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dystopicjumpsuit · 1 year ago

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Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 10

Do I Know You?

Rating: Mature/18+/Minors DNI

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.8k

Warnings: fluff; suggestive dialogue; angst; Star Wars politics; Bad Batch Season 2 spoilers

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Maree was profoundly grateful for her high neckline the next morning. Kix had been thorough in his attentions, with the result that her chest, shoulders, and thighs were covered with small marks and bruises. In fairness, Maree had given as good as she’d gotten, and Kix’s torso was similarly adorned. Luckily, all evidence of their rough night was hidden from the disapproving eyes of the Neimoidian administrator who checked them into the Imperial Military Records Archive.

“We don’t often receive visitors from the general population,” he said. “This is highly irregular.”

“Uncommon, perhaps, but hardly irregular,” Maree replied. “You’ll find that the paperwork is all in order. My assistant is extremely conscientious.”

“Hmmph,” said the Neimoidian, shooting a suspicious glare at Kix. “You look familiar. Have we met before?”

“I doubt it,” Kix said mildly.

Whatever darkness had plagued him the night before seemed to have receded for the moment, and Kix was in notably better spirits today. This was possibly due to the three more times they’d had sex after reaching her hotel room. Maree, on the other hand, was feeling the effects of the lack of sleep, and her patience was dangling by its final thread.

“Is there a problem with our credentials?” Maree asked. “I’m sure the NRGL Archive would be happy to corroborate my identity.”

“That won’t be necessary,” the administrator sniffed. “You are quite well-known to us, Dr. Finnall. It’s your guest whose credentials are in question.”

Maree suppressed her irritation. “I understood that he had already passed the mandatory background check when we received approval for his visit. Is there some further requirement that we were not informed of?”

“No,” the Neimoidian said begrudgingly. “But you will need to sign this waiver accepting full responsibility for any damage or wrongdoing he may perpetrate in the IMRA.”

Maree signed the document without hesitation, and at last, the administrator waved them through. Next, they were scanned for weapons and other contraband, and finally, they passed through a row of New Republic Defense Force peacekeepers.

“Heavy security for a bunch of dusty old relics,” Kix commented.

Maree nodded cordially at the guards. “There’s more in the IMRA than just personnel files. This archive contains weapons schematics, documentation on banned research, and other sensitive information that is in high demand on the black market. I have security clearance for my work, but even I can’t access some of the classified records.”

They passed through the entrance into a vast chamber with towering ceilings. Data terminals lined the walls, and numerous researchers milled about. This section of the IMRA was accessible to researchers and students without security clearance, but in order to access the restricted records, Maree had reserved a private office for their work, and she led Kix quickly through the echoing hall.

“Why do you need security clearance?” Kix asked curiously.

“I am a senior research faculty member, so the scope of my responsibilities is quite extensive. While I am available to assist individual citizens like you, I spend a significant amount of my time supporting the New Republic Judiciary in their efforts to prosecute Imperial war criminals.”

Kix looked surprised. “I had no idea. Are there many war criminals left from the early Empire?”

“Not so many. Most of them have died of old age, if they haven’t already been apprehended. But it’s often helpful to have a team of researchers whose specialties span the full history of the Empire. It provides important context, and given the Empire’s penchant for nepotism, it can help us trace connections between early Imperials and those who came later.”

“That sounds like important work,” Kix said thoughtfully.

“It is,” Maree said. “Though I sometimes am frustrated to see all of our effort go to waste when the New Republic offers an Imperial amnesty in exchange for giving up a few secrets.”

Kix drew a breath to respond, but before he could, a voice called, “Dr. Finnall!”

She turned to see an unfamiliar young Mirialan man hurrying towards them.

“Can I help you?” she asked.

“It is you!” he puffed. “I recognized you from your keynote address at the Galactic Military History conference last cycle. My name is Orys Brenko. I’m a graduate student at the University of Coruscant.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Brenko,” Maree replied mechanically. Could the man not see that she was occupied?

“The honor is mine, Dr. Finnall,” he said. “Your book on the battle of Scipio inspired me to study military history. The description of Commander Thorn’s last stand was so vivid. Before I read it, I never knew how compelling history could be. I was reading it on the hovertrain, and I was so caught up that I actually missed my stop!”

Kix merely stood and observed in impassive silence, his gaze flicking between Maree and Brenko.

“That is very kind of you to say, Mr. Brenko,” Maree said with a geniality she was far from feeling. She itched to get started on Kix’s project, but she couldn’t bring herself to snub the enthusiastic young man. “Are you studying the Clone Wars?”

“Er, no,” Brenko said, abashed. “My focus is the High Republic era.”

Of course. She didn’t roll her eyes, but it was a near miss.

“A fascinating period,” she said diplomatically. “I would love to stay and chat, but I’m afraid I have a prior engagement. Good luck in your studies.”

“Oh, yes, of course!” Brenko stammered. “B-but, before you go, would you mind signing my datapad? I have it loaded with all of your publications, and it would mean so much to me.”

Maree blinked. This was a first. She’d never been asked for an autograph before. In spite of the gaucheness of Brenko’s request, Maree was impressed with the young man’s dedication to the pursuit of knowledge. When she’d been a graduate student, she hadn’t had the bandwidth to read anything other than her assigned coursework. She was surprised Brenko had made time in between his studies to read her extensive body of work, especially since their areas of study had very little overlap.

“I don’t have a stylus, sorry,” she said. “Out of curiosity, why did you choose to concentrate on the High Republic era when you are so obviously interested in the Clone Wars? We could use more passionate researchers who focus on that era.”

The young man’s face flushed a dark green under his tattoos. “My parents would only agree to pay for my schooling if I chose a marketable course of study. As you know, the Clone Wars are…”

“Not exactly marketable,” Maree finished. “A pity. Well, if you ever happen to be on Hosnian Prime, please feel free to stop by my office at the Archive, and I’ll sign your datapad. But be warned, I’ll probably try to poach you for my own research team.”

Brenko’s mouth dropped open and his datapad clattered to the floor. “Th-thank you, Dr. Finnall! I will!”

Maree excused herself as Brenko stooped to retrieve the pad, and she and Kix resumed their walk. Brenko stood back and watched them with an awestruck expression.

“I had no idea I was sleeping with a celebrity,” Kix murmured under his breath.

“Shove it,” she whispered. “It was much more awkward for me than it was for you.”

“Do you have an official fan club I can join?” he asked with a perfectly straight face.

“Maybe you should talk to Brenko about setting one up. You’d have two whole members,” she retorted.

They reached the office and closed the door behind them. Kix immediately crowded Maree up against the desk, burying his face against her neck and trailing kisses toward her ear.

“Dr. Finnall, would you sign my ass? I was so inspired by the way you wrapped your legs around it while I was pounding into you last night,” he teased.

“Dick,” she laughed, swatting the back of his head.

“You’d rather sign my dick? That’s fine, too.”

“Mmm, there’s certainly enough room,” she said, stroking him through his trousers with a languid sigh. Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed a small blinking red dot. “Dank farrik, Kix, there are security holocams in here. Behave yourself.”

“Sorry, Doc, I couldn’t help myself,” he said, fluttering his eyelashes. “You’re just so inspiring.”

She laughed again, pressed her lips against his and dipped her tongue into his mouth, then pushed him firmly away. They had work to do, and she had a sinking feeling that Kix’s cheerful mood wouldn’t last long once they got started.

“Stop distracting me,” she said as she powered up the holoprojector.

Kix frowned. “Wait, I thought these records are classified. What about the security holocams? Do the guards have clearance?”

“The system has an override built in. If a classified record is being displayed, the holocam feeds are turned off automatically.”

“Good to know,” Kix said with a smirk. “Just in case I’m feeling inspired later.”

“Incorrigible,” Maree muttered.

She spent some time searching the archive inventory for the troopers on Kix’s list. It took longer than she expected, but at last she crowed in victory as she located the records for the Republic Star Destroyer Tribunal. As they waited for an IMRA droid to retrieve and deliver the data chips Maree requested, Kix’s stomach rumbled. Maree checked the chronometer on the wall and realized it was already mid-afternoon.

“Should I order lunch to be delivered from the cafeteria?” she offered. “Or if you’d prefer, we can walk over. It’s inside the Archive, so we won’t have to go through security again.”

“Aren’t you afraid of being mobbed by your legions of adoring fans?” he asked.

“I think you mean ‘fan,’ singular,” she said. “But that is a fair point. We’ll get delivery.”

She pulled up the menu on the holoprojector, and they made their selections. When Maree apologized that she couldn’t offer him anything better than cafeteria food, Kix merely shrugged.

“I’m used to it. It’s probably better than what I’m used to, actually.”

He shifted and put his feet up on the chair across from him. The office was austere, and it lacked any of the comforts with which she had filled her own workspace. The hard plastech chairs were making Maree’s legs fall asleep, so she stood up to stretch and walk around the joyless room. Kix watched from his own seat.

“So,” he said conversationally, “come here often?”

She snorted. “More often than I’d like.”

“Not a fan of Coruscant?” he asked.

She shook her head. “I went to university here. That was long enough for a lifetime.”

“So not your vacation destination of choice, then.”

She shook her head. “Work. Always work. It seems like that’s all I ever do lately.”

“Doesn’t the New Republic offer vacation leave?” Kix asked.

“Who has the time for that?”

“Too busy saving the galaxy from war criminals?”

“Ah yes, the glamorous, exciting life of a professional nerd,” she said. “How could anything else compare?”

“You could always run away and become a pirate,” Kix joked.

Maree laughed. “My mother would kill me.”

“The Ranger?” he asked.

“She retired last year,” Maree said. “Spends all her time tormenting Eema. Honestly, Baba might enjoy the challenge of hunting down my hypothetical pirate crew. I think she misses the action.”

The door chimed, and a service droid entered with their food delivery. They divvied up the food and started to eat.

“It must be hard to transition to civilian life after she spent so many years fighting,” Kix said.

“Was the transition hard for you?” Maree asked.

“I suppose you could say that,” Kix said quietly.

“I bet you’d get along well with Baba,” Maree said. Kix looked startled, and Maree cursed her clumsiness. “If you ever met, I mean. Which you probably wouldn’t. Because she and Eema live on Adelphi, and I’m guessing you don’t get out that way much. But if you did, I bet they’d like you.”

Ugh. Stop talking, you idiot!

Kix blinked, and a slow smile crept across his face. “You want me to meet your moms?”

“No!” Maree said, feeling the heat rush to her cheeks. “Not unless you wanted to.”

