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crispyjenkins · 4 years ago

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I might spam your box with ideas haha. S U F F E R. I’ve never liked the idea that after the Hardeen mission even Cody and Obi-wans men were all mad at him. There’s no one that would understand more than the troopers and Cody in my opinion. They understand having a duty and Following orders, even if you don’t agree with them. So I need me some Codywan + Obi getting so much more closer with his men and them being his support system now + ahsoka not being mad at her grandmaster. Please & thanks

(i have that one fill about the space fam™ figuring out obi-wan isn’t doing too hot after the deception arc, which is all well and good, but yeah the clones would absolutely understand and support obi faking his death for a mission and the fandom needs more of that. so here is fiori enabling me. and rex loving and supporting his general but also being super unimpressed with his tantrum

thank you for all the prompts, ad'ika ( ˘ ³˘) altho now I've had to shuffle my entire prompt list so that it's not you every other fill for the next month lmao)

“And he just goes right back to work?” Anakin snarls with a vague gesture across the bridge, to where General Kenobi is speaking with Cody and Wooley, and Maker, does the General look young. He had been reluctant to waste time on cosmetic corrections, and had only allowed the Jedi healers to give him some of his hair back; for better or for worse, he's letting the beard grow back naturally.

If the absurd amount of cooing that had happened at the Temple is anything to go by, many of the Jedi miss Kenobi’s baby-face, that he had supposedly covered with a beard as soon as he'd taken Anakin on as his apprentice. When Kenobi had given his first debrief after the Jedi had fixed his features back into his own, Echo had panicked and called him “cadet” in front of three different battalions, and the 501st is never going to let him forget it.

Anakin had not laughed.

“I’m not sure what you mean, sir,” Rex says carefully, turning back to the datapad in his hand to look over the command roster for their coming deployment. “General Kenobi’s injuries from the mission were superficial, he’ll be fully healed before we even make it to the Mid-Rim.”

Scoffing, Anakin continues to glare at his former master. “You can’t tell me you’re not angry, Rex,” he says, and leans against the console behind him.

Ahsoka had warned him that his general clearly wasn't over Kenobi’s supposed betrayal, and Rex is Mando enough to admit he’s been avoiding this conversation; he won’t lie to Anakin, no, they’ve been through far too much together for that, but no matter how close they are, their friendship would not save him from Anakin’s wrath.

So he pretends to be reading the roster for another long moment, wishing he had Kote’s diplomacy. “I am not, sir, just as I was not angry when Kix feigned desertion for the mission on Odos II.” Glancing up, he’s relieved to see Anakin isn’t glaring at him yet, but if Ahsoka hadn’t been able to talk him down, Rex doesn’t stand a chance. “The Supreme Chancellor's life being at stake is no small matter, the High Generals had many factors to consider, including that Count Dooku would be watching you closely in the wake of General Kenobi’s death.”

“Are you saying I can’t act?”

“I’m saying that if Count Dooku thought for even a moment you were faking it, the whole mission would have been in jeopardy. Sir.”

He doesn’t need to know banthashit about the Force to feel it when Anakin goes from simmering to incensed, not with the way Anakin warps the air between them, saturating it with his rage until General Kenobi sends them a concerned frown across the bridge. Anakin doesn’t seem to notice, glare fixed on Rex, and this really isn’t how he would have expected them to fall out.

Or that they'd have to fall out at all.

The tragedy of the thought makes Rex bold, meeting Anakin’s rage with a calm and confidence stolen from far stronger men. “You were not the only one made to believe in the General’s death, you forget there are others who care for him as deeply as you do.” Kote, he doesn’t say, Vos and Ahsoka and the Duchess, Wupi and Choke and Boil. “I perhaps would not include myself in that count, but should you not put aside your anger and be relieved that the General was not actually murdered?” Kote catches his eye and taps at his wrist guard, his concern obvious as he asks Rex in didi if he’s alright, and Rex will gladly take the unintentional out his brother has given him. “Just something to think about, sir. Here is the adjusted command roster, Captain Sage was transferred to the Coruscant Guard following his injury during the campaign on Aslo. Excuse me, sir, Commander Cody seems to have a question for me.” He hands the datapad to Anakin, who is miraculously too stunned not to take it, before Rex moves quickly across the bridge.

Ahsoka sits gingerly across from Rex in the almost-empty mess, murmuring, “I take it the talk didn’t go well.”

He snorts into his cup of caf. “From a certain point of view, it went better than expected.”

Wincing, Ahsoka rubs her own arms and casts her eyes down to the table. “I tried asking him about it before we left Coruscant, I’ve never seen him so angry, not even at the funeral.”

Rex is used to being the little brother, of both his batchmates and the CC track, and this is one of the times where he laments that: when he doesn’t quite know how to comfort the way his brothers comforted him. “If I may, sir,” he says, quiet enough that the few vode at the table across the room won’t hear, “are you not angry with General Kenobi?”

“No?” She chews her bottom lip. “I mean, yes, I mean– I’m happy he’s alive. It hurt, being kept out of the loop, but it’s not as if I was singled out for that, right? And I... I understand why he did it, why it had to be done and why it played out like it did, but it still hurt. But I’m also so relieved that Master Obi-Wan is alive, that I don’t think my hurt matters.”

