your wedding yet but you still felt the pressure and the reality of the situation beat down on you. Your hand shook as you reached for the railing and Violet stood beside you, taking your free arm and walking you down the stairs. You looked at her with a grateful smile, took a deep breath and descended, a stiff smile painted onto your face.

The clack of yours and Violet's shoes on the stairs caused everyone's chatter to subside and look up at you. Your heart leapt into your throat at everyone's sudden attention and it took every ounce of your self-control not to snap your eyes over to your lover. Instead, you gritted your teeth and locked eyes with Cazador, his self-satisfied smile making your stomach roil.

You then saw your parents who looked up at you happily and whispered to each other. Surely about how proud they were or that you'd “made it” to marry a lord in Baldur's Gate. Whatever it was, your skin heated in anger.

You then let your eyes sweep across the room, conscious not to let your eyes stay on Astarion for too long. But where your heart didn't stutter and cheeks flush when you locked eyes with your husband-to-be, they most certainly did for the brief second that your eyes met Astarion's.

You made it to the landing and Cazador turned to the room. “Places!” He snapped with a hiss and everyone scrambled to the ballroom, including Violet who let you go to join everyone. Cazador held his hand out to you and you took it. He then nodded to your father who approached with a smile.

“A taster for tomorrow, my sweet bride,” Cazador said, kissing your hand before he too retreated into the ballroom.

“What a fine husband for you, darling. I'm so pleased,” your father said, offering his elbow to you.

You hummed flatly and looked towards the ballroom, your heart pounding. Your father ushered you forward and you heard the music start up again in a wedding march as you stood together in the doorway, everyone looking towards you. Your mother stood alone in the rows of seats since no guests were here and unsurprisingly Cazador had neither friend, nor family. City officials would fill these seats tomorrow for the sole purpose of witnessing Cazador Szarr’s marriage and earning him a place where he felt he belonged.

The spawn and other servants lined the walls and a small orchestra was situated in the corner of the ballroom. When you finally looked straight ahead, you saw Cazador at the end of the aisle with a smug smile on his lips, the cleric standing at the head of the room, decked out in robes and tome in hand.

Your father walked you down the aisle and while you knew this wasn't the real thing yet, your heart pounded and you felt like you were going to be sick. Cold feet was an understatement.

You were finally within Cazador's reach and he held his hand out to you and you reluctantly took his icy hand and stood in front of him. You couldn't bear to meet his eye and you instead looked around the room beyond him. The walls, the seats– Astarion…

You locked eyes with him and his lip quirked slightly. You gulped and looked back at the cleric who was running through what he would say tomorrow.

A smile slipped onto Cazador's lips. “I've half a mind to get you to marry us now, father. I can hardly wait,” Cazador said before looking down at you with a smarmy grin.

You were sure this would make any other maiden swoon but your heart froze and Cazador leaned down and whispered in your ear. “Your heart races in anticipation, my love.”

You forced a bashful smile onto your face. “And ruin tomorrow's momentous occasion, my lord?”

Cazador hummed out a laugh and then the cleric continued. “After the exchange of vows, you can kiss your bride and go forth as husband and wife.”

The orchestra kicked back up and Cazador turned the pair of you back to the room. “Perfect,” Cazador hummed to himself as he looked across the room that would be filled with denizens tomorrow.

Your heart ached. This is happening. This is going to be real and it's happening tomorrow. Your body began to quiver and Cazador looked down at you. “Get some rest, my love,” he said as he took and kissed your hand. “We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow and the rest of us still have much to finalise.”

You simply nodded and walked back up the aisle, right past your parents and slipped through the door. On the other side, you shut the door behind you and leaned against it, the back of your head thumping against the wood softly. You looked up at the gloomy ceiling and tears welled in your eyes before you gave in and began to quietly sob. Cazador, this marriage, Astarion, your parents, the Rite - everything from the last few weeks crashed down on you at once and you wept.

You cursed your parents for bringing you here in the first place, you cursed Cazador for being so desperate for power that he proposed to you, you cursed Astarion for being so easy to fall in love with. If he hadn't been so kind to you the night of the ball, perhaps you could have just been happy with Cazador. Perhaps you could have grown to love him.

The thought made you want to retch. You could never love that monster. And you were still going to kill him.

#red writes #astarion x reader #astarion x tav #astarion fanfiction #astarion fic

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arecaceae175 · 2 years ago

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hii ive been following ur pride stuff on ao3 and i was wondering if we could get some genderfluid four where the colors fight on what gender four is? for some specifics, i think blue winning the fight for a day + being v proud of herself would be cute but im not picky, ik not everyone is a fan of transfem blue.

have a good day!!

HAPPY BIRTHDAY, HAVE SOME TRANS FOUR!!!! I dug through your account to see which pronouns you usually use for the colors XD.

Four is the Link I’m least confident in writing, and I’m also not genderfluid, but I did my best! I hope you enjoy!

Here's the AO3 link. 595 words, fluff and introspection

Four: genderfluid, pronouns change daily (no pronouns until the daily pronouns are decided)

Blue: she/her

Green: he/him

Vio: they/them

Red: zae/zem/zaer/zaers/zemself

Legend: genderfluid, any/mirror (mirror pronouns means whichever pronouns the person who is referring to Legend uses, the person also uses those pronouns for Legend)

Four looked at the headbands laid out on top of the bag: blue, green, red, and violet. Four liked to use the headbands to signal to the others which pronouns they should use that day. Four got the idea after seeing Wild use their earrings for the same purpose.

Previously, Four let people use whichever pronouns they were most comfortable with; Four was genderfluid and didn’t care too much about pronouns. After spending so much time with an accepting group of other very queer heroes, though, Four decided to get used to choosing pronouns to fit the gender feelings of the day.

It took some effort, yes, and a lot of introspection every day. The others had to memorize which headband meant what. Four never minded if they had to ask for clarification, but they caught on pretty easily. The hardest part of the whole situation was the others learning how to use Red’s favorite set of pronouns, since no one had ever heard those before.

Everyone was excited to learn the new set of pronouns. It made Four feel very supported and accepted, and it made a warm feeling fill Four’s body whenever the thought crossed Four’s mind.

A perfect reason to use my pronouns today! Red supplied.

You’ve won the pronoun battle three times this week already, Blue argued. Four’s head inclined. She was right, Four had been using Red’s choice of pronouns for most of the week. Four pushed the red headband farther away. Those pronouns didn’t feel quite right, today.

It’s because I have the best pronouns.

No, Green argued, it’s because you bribe Vio to vote for you.

I do not!

I mean, you do sometimes, Vio replied. I really don’t mind, though.

Four’s mouth fell into a frown and eyes narrowed at the three remaining headbands. Today was not going to be an easy choice, Four could already tell.

What if instead of a vote, we solve a riddle to see who gets to use their pronouns for the day, Vio suggested.

Four felt a distinct, blue-hued groan somewhere deep inside Four’s head.

We can’t solve a riddle from inside our own head, Green said.

Not with that attitude, we can’t, Red said.

Maybe, Blue’s voice rang out over the others, we choose an outfit first. Then we can decide pronouns based on the vibes.

Four nodded. That was an excellent plan. Often, it was easier to decide on affirming clothes than it was to figure out affirming pronouns.

Four laid out all the clean outfits in their pack. Four traveled light, so there weren’t too many choices, but there was at least one thing for each of Four’s usual gender feelings.

Four’s fingers brushed over the soft fabric of the best flowy skirt in existence, and it was decided.

Yes! Blue exclaimed.

Four smiled to herself as she picked up the skirt, a fitted undershirt, and a tunic to tuck in. They were traveling to a town today, and Wild assured the group they wouldn’t run into any more monsters on the way. Four was skeptical, but she had a lot of practice fighting in the skirt, so she figured it would still be a safe choice.

Four slipped the blue headband over her hair, then pulled it up and settled it in place.

“Hell yeah, a she day,” Legend said. Four jumped slightly; she had been too deep in her own mind that she hadn’t heard Legend approach.

“I’ll glom onto your pronouns for the day, I think. Feels right,” Legend said.

Four smiled. “Happy to share.”

#ace writes #happy pride 🌈#pride month drabbles #lu four #lu legend #lu blue #lu red #lu vio #lu green

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lucky-clover-gazette · 2 years ago

Text

domestic bisque

fluff | 3381 words | vidow cottage au

Vio and Shadow make soup, and there's no plot. They literally just have a cozy evening together. Good for them!