He poked around in his food, probably hoping to find a bite with flavor. “I never had a mother,” he mused. “It must have been nice to have two.”

His voice was stark with longing, and Maree’s heart twisted.

“It was,” Maree said softly. “It is. They’re pretty amazing.”

“They sound pretty amazing. No surprise they raised an amazing daughter,” Kix said. “I hope I do get to meet them someday. If I ever make it to Adelphi.”

Oh. This man is dangerous, Maree realized.

The data chips were delivered just after Kix and Maree finished eating lunch, and they got to work immediately. Maree loaded the chips into the holoprojector and began sorting through them, organizing the information in some way that made the most sense to her. Kix took a moment to admire her focus, even as he braced himself to uncover the final few pieces of the puzzle they’d been constructing over the past weeks. She was supremely competent, and he felt a stab of guilt that he’d monopolized so much of her time when she was accustomed to doing far more valuable work for the New Republic. She hadn’t said a word of complaint; in fact, he suspected she never would have mentioned her service to the Judiciary if he hadn’t asked.

Once she had the information laid out to her satisfaction, she began reviewing the files with him. They worked through several individual troopers and units—Kix’s closest brothers; members of the 501st, the 212th, the 104th. Many of them survived into the Imperial era. A surprising number went AWOL after Order 66. Kix was horrified to learn that one of his close friends had had a mental breakdown and executed his entire squad within days of the order. After that, he requested a short break, ostensibly to stretch his legs.

He went into the refresher and splashed his face with cold water, then dried himself carefully, making sure no telltale droplets remained in his hair or beard. When he looked in the mirror, every one of his brothers stared back at him. Kix could feel the tide of panic rising in his chest. He closed his eyes and stood silently for a few moments, breathing in through his nose and out through his mouth until his heart rate stabilized.

When he returned to the office, Maree was waiting with two bottles of water she’d procured from some unknown source. He smiled, remembering the other times she had offered him water when he was clinging to the ragged edges of his control. She seemed to sense his distress even when he thought he was hiding it well, and he felt a small pang in his chest as he realized that her first instinct was always to take care of him. It was an unfamiliar experience, and it made him want to curl up in her lap and bask in the attention like a pampered tooka. She watched to make sure he drank some of the water, and then she rubbed her hand between his shoulders comfortingly. He leaned into the contact with a sigh.

“I’m ready to keep going, if you are,” he said.

“I’m not in a hurry,” she said. “We can take as long as you need.”

“Thanks, but I can handle it,” he replied.

“All right." She patted his back one last time and returned to her seat at the desk. "In that case, the next entry on the list is the experimental unit you requested, Clone Force 99. It looks as though four of the members defected immediately after Order 66.” She paused, and her eyebrows snapped together in surprise. “That’s unusual. Most of the mass clone defections didn’t happen for some time after the Empire took power. Scholars have theorized that the inhibitor chips were either designed to have a limited duration, or that the energy required to control the clones’ actions simply fried the chips over time.”

“Why do you suppose these clones defected so early?” Kix asked.

“It’s difficult to say. They were experimental, so it’s possible that their physiology was different enough from regular clones that the chips were incompatible with them. Though at least one of the squad members seems to have been affected. CT-9904, Crosshair, did not defect with the rest of his squad.”

“Is there any record of them afterward?”

Maree frowned. “Yes. The four squad members who defected were taken into custody on Kamino several months later. They were reported to have been killed when Tipoca City was destroyed.”

Kix’s mouth went dry. What the kriff? When did that happen? How had he not known about Tipoca City?

Maree was still speaking. “... unconfirmed accounts that the team was still active for some time after. At least one member was claimed to have been killed on Eriadu, which certainly throws doubt on the validity of the original report.”

Licking his lips, he tried to keep his voice steady as he asked, “What—what about Crosshair?”

Maree scrolled further. “Ah, here it is. Crosshair was promoted to the rank of Commander and continued to serve the Empire until—oh.”

Kix leaned forward. “What is it?”

“He killed his commanding officer on a mission,” she said. “He was arrested and sent to a military prison compound. That’s the end of his file, I’m afraid.”

Kix nodded absently, his eyes unfocused. Truth be told, he hadn’t much cared for the churlish sniper, but Kix knew what a military prison compound meant for clones, and he would not wish such a fate on any of his brothers. Something she’d said nagged at him.

“Did you say four squad members defected?” he asked.

“Yes,” she said. “Hunter, Tech, Wrecker, and Echo fled Kamino after kidnapping a young child. My gods, this squad is incredible! How have I never heard of them before now?”

So Echo stayed with the Bad Batch even after the war. Kix was glad to know the ARC trooper had found a place to belong after everything he’d been through. It was a strange detail about the child, though.

“What child?” he asked.

“It doesn’t say,” Maree said. “But at least I know what thread my research is going to follow for the next few months.”

Her eyes were sparkling with curiosity and excitement, and for a moment, Kix simply watched her work. She tapped a few quick notes into her datapad before returning her attention to the holorecord and scrolling a little further. Her nose scrunched up slightly as she read.

“Fascinating,” she whispered.

Exactly the word I was searching for, he thought. Fascinating. Enchanting. Bewitching. Enticing. Adorable. Irresistible.

She noticed him staring and abruptly stopped scrolling with a self-deprecating laugh.

“Sorry,” she said. “Sometimes I get lost in the zone.”

“Not at all,” he said. “You really care about all this, don’t you?”

“I do,” she replied simply.

Kix glanced at the security holocam and noted that the red light was no longer blinking. Impulsively, he stood and strode around the desk. Maree automatically rose out of her chair as he approached, and he reached for her, drawing her close to him as his lips crashed down on hers. He kissed her deeply, holding her face in his hands. He never wanted this moment to end. At last, their lips parted, and he rested his forehead against hers as she took a deep, stuttering inhale. She looked at him with dazed eyes.

“What was that for?” she whispered.

“I felt inspired,” he said, hiding the truth behind a cocky grin.

Her eyes crinkled as she laughed quietly. Suddenly, he didn’t want to know anything else. He didn’t want to be in this stuffy, miserable hole of an office learning about tragedies that unfolded half a century before. He just wanted to take Maree back to her hotel room and spend the rest of his artificially shortened life making love to her. She smelled like tea and honey and spiced biscuits and home, and he wanted to sink into her and disappear forever.

“Only one more data chip to go,” she said. “Shall we finish up and head back to the hotel?”

Kix buried his face in her hair and breathed deeply. “That’s the best idea I’ve heard all day.”

He pressed one more kiss onto the top of her head, then returned to his seat as Maree pulled up the contents of the remaining data chip. Unfortunately, Maree had unknowingly saved the worst for the last: the final report of the 332nd Division.

“The 332nd never completed their mission to deliver Maul to Coruscant after the siege of Mandalore,” Maree said.

Kix gritted his teeth, and his fingernails bit painfully into his palms. “What happened?”

“Several years after the end of the war, Imperial forces located the wreckage of the Star Destroyer Tribunal on a remote moon,” Maree said. “Most on board were killed; however, military records indicate that there must have been some survivors, as the clones had been given proper burials. As we know from our earlier research, Commander Rex survived, and it seems likely that he was the one who buried the fallen. We also know from later history that Maul survived. Given his track record, it is probable that he was responsible for the crash.”

“Is there a list of those who were killed?” he asked.

“Due to the amount of time that had passed by the time the crash was discovered, and the impossibility of genetic testing to tell the clones apart, all aboard were listed as killed in action.”

He felt sick. He nodded his acknowledgement, unable to speak. Jesse really was gone. He’d known it was true, of course. Jesse would have died decades earlier, even if he’d survived the war. The clones’ accelerated aging would have seen to that. But somehow, knowing exactly how his brother had died made it so much worse, so much more real. Once again, the crushing weight of helplessness and grief smothered him. He was only dimly aware of Maree loading the data chips into a secure case to be returned to the archive.

Soon, he felt the pressure of her hand on his as she guided him out of the building and into the half-light of a Coruscant dusk. Maree hailed an air taxi and nudged him into it, sliding in beside him. She murmured directions to the driver—Kix didn’t hear what she said. The lights of Coruscant rushed by in dizzying streaks as they flew toward their destination. Maree was silent next to him, but she slipped her hand into his and interlaced their fingers comfortingly. Kix tightened his grip on her, clinging desperately to the steady contact that felt like the only solid thing in the chaotic galaxy around him.

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Chapter 11

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @goblininawig @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella

#clone medic kix #sw tcw fanfic #bad batch spoilers #kix x oc #post stasis kix #dystopicjumpsuit writes #martyrs and kings

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ruckis--rookie · 1 year ago

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Order of the Stars: Heroes of the Morning Stars

Ch. 1 - Heroes Collide

[Standard Issue Disclaimer: Some of the following content may prove to be graphic. To prevent spoilers the following warning has been provided. Readers discretion advised. I do not condone any behaviors that may be acted out by characters.]

“It’s after this nuclear fallout that the surviving human populace returned to the surface, not knowing what to expect. The air was breathable. Nature was healing… And the animals had evolved. Not just in terms of appearance, either. Historians say that at the time Animals evolved to be even bigger, with most evolving to stand on two legs. They displayed human-like characteristics” A low, soft voice echoed from the speakers on the old fashioned box tv hung in the corner of the store. “But they also showed aggression and wariness towards the humans. And so, a plan was devised to create a barrier to keep anything inhumane out. Fearing what this newfound evolution in animals could entail. This was the start of the proud lands we call the Neo-Dome. A land built to protect human tradition and keep out the savages.”

Aleron huffs in annoyance at the history documentary on the TV. The strokes of his brushes with the broom grow more forcible in attempts to drown out the noise of the TV by scraping the bristles against the grey concrete flooring. Not paying attention to what he's doing, he bumps the corner of the broom right into the front counter. It makes him jump a slight, staring at the disorganized tabletop. Deciding to do some tidying up he leans the broom against the counter and walks over to the cashier’s side. From there he starts by taking up any papers he can find and straightening them out into a bundle, setting them off neatly to the side. He does this a few times until absolutely every thin sheet is out of the way. After that he moves on to picking up smaller things on the counter such as pencils and pens, putting them in the mug that they had been using as a pencil holder.

He stares at the small, chibi canid cartoon character printed on the front of it. That bubbly, round character sporting a vibrant smile. Heroic in appearance with white fur, black spotted ears, and deep red billowing scarf styled cape. The show’s gotten quite popular over the years, and Aleron himself certainly enjoys the message behind it. Looking at it he almost forgets the annoyance he held towards the documentary… oh yeah, the documentary.