“And General Skywalker hasn’t come to that conclusion yet.”

She shakes her head. “How... How has Cody taken it?”

“I think he’s more angry that he was forced to miss the funeral than Kenobi faking his death." Rex isn't sure where Kote and Kenobi stand now, they had been heading towards a collision before this Hardeen fiasco, and he doesn't know where they've landed. Brothers? Lovers? Whatever the hell Echo and Fives are? He hadn't been able to ask before the 212th and the 501st split ways. "It was for a mission, wasn't it? We're soldiers, Commander Tano, we're born with 'Mission First' imprinted on our brains."

Ahsoka giggles at the mental image, and Rex is relieved to see her shoulders relax. "All the padawans expected Knight Vos to react the worst," she says, crossing her arms on the table. "He grew up with Master Obi-Wan, you know? But he just... accepted it, he simply understood and... Letting go is part of being a Jedi. Knowing when you can't change things, and accepting failures, and understanding no matter the circumstances."

It would certainly not be the first time Anakin has stumbled on the Jedi path.

"General Vos was a Shadow, no?" Rex asks, considering his watery caf and wishing he knew how to approach his general about any of this. "He would empathise most, wouldn't he?"

"I suppose you're right," she says, bouncing her legs. "How have the others been? Echo and Jesse and them?"

"They're most disturbed by Kenobi’s face, to be honest."

Choking on a laugh, Ahsoka reaches across the table to steal an unused sucrose packet from Rex's tray. "I did hear something about Echo and cadets," she admits. "Oh no, how did Kix react?"

Rex smirks at the memory. "He really does like Kenobi’s hair, doesn't he?"

"He must have been devastated!"

"I think he tried to get the General to let him shave designs in the undercut."

"I suddenly know what I'm doing for the next Disaster Lineage prank war."

Rex winces, remembering the last prank war and how long it had taken Anakin to stop smelling like hot sauce. "Jesse's the best with the razors," he says blandly, mourning his now-empty cup and the broken caf machine in the kitchen, "and will work for extra shower tokens."

is this what you wanted, fiori?? 1,400 words about obi-wan without obi-wan in it for more than two seconds???

Mando’a: didi — a Clone-dialect specific form of dadita, a Mandalorian nonverbal communication similar to morse code. i think the clones would have a modified version of dadita that utilised placement of fingers on their arm as well as the actual taps, for quicker communication in close quarters, so in this case, didi is short for gadi dadita, “wrist dadita”. They would use this alongside standard military hand signals!

vode — “brothers, comrades, siblings”, sing. vod, technically gender neutral but used most often in fandom as “brothers”

#prompt fill #crispy writes #theclonewarsbrokeme #codywan #implied anyways #post-deception arc #captain rex #i think this is my first time doing rex pov?#prequel trilogy #clone wars #ask #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #obi wan kenobi #commander cody #actually forgot you'd asked for codywan and slipped that one line in because i'm a predictable bih

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kovnynir · 2 years ago

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𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑨𝑳𝑴𝑶𝑺𝑻 𝑶𝑽𝑬𝑹, 𝑰𝑻'𝑺 𝑱𝑼𝑺𝑻 𝑩𝑬𝑮𝑼𝑵 ;

CONTINUED FROM HERE.

gawynn stared, horrified, at the now-empty conference hall. this was fucking bad, and she was completely frozen. she barely even noticed as hux rushed into the room, at least until he was grabbing her shoulders.

❝ what’s going on?? ❞ hux questioned, looking her over. ❝ gawynn, what’s happened? you commed me -- i don’t understand. ❞

❝ we’re fucked, ❞ gawynn breathed. ❝ the troopers are rebelling, just as we said they would -- they’ve turned against us. ❞

hux’s eyes widened. they hadn’t really expected it to go this way -- they were preparing for a potential revolt after their deprogramming, not now! ❝ shit -- fuck, that’s- i’ll call the resistance. fuck. ❞ he left and headed towards his office, gawynn trailing behind him.

----

as the troopers got ready, nero put on his armor, strapped on whatever weapons he felt he’d need, then left the base. it was early morning, the first sun was rising over the horizon and he could feel the overwhelming high of rebellion. he wondered if this feeling was what made the resistance so foolhardy. it was a good feeling -- to resist. to force change by your own hand. to change the status quo in the name of something bigger than yourself.

he supposed he could relate to them, a little.

as he walked through the slowly-waking town, he felt more confident than ever. he knew every inch of the place, he knew exactly what he’d need to do to keep the resistance from becoming a threat, he was actually ecstatic at the prospect of changing this outpost and then the galaxy.

but how would he start? what would be the most effective message to send? the troopers had a lot to prove, and their lives were at stake. they needed to show everyone that they weren’t just throwing a tantrum. this was so much more than the first order was willing to admit -- they refused to be tools.

it was when he reached the hospital that it all clicked in his head.

he sent out a comm to the troopers -- start dragging citizens out. and just like that, it was organized chaos. people shouting their displeasure, the cries of worry, the protests, and the crowd was slowly growing. nero walked into the hospital and looked for the doctor.