They sit together for a while, watching the snow fall, silent and content. The smell of simmering soup fills the den and Pinecone continues to purr like a motor.

Shadow tucks a strand of hair behind Vio’s ear. “Love you.”

Vio leans in—not for a kiss, but simply to meet Shadow’s forehead with his own. “Love you too.”

read it on ao3 or under the cut, with author's notes:

Author's Note: The title is a soup pun. Appreciate it.

So funny story, this used to be a much longer and more melodramatic fic that I shelved all the way back in November of 2022. It’s been sitting incomplete since then, so I finally decided to take all the fluffy soup parts and play into that, while cutting out the angst. So if this feels a little awkward and disjointed, well… that’s because it is. But still, I think it’s very sweet, and I hope you enjoy :)

It’s perfect soup weather in the woods outside Castle Town.

Snowy, but not overly so, chilling the cottage just enough to justify use of the fireplace. Shadow busies himself in the kitchen, clearing the counter of Pinecone’s canned food and spare bags of tea, and begins to unpack freshly-purchased ingredients. He smiles at the sound of Vio’s footsteps as he enters from the den.

“Found it?” Shadow asks, taking a bunch of celery stalks over to the sink for washing.

“Yes,” Vio says. “I would appreciate it if we avoided getting anything on it.”

Shadow examines the leather-bound volume from afar, well-worn from at least a century of use. He’d make fun of Vio’s concern, but he also understands how important this historical volume is—it’s one of the previous Hero’s few remaining belongings, chock-full of handwritten insight from the man himself. Vio had begged Zelda to lend it to him, and she’d only handed it over after they both promised to return it in good condition. It was a warranted measure, honestly, since the majority of Shadow and Vio’s furniture was stolen from Hyrule Castle… and that’s not even mentioning their evil root beer stash in the cellar.

It had been Shadow’s idea to make the soup, after Vio offhandedly mentioned its inclusion in the Hero’s journal entry. Most of the ingredients are still common in modern Hyrule, except for the Reekfish—luckily, according to the Hero, the soup is better off without it. And with a name like ‘Reekfish,’ Shadow is inclined to believe him.

“Do you think Pinecone will get curious with all the ingredients laying out?” Vio asks, eyeing the massive pumpkin and wheel of cheese visually similar to the horns of Ordon goats.

Shadow glances into the den at their cat, a three-legged tortie watching the snow fall through a frosted window. “Pinecone,” he calls to her, watching her ear twitch in recognition, “are you going to make trouble while we cook?”

She doesn’t answer. Shadow shrugs.

“Did you know that the Hero could talk to cats?” Vio asks Shadow, resting his elbows on the counter.

“No,” Shadow says, “but that’s very cool.”

“Once we’re done cooking, I’d like to show you some of the passages,” Vio says, avoiding eye contact. “I mean, if that’s something you’d be interested in.”

Shadow smiles. “Of course I’m interested. Looking forward to it.”

“That’s… yeah, me too. Hey, can you make fun of me now?”

Shadow crosses the kitchen and plants a kiss on Vio’s forehead. “You’re cute.”

“That is specifically the opposite of what I requested. Also, you are cute too. Obviously.”

Shadow returns to the counter with a smile and grabs a knife from the wooden block. “I’m dicing the veggies and mincing the garlic, right?”

Referencing the recipe, Vio nods. “What can I do to help?”

Shadow withdraws another knife, this one serrated and twice as long. “Feel like butchering a pumpkin?”

─────────────────

They launch into their parallel tasks in contented silence, the only noise coming from Vio as he struggles to cut into the large Ordon pumpkin. Shadow slides the diced celery into a glass bowl and takes a break to assist Vio, who has switched from the kitchen knife to his Four Sword.

“Here,” Shadow says, “I’ll hold it steady while you cut it in half, right by the stem. Then you just have to scoop out the seeds with a spoon, slice it into pieces, and roast them in the oven so they soften. Once they’re done, you should be able to squish them into a puree with a fork.”

Vio narrows his eyes. “How do you know so much about this?”

“Vendor at the market talked my ear off about it. She was sweet.”

Shadow really had appreciated the Ordonian woman’s advice, as well as the fact that she’d treated him like a normal person. It’s been a little more than six months since Shadow’s reign of terror over Hyrule, and a lot of people in Castle Town still hold a grudge. Okay, maybe not a lot, but townspeople rarely go out of their way to engage in small talk.

“I’ll preheat the oven,” Shadow says as Vio begins to gut the pumpkin. He turns the dial and returns to his counter, making short work of the remaining ingredients.

“Pinecone, no!”

Shadow whips his head around as Vio begs their cat to get off the counter, his hands covered with orange pumpkin guts. “Shadow, can you please stop laughing and pick her up?”

Shadow retrieves Pinecone with a chuckle, kissing her forehead and returning her to the stool by the den window. She curls up and Shadow has the strong urge to sink his face into her soft fur.

“Pumpkin’s going into the oven,” Vio calls from the kitchen. “I’ll clean up the mess before we continue.”

“Sounds good,” Shadow says, giving Pinecone another peck (there is no limit to forehead kisses in this household). He consults the journal, placed far from the carnage, and commits their next steps to memory.

“We can start the soup while the pumpkin roasts,” he says to Vio, who furiously scrubs his hands in the sink. He has his hair up again, in that lame purple scrunchie, a few stray bangs falling into his face. Shadow feels the urge to tuck them behind his pointed ears, but there are more pressing matters at hand.

─────────────────

When Shadow and Vio first moved into the abandoned cottage, their friends had insisted on a small housewarming party. Some of their gifts are useful on a daily basis, such as Red’s hand-knitted blanket and Zelda’s fountain pens, while others are bound to a more specific purpose. A great example is a yet-to-be-used artisanal casserole dish from Green, which is shaped and painted to resemble a pumpkin.

Shadow removes the heavy vessel from a shelf and gently places it on the counter. “I wonder,” he says, “if somehow the Hero of Twilight’s spirit influenced Green to choose this gift. Since he apparently had a thing for pumpkin soup.”

Vio joins Shadow’s side, sizing up the dish. “Interestingly enough, he’s not the only one. Records indicate that several versions of the Hero have encountered pumpkin soup during their adventures.”

“You’re kidding.”

“The Hero of Winds grew up on Outset Island, where the locals made pumpkin soup that healed his injuries. Some sources even say his own grandmother created the recipe.”

“I see. And have there been any other heroic pumpkin soup encounters of note?”

“Yes,” Vio enthuses, “with the first reincarnation of Link, actually. He lived in the sky and flew on a huge bird. In order to save his version of Zelda, he had to deliver pumpkin soup to a whale inside a thunderhead.”

“Very normal,” Shadow remarks, one eyebrow raised.

Vio smirks. “About as normal as a magic sword turning the Hero into four distinct individuals, one of whom fell madly in love with the original Hero’s evil shadow.”

“You know that makes you sound like the weirdo in that situation, right?”

“Like you weren’t hitting on me from the start.”

─────────────────

Shadow busies himself with the soup, placing the casserole dish on the stovetop and grabbing a stick of butter from the fridge. He slices off two tablespoons and melts them against the warming vessel, then empties the glass bowls of prepped celery, carrots, and onions into the dish. They sizzle on contact.

“Wooden spoon, please,” he calls to Vio, who promptly places the instrument in his outstretched hand. He uses it to saute the veggies while Vio removes the sheet pan of softened pumpkin from the oven, pureeing it just as Shadow had described. Shadow tosses in the garlic as Vio begins to clean their prep dishes.

“Wanna pop open some vegetable broth?” Shadow asks once he hears the sink turn off. He receives no response and turns his head to see Vio kneeling by Pinecone in the den. Shadow opens the carton of broth on his own and pours it into the dish, taking care not to let it splash in his face.

“Soup has to simmer for ten minutes,” Shadow calls to Vio, bringing the Hero’s journal into the den. He plops down on the floor, because wherever Pinecone decides to be is more often than not where they end up. He nudges Vio and drops the book in his lap. “Show me something interesting.”

Vio gives Pinecone one last full-body pet and nods. “Very well. How much do you know about the Hero of Twilight?”

Shadow shrugs. “Nothing more than what you’ve told me.”

“And what have I told you, exactly?”