His smile fades, but he simply takes a deep breath as he hunkers down to check the underside of the counter. He spots a black glint underneath. grabbing at it, he pulls it out and feels immediate relief. “Aha, there’s the remote.” He straightens himself and lifts his arm towards the TV, changing the channel in hopes of finding something less grating to hear. The very next channel takes him to the news where an older man speaks in a low, gravely voice. “Recent reports say that the population of abomination animals seen in the Neo-Dome have been rising, as have reports of thievery. It is very likely that these two things are tied. Authorities are advising that you have your traps set out-”

Before anything else can be said with a frustrated growl Aleron turns the TV off. He cared the discrimination against modern day animals. It wasn’t fair, he thought, they’re living, thinking beings too. He perks up hearing the door to the back open. A tall, thin, dark man with buzzed black hair and a sculpted beard walks in. “Why you so mad? Something happen?” The man asks, puzzled. “Nah, just nothing good on TV” Aleron explains. “Usually nothing much on anyways this late at night” The man says while walking in with a friendly smile, and continues, “Anyways I set the traps up for you since I know how much you don’t like doing it.” Aleron breathes a sigh of relief, nodding. “Thanks, Jer” He murmurs, leaning his hands against the counter. “No problem man, but hey. Just remember, it’s Jerome while I’m still on my shift” He teases to try and lighten the mood.

Aleron gives a half-hearted chuckle before hanging his head. Jerome’s smile falters, seeing something’s clearly got his friend down. He approaches and has a seat at the mandatory one chair that the store is required to give workers. “...Wanna talk about it?” Jerome offers, hardly getting a response in return. He looks Aleron up and down, his gaze stopping when he gets to his dye stained forehead. “...Is it the red dye?” he questions. Aleron looks up and over at him incredulously. “What? No. No… Although I am kind of upset about it. I wasn’t thinking and I ruined my favorite white button up shirt. But that’s not it… Rent’s been going up again and I’m hardly making enough to cover it, let alone buy some food for myself. Finding new places to live is getting difficult so I might have to pick up a second job, but I’m overworked as is.”

Jerome’s expression softens into understanding. A very saddened, empathetic expression. “I’m sorry to hear that man… if you ever need help with food I can try and pitch in”. Aleron shakes his head no. “I appreciate the help but I feel like I’ve asked too much of you as of late. I feel bad because I can’t do anything in retu-” Aleron is hushed gently before he has time to go into a rant. “It’s okay. You help those in need even if they can’t give back. Ain’t that what you told me?” Aleron lowers his head once more before nodding. “I guess so…” Jerome passes a warm smile, continuing, “then you should really be taking your own advice. You’ve helped me out plenty in the past so now it’s my time to help you”. Aleron smiles. Genuine this time. “You always know what to say huh Jer… er, Jerome”. Jerome laughs and shakes his head playfully. “I like to think I do” He says and stands up and gives Alern a hearty pat on the shoulder before passing him.

“And I think you look good in yellow, especially with that flame-y hair style you got going on… You should wear flannel more often”. Aleron perks up with an inquisitive look. “You really think so?” Aleron asks. Jerome just nods and gives him this cool guy smirk while looking Al up and down. Maybe in an attempt to cheer him up, maybe with sincerity, who knows. A thunder rumbles outside, making the two look at the window. After a moment of silence Aleron pipes up. “I wonder who did what to make Lunarr mad” Al wonders. “Maybe his brother pissed him off again” Jerome jokes. “But that’s probably my cue to get leaving… You gonna be good closing on your own? The wife and kids are expecting me.” Aleron nods, and responds, “Yeah I should be good here.” Jerome talks while walking backwards in the direction of the door. “Don’t forget to put up the new comics. The boss’ll have both our hind ends if they don’t get shelved.”

“I know I know, I should have it done before the rain hits” Aleron answers. “Sounds good to me” Jerome chirps, stopping at the door and cracking it open using his hip. “You should come over for dinner sometime. I’m sure Chantal and the kids would love to see you again.” That’s what Jerome leaves Aleron with before waving goodbye and rushing out to his car. Aleron watches him, listening to the hiss of the door as it slowly shuts itself followed by the click of it closing. He stands up fully and walks over to retrieve the box from the corner of the store. He opens up the flaps of the box, putting up new issues for comics one by one. He takes his time to look at all the illustrations of each book, appreciating the artistry. Gritty ones, cutesy ones, exaggerated ones, and dynamic ones. These books really help bring the place to life considering this is the most bland standard issue corner of the street comic book stores you can imagine. With its grey floors and its textured white walls. It looks more like an office than it does a comic book store. “It makes the comic books pop out more I suppose…” He murmurs.

The stack of books in the box get thinner and thinner until there’s only two left. Aleron carefully picks it up to look at the back of it, before turning it to the front. He sets the box down to hold the book with both hands, feeling the protective plastic covering of it. It’s that same smiling canid, only this time illustrated with his friends in the back. As he stares he sighs wistfully. “Why couldn’t my life be more of an adventure like yours? Fighting in the name of justice and kindness. The world could do with a little more empathy…Hah. Maybe I am finally going crazy.” After all, he was talking to a comic book. He digs into himself playfully as he puts the book where it belongs.

He turns to pick up the box only to freeze when he sees it's empty. He furrows his brows, cautiously leaning over to pick it up. He turns the box and flips it upside down, tilting his head. “I could have… I could have sworn that there was another one in here… I must have put it up already.” Shrugging it off turns again, only to tense when he hears a loud snap and a shrill, panicked series of squeaking. It's a noise that makes his stomach twist as he looks towards the back door, which has been left ajar. “Oh shit. Oh shit OH SHIT!” He tucks the box under his arm and rushes for the back door, pushing it open with his shoulder. He flinches at the smell of the dumpster in the damp alleyway being the first thing to hit his face, along with the hot summer night air. He squints not just from the smell but because it’s getting incredibly dark with the clouds overhead. He creeps closer to the dumpster, spotting the missing comic on the ground right beside it. Getting closer he can hear labored breathing and quiet sulking. He rounds the large blocky dumpster, just barely being able to make out a shape. But when his eyes adjust… he’s horrified by what he sees.

Looking back at him is a modern day rat no larger than a small dog. Her ears ripped up quite a bit, her hair styled into something similar to a mohawk that’s tipped in pink dye to match her pink irises in her currently very frightened and pained yellow eyes. She has a set of standard rat buck teeth and a pair of protruding fangs that chitter and grind. They all stand out against the dark grey fur stained with blood. She’s been caught in the large mouse trap that had been set out, the middle having snapped around her waist. Aleron’s stomach turns. The smell and the sight makes him feel sick. But without much thought he drops down to his knees and reaches out, throwing the box beside him. The rat hisses and swipes at him with her claws, her mostly pinned tail thrashing violently. He backs his hand away before she could hit him. “I’m only trying to help!” She hisses in response to him, her chest bobbing up and down quickly. He pauses, taking a minute to calm himself. His panicked state wasn’t doing any favors. He needs a more gentle approach.

He holds out his arms, staring at her with a pleading expression. “Let me help you… please… I don’t want to hurt you…” She slows down and stares at him, really taking in his expression. That brief loss of adrenaline causes her to collapse out cold. Aleron curses under his breath and looks at the box, getting an idea. He grabs her and the trap and puts them both inside the box before taking it up and running back inside, making sure that the back door closes behind him. He turns off all the lights and bursts out the front door like there’s a fire. He completely forgets to lock up the shop. He didn’t care. He opens the passenger’s seat to his car. A nice navy blue car with a slick dark interior. He debilitates for a moment. Saving this rodent means ruining his nice silk seats. He stares at the box, and then back at the seat. It’s the nicest thing he own…

Groaning in defeat he puts the box down in the seat, buckling it in before shutting the door. He gets into the driver's seat, quickly pulling out of his parking spot and swerving onto the streets. He pushes the speed limit and he even completely forgoes buckling up which he’s usually a stickler about. Car safety isn’t on his mind right now. Getting home where he had actual medical supplies is, because gods know that the actual hospitals wouldn’t help. He’s so hyper focused on getting her back to his apartment that he hardly has time to register what’s passing by him. It’s like he blinks and by the time he tunes back in he’s already home. He gets out of the car just as quickly as he had gotten in, taking the box with him. Box in arms he hurriedly walks inside. He rushes up the stairs, looking around to make sure no one is out or in his way.

When he gets to the top of the stairs he sees his neighbor and longtime friend of his parents. A nice old lady by the name of Janice with skin pale and wrinkly, covered in age spots. She seems to be returning to her room as well, her bouncy curly gray hair brushing up against the collar frills of her cyan gown. But upon hearing Aleron approach she turns around and smiles, those glasses with such a heavy prescription making her large pupils glisten to make her appear all the more kind. Even though they aren’t related by blood she often felt like family to him. “Ahhh, Aleron dear! How was work today? Did you water-” She chimes, but he hurries past her holding up the box lid on the side that she was on so she couldn’t see what was inside. “Yep watered the plants for you before I left work It was great can’t talk right now love you have a nice night meemaw” He sputters all at once while hurrying to his apartment. He quickly unlocks the door and hurries in slamming it shut behind him. Janice merely smiles cheerily. “Such a nice young man… He’s so much like his father.”

He sets the box down on the couch and rushes into his own bathroom, not needing to flip the living room light on at first because of spacial awareness. Once he gets to the bathroom however he turns the light on to see what he’s doing. He opens up the mirrored shelf and grabs things he needs from it. Gauze, medical tape, antibiotic cream. He goes into his bathroom closet and gets some more. Towels, wipes, even more heavy duty stuff like a suturing kit and some actual medical supplies. He made it a habit to learn how to doctor himself so he can cut down on costs. He takes his armful of stuff and closes the closet with his foot, rushing back to the living room. He drops all the stuff on the couch beside the box and lays out a few towels to rest the rat on. After turning the lamp next to the couch on he takes her out, places her down carefully, and pries the trap open. Once he frees her he slides her onto the towels and tosses the trap across the room. Taking all that he’s learned he does his best to prepare her. First feeling what all might be broken of course, feeling around for internal injuries. Which obviously, there’s quite a few. He sucks air through his teeth and picks up a scalpel. “Forgive me…” He presses it to her, hoping and praying to whoever's listening that there’s still a chance to save her.

...