----

after kota’s conversation with nyomi, that pit of dread never truly left him. he knew something bad would happen that day, he was just waiting for it. when a death trooper marched in, his stomach sank further.

❝ how can i help? ❞ kota asked with a little smile.

the trooper said nothing, just reached out and grabbed his arm. ❝ hey- what do you think you’re- ❞ kota protested.

❝ shut it, ❞ nero snapped back. ❝ if you want to live, you’ll do whatever i say. ❞

it’s safe to say kota was heeding the warning. he didn’t want any trouble, he just wanted to solve whatever problem they had. he stopped talking and his mind started racing for some sort of way out of this. he had to keep his focus ahead -- if he looked at his family, he’d start to panic. he couldn’t do that. he needed to be a leader here.

by the time nero got kota out in front of the crowd, he could sense the panic in the citizens go up, but no one dared make a sound in case their protest reflected badly on the doctor. no one wanted to be the thing that made it all worse. they went up to the platform. nero shoved kota down to his knees. the doctor watched the crowd patiently.

❝ this time of peace... all of it. it’s over, ❞ nero announced. he looked out over the crowd, slowly removing his helmet. he wanted them to look at the human being beneath the mask. he wanted them to feel bad for their treatment towards him and his fellow soldiers.

❝ for far too long, you and everyone else across the galaxy have taken advantage of us. treated us like nothing more than dogs, or tools of the state! we were children once -- taken from our families, forced to serve in the first order, forced to believe what they wanted us to believe, forced to fight their wars, and die for them. for you. for all of you. and how are we repaid? with cruelty. with hatred, and disgust. ❞ nero shook his head, catching eyes with the various citizens.

❝ you all hate us for what we are. what we were turned into. fine. let us be the villains, then. until you all learn to take us seriously, you have earned your fates. ❞ he pulled out his blaster pistol and jabbed it against kota’s head. ❝ so who’s the first to bear the punishment, hm? should it be the doctor? ❞

kota took a deep, slow breath. his eyes connected with kartal’s and over their ‘rainbow connection’, he gave him one simple order: lead.

❝ your name is nero, right? ❞ kota spoke aloud, his voice gentle and calm. ❝ nero -- you’re one of the first troopers. i know about you. ❞

the trooper raised his brow, his gaze now turned on the doctor. ❝ that’s me. ❞

❝ i can tell how upset you and the others are -- how much pain you’re put through. it’s not fair. but what’s also unfair, is taking out your pain on people that are also victims of the first order’s cruelty. your anger should be aimed at those that put you here. ❞ of course kota didn’t want the troopers to turn on the first order since they were changing everything, but he definitely didn’t want innocent people being slaughtered and harassed. he had to defend his town.

nero smirked. ❝ these people might be victims, but they’re not innocent either. i know you want to protect them. but you can’t. ❞ his attention returned to the crowd. ❝ no one here is safe. it’s time you all learn what happens when you turn your back on us. ❞

a shot rang out, and kota was dead.

----

immediately, it’s screams and panic and chaos. kartal’s eyes get wide and his instinct is to grab alyrisa before she can rush the stage. he hears nyomi scream beside him and his free hand grips her shoulder.

lead. lead. lead. lead. lead.

he looks straight at nero, who’s observing all the chaos, then down at al. obviously kartal can’t let go of her, but he can’t let kota sit on that stage, he doesn’t want anything to happen to him. the first person closest to him is deimos, who looked ready to slaughter.

❝ get kota!! ❞ kartal barked to the mandalorian, who pulled on his helmet and moved towards the stage, hands up and clear to show that he wasn’t going to attack. looks like his kind would probably wind up being targets again, they usually wound up that way, and he didn’t want to get offed just for trying to take care of someone. kartal watched to ensure that deimos had it covered before dragging what remained of his family into the hospital.

not this again...

#* nero : self para.#* kota : self para.#* armitage : self para.#* gawynn : self para.#* kartal : self para.#self para.

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philliamwrites · 4 years ago

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The Dawn Will Come [Chpt.3]

Fandom: Fire Emblem Three Houses

Pairing: Dimitri x Reader, Claude x Reader, Edelgard x Reader, Yuri x Reader, Edelgard x Byleth, lots of minor pairings

Tags: #gn reader, # platonic love byleth & reader, #reader is a tactical unit, #angst, #slow burn, #subplots, #unreliable narrator, #pining, #remporary amnesia, #reluctant herp, #canon divergence, #lost twin au, #many chapters, #original content

Words: 7.7k

Summary: Waking up in a forest without any knowledge of your past and who you are, you join the house leaders of the Officers Academy to search for a way to return your memories. Unfortunately, the church has different plans for you, and Fate places you in the centre of a cruel game with deadly stakes. It certainly doesn’t help to fall in love with a house leader who is doomed to be your demise.

Notes: Chapter 2 | Chapter 4

Chapter 03: Ties That Bind

Where war, and joy, and terror Have all at times held away; Where both delight and horror Have had their fitful day.

The happiest under heaven A king of powerful mind; A company so proven Would now be hard to find

Gawain put on a good cheer. ‘Why should I hesitate?’ He said. ‘Kind or severe, We must engage our Fate.’