“He talked to cats, didn’t use the Four Sword, killed another version of Ganon but missed out on fun times with Vaati.”

Vio scoffs. “Yeah, well, he got Zant.”

“That’s a cool name. What was his deal?”

Vio begins to flip through pages, narrowing his eyes as he scans the text. “Ah-ha!” he exclaims, and it’s so unbelievably dorky that Shadow kind of wants to kiss him on the mouth. “He talks about Zant here,” Vio says, angling the page so Shadow can read.

A note on Zant, usurper king of the Twili tribe: For the majority of my journey, I believed him to be the greatest threat to Hyrule, the final enemy I would need to defeat. But Zant had only served as a proxy for Ganon, who allowed him passage through a dark mirror to wreak havoc on the world of the light.

Shadow makes a sour face. “Wonder what that’s like.”

“Keep reading,” Vio says with a small smile.

Imagine my surprise when Zant became frantic and unhinged in battle, the opposite of the imposing figure I had once believed him to be. Perhaps his initial stature had been an act, disguising the instability and insecurity within.

Stranger still, Zant somehow managed to linger despite a very graphic death. It’s almost as if his spirit couldn’t die, not truly, until he thwarted his former master. Princess Zelda and I defeated Ganondorf, fulfilling Hylia’s Triforce prophecy—but somehow, Zant struck the killing blow. He banished Ganon from the world of light by violently severing the connection between them.

“Huh,” Shadow remarks, his voice now proud. “Wonder what that’s like.”

─────────────────

Eventually, Vio appears to remember something important. “Has it been ten minutes, for the soup?”

“Just about,” Shadow says, getting to his feet. “Be right back.”

Shadow returns to the kitchen and adds the pumpkin puree, along with a dash of cinnamon, to the simmering mixture. The beige broth becomes a warm amber before his eyes, already starting to bubble with the new ingredients.

“That smells fantastic,” Vio says, peering over Shadow’s shoulder. He wraps his arms around Shadow’s waist, and sandwiched between a simmering pumpkin soup and his favorite person in the world, Shadow feels truly blessed. And then he cringes, because they’re supposed to be creatures of darkness, so why would he default to such a disgustingly wholesome adjective as ‘blessed?’

“About fifteen more minutes,” Shadow says, and Vio hums. “You could have stayed in the den, you know.”

“Missed you. And I want to help clean, you’re doing all the hard work here.”

“Well, I’m not going to argue with that.”

They finish the remaining dishes together, Vio washing while Shadow dries and puts items away. The soup fills their tiny kitchen with the aroma of pumpkin and warm cinnamon spice.

Shadow returns to the stove, stirs the soup with a wooden spoon, and covers it again. “Let’s keep it simmering a little longer.”

Vio nods and leads Shadow back into the den. He retrieves the journal and plops down on the couch, where Pinecone seems to have been waiting for his arrival. She immediately curls up in his lap and Shadow isn’t jealous at all, definitely not, because that would be ridiculous and he is not ridiculous.

“What are you waiting for?” Vio asks, stroking Pinecone idly. “Get comfy.”

“Didn’t think that word was in your vocabulary,” Shadow quips, settling beside the pair and resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. He breathes in the familiar scent of lavender shampoo, and wonders if Vio has just the one purple scrunchie, or if he rotates identical purple scrunchies every few days…

“Looks like you’re thinking hard about something,” Vio observes, reaching an arm around Shadow’s waist.

“Nope, not me.”

─────────────────

“And that’s it,” Vio says, closing the journal. “For tonight, anyway. I think I’ve had just about enough.”

Shadow nods. “Sucks about the mirror, and what happened with Midna. They seemed to really get along. Do you think they ever saw each other again?”

“Probably not,” Vio admits. “Not everyone is willing to perform dark rituals to recover a loved one from a different realm.”

“Lame.”

─────────────────

They sit together for a while, watching the snow fall, silent and content. The smell of simmering soup fills the den, and Pinecone continues to purr like a motor.

Shadow tucks a strand of hair behind Vio’s ear. “Love you.”

Vio leans in—not for a kiss, but simply to meet Shadow’s forehead with his own. “Love you too.”

And then Shadow pulls away.

“Soup,” he reminds Vio, standing up. “Bring the recipe, I think it’s cheese time.”

Vio is sleepy, beyond relaxed, and it’s adorable. “You’re cheese time.”

Shadow raises an eyebrow. “What?”

“I have no idea why I said that.”

Shadow chuckles and returns to the kitchen, releasing steam when he removes the casserole dish lid. “Looks good,” he reports. “Now, tell me all about cheese time.”

Vio cringes. “Please shut up about cheese time.”

“No.”

“Actually,” Vio says as he scans the page, “it’s not even… time for cheese… yet.”

“Tease.”

─────────────────

“Do we have a blender?” Vio asks, already opening up kitchen cabinets. “Or a food processor?”

Shadow cocks his head. “Did they, back then?”

“That’s what he wrote. Oh, here!”

Vio removes their blender from the cabinet and places it onto the counter. Shadow shakes his head.

“Bad idea. Hot liquid will make the lid stick. Use the immersion blender instead.”

Vio narrows his eyes. “What is that?”

Shadow removes the handheld wand from a drawer and raises it in the air for emphasis. There are blades at the end, and when Shadow presses a button they come to life.

“Not all of us have swords,” Shadow quips as he plunges it into the pot of soup, turning it into a smooth orange bisque. Some of the mixture splashes onto his face, right by his mouth, and he allows himself a taste.

“Hylia,” he mutters, tossing the immersion blender into the sink. Shadow opens the fridge and retrieves their final ingredient, turning to Vio with a wolfish grin. “Cheese time.”

─────────────────

As the soup simmers over low heat, Shadow stirs in the soft cheese and melts a dusting of brown sugar into the bisque.

“You can do the salt and pepper,” Shadow tells Vio, grabbing him by the waist and positioning him in front of the stove.

Vio nods uncertainly as Shadow forces the shakers into his hands. “This much?” he asks, seasoning the soup with great hesitation.

“Looks good to me,” Shadow says, resting his head on Vio’s shoulder. “Smells good, too.”

“Yeah. I can’t wait to try it.”

Shadow dislodges himself from his boyfriend and grabs two bowls and spoons from the cabinet. He brings them over and repositions Vio, reaching across the range for a ladle and beginning to serve the Hero of Twilight’s beloved pumpkin soup. He garnishes the two bowls with the remaining goat cheese and places the lid on the casserole dish—he’ll package up the rest later, maybe even deliver it to Green and Zelda as a thank-you.

“Couch or table?” Shadow asks, although he’s pretty sure he already knows the answer.

“Couch, please.”

─────────────────

It’s precarious with the soup bowls, but they manage to arrange themselves nicely on the couch. Pinecone has resumed watching the snow fall by the window, and for once they prefer that she keeps her distance. Vio and Shadow both sit upright as they dig in, and… wow. Shadow had sampled the soup before, but this? With the cheese and everything? It’s fantastic.

“What do you think?” Shadow asks Vio, whose spoon currently lingers in his mouth. Vio nods intently with a decadent noise of approval.

“It’s perfect,” he says. “Legendary, even.”

“Glad to hear we did the recipe justice, from the mouth of the Hero himself. Well, a few reincarnations removed, but you know what I mean.”

Vio sighs. “I think he’d be happy. Seeing us, like this. I don’t know, maybe that’s just what I want to believe, but—”

“I think it’s a wonderful thing to believe,” Shadow says, placing his bowl down on the coffee table. Maybe his soup will get cold, but the idea of holding Vio in this moment is too tempting to pass up.

Vio leans into Shadow’s arms and hums. “This is so nice. Thank you for getting the ingredients, and doing most of the work.”

Shadow grins and kisses Vio’s forehead (seriously, it never gets old). “How about you do the dishes and we’ll call it even.”

Vio rolls his eyes but nods. “I should have seen that coming. You’re so evil.”

“The evilest. What atrocity will I commit next?”

Vio’s gaze meets his, and the blonde puts down his soup. Shadow recognizes the expression immediately—slightly lowered eyelids, a mischievous grin. Internally, Shadow has taken to calling it Vio’s Throne Eyes. Because, y’know, reasons.

“I’d love to find out,” Vio nearly purrs, and Shadow pretends to be annoyed.

“You’re just trying to get out of doing the dishes.”