Writers Notes: Yeahhh sorry the first chapter's slow, a lot of the action-y stuff doesn't start until Aleron actually gets *out* of the Neo-Dome. OotS is a weird mix of action fantasy with some slice of life and character building. I feel like the more interesting stuff is going to be taking place in the other perspective of the story, "Monsters of the Star's Light". Also I'll be releasing these before the first chapter of "The missing chapters" later today because I am very tired rn and my chromebook is dying so I need to slep. Will be released later today probably.

#ruckis scriptures #writeblr #writing #non fandom #original story #original content #order of the stars #oots #order of the stars: heroes of the morning stars #ch. 1 #on a scale from 1 to WTF its not that bad yet #just some. injury.#fantasy adventure #slice of life #the long awaited first chapters are here

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silly-skater-butch · 8 months ago

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Bio n stuff!!

🪻 I’m Dahlia, I’m 22, from the Midwest, I’m a butch lesbian and a transgender woman n my pronouns are she/her!!:)

🪻 Taken by my lovely femme @lil-lesbian-historian 💕💕

🪻 Horny nsft side blog: @thrasher-butch

🪻 Poetry side blog: @leaves-of-dykes

🪻 DM’s are always open for *platonic friendships*!!

🪻 Also fair warning: I am a horny bitch, there will be horny posts. If you are a man or a minor, refer to the last paragraph thingy. If not, I'll be tagging those posts with "nsft lesbian", enjoy:)

🪻 Since I have posted thirst traps, please let it be known that I do not accept any sexting or advances as I am monogamous and in a relationship. Please don’t be weird and just respect that.

🪻 I can and will use the block button if you don’t pass the vibe check.

🪻 Estoy aprendiendo español! Si quieres hablar conmigo en español, me gustaría mucho!

📌DNI: TERFs/SWERFs, capitalist sympathizers, men, minors, antisemites, islamophobes, racists literally any kinda bigot, and zionists.

Like seriously if you’re a man who still interacts with my page after seeing my tags and my pinned post, your ass is getting blocked in the most disrespectful way possible.

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trifectum · 9 months ago

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“LIAVOSSO’S GALACTIC JOURNAL! - entry 2: the Lybadora”

Entry two - still very rudimentary- but maybe she’ll get there in the end. Passion takes work!

“So - second entry! I’ve been working on my technique- got some tips from a ProtoDemon on Earth (I had the notes he gave me over tea tagged onto the end of the latest pages)

I’m ready for round two! Turns out, I can specify whether or not I want text highlighted - and they won’t directly write what I wrote! Check it out! PLANTS ARE JUST EXTREMELY LAZY ANIMALS! I can do other stuff too, like this, this, and this - but I’ll save those for a rainy day. For now - let’s get on with it!

The Lybadora

These big, red, handsy people are my second choice for this journal for good reason - they're easy to get undressed, and easy to make a quick sketch of. After such a miserable experience with the Mantisi, I needed a simple set of subjects to actually have a conversation with and enjoy the company of. That and a bonus of having all the most difficult to talk formally about out of the way for the rest of the entries.

Biology

While Lybadora are actually pretty genetically similar to humans, what with their generally humanoid silhouette and organs, there are a few differences. Obviously, four arms, no external nose, three fingers, and spiky hair are some, but the height difference also tends to be a little wide. I’ve heard of humans and Lybadora being attracted to and marrying each other before, so I guess the hormonal similarities are quite distinct. That or the Lybadora’ll spend a night with anything that works, and so will the majority of humans. Either way, they are prone to their ‘emotions’.

Speaking of which - I did have to ‘human proof’ them a little. For example, the male sitting in a chair is my problem solving for that ‘bag’ situation. As you may have guessed - human and Lybadora sex organs are similar too. To all us non-humans that’s fine (who cares, right?), but most of humanity tends to be outwardly prudish, and really enjoys censoring anything that even implies a recognisable sex organ. So I’m just gonna respect that for the sake of staying off the watchlist of the Curator.

History

I don’t think I elaborated this enough the first time - but this is for my evaluation of encounters I’ve had with the allotted species. I guess I can also mention a bit of general history here and there - but I’m not a trained historian, so fair warning. Generally me and Lybadora are rather well separated. In terms of aggressive situations, nothing much is exchanged that wouldn’t have been if it were any other species. At most, their natural tendency to challenge worthy opponents is a tad bit informal. No one really knows why they’ve learned to challenge people to combat - just that it had to be some kind of adapted ritual from an era where such a thing had more weight. They are traditionally a hedonistic society, which does sort of fuel some opinions they tend to have of beings like me: being almost entirely unique is a ‘pull’ to most of the more adventurous ones. But that’s almost atypical really, Lybadora are famously forward.

Opinion

The Lybadora are decent people. It’s not too difficult to talk to one, and their personal ideals aren’t typically malicious. I guess they can be very off putting to an idle human observer - but an active conversation is always a little off from the sidelines. They… did sort of make me wonder about my advertising though; couldn’t exactly pay them with money if they were extremely hopeful of a ‘different equity’. Eh - we’re all consenting adults - it’s just a matter of specifying that I pay in Qwarts alone next time. OH and of course Kria is off with the Blade on the safest section of the allotted planet during my figure-sketching sessions.

Summary

If you like the kinds of party loving, fight loving, loving loving people you rarely see being themselves out in the wild - you like Lybadora. They’re a cuddly alternative to trying to befriend a wallkeeper in the docks of the Hell Facility, and can sniff out a good time from a mile away. Just keep an eye on them if you suspect anything more.

Hey! That’s it - much better this time, aye? Make sure to ask your questions wherever the questions are asked! Until next time!”

#art #illustration #drawing #alien oc #journal #worldbuilding #speculative evolution

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cakerybakery · 2 years ago

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“So, do you come here often?”

“Specifically to this place or this time period?”

“I get the feeling the answer to both is yes.”

“You’re not wrong.” She swirls the straw in her drink, focusing on it to avoid thinking.

William nibbles on his meat of unknown origin. “Didn’t know they had straws back then, now? In this time.”

“Yeah. They’re not great or popular. But they had them.”

“So are we not going to talk about why we’re here? We didn’t even have to time travel.”

Diana pushes the drink away. “This is where your father died. Or well, he technically died in our living room which is why I sold the house and moved to the moon. But we were working here when it all started.”

“Can you even really call him that? You adopted me after he died. I have like a dozen older ACI siblings that you created after he died.”

She shrugged, “I don’t know. It’s just easier I guess. Richard was my world until Nexus was created. Then it was the three of us. And once Nexus started to build himself a body, once he figured out time travel. We were inseparable. We created History Helpers. Bad name I know. But it was a great job.

We would travel to different time period. Taking videos, swiping things that would end up in the trash or lost anyways. Nexus chronicled every second of livable Earth. Selling it to scientists. Archaeologists, historians, museums. We could literally name our price. We were able to help the police, missing persons, cold cases, anything we could get permission from a living person to give information for.

We did what we wanted when we wanted. Nexus made sure we didn’t change the future in any significant way. But otherwise...”

She finished off her drink and limped to the bar for another. William winced watching her pained gate but stayed in his seat. Mother never would have forgiven him for trying to help her.

She half downed her next drink before continuing on.

“We were here. Posing as royalty. A kingdom doomed to die out and be mostly forgotten. Suddenly we were accused of being frauds. We were chased from the palace onto the rooftops.”

She could remember it all too well.

The sky full of stars, even in such a large city there was so little light pollution. The scent of Jasmine clung to their clothing, snuffing out the other odours of the city. She had hiked up her dress and they ran, laughing like mad. Richards hand in hers. Nexus was not bound by gravity like they were and floated with ease over the streets.

Richard jumped, but the warning back to her was too late. She had been right behind him to jump. She should have landed on the roof next to him.

There was no roof. It was partly rotten away. Richard had landed on a bit of crumbling tile and beam, she had not.

She didn’t know how many stories the building was, three maybe four. The floors were all either rotten away or torn up. The building was held up by rafters and support beams.

The crunch of her knee as she slammed into a beam echoed over her own screams.

She didn’t know how she survived the fall, she only knew she woke up in the dungeons. The best she could figure she was there for weeks. Enough time for her leg to heal wrong.

It wouldn’t be until she upgraded the nanobots to keep it in working order and constantly elevate the pain that she could walk normally. With them shut down not only were they stuck in the past but her leg was nearly useless.

Richard and Nexus eventually found her. Then it got worse.

As soon as they walked back into their living room...

They didn’t see the man there.

It wouldn’t be until later when the police reviewed the camera footage...

He was gone. As soon as they had been reunited he was gone. Then Nexus. He and the man blinked out of existence.

Now he was back but no Nexus.

She waited. She waited for twenty years for her son to come home. But he was gone and this monster was back.

It wasn’t fair.

All she wanted had been to live happily with Richard and Nexus. She never wanted anything that had happened since.

“But it did happen. I’m sorry. But I’m also glad it happened. You saved my live. You saved everyone’s life. Everyone in the kingdom. Thousands of people. Not just those from the past that you saved and brought to the future but people in danger. We have like 300 people that you saved from dying on an island with your technology. I was there. I grabbed three people myself. You created the Artificially Created Intelligents. A whole new group of people. Nexus might have been the first but he hasn’t been the last.

The Millers, only a month ago you finished creating their daughter. She’ll live and grow like a normal human. And one day she’ll die. She might be made of nanobots but I’m just made up of cells. She needs to eat so the bots have new material so they can replace each other and creates energy, she needs to breathe like I do.

You lead an entire kingdom. That you build from nothing on a barren rock in space.

You made the domes. Planted the trees. You created an entire ecosystem. All to give people you thought didn’t have to die a chance at life.

I don’t know what I’m trying to say. I just feel like a mistake when you say you didn’t want anything that happened.”

“You have never been a mistake. Everything that happened was never my intention but I do not regret it. I just get sad sometimes and miss them. And I’m the only person left who even remembers them.”

#writing #story idea #a scene I never had before #but part of a larger story I have been thinking about #I've mentioned their world before #original story

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empirearchives · 2 years ago

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I’ve gotta see what you said to them that caused them to ban you 😂😂😂

In all seriousness, why are they so obsessed with hating on Napoleon? Criticizing is fair, I think, and everyone is entitled to their own opinion. You can love or hate whoever you want, but these PHD’s guys spent decades studying and making a career on someone they hate. Why do that to yourself?

They also don’t strike me as individuals who are genuinely trying to do something noble to like studying the totalitarian regimes of the 20th century, and warning people about oppression. That would be more valid.

Some of these guys simply reek of spite for no apparent reason. It almost seems personal, which is kind of odd.