[Sir Gawain and the Green Knight]

„Breathe,“ Hanneman says for the third time. At every tap of his pen against the table, you flinch as if someone is knocking right against the inside of your skull. “You have to feel the Crest, become one with it. Don’t think of it as an addition; see it as an extension of your very self.”

You exhale but it’s hard to focus after you’ve been sitting in the same position for nearly two hours and your legs keep falling asleep.

“Focus on it,” Hanneman continues. He starts to gesture with his free hand, an indicator that he’s just as frustrated with your lack of progress as you are. “Focus on the feeling that took hold of you when you fought the bandits. Imagine what you want. Ask yourself what it is you really want, and take hold of that picture.”

Well, first of all, you really want a sandwich.

For the past few weeks, you’ve been waking up before sunrise to attend private lessons with Hanneman to get a hold of your Crest’s power. Now the end of the month approaches, and still your body refuses to get accustomed to work at such an early hour, and more importantly without eating first. An hour ago, your stomach started growling, but Professor Hanneman has proved again and again to be very successful in ignoring factors that disturb his lessons. You continue breathing through what you consider hunger pains instead of the raise of new powers, but with the sound of screaming students outside and the occasional flapping of wings as Pegasus Knights fly by on their patrol, it’s anything but successful.

“Focus!” Hanneman chides again as if he can read your mind and knows exactly you’re thinking of the pheasant roast with berry sauce on the menu today.

“I’m trying,” you groan and slump into the chair, defeated. “But I don’t feel anything.”

“Hmm hmmm,” Hanneman hums and looks at you like you were supposed to understand what he’s conveying with that sound. “Maybe we’re looking at it the wrong way,” he says once you don’t follow up on his inexplicable sound. “Maybe we should stop thinking of it as a common Crest, but approach it like it is something entirely different.” He quickly notes something on his paper, then proceeds to flip through the open books he’s splayed out on his desk. “There is so little we know about the Crest of the Herald. I am much frustrated no one thought of studying it a thousand years ago!”

“I don’t understand. How can it be different?” Your first lesson solely focused on Crests. How they are thought to be power incarnate, bestowed upon humans by the Goddess countless ages ago. Today those who are descendants of Fódlan’s Ten Elites and Four Saints, who fought during the War of Heroes beside Saint Seiros, wear Crests, a sign of wealth and nobility.

“Well, one possible explanation could be that for whatever reason, the first Herald was different from his fellow warriors, the Ten Elites,” Hanneman offers, leaning back into his chair and looking a lot more interested in the conversation now. “The Goddess must have found him worthy of her power just as she found Saint Seiros worthy.”

“Then why wasn’t he a Saint?” you wonder. From your understanding, the Four Saints were special comrades of Saint Seiros, just as guided by the Goddess as their leader. What had made the Herald from back then different? “According to everything you told me, he sounds a lot like this Macuil person. Focusing on strategy and all that.”

“Saint Macuil,” Hanneman corrects you, but there’s no bite in his voice. “And yes, perhaps he was akin to the Saints, but that clearly wasn’t what determined the final decision to name him Herald.”

“Well, that’s just my kind of luck,” you mumble, but when Hanneman makes a puzzled sound, you ask instead, “And you’re sure I’m a descendant of him?”

“Most likely! You bear a Major Crest, which means the Herald’s blood runs strong in your body. After he disappeared, he might have settled down and started a family. Unfortunately, nothing is recorded about him after the War of Heroes concluded.”

“Then how come there was no one else in a thousand years who bore the same Crest?” You aren’t sure you fully understand how they work. Apparently, Crests grant special powers to those who hold them such as high aptitude for magic or enhanced strength. But you know better than anyone that the Crest of the Herald is special. It doesn’t simply give you a boon, it allows you to command the flow of battle. But is it really a blessing bestowed by the Goddess? You don’t remember a divine revelation or talking to a Goddess. Or did that maybe occur even before you were found by the Officers Academy’s students? Before your memory loss? You certainly don’t feel chosen by a deity.

“Trying to explain the Goddess’ whims would wield about the same result as asking this question,” Hanneman says. “Sometimes a Crest may skip generations. No one can say with certainty who will be chosen. If it will be the first or third born. That is why we must further study Crests! For example, why, unlike other Crests, has your appeared physically visible?” Hanneman mutters more questions under his breath and notes them quickly on his paper. It’s remarkable how enthusiastic he approaches the topic if it only didn’t make you feel like an experiment lying on a dissection table.

“I want to know so much more about the first Herald,” you mumble. “What was his name? Where was he from?” Why did he disappear and what were the costs he had paid for such a title. Only one month in and Lady Rhea already granted you an impressive room to reside. People treat you with respect and admiration even though you aren’t doing much besides wave at them on the streets or hold some conversations. If being the Herald only encompasses these tasks, you’ll gladly take on the role and speak to people. But that would be a dream too good to be true.

“We can only speculate,” Hanneman says. “Some believe the Herald came when Seiros needed him most. Our Goddess’ answer to her cry of help. Others believe he was simply a general who originated form a farmer’s family. Other, smaller sources talk about a prince from a far off land who passed through Fódlan and decided to stay. But in all cases, the Herald was a great asset to win the War of Heroes and save Fódlan from the tyranny of the Fell King.”