Vio frowns, his eyes darting towards the kitchen. “You know what? You’re right. I think I’ll go do them now.”

He begins to move but Shadow’s grip only tightens. “Wait, don’t—”

Vio grins, and Shadow blushes. “You were saying?”

“You’re the worst,” Shadow chuckles, rubbing his hands over Vio’s back. In the absence of a soup bowl, Vio climbs onto his lap. Shadow kicks the coffee table slightly aside, displacing a bit of soup onto the wooden surface.

On his way to a forehead bonk (or kiss, dealer’s choice), Vio pauses, glancing over Shadow’s shoulder. “Hold on.”

“Um. Are you still joking, or…?”

Vio shakes his head. “Garlic and onion, in the soup. Pinecone could get sick.”

Shadow desperately scans their surroundings for anything that could keep them where they are. They could put the journal over one of the bowls, kind of like an impromptu lid… but if it got damaged Zelda would probably banish them, especially if said damage occurred while they were making out.

Vio sighs and removes himself from Shadow’s lap, picking up both bowls from the table with an apologetic smile. “Be right back,” he says, and Shadow does not move a muscle.

“Make sure the pot’s covered, too,” Shadow calls out, and Vio cradles both bowls with one arm to raise a thumbs-up.

In his partner’s absence, Shadow turns to Pinecone, still peacefully watching the snow fall. “You have no idea what we do for you,” he mutters fondly. The cat’s ear twitches.

─────────────────

From the kitchen, Shadow hears running water and the clink of dishware. Despite his protests, Vio is still doing what Shadow had asked.

Shadow considers picking up the journal in Vio’s absence, but decides against it. He would never say this out loud, but he doesn’t really care about the Hero of Twilight’s life. He understands why Vio does, though, and supports that interest wholeheartedly—he’s been told about Vio’s long nights in Hyrule Castle, researching resurrection rituals with only the company of the Hero’s writings.

And maybe, wherever he is now, the Hero has witnessed Vio repair the mirror and recall Shadow from his dark realm. Shadow knows their situations aren’t identical—namely, Midna chose to separate herself from the Hero due to royal responsibility (boring), while Shadow had broken his own mirror in a self-sacrificial middle-finger to the concept of darkness itself (badass).

But, still. The parallels are there. And Shadow doesn’t see the harm in Vio indulging them, as long as it makes him happy. But Shadow’s not here to dwell on the past—he’s here to eat pumpkin soup, and to kiss his boyfriend.

And you know what?

He is all out of pumpkin soup.

Author's Note: Someday I will actually let them make out in a fic. I’ve written it before, but it always comes out quippy and awkward and painfully self-aware. Which, hey—at least I’m consistent. I am considering an optional side-scene to an upcoming fic where they actually do, in fact, get to make out on the page, so please let me know if that’s something you actually want to see.

Thanks for reading, and if you’re going to play Tears of the Kingdom in a few days like me, have so much fun!

#fs #my writing #vidow #vio x shadow #vio link #shadow link #four swords #four swords adventures #this fic has been in wip hell for months please just take it

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ask-vio-the-purple-link · 1 year ago

Text

Octavo

The front door of Vio and Blue's house opens after a gentle knock. Vio having been moving a bucket of apples from Red pauses confused.

"Hello...?" An uncertain voice calls

After a moment a young hylian with mulberry hair steps inside wearing a hood. "I'm terribly sorry for the intrusion. But would a Sir Blue or Mr. Vio live here?"

That immediately gets Vio suspicious of them.

Holding the bucket close he looks the young being up and down being cautious now. "And why would you be looking for them, when they're exlied?"

"Oh right about that" Turning they rummage in a bag that was under their cloak. "I was recommended to come by her Highness Zelda."

"Here... " in the stranger's hand is a letter with the royal seal

As they wait for Vio to take the letter the stranger continues. "She was wanting me to try studying alongside Mr. Vio. In the hopes I can better learn about magic and magic curses "

Now holding the note Vio silently reads over it frowning.

Turning he places the note on the table behind him. "Is that so?"

Facing the stranger again Vio's folded his arms remaining on edge. "You're awfully chatty for not being sure if this is the right place"

Lowering their hood finally the young man doesn't even seem surprised. His honey colour eye full of hope. "Let's just say intuition. That and her Highness told me you'd both be cautious of a stranger showing up"

"Well you got me in that one. I'm Vio..." Vio waves a hand his eyes closed.

Opening his eyes he looks up at the boy before drawing off. "What's your name...?"

The boy smiles not yet noticing the other's surprise. "I'm octavo"

Failing to respond colour is just draining from Vio's face. Shocked by the young man's resemblance to a certain mage.

"...Mr. Vio?"

Vio seemingly in a mix of shock and fear starts to collapse. Causing Octavo to shout in his own shock

"AH! MR. VIO!!"

#four swords #vio link #octavo coh #legend of zelda #loz #vio #fsa #cadence of hyrule #my art/fanart #talasdoodles #vio's secret #comic #traditional comic #traditional drawing #tala couldn't be bothered to find my tablet cord okay #also Tavo is baby

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mountainashfae · 2 years ago

Note

Face, motion, and night for Vio!

face: Describe your OC's face. What's their smile like? Are their orbs cerulean? What would someone notice first when looking at them?

Vio's face is soft and round and so young looking for his age. Never grew out of the babyface though age and stress can't get rid of the bags under his eyes. His eyes are a cool green exactly like Sarenrae's and when he truly smiles it's warm. The hair on his forehead frames his most iconic feature: the golden birthmark resembling a sun, which is also his holy symbol.

motion: How does your OC move? How does their clothing help or hinder their range of motion? Are they flexible, coordinated, clumsy?

Vio's movements are all done with purpose. He's not too elaborate with his movements, and if he is it's in a very practiced way. Even in the many layers of his Cleric garb he's practiced enough with it that it doesn't hinder him at all. That's his most elaborate too, so he doesn't have issue with anything else from his wardrobe.

night: What does your OC wear to sleep? Do they have a favorite pair of PJs, or are they more the birthday suit type?

Honestly? Yeah I gotta say he's the kind to sleep shirtless. That's when he's in private or with people he's close with though. In more public situations (such as camping) he does keep a thin shirt to wear when he's sleeping.

[ ask meme ]

#totally not staring at that one drawing rn #love my boy #oc stuff #ask meme #vio miette

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deuynndoodles · 2 years ago

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[id: a colored, digital sketch redesign line-up of the links from four swords (adventures). from left to right, it is blue, red, green and vio. shadow is not included. they all have four panel patterned tunics with embroidery. they each carry a small charm with their element on it and their four sword.

blue has chin length choppy hair that is pulled back with a headband. her hammer is tied to her back and she looks disgruntled. her charm hangs from her belt.

red has short fluffy, curly hair that frames his chin. she does not have a hat (or anything mimicking a hat). their fire rod hangs on their belt and he grins with his eyes closed. her charm is on a necklace.

green wears the standard windsock hat and has wavy, spiky hair. he smiles softly. he is only equipped with the four sword. his charm is on a bracelet.

vio has long, straight hair that is tied into a ponytail. they carry a bow and a messenger bag. they look reasonably bored. their charm is used to pin their travelling hood together. end id]

i love being an artist bc i can say "the links have freckles except for vio + shadow bc theyre shut-in losers who dont touch grass" and make it REAL

hcs and thoughts under the cut

-blues a trans girl bc i said so

-vio uses they/them and blue will beat up anyone who misgenders them (even tho vio themself doesnt rlly care)

-red uses he/him on default but doesnt care about pronouns. they think its fun when people mix it up

-as said above they all have freckles from the sun, except vio who rarely goes outside

-vio carries the bag that has all their supplies and materials. blue is the one who maintains and upkeeps it but u dont want to keep vio away from their books for long

-they each repurposed their hats to their own needs.

-green likes the og bc it flies in the wind. blue cut up her hat and used it to tie up her hair bc it was driving her crazy

-reds caught on fire from hanging by the fire rod and he got used to it before it could be replaced (his clothes are now all enchanted to be fire-proof)

-vio wears a hood bc they like to be mysterious

-red wears gloves to protect his hands from burns (the fire rod heats up fairly quickly). she has better control now but they just got used to it and why change something that works?