I’ve personally interacted with one British dude who commented on my post (I’m pretty sure he was a historian, or at least, he had a large following), and he wouldn’t stop repeating that Napoleon was a “brutal dictator” over and over again. Like I get it already. You don’t like him lol. By the way, he couldn’t provide any evidence to prove that he was a “brutal, corrupt dictator.”

It’s funny because I just made this account for fun, but for them, it’s a career. Like I’m not making any money off my opinions on this topic. Plus, I’m still learning and am always open to changing my mind.

I think the most harmful thing about this whole thing is that because they have degrees, they are more able to push their propagandistic views to wider audiences than non-accredited accounts can.

Please ignore me. I just need to vent my frustration.

So, there’s this Brit-centered Napoleon forum, right? Somebody there talked me into checking out a certain study. A study, conducted by a group of American military psychologists, that had found how Napoleon’s behaviour matched several, if not all clinical criteria for narcissistic personality disorder.

I’ve seen somebody wiser than me, a long time ago, had already dismissed the study as “psycho-babble”. And I wish I had been just as wise.

So, this scientific study was done with the following main sources:

Bourrienne: Memoirs

Gourgaud: Talks with Napoleon

Las Cases: Memorial

Caulaincourt: With Napoleon in Russia

The existence of Napoleon’s correspondence was readily acknowledged but …hey, that’s a lot to read. And all so unexiting, boring, business stuff … let’s get back to Gourgaud.

There are more sources in fact, all through English translations of course (meaning that everything that was not available in English had been discarded right away).

I was already mad when I saw this list of sources. But when I started to actually check the examples given, I found that not only had they been taken completely out of context (for example, twice, when Napoleon seems to talk about his own greatness and about how much the French owe him and how they love him, he is actually defending himself against accusations), but occasionally even mistranslated.

Now I’m feeling furious. The people responsible for this BS all have some kind of degree. I used to have high, HIGH respect for everybody who managed to get through university, and I really want to keep it. This is not helping.

#Napoleon #napoleon bonaparte #propaganda #history #rant #ramble #text post #opinion #opinions #Napoleonic #napoleonic era #19th century #1800s #first French empire

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that-sleepless-bard · 3 years ago

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What makes Eda the most powerful witch and why Raine is such a perfect representation of a bard

Obligatory Spoiler Warning

Yep. Fair warning, this is gonna be a long post.

Edalyn Clawthorne. My favorite character in The Owl House and the level of chaos I would probably put into the world if I didn’t have as much self control as I do.

In season one, she repeatedly claims herself to be the most powerful witch on the Boiling Isles, though she no longer believes this after losing her powers. I still think she is the most powerful witch, magic or no.

Why? Her skills go much deeper than the ability to do magic. Eda has an extensive understanding of how magic works on a natural level, including things like knowing how to connect with nature to the point where the aisles reveals the secrets of magic.

This is a skill only a wild witch can possess or even begin to understand. Coven witches master only one magic type unless they’re in the Emperor’s Coven, in which case they pay more attention to what magic does over what it is. The majority of witches on the Isles see magic as a powerful tool, where wild witches tend to adopt the philosophy that it’s like an extension of oneself that must be studied properly to be used properly.

A fact people don’t pay enough attention to is that Eda is incredibly intelligent and adaptable. She most likely figured all of this out for herself and is finding ways to translate her own learning into a way that Luz understands. Meaning she learns equally as well as she teaches, which is an ability that’s dangerous to the Emperor’s way of ruling. If Eda is capable of teaching her way of magic to larger groups, it means less following for the covens, and that’s a slippery slope.

Even without magic, Eda’s level of wisdom and knowledge still poses a threat. She’s still trying to learn, is still finding ways around her curse, and is still trying to stop Belos. The phrase “knowledge is power” is incredibly cliché, but it’s true. In the case of the coven systems, knowledge is one of the greatest weapons that can be used against it because one of the greatest flaws in it is ignorance. Belos maintains power by keeping the people of the BI in the dark about the Day of Unity and everything going on behind the scenes. If Eda were to try and share what she knew, and people started believing her, Belos’ plans might crumble around him.

So by all means, Eda is still the most powerful witch. Maybe her magic is weak, but she has so much more that allows her to hold that position. I hope she keeps utilizing her strengths to fight the Emperor.

This might be obvious, but IDK. I just think it’s cool. Sorry if the tone is kind of harsh or if I’m wrong on something.

Moving on!

Raine Whispers is my second favorite character, and a character I relate to on an unhealthy level and I feel called out every time they make an appearance.

Anyway, let’s talk about bards.

Bards are generally defined as being oral historians, lord keepers, storytellers, musicians, general entertainers, ect. A lot of people also consider them jacks of all trades.

In a lot of games, movies, shows, books, and all that, there’s a few key facts that are common amongst all bards:

- They’re highly charismatic.

-They’re good at one of the following: Music, history, or acting.

- Often portrayed as skilled with magic.

- Has a wide variety of abilities.

- They’re frequently underestimated.

Raine pretty much embodies this general description. They’re like a bard that decided to take extra classes in “how to hide a body and be home in time for dinner”

Aside from simply having the skills of a bard, they have the smarts to use those skills to their full advantage. Case in point:

- Before they started using their violin, they weaponized their ability to whistle, as they have an understanding that bards need to just make noise to be effective with their magic.

- They’re an incredible actor, to the point where they can convince their ex best friend/girlfriend that they’re brainwashed without her suspecting otherwise, and they can fool the person who is assigned to watch them.

- They know how to make their abilities work in pretty much any situation.

In the game Dungeons & Dragons, I mainly play a bard. When I said we get underestimated, I mean we get underestimated.

Like, everyone gets surprised when I use a powerful spell even though it’s in the job description underestimated.

“They’re just a bard, they can’t handle this easy enemy” underestimated.

It’s obnoxious, but I love seeing the shock whenever an anti-bard player watches me do something cool.

It doesn’t surprise me that bards in The Owl House are underestimated and under-appreciated as well. But Raine uses that by letting people assume they’re weaker than they are, then taking the advantage of surprise.

With or without stage fright, Raine is a genuinely good example of a bard’s abilities being used to their fullest.

Again, probably obvious, but I just wanted to talk about it.

Sorry to make this so long, and thanks for reading. I could talk about these two characters for hours.

#toh #the owl house #toh eda #eda #raine whispers #edalyn clawthorne #toh raine #raine #random #random thoughts #ideas #toh spoilers #bard #magic #toh magic #analysis

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iliveiloveiwrite · 4 years ago

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I wonder what it’s like to be loved by you // Benedict Bridgerton

Summary: You’ve loved him for as long as you can remember. Is this the season where he finally realises?

A/N: I LOVE BENEDICT. I love him so much. What do I have to do to get a Benedict? Title is from Shawn Mendes - Wonder. I had so much fun writing this fic, I can’t wait to write more for the Bridgerton fandom! I truly hope you all like it, let me know what you think please?

Pairing: Benedict Bridgerton x Fem!Reader

Warnings: swearing, mentions of food and drink, fluff, pining, mutual pining, dancing, balls, obliviousness, friends to lovers, she/her pronouns, a lot of history - I am a historian after all and this is the regency era.

Word count: 4.8k

Lady Danbury never spared any expense on the balls she held every season. She knew full well that many a match could be made that night so there was not only pressure from the ton, but also a responsibility that this ball must outdo all others thrown before – by herself and other matriarchs in society.

A feat she always managed to achieve, the elder thinks to herself as she watches your eyes widen upon entering the ornately decorated room. Looking you up and down, she approves of your outfit – a dark blue dress punctuated with silver jewellery, hair twisted into an updo with only a few strands hanging loose to frame your face. From her spot across the ballroom, Lady Danbury wonders how you hadn’t married yet.

As the band strikes up, Lady Danbury walks into the fray, greeting her guests with a smile. All the while, she keeps a trained eye on you, wondering who on earth had captured your heart but had not noticed.

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

No matter how hard he tried, the charcoal would not wash from his fingers. Having scrubbed and scrubbed at his hands, Benedict could only offer you a smile of apology as you not only noted his lateness but the state of his hands.

“It’s very fortunate that you are a talented artist,” You comment with a teasing smile.

Benedict reaches for your hand, dropping a kiss to the back of it before answering. “I class myself as very fortunate to have a friend like you who understands how easy it is to get lost in a sketch or a painting.”

You roll your eyes, careful not to let anyone else but Benedict see your act of impropriety. He smirks, unable to help himself.

“You’re a shameful flatterer, Benedict.”

“Some might even call me a ‘rake’,” He replies, his tone teasing.

“I shall save that for when you’ve really annoyed me.”

He laughs; a loud chuckle that draws the attention of those closest to you. Most notably, Benedict’s mother, Violet Bridgerton and Lady Danbury.

Benedict clears his throat; cheeks flushed not only from the attention but from the knowledge that his mother would soon be making her way over to him. He adored his mother; was grateful for her every day, but he could happily admit he could live without the meddling in his love life. He grabs your gloved hand once more; kissing the back of it in parting before asking, “Save me a dance on your card?”

“Always,” You answer, watching his back as he stalks away. Benedict narrowly avoids being collared by his mother, an act to which you find yourself smiling at.

With thoughts of Benedict in mind, you wander around the outskirts of the ballroom, your dark blue skirts swishing pleasantly under foot. You pause only to grab a lemonade from the table, sipping happily at the cold drink.

You catch sight of the brunette that had stolen your heart dancing with Penelope Featherington and though you know there is no romance there, your heart is unable to stop the hurt that lashes through it. Schooling your face into a mask of polite delight, you force yourself to turn away from the sight of the man you had so readily given your heart to dancing with someone else.

“How long have you been in love with my brother?” A raspy voice asks from behind you.

Your lemonade splashes slightly as you turn to face your interrogator. “Eloise!” You laugh, smiling too wide to be comfortable, “Whatever do you mean?”

Eloise’s shrewd blue eyes narrow slightly as she takes in your dismissal. She waves her hand in the general direction of Benedict though you knew exactly where he was – could feel his location thrumming in your veins.

“Don’t play coy, (Y/N). It doesn’t become you. Now, how long have you been in love with Benedict?”

That was the question, wasn’t it? How long had you loved Benedict? Thinking back on it, you’re sure that you’ve always loved him. Your family had been good friends with the Bridgerton family for as long as you could remember. Your mother was always having tea with Violet and you were always thrust upon the eight siblings without much worry. Your friendship with Benedict had started in earnest when you had complimented his art skills, bringing up how you liked to draw too. From there, a close friendship was forged.