“Yeah, no pressure there,” you mumble, sinking further into your seat. Hopefully no one expects you to save Fódlan from evil monarchs. If yes, it certainly won’t happen on an empty stomach. When Hanneman releases you, there’s only one place for you to be. The Dining Hall is crowded at this time of hour. Students and faculty bustle everywhere, eager to get their favourite meal on a plate. Just like them, you are drawn in by the amazing smell of roasted meet and freshly baked pastries.

The only thing you can live without is how once you enter the room several heads turn in your direction, and a ripple of “Look, it’s the Herald” goes through the crowd, spreading like a wave. Or a disease, you think with a sour taste in your mouth as you move through the parting sea. They want you to acknowledge them but Goddess forbid you actually engage in conversation with them and they flee like you’re the Herald of Pest.

“Herald!” Well, not everyone escapes. Some seem to like living dangerous.

Edelgard looks straight at you from between the other students from the Eagle class sitting at a table, removing any doubt she means anyone else but you. Running from her would be a sign of defeat, so you drag yourself over to the Eagle table and give the round an uncertain smile. “Hello.”

“Herald, if you have time, please sit with us,” Edelgard offers but the look she pins on you doesn't give you any choice. The silence of her classmates speaks louder than words, and a quick glance to Hubert tells you that he very much would like for you to notsit with them.

“Sure,” you say lamely and sit opposite from her where Bernadetta quickly shuffles to the side to make room, and then further down the bench until she jumps to her feet and flees from the hall. It’s a miracle she’s out of her chambers in the first place, undoubtedly Byleth’s work.

“Did you manage any progress with Professor Hanneman?” Edelgard asks, carefully cutting her pheasant roast into small bite-sized pieces. She looks the complete opposite from someone capable of hacking away their enemies but you wouldn’t dare to underestimate her.

“It’s slow,” you admit, solely focusing on shoving potatoes from one side of your plate to the other so you don’t have to look at anyone. “I’ve only grasped the basics of how Crests work and the Herald’s is so different.”

“Research might prove more fruitful if you’d be called into action,” she says, and it’s difficult to determine if that statement is a simple observation or underlying critique towards Rhea’s decision to leave you out of the major education system. At least that’s something you’re sure of. Edelgard is difficult.

“Maybe. But chances are higher I get myself killed somehow on the battlefield.” You’re already dreading the approaching noon hours. Byleth has worked out a special training programme for you and the house leaders. So far there hasn’t been a day without aching muscles and bruises for you. Thinking of Byleth, you can’t help but ask, “So how’s Byleth as a Professor?”

Edelgard considers her plate with mild interest, but her index fingers start tapping against her cutlery. She has small, delicate hands. Cute hands. You gawk at them for two seconds before noticing Hubert starring daggers at you, and quickly avert your eyes to your cup of ginger tea like it’s the most fascinating thing in the world.

“Our professor shows knowledge in the most curious things,” he says, surprising you by joining the conversation. “I think the Adrestian Empire will benefit greatly from that.”

You aren’t sure how leading the class correlates directly to joining the Empire, but you don’t want to point that out. Hubert is still too much of a puzzle you’re adamant on not piecing together because whatever picture waits for you after the assembly might be one of horror.

“She really is one to look up to,” Edelgard agrees, but she isn’t looking at anyone, so it seems she’s saying it more to herself. You want to try and read more out of her expression, but distraction comes quickly in form of more students from the Eagle class. Caspar is the first bouncing excitedly towards the table, and still he somehow miraculously manages to keep his food from flying everywhere. “Herald!” he calls and slides right on the seat right next to you. “How’s the head situation going?”

“Caspar,” Linhardt chides and gives his friend the disappointed look of a parent that can’t bring his child to use a fork to eat. “Would you stop pestering the Herald with the same question every day?”

Linhardt hits the mark. It was nice in the beginning to have someone show so much interest in your wellbeing, but now you don’t know if the daily reminder how you fail to regain pieces of your past is rude or just Caspar’s naive politeness.

“Yeah well.” You try to stuff as much potatoes in your mouth as possible just to avoid talking about it. “Nothin’ yeff.”

“Herald, please try to keep your manners in check, will you?” Ferdinand comments because of course he catches you with your mouth full and sauce dripping from the corners. Unlucky for him, you don’t really care.

“Well, sorry.” Caspar frowns and scratches the remains from his plate. The two minutes you needed to finish your potatoes, he’s cleared his whole plate. “I just thought it might help.”

“Help to be reminded what’s missing?” Linhardt doesn’t look convinced. “I think the Herald knows so better than anyone.”

“Guys, drop the subject,” Edelgard intervenes. “Let us finish our meals now. Classes resume presently and I don’t want to hear any stomachs growling, understood?” The last part goes with a pointed look towards Linhardt, who answers with a lazy shrug while continuing to poke at his food, looking bored out of his mind. It lasts about three seconds before he brightens up and turns towards you while rummaging through his school bag. From that, he pulls out notes and a pen, and unceremoniously shoves them into your hands. “I have a question, Herald. Would you be so kind and look over these strategic proposals I’ve developed from the last lesson? I understand what you taught us were basics as we find them in the library. I simply took the time and applied those to the strengths and abilities of my classmates.”