#doodles #loz #legend of zelda #four swords adventures #i have so many thoughts on this. gosh #fsa

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raviosrupees · 2 years ago

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Super Specific Linked Universe Headcanons Pt 1.

All of the Links are autistic but they all have wildly different ways of presenting it. Ask me about their special interests, please. Please.

Warriors is in his 20s. He is an Aquarius. I'm right.

Sky is the ultimate straight cis ally, but he has bi wife energy. He is best friends with Legend, and they're kind of inseparable.

Twilight is a taurus, he's cis and bisexual, but leans towards women and fem ppl (and too hung up to think about anyone but one woman)

Wild is taller than yall think, 17 or 117 whatever is more convenient for him, zelda told him his birthday is november 7th (scorpio, ofc) and he just accepts that.

Hyrule is pansexual (mostly cis but might be genderfluid, he likes to wear feminine clothes and makeup)

Four is like? 3'8, and he's 20 yo but most people don't believe him. He's a trans boy, and most of the colors are too besides vio, who I think is either genderfluid or pangender, uses all pronouns. Four is bisexual but leans towards guys, though he loves his Zelda.

Legend is 4'10, 17 yo, born december 14th at midnight. he is trans, any pronouns, and bisexual.

Ravio is same height and age as Legend, and they're both born on the same day but ravio was born at noon. This really bothers Legend, he wants his own birthday. Ravi loves it.

also ravio is gay, asian/latino, chubby and has the best smile <3

war is cis and bisexual but he leans towards women, I think he's aromantic but probably could be romantically involved with someone.

Times eyes are more gray than blue

Sky 9 times out of 10 has no clue whats going on. Stupid and confused, and its perfect.

Twilight always knows where all of them are, and I don't even know if it's just smell. He has mom instincts "where are my kids, what are they doing"

Wild got mad anger issues pls calm down babe. Kind of scary. He lets hyrule braid his hair sometimes.

Hyrules eyes are more green than blue, and he has freckles all over his face and body (jokes he ought to get a kiss for every freckle)

Whenever Wind gets mail from his little sister, he reads it to the group. He's very proud of her, and she's very proud of him. She has a bunch of big brothers now.

Four + the colors are white-asian mixed (or looks like it yk, bc he's hylian) his eyes are dark brown.

Legend goes non verbal a lot, esp when they're stressed, but when she talks, she talks. I mean, hand gestures, ranting, cussing, pointing, "and you a bitch, and you a bitch." favorite curse word is cunt.

warriors ruffle everyone's hair, and they all hate it (esp four and legend, who claims he's going to choke him with his own scarf)

Sky likes to sing and dance, and wishes more of them would dance with him.

Twilight has slept as a wolf so often that it's practically natural for him, he really prefers it. Also, he takes all of his nightwatch shifts as a wolf.

Wild will teach literally anyone about edible flora and mushrooms and such, and foraging around hyrule, if only they would listen. Sometimes talks random animals ears off about his favorite flavor combos. Sky loves to listen and ask questions.

Hyrule will hand his favorite people random stuff as "gifts" like feathers, flowers, rocks, dead bugs (he's obsessed with bugs, he loves them so so much and they're all his friends) his favorite animal is a bumblebee

i know we all agree wind swears likek a bloody sailor, bc thats what he is, but how about him using random shit for swears like, "crabs cankles," "bilge-sucking" or calling the others landlubbers. also feel like he'd be the type to say "bite me" when someone disagrees with him.

Four keeps a bunch of books in his bag, and if their reading is disturbed they all have different reactions. Blue pinches or glares, Vio ignores you unless she deems what youre saying important, red gets physically distressed, and green will actually tell you to be quiet. (blue pinches a lot actually)

Legend is a very picky eater, especially with textures, this pisses wild off (wdym you dont like it YOU HAVENT EVEN TRIED IT)

Sky's Zelda is a bisexual virgo, and she knows everything.

Malon makes very good bread. I want to shove that shit in my face ong. Also she insists on giving each of the boys big hugs when shes sees them.

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fuckit-hero-of-trains · 3 years ago

Note

Can we see red go apeshit :3 like some thing happened while they were split the boys are worried about them all yeah but he's been the most targeted as a suposed weak link up meanwhile blue green vio are slowly backing away while equipping fire protection gear?

Or the suggestion that since their bodies are crafted from the elements they have minor bending powers?

I saw "Red go apeshit," blacked out, and wrote this. Also inspired by the fwof prompt of a very similar kind!

Warnings: Graphic depiction of injury. If this was on ao3 I would rate it Teen so be careful if this kind of thing isn't your bag. Please check the TWs in the tags.

The first one to go down is Vio.

It's a lucky shot that gets him. Not anyone's fault. Wrong place at the wrong time. The purple wearing smith simply leaps out of the way of one of Sky’s lizalfos punches at the same moment that Blue ducks a tail swipe from another.

It’s just bad luck that the mace-like tail of Blue’s enemy connects with the back of Vio’s head.

The sickening crunch of metal on skull that follows echoes over even the sounds of battle. The tiny, punched out gasp that slips from Vio’s shocked, slack lips is somehow even louder. The crackle of displaced grit and rock as he collapses to the ground is loudest of all.

Or maybe it just seems that way to Red.

Red can’t seem to hear anything else; not the hiss of success the monster spits out, not the concerned shout that pushes its way out of his own throat. Even the pounding of his heart in his ears has gone horribly silent.

Red can’t seem to see anything else either. Can't look away from the sight in front of him. It’s like the world has narrowed down to Vio, the pool of red sprouting from his head like a halo, and the monstrous lizard that stands over him, rearing back, ready to throw another punch now that it’s target can’t get away.

Red doesn't even register himself moving forward. Doesn't even think about it, really. It’s instinct, a burning tangle of fear and anger in his stomach, in his veins, that sends him diving forward, shield outstretched to deflect the blow.

The beast, not expecting to be denied one again, is thrown off balance with a confused hiss, which Red cuts off with an angry shout and a slash to the things belly.

He turns, sword held at the ready to take on the one that had landed the hit in the first place but Blue is already there, a snarling, unrelenting tide of sword and hammer, protecting Vio’s other side. A decisive mallet swing to the lizalfos' head sends it flying with a crack and a tiny whimper of pain.

They lock eyes for a moment, tsunami meeting lava, and with a quick nod, they take up position on either side of Vio, twin swords a blur.

On Blue’s far side, Red catches a glimpse of Green shoving his own lizalfos away with his shield before turning tail, ducking seamlessly under Blue’s latest swing and skidding to a stop at Vio's side.

Something like warm relief begins to flicker in Red’s chest as Green tosses Vio’s arm over his shoulder and begins to drag the other away.

A flickering relief that is smothered out in the blink of an eye.

Or, rather, in the flash of an arrow.

Between the glint of his own blade and the flurry of punches and tail swipes sent his way by the group of lizalfos in front of him, Red catches sight of one of Wild’s lizalfos lining up a shot too late. He barely has time to register the familiar greenish-yellow energy Red remembers surrounding Wild’s shock arrows before the thing is loosed.

The arrow sings through the air, an arc of crackling ozone that flies across the battlefield, through the swarm of lizalfos bearing down on them before finally diving directly between Red and Blue’s shoulders.

Red doesn't have to look back to know its found its target.

The distorted, jittering scream and acrid smell of singed hair and flesh speaks for itself. As does the thump of two bodies crumpling back into the dirt.

Red feels something inside him crackle at the sound. Feels the moment that the fear and anger twine together in his stomach, twin blazes eating up all the air inside him until he feels breathless with them.

Red also sees the moment that the sound registers to Blue.

And sees the second the dam breaks, releasing the flood.

“Blue, no!”

The warning comes too little, too late. The words are hardly out of Red’s mouth before Blue dives forward with a guttural yell, straight into the swarm of lizalfos, leaving Red to take up position in front of their fallen counterparts, feeling less air in his body by the second.

From there Red only catches glimpses of Blue cutting his way through the hoard. Sees a familiar blade coated in blood, the too fast swing of a mallet as it connects with a head, a flash of dirtied blonde hair. And he sees injuries appear on enemies. A slashed open throat here, a collapsed skull there. Crushed ribs, ripped bellies, torn tails, gauntlets so dented that blood leaks onto metal.

Any that are injured and foolish enough to stumble Red’s way are taken down without hesitation. Red can’t afford to waste his time with them. He’s too busy glancing back at Green and Vio to make sure they’re still okay, still breathing, too busy craning his neck to try and keep track of Blue.