By your twentieth year on this earth, you realised that your feelings for the second Bridgerton were no longer platonic… that you craved something more. Falling for Benedict Bridgerton felt inevitable almost; that your heart was destined to be his whether he knew it or not.

Sighing heavily, you see no point in lying to the second eldest Bridgerton girl. “For as long as I can remember,” You admit, rushing to add on, “But he doesn’t know so please don’t tell him!”

Eloise’s eyes widen at your confession, not only shocked that you readily admitted your feelings for her elder brother, but for how long you have harboured them. “Is that why you have not yet married?” She demands, “Because you loved him?”

Biting your lip, you nod. “It wouldn’t be fair to my husband. Their wife in love with another man – it doesn’t exactly set stable foundations for a long, prosperous marriage and…”

“And…” Eloise prompts, her innate curiosity getting the better of her. If her mother could hear her now, she would surely receive a scolding.

You ball your hands into fists before letting them drop to your sides; letting them hang there like the constant hope you have for Benedict.

“And I still hope he’ll notice I’m here. That I have been here all along,” You voice cracks on the admission causing a pang of upset to flash through Eloise. She’d reach out to comfort you, but it would only draw attention from the many mothers circling and no doubt, Lady Whistledown.

“(Y/N)…” Eloise begins but you hold a single hand up to stop her before she starts. With a strained smile, you reassure her. “It’s fine, Eloise. I accept it with every season that passes that it is unlikely he shall ever return my feelings.”

“Then he is a fool,” Eloise states plaining, sending a glare in the direction of her beloved brother. She had no qualms admitting that Benedict was indeed her favourite sibling, but he had his moments where he vexed her beyond belief.

“Who is a fool?” A voice questions to the right of you. Benedict.

Freezing in place, you cast a helpless look at Eloise, begging her silently to take control of this situation. Eloise smiles and nods imperceptibly. She turns towards her brother, hooking her arm through yours as she declares, “The men that have not offered their hand to (Y/N) yet. They’re all fools, aren’t they dear brother.”

Benedict casts his gaze towards you; his eyes scanning your face for what, he does not know. “Fools,” He agrees quietly though he is heard perfectly over the music. “Would you care to dance?” He asks, wanting you to himself for a little while. As much as he loved his younger sister, she was a keen observer, and he wasn’t ready for her to figure out his feelings just yet. Not when he hadn’t admitted them to you.

Nodding your head, you take his outstretched hand, bidding goodbye to Eloise for now. The brunette shakes her head as the both of you walk away. Oblivious, she thinks to herself, completely oblivious.

As the music strikes up once more, it becomes obvious that the next dance is a waltz, requiring the closeness of your partner. It was only years ago that this dance had scandalised the ton for its closeness – now, it was required at every ball, many married couples savouring the intimacy.

Benedict’s hand settles on the small of your back as his other grips your hand. Your hand rests comfortably on his shoulder as he begins to lead you through the steps you have known since your youth.

Music around you fades as do the other couples. The only two people in the room are Benedict and yourself. The feel of his hand on your back and the look in his eyes; it’s enough to have you accept your fate then and there. It’s enough for you to admit that you have been ruined for any and all men; finding yourself in love with the man who holds you so tenderly and has always held you in high regard. Is this it? You ask yourself, is this what it feels like to be loved by him? To feel like the only one in the world. If it is, you’ll take it with open hands.

Your eyes do not leave his as Benedict leads you through the rises and falls of the dance. His hand remains a steady presence on your lower back; the feeling just enough to distract you from the crowd now watching you and instead, leading you to wonder what his hands would feel like elsewhere on your body.

As the music falls into another song; this one more upbeat, Benedict drops his hands, letting you free. He hadn’t wanted to; had wanted to pull you from the ballroom, to confess the feelings that have haunted him for years and to ask you to be his for better or for worse.

But he doesn’t. Instead, he bows and smiles, reaches for your hand to kiss it and then lets himself breathe as he turns and walks away.

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

Dear Reader,

Though there is much to report from Lady Danbury’s ball last night – the fashion, the food, the décor – This Author wants to focus on one moment in particular.

Now, Dear Reader, whilst you may wonder the importance of such a moment, remember that it is one’s job to observe all. That is why I want to bring attention to Mr. Benedict Bridgerton who found himself extremely popular last night, dancing with many eligible women and delighting them with his talents.

However, Dear Reader, this is not the moment I want to focus on.

No. Instead, I want to bring attention to the heart most likely suffering in silence as Mr. Bridgerton continues to charm the ton.

As you all know, I am not one to beat around the proverbial bush and hide identities, but for the sake of the woman who has found herself in love with the second eldest Bridgerton for as long she can remember, I shall endeavour to keep her name a secret.

Know, however, that This Author’s sympathies lie with you.

To love another unrequitedly is a dear shame.

----------

The gossip sheet is scrunched to a ball in your hands. It’s all you can do to keep the tears from falling down your face. As if you didn’t know your love was unrequited; as if you didn’t know you had all but doomed yourself to being a spinster as you wait for a man who did not know you loved him.

Lady Whistledown knew your secret, and your identity. As a result, the whole ton knew your secret but whatever morals the author possesses, she had not revealed your identity.

Summoning the carriage, you ask to be taken to Bridgerton House where you can speak to Eloise in confidence and ask for her advice on what she might do. Deep down, you had to know whether Benedict had read the paper too.

It doesn’t take long for Eloise to find you in the tea room; a cup of tea in your hands but readily ignored as you chew on the inside of your cheek. Her brown hair tied up in her usual bun, her eyes hold the pity you didn’t want to see or hear as of this moment.

“I didn’t know she was listening, I swear,” Eloise promises, sitting by your side and reaching for your hand.

“I know,” You comfort, “You would never tell a soul.”

“At least she didn’t reveal your identity,” Eloise chirps, trying to find a silver lining.

“Yet she has revealed my secret to the entirety of London society,” You sigh. Removing your hand from Eloise’s, you press your palm to your forehead, feeling overwhelmingly tired and desperate for the day to be over already. “Does he know?”

Eloise chews on her bottom lip, deciding whether to answer you. “He has read it,” She admits, but rushes to add, “He doesn’t know it’s you! He doesn’t have a clue really. He’s angrier at himself for not noticing anything was amiss.”

“I don’t know what to do,” You whisper, feeling helpless.

“For now,” Eloise states, “We do nothing.”

---------

Your heels sink into the soft carpet as you wander down the stairs, pausing only to check you have everything. Your mind remains elsewhere as you check your bag out of habit, the conversation with Eloise, the latest gossip sheet, your feelings for Benedict. They circle around your mind, leaving you dizzy in their wake as you try to make sense of them all, try to find your next step in and amongst the mess.

“(Y/N),” Benedict greets, hurrying down the final few stairs, pleasantly surprised, “What are you doing here? I didn’t know you were visiting.”

“I came to drop in on Eloise. I wanted to thank her for last night; she was an ear when I needed someone to listen.”

“Is it anything I can help with?” He asks, voice taking on a concerned note as he reaches out for you.

You shake your head, squeezing his hand in return. “For now, everything is okay.”

Benedict clears his throat. “I’m glad to hear it, but please come to me next time. I want to help if I can.”

“I will,” You promise, your eyes now scanning over his fine clothes. “Where are you off to?”

“An art exhibition at Somerset House. They’re showing some Holbein’s from the Royal collection.”

“Holbein’s?” You ask, shocked at the name falling from Benedict’s mouth.

He nods, just as excited. It was a rare thing indeed to have Holbein’s on display; they were usually kept in whatever royal residence they found themselves in; hidden away from the public eye. Art was the very foundation of your friendship; having seen so many of his sketches as a young boy and watching them develop into surer lines and confident strokes. Benedict was an exceptionally talented artist – something he would say about yourself. Benedict was the only person to see such work; the watercolours in your sketchpad leaving him breathless as you bring life to the inanimate.

“Would you like to join me?” He asks before he can talk himself out of it. He had barely seen you all season; you had closed in yourself, as if accepting a fate that you did not want. Benedict would do what he could to ensure your happiness for a little bit longer.

“Unchaperoned?”

A faint blush rises on Benedict’s cheeks as he realises what he has asked of you. “I shall ask Eloise to accompany us,” He suggests, turning to face the direction in which you had just come, “Did she mention any plans to you?”

You shake your head to which Benedict leases a sigh of relief. “I’ll go ask her now. I’m sure she won’t mind… much.”

Laughing quietly, you wait patiently in the entryway of Bridgerton House. The house in London so often felt like a second home to you; spending so much of childhood summers here when your mother would take tea with the Bridgerton matriarch. As you grew into your teens, you would begin to visit the house with just your maid, calling on the family for social niceties. The friendship with Benedict and Eloise only solidified your standing in the close family unit.

Eloise’s voice brings you back to the present. She walks down the stairs, accompanied by her brother. Taking one look at you, waiting patiently for the both of them, Eloise gets a mischievous look in her eye. It isn’t a look that leaves you in comfort, but rather leaves you wondering just what she has planned for the art exhibition.

“Eloise has so graciously accepted to join us,” Benedict announces, sounding rather pleased with himself.

Eloise smiles: a smile that sets Benedict’s nerves on edge. He would owe her for this, that much he knew. “I would be more than happy to accompany you, brother.”

Benedict resists the urge to groan; he’s in deep shit for this.

“Thank you, Eloise,” You murmur with a smile. Something in Eloise softens at your tone as if she would be unable to deny you this time with Benedict when it was their mother’s mission to see him married off this very season.

“Of course,” Eloise allows, glancing between you and Benedict – noting the longing in both sets of eyes. She shakes her head, gesturing to the door and where the carriages waits just beyond it. “Shall we?”

--------

“He wasn’t a handsome monarch, was he?” Eloise murmurs quietly, staring up at the grand portrait of the fearsome king who preferred executing his wives rather than loving them.

The walls of Somerset House have become dedicated to the eyes of the past. Past monarchs and relatives decorate the walls; their eyes following each attendant, as if curious to see how society is progressing less than three hundred years after the death of the artist.

Benedict chuckles; the very sound raising goosebumps across your skin. You barely repress the shiver the sound elicits. Trying your best to listen as the siblings argue about the reign of this particular monarch – the pros and the cons to what he did for the very country he ruled over for decades.

“Oh!” Eloise gasps, interrupting the argument and loosening her grip on your arm, she waves frantically at Penelope Featherington. “Would you mind terribly if I go say hello?”

“Not at all,” You laugh.