You raise your eyebrows. “You did?” Up until now, you didn’t know Linhardt was paying attention whenever you gave the students your sorry excuses of lessons. You feel like you’ve seen him asleep far more than actually looking at the board or writing, so him presenting his notes to you now is more than a surprise. He has a clean handwriting, small letters that curl into themselves and forget to take a break between words. You squint at the sentences, trying to make them out. It sure doesn’t help that half of it is crossed out by what looks like a strategy sketch with little circles and everyone’s names filling out the space.

“This looks … elaborate,” you comment, unsure if you’ll ever be able to solve this enigma.

“No worries.” Linhardt gives a little smile. “Please give me your answer report until tomorrow. And feel free to correct me on anything I’ve done wrong.”

He’s probably done a much better job than you on your lesson notes, but you nod with a lopsided smile. “I will.”

“Oh, and while we’re at strategy talk,” Caspar jumps right in, “any good ideas how to take on a taller opponent?”

“A good kick to their shins?” you suggest.

“A dagger to their liver?” Edelgard says.

“Poison in their cup?” Hubert offers.

“You’re all animals,” Ferdinand says.

Linhardt groans. “I toldyou how to win in a fight like that, Caspar. Why won’t you listen to me?”

You don’t want to be part of the argument breaking out between them, so you turn away and try to see what the other students are doing in the dining hall. At the opposite end, Claude catches your eyes and waves like he’s been waiting way too long to finally get your attention. He points at Edelgard and flaps his arms like a chicken. He points at you and spreads his hands behind his head, forming antlers with his fingers. When Edelgard follows your eyes, his head whips around and he pretends to agree with whatever Lysithea just said.

“I hope you forgive Caspar’s enquiries,” she says, steering your focus back to her. She’s gently tapping the corners of her mouth with an embroidered napkin, and oh there they are again, her delicate fingers. You look away before Hubert catches you staring again and decides to put poison in your cup7. “I speak on behalf of everyone in the Black Eagle House when I say we wish for your full recovery to be soon.”

“If wishing would only get the job done, I might have something to work with by now.”

Edelgard doesn’t blink, her expression frozen. “Meaning?”

“I thought I'd come here and one of the Church's healers would just wave their hands to return my memories,” you mumble, scribbling a tiny Claude with little, evil horns on his head in the corner of Linhardt’s notes.

Edelgard looks at you like you've just insulted her whole noble lineage. “That isn't how magic works.”

You throw your arms up in frustration to emphasise that yes, that's the point. You don't know how anything works in this place, and you doubt Byleth's four pages of lesson plans are going to help.

“If no one comes to your aid, maybe it is time you take matters into your own hands.” You flinch at the scornful sound in Edelgard’s voice. Judging the expression on her face, she seems just as surprised about her outburst. She gets up abruptly and bids farewell with a curt nod, followed closely by Hubert as always. Her classmates look after her, each more puzzled than the next.

“Didn’t she seem … angry to you?” Linhardt thinks aloud, blinking into the empty space.

Ferdinand harrumphes. “She’s always like this. Please excuse her, Herald.”

You don’t think she’s done anything wrong, and yet she certainly doesn’t appear as always. Something about her last words strikes you as especially sharp; reproachful. Those weren’t meaningless words, but you don’t have any ways to decipher the message. A little voice tells you she isn’t wrong either. So far nothing has helped returning your memories—Manuela’s medicine, herbs from the Greenhouse, Hanneman’s spells. It seems like your brain has built defencive walls to repel any probing, which begs the answer to the question what is hiding in secret even more. But can you really do it on your own, like Edelgard suggests? It seems impossible.

With newfound doubt you finish your meal, saying your goodbyes to the now scattering Eagle students as they scurry off to their next lesson. Two hours are left before you’re meeting with Byleth and the house leaders, and since you agreed to look over Linhardt’s notes, the library seems a good next stop. You still want to go over the seven classical manoeuvres of war, especially since the students didn’t really grasp the remaining two last time, and it gives you a good excuse to look over them again as well. At the beginning, you thought there was nothing you could teach those children, not with experienced colleagues at your side who have participated in countless battles themselves. Who could have thought that talking about tactics and strategies came as natural to you as breathing. Well, Rhea did for certain, and even the students drink up your every word like it is a message from the Goddess herself and you her chosen herald. The irony of it.

But it isn’t only the students accepting your guidance. Something inside you changed in the last couple of weeks as well. When you started going through the books in the library, it was more stumbling and slipping on foreign terrain, but just in a couple of days, you moved through the matter like a fish following smoothly the currents of its native waters. It felt like home. Like building the foundation of a house from thousand variables, the result different each time but still the same: art. You build the art of battle, the last decision that will bring victory or death. You love every second of it. Which opens the possibility that it really isn’t your first time, but also more questions: Who taught you? What battles have you fought? How many of them did you win? Since those aren’t as simple to answer, you focus on fulfilling the first purpose, and hope that it will some day be enough for the students to survive battles.