There is a break in the swarm and Blue crashes into the middle of it, looking bruised and battered but standing. Still standing and snarling and swinging at anything that comes within reach. He’s a tornado of strength and momentum and blade and hammer but he's moving too fast, too wildly. Red can see how each swing pulls him that much more off balance, how every frantic turn tangles his legs further and- and–!

Blue swings his hammer into the chest of one lizalfos, pivots to slash at another creeping towards his back and the momentum of both is just too much for him to handle. His front leg slips in the dirt and Blue goes down hard with a growl, his shoulder and face taking the brunt of his weight.

He’s barely hit the dirt before the lizalfos descend on like vultures, gauntlets and mace-tails raised to strike, completely hiding him behind a horde of green scales and unforgiving steel.

The sound of blunt metal connecting with skin and an infuriated but pained shout is the flint.

Or maybe the spark came earlier, from the electric arrow, the jolted scream.

Or maybe it was there from the beginning of this mess, the kindling a crunch and a gasp and a thump.

Or maybe Red was always on fire.

That's what it feels like at least. It feels like he's on fire. It feels like the burning fear and anxiety and anger have left the confines of his stomach, have coalesced, sparked up his veins, charred his lungs and burned up his throat and he’s screaming.

In an instant, his shield has left his right hand, replaced by the searing grip of the Fire Rod.

And now the fire has reached his skin and it feels like he's caught alight. No longer is fear distinguishable from anger, from rage, all that matters is the heat, the power, and the pain. The heat beginning to gather at the end of the Fire Rod. The pain of blisters bubbling on his hands as the temperature swells higher. The power just waiting to burst forth.

Red screams and screams and screams, a mixture of agony and anger and more, bears his teeth for the lizalfos to see despite the tears boiling down his face, raises the Fire Rod, and lets the world explode.

Everything is a blur of crimson after that. Flames lick at the ground and pull themselves swirling through the air, clawing at anything and everything that stands between Red and Blue.

There might be brief moments of green scales and glinting metal in his vision, seconds when claws and tails and gauntlets score him, bruise him, slice him open, but all it does is add more crimson. More places for flames to escape his body, making it that much easier for Red to cut them down and set them ablaze, filling his sight with scarlet once more.

At once, Red can both feel the heat and feel nothing. Pain and power. Each breath in is agony, filling his lungs with sparks and smoke, and each exhale is ripped from him in a scream, burning so hot that it feels like he might actually be breathing fire.

A roar fills his ears, but Red can’t tell if it's his heart or the sound of the flames or the screams of lizalfos as they fall.

He doesn't care what it is either.

Not with the fire around him. In him. Fueling and fueled by him. Breathing his air and stealing it.

All that matters is watching everything turn to ash and–!

A hand, warm but no scalding, catches his wrist.

Red whirls around, intent on wrenching his arm away, in letting the fire burn and burn and burn until it can burn nothing else.

And then he looks down and sees Blue.

Blue who is looking up at him from behind purpled, swollen eyelids. Blue, with blood dripping from his scalp and nose and a cut open cheekbone. Blue, whose left arm looks to be broken even as he holds Red’s wrist tightly with the other.

“It’s okay, Red,” he says, voice hoarse and lips bleeding. “You got them.”

The words enter Red’s ears, but he doesn't quite understand them. The hand that Blue had caught flexes slightly in its hold and the Fire Rod responds to the call of his magic, sparks beginning to sprout of the red gem once again.

“I-” Red coughs, swallows, tries again. “I got them?”

Blue gives him a nod and a weary, bleeding smile.

“You got them,” he confirms in a voice softer than Red thinks he’s heard in a long time. “We’re gonna be okay.”

“We’re…?”

Reality, their situation, it all slams into Red and he whips around, looking back. Behind him is a path of carnage, a path of blacked, scorched dirt, torn and burning scaled bodies, metal gauntlets and tails reduced to misshapen, half melted hunks of steel.

But there, behind the burned dirt and cloud of smoke, beyond any danger, is Green and Vio, the former awake if shaky, still holding on to their unconscious counterpart.

“We’re okay,” Red repeats slowly, numbly, turning back to look at Blue. “We’re safe.”

His body must register the words before his brain does because suddenly his knees are hitting the dirt, bringing Red to sit next to Blue, who wraps his good arm around Red’s shoulder and pulls him gently into his side.

The pain in his lungs and the skin of his hands and any other parts of his body that had been licked by flames, unfortunately, flares to life then, overpowered only by the bone deep exhaustion that comes with using the amount of magic he did.

“We’re safe, we’re okay, we’re safe, we’re okay,” the words keep spilling from Red’s lips in hoarse whispers, even as his throat fails him, and his vision begins to blur.

In the distance, Red thinks he sees eight shapes breaking into a sprint to get to them.

“We’re safe,” Blue agrees, his voice barely making it through the cotton that has stuffed itself into Red’s ears. “You made sure of that.”

Red just hums and nods, letting everything go lax.

They’re safe.

They’re okay.

And knowing that, Red drifts off into the dark, a barely there smile pulling at cracked lips.

#lu four #lu red #lu blue #lu green #lu vio #tw:blood #tw: broken bones #tw: injury #red can go berserker mode #as a treat #red is at the heart of a lot of fours emotions #including seething unstoppable wrath #train writes #can you tell I like elemental symbolism?#linked universe #linkeduniverse

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ddarker-dreams · 3 years ago

Text

Hell Within Reach XI. Chrollo x F Reader

Rating: M (Not SFW implications/violence) Word count: 4k. Misc Info: Your Nen | Survosia

[Hell Within Reach index]

Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

“Excuse me, Mr. Lucilfer?”

Chrollo still hasn’t gotten used to the polite way in which he’s addressed in your home.

It isn’t the first time he’s been referred to with a title signifying upper-class status, he’s infiltrated enough galas and parties under a different identity to have that experience beneath his belt. This is different. His surname is in use — not someone else whose name he read on a plastic card and became for a few hours. He’s begun to realize his preference for not being himself. Close study and rehearsal makes it easy to become a Fitzgerald, heir to some family heirloom, or an Armani, a socialite with access to a safe he wants to crack.

This scenario bars him from doing that. There’s no identity for him to assume other than his own.

How can he play the role of someone he hardly knows?

“Yes, what is it?”

The young maid in front of him replies, “Have you by chance seen Lord Vio— I mean, Lord Ash?”

“I’m afraid I haven’t.”

“I apologize for disturbing you then,” she bows her head and frowns. “If you’ll excuse me.”

And with that, the maid scampers off, talking into an earpiece under her breath. Chrollo catches a few words but thinks little of them. Karina wasn’t far off with her description of the servants here being worker bees. They buzz around, going from one job to another, following orders like nothing else in the world matters. You explained the vetting process to him once. New hires are rare and further incentivized to climb the ranks by fulfilling their tasks to the fullest, since the other workers have been here for generations. The two competing forces encourage each other to never remain complacent in fear of being surpassed by the other.

A bush behind him rustles. “Why didn’t you sell me out?”

Your younger sibling, Ash, has yet to drop their Zetsu. Chrollo figures it must be competent enough to not alert those searching for them. Younger people tend to utilize the basics of Nen better, as the training remains fresh in their minds. You start to lose your grasp on the basics as you age and focus solely on perfecting your Hatsu.

Chrollo considers a wide range of answers. He’s always been confident in his ability to read others and act accordingly, though when it came to you, there were times he wasn’t able to perform as well. It was a kind of problem he hadn’t encountered before. With the Troupe, he felt at home, yet still had unspoken expectations to meet due to being the leader. Regardless, the spiders obeyed his commands with little questioning.

You were much the same. Whatever his orders, you followed them to the letter. So why did he feel pressure unlike anything he’s ever experienced to be what you wanted? Or what he imagined you wanted? Chrollo encouraged you to challenge him, to speak your mind, going out of his way to make that point. What came naturally to the other Troupe members had to be pried from you. While there were members who took no trouble making their voices known, or others who simply adhered in silence, your case struck a chord with him.

There were things you wanted to say, yet you chose not to.

Chrollo used to wonder why that was. You finally offered a piece of the puzzle a few days ago that made the greater picture clearer to him.

“In return, I have a single condition. Do not try to play mind games with me. If you want something, say it. It’ll be a waste of time for us both otherwise.”