“You’re sure you’ll be okay with Benedict?”

The man in question scoffs, rolling his eyes at his little sister. “Off with you,” He dismisses, “I’ll escort (Y/N) – someone who actually appreciates the art.”

Eloise laughs as she turns away, but you do not miss the wink she sends in your direction. It hits you all at once; her mischievous look before you all left the house. She had concocted this plan in her head; accepting to accompany you as a rouse to get you and Benedict alone.

You didn’t know whether to appreciate her genius or hide her favourite book.

Jumping at the sound of someone clearing their throat, you focus your attention on Benedict. He watches you with an amused look, and it’s then that you realise that he has stood beside you waiting with his arm out for a minute or so whilst you glared after his younger sister. Taking his arm, you rid yourself of any thoughts of violence against Eloise. Instead, focusing on the man beside you.

“How are you?” You ask, hand resting gently on Benedict’s forearm.

“Do you mean in general or after today’s publication?”

“Both, I suppose.”

“In general, I am quite well. I have a wonderful lady on my arm, and I am in the presence of excellent art work. However, after today’s publication, I must admit I am rather angry.”

“Oh?” You sound, trying hard not to let his words affect you so much but they rattle around your mind on repeat, committing themselves where they will last for an eternity.

“I’ve never been the focus of the gossip paper and now after one ball, I am. I don’t think I like the attention.”

“I don’t believe that for one second, Benedict Bridgerton.”

He pauses, smiling widely down at you. His eyes light up with the smile and your heart begins to pound at the sight of it. “Alright, I do like the attention,” He concedes, “But what I don’t like are the looks I’m getting from all mothers.”

“Why?”

“They all look like I’m about to break their daughter’s heart.”

“I’m sure you’re just imagining things,” You reassure, tightening your grip on his arm.

“I don’t think I am,” He states, nodding politely at Lady Whitelaw who in turn glares at the younger man. He turns his gaze to you as if to say, see?

You turn your face away from him, trying your best to hide the smile and laugh that threatens to break free. “You’re laughing at me, aren’t you?” Benedict guesses, a smile in his own voice.

“I’m not,” You promise, schooling your face into a mask of indifference, focusing on the closest sketch to you. A graphite sketch of Anne Boleyn; marking her beauty only years before her death.

“You are,” Benedict argues, standing beside you, admiring the same sketch. Throwing him a knowing smile, you turn your attentions to rest of the exhibition, unable to hide your awe at just what is being shown to the public.

The art is incredible; your watercolours barely compare to what is being shown in Somerset House. He would disagree in a heartbeat, but Benedict could come close to producing something of this calibre. He had shown his portraits of his mother and brothers; Anthony making the perfect candidate for a painting.

You come to a natural stop in front of a portrait of a young women. A young queen, in fact. This particular queen had never got to reign in the manner that she was capable, dying after giving birth the king’s heir. His one true love, the king had called her after he death.

“She’s beautiful,” You whisper, admiring not only the artistry but also the focus on the painting.

Benedict watches you admiring the portrait painted so carefully by Holbein. Though the portrait is indeed beautiful, Benedict finds himself agreeing that they do not hold a candle to you. As he watches you lift a single hand, trying to dampen the urge to run your fingers over the brush strokes, he thinks to himself that there would be no artist on this earth that would be so talented to capture your beauty.

His breath comes faster; his heart rate increases. He recognises the symptoms; he’s only experienced such signs before. He had been eighteen then; barely a man but man enough to accept that he had fallen in love with his best friend. Years later, here he was, experiencing such feelings once more. Once more, he wonders what it would be like to be loved by you. He cannot help but hope that the mystery woman in the society papers is you.

-------

Dear Reader,

It seems that Mr. Benedict Bridgerton reads my paper!

He was overheard at the Somerset House Holbein exhibition, complaining to Miss (Y/N) (Y/L/N) about my last column in which I criticised his treatment of the lady in love with him.

All I have to say on the matter is this:

Mr. Bridgerton, for every complaint you offer, you break her heart further. Stop now before you do irreparable damage.

-----

“What does she mean ‘break her heart further’? I’ve been trying to figure out who it is so I can put a stop to it!”

“It doesn’t matter whether you know who it is, Benedict,” You argue, placing your teacup on the table, “But rather the fact that you unknowingly hurt whoever it is that is in love with you.”

“Do my feelings not matter?” He demands, throwing the damned paper onto the table. Benedict runs a hand through his hair, sighing in frustration. “I’m sorry,” He apologises, “I should not have taken that tone with you. You’ve done nothing wrong.”

“You’re forgiven,” You laugh, “I’ve heard you say a lot worse.”

He smiles though it doesn’t reach his eyes. Leaning forward on your chair, you wring your hands together, working up the nerve. “What feelings haven’t they taken into account?”

“Lady Whistledown,” He spits the name with derision, “Hasn’t taken into account that I may not have noticed someone in love with me because I am in love with someone myself.”

It’s as if the chair is pulled out from under you; your stomach dips and flips as the world crashes around you and Benedict is none the wiser. He’s none the wiser to the palpable shift that has taken place. Instead, he’s sat down across from, looking utterly defeated.

“Does she know?” You ask after a moment of silence, using the time to pull yourself back together, to compile it all and put it away for later.

Benedict shakes his head; eyes sad as he watches you. “Why haven’t you told her?” You ask, unable to stop the questions now they’re on the tip of your tongue.

“I suppose for the same reason she hasn’t told me. Fear maybe?”

“Fear of what? I’ve never known you to be afraid of anything.”

“Fear of rejection. Fear of humiliation. Fear of ruining a friendship,” He lists off, counting the reasons on his fingers, holding them up for you to see.

“Have you thought about telling her?”

“All the time,” He answers honestly, and you wonder whether the crack your heart makes was audible to the whole of the ton.

“Do you plan on telling them?”

“Eventually.”

You take a deep breath, staring at the teacup instead of him, readying yourself to offer up your broken heart. To confess that the two most recent society papers have been about you; have shown your heart to the whole of London.

“It’s me,” You confess quietly, voice no louder than a whisper but he hears you all the same.

Benedict’s head whips towards you. Had this been another situation, it would have been funny, but the look on his face… “What?” He whispers, shocked.

“It’s me,” You announce; louder this time, ready to lay your heart out on the floor for him to break entirely. “It’s me, Benedict. Lady Whistledown must have overheard Eloise and myself talking at Lady Danbury’s ball the other night. She had caught me watching you dance and asked me outright. I couldn’t deny it. I’ve been in love with you for years, Benedict. For as long as I can remember.”

“For as long as you can remember?”

You nod, wringing your hands together once more. “I didn’t realise until I turned twenty, just what my feelings meant. I think I’ve always been in love with you, Benedict.”

Benedict remains silent; eyes wide, hands slack as they rest on his thighs. He looks like he doesn't believe the very words leaving your mouth; as if he is unworthy of the love you offer him so willingly.

“Say something, please,” You plead, “I know it isn’t proper for the woman to announce her feelings for the man, but I couldn’t keep it a secret any longer. Not when it is the focus for Lady Whistledown to sell more copies of her paper.”

“I didn’t know,” He whispers after a prolonged silence.

“You weren’t to know. You don’t have to feel the same, Benedict.”

“I do as it happens.”

“What?”

“I do feel the same,” Benedict clarifies, standing from his chair, “I’ve loved you since I was eighteen.”

You sniffle slightly; emotional from hearing the words you have longed to hear for years. The words that have haunted your dreams; had you rushing from sleep, so you didn’t let yourself believe an alternate reality.

“You do?”

Benedict nods, “I do. I love you very much.”

“I love you too,” You reply, standing from your chair, reaching for him – not wanting anymore space between the two of you.

He dips his head, pausing mere millimetres away from your lips. The question burns in his eyes; desperate to know whether he can kiss you after so long waiting. Your nod is barely imperceptible but it’s nod, nonetheless.

Slowly, almost wanting to savour every moment, Benedict presses his lips to yours. Reaching up, you haul him closer, wanting to feel every inch of him pressed against you after having waited so long, after having dreamed of this moment for too long.

He tastes like tea and his hands bring to life the butterflies in your stomach as they wander the path of your back, settling on your lower back, dipping you slightly. Benedict groans softly at the feel of you lined up against him. If he had known heaven was this close, he would not have waited this long.

Benedict breaks the kiss; not out of need of air, but to stop himself from taking this too far when you feel like heaven pressed against him. You smile widely, kissing his jaw lovingly before starting to laugh lightly. Benedict’s hands on your waist tighten possessively as he joins you in laughter.

Briefly, he wonders whether this is what it feels like to be loved by you.

********

Bridgerton Taglist: @heloisedaphnebrightmore @dreaming-about-fanfictions @now-its-time-for-a-breakdown

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton #benedict x reader #bridgerton #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton imagines

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emma-frxst · 2 years ago

Text

Smooth Criminal ch 12

Pairing: colossus x reader

Summary: Piotr falls in love with you, an art historian. He doesn’t know that you have a secret double life as an ex-spy turned art thief selling your stolen art to Sebastian Shaw. What happens when your two worlds collide?

Warnings: alcohol mention, bar setting, violence, language, mentions of k!lling

A/n- I apologize for weird format I’m on mobile! I’ve got a few (maybe 3-4) more chapters for this fic! I’ve loved writing it. Thanks for your support! Happy reading!

The strap of your duffel bag dug into your shoulder as you walked along the dimly lit sidewalk. You shifted it to the other shoulder, relief washed over you for a moment.

It was still winter in New York. Plowed snow was piled high on the edges of the sidewalk, Christmas decor still hung from the light poles. You and Piotr had spent a wonderful holiday together. Recent memories began to flood your mind. Most of your time was spent enjoying his delicious cooking. And you couldn’t forget winning the ugly sweater contest with the x-force, whom you’d grown quite fond of. Your happy thoughts of Christmas time with Piotr were interrupted by the stench of the bar filling your nostrils.

You were meeting Victor to drop off the vase you had stolen on your most recent assignment. As you entered the bar, more and more knots formed in your stomach. The contents of your duffel bag were not the vase, but rather the blueprints, security records- the things they had given you to do the job in the first place. You blamed it on Piotr’s inherent goodness rubbing off on you…you just couldn’t do the job.

You found victor with his usual drink choice of whiskey. Of all the years you’d been working for Sebastian Shaw and with Victor Creed, you’d never seen him drink anything else.

“Out of the 10 years I’ve known you, you’ve only ever drank whiskey.” You said, sitting across from victor.

A sly smile crossed his features at your comment.