If only it would end there. Your second duty isn’t as easy or pleasant, and it lies in wait for you everywhere, stalking you like a dark shadow with monstrous fangs.

“Herald.” A soldier gives a courteous bow, intercepting you in the Great Hall on your way to the library. “Pilgrims ask for you near the Entrance Hall. Please allow me to escort you.”

Immediately, your nerves tingle with nervous anticipation. This is the scary part. Meeting the people, seeing the hope in their eyes. You’d gladly send them back where they’ve come from, but some have travelled for multiple days, and denying them audience would be cruel.

“Don’t let me stop you from your duties,” you say, unconsciously tugging your clothes in order to appear presentable. “I will welcome them on my own.”

The soldier nods and bows again, his expression barely readable under the helmet before he disappears as quickly as he came.

Planning lessons is easy. You can find whatever you need in the library and work out the flow with the students. But nothing can prepare or teach you how to act like the Herald people wish for. Nowhere is anything written on the old Herald, how he talked to them and what promises he’d whispered when day broke. That is where you are on your own. Not even Rhea could answer that question. She only instructed that you see them, and remind them about their devotion to the Goddess—for she was the one who made it possible in the first place.

The Entrance Hall is emptier than usual. Most of the students are in class, and a handful of knights and soldiers might be at the advanced training camp Jeralt and Alois hold in honour of the Blade Breaker’s return. So spotting the pilgrims isn’t difficult. Especially with the Gatekeeper waving his arms in wide arcs as if fearing you might overlook him.

“Greetings, Herald!” His grin is blinding. “The pilgrims are waiting for you just at the at the foot of the stairs.”

“Yeah,” you say. “I can see them.”

“Oh, yes, of course! If anyone causes problems, count on me to help!”

“Thanks.” You answer his thumbs up with one of your own before moving downstairs. What a refreshing young man. Certainly good looking under his helmet. Byleth seems to like talking to him a lot as well.

Today’s pilgrims aren’t much different from other days. Old people are supported by their family members, who have brought baskets with sweets and flowers, presenting them at your feet.

“Herald,” they breathe in awe, bowing. No matter how often you’ve seen it by now, it still feels incredibly wrong.

“Raise your heads,” you tell them, helping an elderly woman up to hrer feet. She gasps at your touch, then clings to your hands. You try to swallow past the lump in your throat. “The Archbishop and I bid you welcome. The Goddess will smile upon your devotion.” Your cringe slightly when echoing Rhea’s words and wonder if any second the goddess might punish you by throwing lightning your way.

“We are blessed to finally meet you,” a younger woman says, taking the old woman from your hands—mother and daughter maybe? “Please accept our gifts, and may the Goddess guide you on your path to light.”

“She will answer your prayers and guide me so I can bring you peace,” you reply just so you can say something they might want to hear. Judging their delighted expressions this wasn’t the worst you could have said. Dorothea would probably be proud looking at your acting skills. Or point out your bad posture and how you’re avoiding their eyes. Dorothea would probably tell you how much you have to polish your acting skills.

“Bring us peace?” someone from the last row spits, pushing to the front. “You know nothing, the Herald will bring chaos and ruin!” A man in his forties looms above you, an ugly, padded scar crossing his face from one temple to his chin. A war veteran? They way he holds himself looks like he’s been beaten up once too much to get up again.

“You heathen, don’t you dare speak to our Herald like that,” the old woman barks, immediately doubling over in a coughing fit. Her daughter supports her, glaring at the man. “Go in peace, but go if you only came to talk ill about our Herald,” she says, clearly upset. "Doubting them is doubting our Goddess. How dare you."

“First I want to see the Herald do something! What if … if this one is an impostor.” The man turns towards the others, throwing his arms in the air. “Bring forward proof that you are not here to ruin our lands, but to actually serve in the Goddess’ name!”

This time his demand meets less resistance. Until now people were fine with seeing you and the Crest, but to want actual prove? You could easily threaten them and ask if they doubt the Goddess’ decision, but you’d rather leave that method to Rhea. You don’t want to sound like her. You don’t want to scare people. Yet admitting that you don’t really have a clue how to really use the Crest would surely support the man’s accusation. Diminishing the people’s trust in the Herald is the last thing you want, especially if it means facing Rhea’s scorn.

“I—”

“Herald!” A voice calls from the top of the stairs. When you turn around, Sylvain waves and jogs downstairs, looking like he’s been running for some time. “There you are. The Archbishop wants to see you.”

Oh no, has she heard of your failure already? Giving the choice of facing a group of doubting people or Rhea, you’d immediately go to the people. You give him a curt nod, unable to speak because you don’t trust your voice.

“I apologise,” you say to the pilgrims, clearing your throat when it comes out as a croak. “I will have something prepared for another time.”

“No, you do not need to prove anything to us,” the elderly woman says. “We will always believe in you. Please tell Her Grace we are constantly praying to our Goddess and thank her for sending you to us.”

“I will.” You squeeze her hand a last time. “Save travels.”

The man still glares at you, but without a chance to keep you present any longer, he turns away and follows the rest. You can’t wait to leave all that behind, and as you steel your nerves for what’s waiting for you in the Audience Chambers, you look up to Sylvain and ask, “Did Lady Rhea say what it is about?”