For someone who wasn’t truthful with herself, you sure were hellbent on honesty.

“I stood to gain nothing from it,” Chrollo turns around to meet Ash’s non-threatening glare. Their hair is down, unlike yesterday, and they’re wearing something akin to a hospital gown. Bags are present beneath their eyes, which are the same shade as yours. It’s like he’s speaking to a smaller, angrier version of you. Not that he intends to voice that thought.

“Guess so,” they shrug and then wince, sharply exhaling. “Well, whatever your weird reasoning, thanks. I needed a few minutes away from being pumped full of IVs and getting stuck with syringes like a dummy used to practice acupuncture.”

His gamble paid off. Ash values transparency just as much as their older sister does — they’ve visibly loosened up. Chrollo’s intention behind this walk was to scout for the future heist, but he isn’t complaining about this development. Yesterday’s fight stirred up newfound curiosity in your bizarre family. While not the purpose of the trip, Ash’s powerful spike in Ren and subsequent collapse left him with many questions. Most specifically, if that was a technique he could learn himself, or steal.

“How do you feel?”

“Like shit. I really overdid it, only to get this to show for it,” they motion to their body and frown. “I was s’posed to be bedridden for weeks, but for whatever reason, I’m recovering faster. Doesn’t make the pain any more bearable though.”

“You were supposed to be bedridden?”

Ash blinks like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well, yeah. That’s what Corruption does. Wait… don’t tell me…” They smack their forehead and grimace. “Anyway, uh, what’s up with you and my sister? You don’t look like her type.”

They wasted no time changing the subject when they realized Chrollo wasn’t privy to the information. Corruption, huh? That’s a new term. He wonders if you’ll indulge more when away from the prying ears of your home’s thin walls. It would appear that surprises and mysteries came in overabundance wherever you went. The phrasing Ash used doesn’t sound like an ability specific to them; he’s confident he could master it if given the chance. That raises another question. Did you have to go through an experience like that before? Chrollo’s seen you fight, kill, and everything in between; yet you’ve never utilized whatever that technique was.

“Oh, no offense, by the way. Just the last person [First] brought home had real big—ahem, a big personality, I mean. Are you her replacement?”

Ah, yes, Ash must be referring to Karina. They’re far more unfiltered with their thoughts than anyone else here. Enhancers have a habit of wearing their heart on their sleeve, Chrollo’s noticed. Uvogin and Phinks are much the same.

“I’m just someone very interested in your sister,” he responds in truth.

“Well, you and me both. I dunno what she’s thinking about half the time. I hardly ever got to see her, then next thing ya know, she takes off and is outta the country without so much as a goodbye,” Ash looks to the side and he can’t help but think they look pitiable. “Tell me, Chrollo. Is she... happy? Over there, I mean.”

Chrollo finds himself genuinely contemplating the question. He had no intention of getting caught up in your complicated family issues, and here he is, doing just that. If any of the staff members or Estella asked him this, he’d respond yes without hesitation, a convincing smile plastered on his face. That was the identity he took on when interacting with others while on a job. His heart is rarely stirred by the concepts labeled as “compassion” or “empathy”, those words have remained far-fetched ideas for as long as he’s read about them.

There was no compassion in the streets of Meteor City. There was no empathy, either. He recalls reading the phrase “fending for yourself”, and while this could apply to Meteor City at times, it didn’t fall neatly enough into place. Some people didn’t act as they did just to scrape by. They lived as they desired, whether or not it benefited them or met their basic needs; trampling everyone else who was in their way. Or even those who weren’t. And then they’d be eaten up and replaced by a stronger, fiercer force. Thus, the cycle would begin anew, of those boasting power trampling everyone else. It’s a system he was intimately familiar with, no matter how hard he tried to forget.

Regardless of that predator-like mentality he was forced to adopt, Chrollo finds himself answering with a sort of kindness he was unaware he possessed.

“I think that she’s trying to be.”

“Oh, now listen to this. One of the other six major houses had a proper disownership for the first time in ages. Adar Othena — you remember him, don’t you? He attended your eighteenth birthday party and brazenly flirted with the maids the entire time. Well, as it turns out, he’d been the one leaking information to the press of his mother’s affairs. Rumor has it he’s started a motorcycle gang in the capital and legally changed his name to The Headless Horseman. How does one have the first name The? Does that not get confusing? Ah, and then there’s the Colevine’s, you wouldn’t believe the rumors circulating about them ever since the patriarch went missing in Yorbia…”

These types of discussions were about as invigorating as watching grass grow. If this was Estella’s revenge on you then it’s the most effective torture, far worse than nair removal or any other archaic methods such as that. Perhaps you could suggest this to Feitan at a later time. The first real conversation you had with him was when he approached you one night and asked you to translate a book containing medieval Survosian torture methods. Yet another memorable instance with the eccentric Phantom Troupe members. They’re a unique bunch.

Aside from that hack of a clown masquerading as a magician, you hold them all in high esteem.

“My dear sister,” Estella pokes your cheek. “You could at least pretend to listen.”

“I was.”

She switches to squeezing your cheek. “For having such an excellent poker face, you make for a terrible liar. I wonder why that is.”

You and Chrollo had split up for this portion of the job. He was off to use his expertise in thievery to search for potential leads, while you were meant to somehow convince Estella to grant toy clemency after Victor Avalor’s death. The main problem is that there are eyes and ears everywhere. Maids and other servants carrying out their jobs were vigilant in listening and reporting back to Xue Ya, who would then, in turn, inform your father. (Apparently, Ash disappeared from their bed this morning, stirring up a wasp’s nest of activity. The thought amused you greatly).

Estella has her arm wrapped securely around yours, leading you for a walk about the gardens. A year prior, you declined these invitations to join her on leisurely strolls, knowing that it’d be a cesspool of gossip and idle chit-chat. No such option was available to you now. You need to solidify your position in Estella’s good graces if the plan is to succeed. Otherwise…

“—And, if worst comes to worst, [First] always bested her elder sister during sparring.”

What is it with the people you knew having next to no tact? Hypocritical as it might be for you to think that.

Estella claps her hands together. “I just remembered! What did you think of my little gift? Were you able to get a wink of rest last night, hm?”

The sets of lingerie did aid you to an unprecedented degree. You had come close to sleeping with Chrollo over something as inconsequential as scanty fabric — though you suppose that tension was building for some time. The memory of feverish touches and husky whispers warms your face. Everything happened so fast, there was no denying that you were caught up in the moment. That doesn’t mean you regret it. Whatever your oddly intimate relationship with Chrollo is, you delight in every second.

“Disregard the question,” she hums, squeezing your arm tight. “Your facial expressions have sufficed for an answer. Young love is something, isn’t it?”

“You’re four years my elder.”

“And what irreplaceable things those four years have taught me! Why, I can name every province and its corresponding family in the country, even the flowers most likely to be grown in their estate’s garden. Don’t underestimate the value of four years, my sweet [First].”

You suppress a laugh at that. “Should I ever require botany lessons, you’ll be the first person I call.”

The two of you turn a corner in the hedge maze and Estella suddenly halts. You’re greeted with the sight of a white marble fountain, surrounded by various stone benches. She tries to cover her change in aura, which seeped the slightest bit of bloodlust at the change in scenery. It’s too late, you caught onto the shift in the atmosphere, quick as it was. Neither of you says a word as the sound of running water drowns out nearby chirping birds and whistling wind chimes.

This was the spot where she…

“You never told me why you did it.”

Her fingers dig into your skin. “You never asked.”

Estella always described herself as having a specific role to play in the grand performance of life. She was meant to be the connection builder, the personable member of your family, a nurturing older sister who picked up where your mother left off. That was the set of burdens she considered her responsibilities. Her Nen development reflected this. As a Manipulator, her Hatsu, Waking Nightmare, had multiple purposes. It fed off the fear of the affected individual and projected their worst, most dormant nightmares back to them. Extensive exposure could lead to psychosis.

Then there was your training.

The sight of blood lost its novelty to you early in your childhood. Xue Ya unsheathed her rapier, pricked her finger, and showed it to you. You remember how the crimson droplet accumulated, then within seconds, dripped down the length of her finger before falling onto the ground.

“This is the substance that grants human beings life,” she told you. “And it’s what you will learn to take away.”