“You know that they say, y/n, If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” He replied bluntly.

“Fair enough.” You stated, sliding the duffel bag across the table.

Creed picked up the bag and immediately noticed something was wrong.

Your heart began racing, your palms grew sweaty. you watched his every move- your eyes wide.

He unzipped the bag, looking at the contents.

Your eyes darted between him and the bag.

He let out a chuckle which then turned into full on laughter.

He looked at you, the disappointment on his face unmistakable.

“Don’t tell me that metal man is making you soft, y/n..”

Your face turned sour and you crossed your arms.

“Ohh it is, isn’t it?” An evil grin appeared on his face, his fangs looking extra sharp

“Then when I’m done killing you-“ his face dropped into a scowl. “Me and Shaw will pay him a little visit.”

“No!” You exclaimed, slamming your hands on the table. “Touch him and I will kill you so hard your healing factor won’t come back.”

Victor leaned back in his seat, letting out a chuckle, then a full on laugh. He thought this was funny, what a bastard.

“And a x-force member too, oh this will be good.” Victor continued his sick laughter.

‘This isn’t going to end well’ your instincts told you.

You had been doing this for a long time, even longer if you count your days as a SHIELD special operations spy. You’d seen many situations akin to this.

You reached for your knife in your coat pocket, keeping your upper body still so victor wouldn’t notice. Lucky for you Victor chose a booth to sit in, so your actions would be veiled.

You held your knife level with victor’s kneecap.

After calming back down from his laughter again, Victor spoke. “You know y/n I never thought you’d quit the-“

His words were drowned out by your pulse pounding in your ears. With your adrenaline pumping, you took your chance.

You plunged your knife right into Victor’s knee, hitting the the soft cartilage space between his kneecap and tibia. You never missed.

Victor yelled out in pain and grabbed his knee.

You ran.

As fast as your legs would carry you, but you still felt like that wasn’t fast enough.

You finally got to the door pushing it open so hard you nearly knocked it off its hinges.

“You bitch!” You heard Victor tell from inside.

You didn’t have a lot of time before Victor caught up with you. You knew when he ran on all fours he was inhumanly fast and unforgiving. You, for one, did not want your fate to be a brutal knock- down-drag-out with sabertooth.

You stopped a few yards from the bar’s entrance. You had to think and think fast. You knew couldn’t outrun him, but you could outsmart him.

You climbed on top of the trash cans and then the awning, and finally parkour-ed your way onto the roof. You hoped the buzzing of the neon sign and the smell of the garbage would trick his superhuman senses enough to keep him off your trail.

Sabertooth bursted through the bar’s front doors on all fours, scowling. He looked around, searching for any sign of you. Luckily there was no fresh snow to leave footprints in. He sniffed the air, trying to find your scent.

You heart was pounding, your whole body shaking, but you had to be quiet. you tried to take deep, quiet breaths but the bitter cold pierced your lungs with such ferocity, it made breathing difficult.

“You can’t hide from me y/n, from Shaw! I’ll get my chance at you soon enough! He yelled at nothing in particular, still searching his surroundings for you.

After a minute, he angrily walked back inside and reappeared a moment later with your duffel bag slung over his shoulder. You figured he wasn’t in the mood to really hunt you, or he would’ve.

A car soon pulled up to retrieve him.

You breathed a sigh of relief as the car drove away, pieces of ice from the road crunching under its tires. Your plan worked.

Once you felt like you were in the clear, you wandered to the street to call a cab.

One pulled up and you immediately got in.

You gave the driver your address and off you went. Back home, back to safety, back to Piotr.

You looked behind you once more, just to be sure.

Nothing.

No Victor, no angry mob chasing you.

Just as you started to catch your breath, your phone began vibrate.

Piotr was calling you.

Shit

You took some deep breaths in attempt to slow your racing heart and steady your shaky voice.

“Hi sweetie.” You answered as calmly as possible.

“Hello, дорогой (darling), is everything alright? I have just arrived at your apartment and you are not here.” Colossus said, his accent seemed a little extra thick tonight. You loved it.

“Yeah, everything’s peachy.” You said, lying through your fucking teeth. “I just um…wanted some good hot chocolate from the place on Main Street, you want some?” You explained, hoping he wouldn’t hear the worry in your voice.

“Oh, da. That sounds wonderful.” He replied.

“Ok great, I will be back soon with hot chocolate. I love you.”

“благодарю вас, дорогой (thank you,darling) I love you too.” Colossus hung up.

You let out a sigh of relief, but that relief didn’t last long as your entire body filled with anxiety. The last thing you wanted was Piotr finding out about you.

You intended to keep your word to Victor, you’d kill him, anybody, or anything when it came to protecting Piotr. Not to say that he couldn’t handle himself physically, of course he could. His skin was quite literally made of steel, but his heart? Not so much.

Tags: (tag list of open, send me an ask if you want to be tagged, removed or only tagged for certain characters.) @chromecutie @xenomorphique @evelyn120700 @nightriver99 @iamwarrenspeace @this-that-and-every-thing-else @hsk-puma @bungeewabbit @pianomad @lesbianstarkx @hazilyimagine-blog @super-darkcloudstudent @thehuntress26 @siren-lamented-vampire @mooleche @rovvboat @leo-writer @dandyqueen @nitemaremotionless @thewintersoldierswife

#colossus x reader #colossus fanfiction #piotr rasputin x reader #peter rasputin x reader #colossus/reader #kacceywrites #mcu Deadpool fanfiction #writers on tumblr

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clouds-rambles · 4 years ago

Note

Is it alright if i req hcs of kaeya, diluc, zhongli finding out they have a vampire s/o and they have all these cool vampire abilities and can be a bat and etc? Thanks 😊

Vampires go brr is all I say

Requests are back open! I’m planning that nth-hundred special thing soon but for the time being I’ll take more requests <3

Pairings; (Seperate) Kaeya, Diluc, and Zhonglii x reader

Warning(s); no explicity nsfw just mentions

Keep reading under the cut!

Kaeya

Man if he wasn’t already whipped for you the added fact of you’re a vampire is so cool to him. If it’s not a secret he’s definitely like “check out my s/o everyone rn, okay, do the bat thing”

Hickeys are interesting and Kaeya is far too down bad for it. He loves the feeling of your fangs literally anywhere on his body

He also loves the feeling of your fangs brushing up against his lips

If you turn into other animals Kaeya is just there like ‘holy shid my s/o right now’

Yelling ‘down bad’ at Kaeya is just apart of your common lingo at this point

Thanks to your aversion to sunlight midnight exhibitions and explorations are the best thing to Kaeya

He wants to know everything you can do and will likely test your limits

If you’re the floaty kind of vampire Kaeya loves being held in the air

If you’re the kind of vampire that can turn into mist please prank him when he goes into a hug, it’ll be funny to watch him eat shit

Give him a kiss after though. It doesn’t matter how funny it is just remind the man you love him

If you’re particularly older than him expect him to ask what certain aspects of the past really are true and what’s just made up to keep the calm

Do you still pray to the god of your homeland, be it Barbatos or any other. If not why?

How were you turned? Were you born a vampire? Were you born in Teyvat or Khaenri'ah? If you’re from Khaenri'ah was it before or after the gods betrayed the people?

If you’re as secretive as Kaeya it’s interesting to see how much you can reveal while he continues to keep his cards to his chest

Diluc

He has to be sure you’re not a threat to Mondstat before he even thinks about forming a platonic relationship with you, let alone a romantic one

Diluc isn’t sure what attracts you to him, probably the thrill of danger. The act of placing his life into a person who could snap him like a twig

Every brush or your fangs or scratch of your nails is a reminder of his fragility compared to your superior strength.

He’s into it way more than he’d like to admit and you know it.

Your days are often spent sleeping, and usually Diluc will sleep the mornings with you sleeping, afternoons and evenings are strictly business time to him

If you help out with his Darknight Hero rounds he’s more than happy to have you about. And he loves seeing your raw power tear through Abyss Mages forcefields quicker than he can with his vision

It’s funny watching Diluc skirt about questions about your past, especially once you’re in a relationship. Though unlike other vampires, you’re more open to sharing your secrets with Diluc than others.

Diluc being a secretive person himself doesn’t speak of your own vampiric abilities

Diluc is the original hypeman in the shadows. Anything you do is immediately met with praise, especially when it comes to your vampiric abilities;

Turn into a bat or other animal mid battle to move the battle to your advantage after he’ll just tell you how cool the move was

Turn into mist to fuck with the abyss mages like they do everyone else? Hell yeah payback bitch

Teleport into an abyss mages forcefield to take em down? Number 1 hype man right here

Diluc will compliment you on all the cool things you did on the walk back to the winery and man seeing his face light up his the best thing

You can guess this is what he was like before his fathers death, this cheery smiley man. It’s a shame you don’t get to see it more

Zhongli

Zhongli knew there was something different about you, something not human and once he finds out about your vampiric status everything kind of melds together. The reason why you are never seen on lovely bright days

Though the fact you’re seen at all during the day is something to behold actually and the first question to leave Zhongli’s mouth is ‘why can you go outside during the day?’

You explain that you’re a particularly old and strong vampire, rivalling some of the youngest gods in age. You had once had a coven but many of it’s members but your kind had been hunted to near extinction by archon loyalists who saw you all as blasphemous

Sitting at the table with other historians is always so much fun for both of you, especially with your contradicting opinions on the geo archon. Though your opinions aren’t necessarily bad but it’s more like you see them in a different light considering your age and knowledge of the world

Zhongli enjoys talking to you about divinity. So much so that you think that Zhongli is constantly dropping hints that he is the Geo Archon himself

You don’t question him but instead drop hints back at him that you know, small things that makes him question internally about it.

Its not often you or Zhongli go about fighting, the two of you much prefer to sit, drink tea and have a good chatter

Though the centuries of battling shows when the both of you are thrown into battle, you often bounce off of each other with ease. And with the added flare of your shapeshifting abilities your enemies will always perish

Around Liyue Harbour both you and Zhongli are friendly with the kids, often treating them to popsicles or games of tag and hide and seek. Despite the fact that the two of you don’t look a day over 30 many of the children give you sweet nicknames with any kind of relation to grandparents

The other vampires you have left you will visit often, usually when Zhongli is visiting his adepti. Seeing your children thrive in all corners of Teyvat without the security of a nest of vampires is admirable. Its no wonder they have survived this long

While you’re not as lively as the younger vampires both you and Zhongli cause your fair bit of trouble and have the most fun you can possibly can have

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