You came to this spot many moons ago to retrieve Estella for an event. She had upped and vanished, abandoning you to entertaining various social climbers and politicians, much to your chagrin. A servant informed you that Lady Estella went to the gardens to get some fresh air. The walk was silent, the night sky shrouded with clouds, and the only thing on your mind was chiding her for abandoning you to the wolves.

What you weren’t expecting to see was your sickeningly sweet sister repeatedly stabbing a body in the chest.

She didn’t notice you for the first few seconds. In her hand was a knife, procured from the banquet hall, rising then falling again and again and again. The mutilated figure wore a shredded tuxedo, innumerable puncture marks marring his limp body. From all the blood that gushed out, you deduced it was a fresh kill, perhaps taking place a minute before you happened upon the scene. Otherwise, the heart, which stops pumping at death, wouldn’t allow for the gratuitous amount of bleeding which took place. Her beautiful gown, manicured nails, stylized hair — everything was drenched.

In the pale moonlight, you saw your sister’s true colors for the first time.

You had to apply pressure to her wrist as she refused to put the knife down. Her eyes were glazed over, and you’re convinced she didn’t recognize you at first. You calmly instructed her to get cleaned up while you handled the rest. The remains didn’t belong to an important individual, so a coverup wasn’t necessary. Dismembering and properly disposing of the body didn’t take much time either. The process had long been ingrained into your memory by then. By the time you instructed a servant to deal with everything else, Estella was boarded up in her room, having offered the excuse to your father that she felt ill.

“Would you tell me if I did?” You inquire.

“... Probably not,” she rests her head on your shoulder. “I never thanked you, now that I’m thinking about it.”

“Don’t worry yourself over it.”

Time isn’t an infinite resource. You wish there was some reliable method to communicate your thoughts without others overhearing, who knows when you’ll have another opportunity to be alone with her again. Planning for The Mother’s Blessing festival would soon consume her schedule. It was a miracle that she managed to squeeze in this small amount of time with you.

“I knew you there from the start,” she speaks up after a moment of prolonged silence. “For once, it didn’t matter. I wasn’t thinking about etiquette, poise, or presentation.”

You look at her from the corner of your eye. “What were you thinking about, then?”

“Nothing,” is her breathless response. She smiles like she doesn’t have a care in the world. “Absolutely nothing. And by the gods, was it divine.”

It’s impossible to know what to say. Maybe if you were someone like Chrollo, who oozes charisma, you could think of a clever quip to tie the conversation up. Some insightful one-liner that’d tickle her fancy. Your tongue is still and your heart is weighed down by a profound heaviness that you thought you did away with.

Without giving it much thought, you wrap your arms around her, in an almost robotic motion. You’re stiff and awkward, yet you hope the idea gets through that thick head of hers. Embracing is a form of physical contact you never felt the need to initiate. There wasn’t much of a point to it. The position also leaves you vulnerable, which is an off-putting notion. You push your usual reasoning aside in favor of possibly making Estella feel better. This is how people comfort each other, isn’t it?

Estella reciprocates your embrace, and asks, “We’re awful, aren’t we?”

“A bit.”

“The world would be a better place without us, wouldn’t it?”

The spider tattoo on your body burns.

“... Probably.”

“Why do we even exist?”

“To live for ourselves or others.”

She pulls you back by your shoulders and gazes deep into your eyes, her mascara just starting to run from the fresh tears. Then she sighs, shakes her head, and squeezes her eyelids shut. You wait in silence while she takes the time to get herself together. A handkerchief is procured from your pocket, and you use it to dab at the black liquid smeared across her cheeks.

“If it’s any comfort,” you press the cloth to her dewy skin, “I don’t remember feeling much either.”

Estella laughs at that. “Somehow, that makes me feel infinitely worse.”

“My apologies.”

She quietly thanks you and takes a makeup mirror out. You hand over the handkerchief, watching with interest as she skillfully fixes her appearance up. Nothing good comes from being in the gardens, you decide. There’s something about being immersed in nature that makes people sentimental. You’ll blame the pollen.

She snaps the mirror shut. “My goodness, what a wreck I am! Don’t concern yourself with silly ol’ me. You know how I can get during Virgo season.”

(You don’t know how she gets during Virgo season. Or what Virgo season means. Wasn’t that a character in Dante’s Divine Comedy?).

“Humor me one more time,” Estella holds her pointer finger up for extra emphasis.

“At that moment, I was using my Nen. You should’ve been in close enough range to be affected by it. Hence my question, dear sister. What exactly did you see? People shriek the most interesting names out when in Waking Nightmare’s radius. Frankenstein, Dracula, their ex-wife’s name… you wouldn’t believe the things I’ve heard.”

Her appearance wasn’t altered in the slightest when you encountered her.

“... I can’t say I remember.”

She gives you a long, thoughtful stare that you match.

“Hm. What a pity.”

“You’re more than welcome to sleep on the bed.”

After emerging from your shower, you spot Chrollo reading on your bed like he did the night prior. The cool air from the AC clings to your damp skin and makes you shiver. Everything about the scene before you feels so domestic, so casual. No longer was there a pressure to maintain a false pretense that kept you on edge — you could just be yourself.

He insisted he should sleep on the couch when you made this offer last night. Exhaustion was too formidable an enemy for you to offer a rebuttal, but you’ll try again tonight. It doesn’t sit well with you that you’re making your guest sleep on the couch.

“How bold,” he hums. “Are you inviting me to bed you?”

The innuendo has you swallowing thickly. What else were you expecting him to say? You refuse to get flustered so easily. In the time you’ve spent with Chrollo, you’ve learned to rebound from embarrassment quickly.

“And if I am?”

“Then consider me tempted.”

Grey eyes take in every dip and curve of your body, which is clothed in nothing but black yoga pants and a camisole top. He takes his time drinking in the sight of you through thick eyelashes. Not wanting to go entirely at his pace, you take a seat next to him on the bed, and lower his still open book with your hands.

“Just tempted?” You challenge, leaning over to grant a clear view of your cleavage. Chrollo doesn’t bother acting like you haven’t stolen his full attention.

“Very,” he smiles, brushing his knuckles over your cheek. “I’m afraid that if I lay next to you, I’ll end up breaking a rule of mine.”

“And what rule would that be?”

“No sleeping on the job.”

You scrunch your eyebrows together. “I never took you for a strict rule follower type.”

“For good reason — I rarely am.”

“A true professional,” you rest your head against his shoulder. “I’ll be glad when this is all said and done.”

“You want to bed me that badly?”

“Oh, I’m absolutely desperate. It’s a wonder I haven’t shed my undergarments and thrown myself at you already.”

“Now that would make for a lovely sight,” he sighs.

“Agreed,” you close your eyes and smile. “I suppose you’ll just have to wait until our wedding night.”

“I’ll be counting down the days.”

It’s perplexing how your pounding heart and the dizzying thrill which accompanies it shifts into a natural calm. Maybe it’s the effect of the shower, his deep voice, or the soft bed sheets, but your eyelids refuse to open. You forgot how nice it is to bask in the presence of another. Moments like these allow the rest of the world to fade into background noise, your problems nothing more than a weak buzz. What a shame that it couldn’t stay that way forever.

“Your father is returning home tomorrow, correct?”

A shame indeed. The topic of business is a dreadful one in this instance.

“That’s what I was told,” you bite your cheek. There’s far more you want to say, years old doubts longing to manifest on your tongue. You don’t think you could go over everything if you tried. A single image burns in your mind like a faint, developing photograph. The mahogany desk situated in your father’s office which served as a barrier between you and him. The line he drew in the sand, which you never dared to pass, would finally be approached. Your argument with him last year wouldn’t even compare. Driving your blade through his flesh never crossed your mind then, as if the possibility was worlds away.

Now it’s within your grasp. All that's left for you to do is seize the opportunity.

Your unsightly defiance would come to its culmination. Whether it was successful or a complete disaster, you knew no other path was viable, so long as you wanted to live with your pride. Running away was a solution that had an expiration date. That’s what you thought then, as you left this life behind, and what you think now.

“I for one am looking forward to it,” Chrollo breaks you from your reverie with his deep, soothing voice. “So please, if you would… lend me your strength.”

“Only if you lend me yours.”

#chrollo x reader #chrollo lucilfer x reader #hxh x reader #hunter x hunter x reader #hell within reach #my stuff

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