He looks over at you and blinks a couple of times, then seems to remember. “Ah ... yeah, about that. I lied.”

You stop dead in your tracks. “You lied?”

“Yup. I don’t know what Lady Rhea’s doing. But you looked like you were about to puke at those poor pilgrim’s shoes. As hilarious as that would have been, I wanted to spare you the embarrassment.” He stops now as well and smiles a boyish crooked grin. Sylvain knows exactly what to do with his face so girls fall over themselves to do him a favour, and boys grow jealous of all the attention he gets. Two weeks in, and you’ve figured out his game, keeping a respectable distance that wouldn’t birth the thought you’re avoiding him. In fact, this could be the very first time you’re actually holding a real conversation.

“Well, I … thank you? But I had everything under control.”

He looks like he doesn’t believe you. The gatekeeper you’re just passing looks like he doesn’t believe you. You press your lips into a thin line and dare any of them to disagree.

“Okay.” Sylvain shrugs. “But now we’re here.”

“Sylvain, what do you want?”

“Cutting to the chase, huh?” He crosses his arms behind his head. “Why do you think I want something?” Your raised eyebrows seem to be answer enough. Sylvain laughs a little helplessly and returns his hands back to his front, raised as an offer of peace. “I promise, I want nothing. Just a little talking. A little talking hasn’t hurt anyone.”

Something inside you wants to argue against it, but without a solid argument in hand, you follow him silently, wondering where his destination and intention lies. He belongs to the many students you can’t really read, nothing about his ambitions or goals. Sometimes he gives you this strange look through half lidded eyes, his gaze focused on your right eye—his interest in your Crest undeniable, and yet he’s been one of the few not to talk about it with you. It’s strange because whenever you come together, he looks like there’s something he’s dying to say. This time is no different.

He leads you to the wooden pavilion in the gardens, but instead of offering you a seat, Sylvain leans his slim hips against the table, half sitting on it. Seteth would be furious seeing this.

“How’s the Herald business doing for you?” he asks the one question you wouldn't expect from him. “Other than you having ‘everything under control.’” He has the audacity to air-quote. This isn’t a conversation you want to hold right now, leastwise with him. Sylvain must discern that you’re ready to bold from whatever your body is showing. With a quick step, he’s standing between you and the escape route, lazily leaning one arm against a column to uphold the illusion that you’re only having a pleasant talk when in reality his body stands between you and your freedom.

“Do you talk to the other faculty members like that as well?” you say through gritted teeth, crossing your arms. Sylvain blinks like he doesn’t understand, but you’ve seen this act before, followed by an eerily precise repetition of a subject to one of his classmates when he thinks none of the teachers pay attention. Sylvain is playing dumb and deliberately hiding a sharp mind.

“Oh, I didn’t mean to offend,” he quickly says, nothing about this crooked smile appearing apologetic whatsoever. “I’m generously curious. You’re holding up really good.”

“In comparison to what?” you demand, your heartbeat picking up. Is he trying to call you out on something? That you aren’t heraldy enough? But to your surprise, Sylvain looks genuinely surprised by your reaction.

“To nothing. In general?” He shrugs. “Back on the ceremony day, you didn’t look so good standing up there, and His Highness told us everything happened really uh … ‘suddenly.’’ More air-quotes, whatever they mean this time.

“If you mean I wasn’t really asked to become the Herald, then yes.” Your arms drop back to your side. “It was suddenly.”

Sylvain watches you for a moment, and again, there’s this look in his eyes; the need to say something he can’t. He kneads the back of his nape, avoiding your eyes. “All I’m trying to say is … having that Crest out of nothing is cool. Probably. And maybe terrifying? And just—”

You grow impatient. “Come on, get the words out, Sylvain.”

“A Crest isn’t just this nice letter of invitation to a privileged life. Just take care, is all I’m saying.”

And there’s another page to the book of surprises with Sylvain’s name on it. The immediate lack of response catches him off guard; it’s like he only notices now that the vital part to understand this conversation is missing: The source of his doubt towards Crests.

Sylvain’s body turns in a split second, his feet facing the direction he’s ready to bold towards, but this time you stand in his way and block him off. “Sylvain, are you okay?”

He blinks in confusion, then furrows his eyebrows in deep thought like you demanded he recites the Ten Heroes from memory or else fails classes. His face contorts with the effort of looking fine. “Why, yes! Just peachy. Why would you think something is off?”

“Because I have eyes in my skull.”

“Very pretty eyes, if I dare say.” His answer comes out like a fire spell, hard and fast, seemingly more instinct than anything else. He clears his throat and scratches his chin, loosing momentum. “Goddess, I am bad at this.”

“You are.” No need to sugar coat it. “If something happened, just say it.”

“Nothing really happened, I just—” He exhales audibly and stares into space for a long minute, before side stepping you without difficulty. “Actually, I remembered Professor wanted to see me after class. Something about extra lessons about eh. Horse riding. Yeah. I’ll catch you later, Herald.” He winks and bolds away, darting under your outstretched arm before you can catch him. For someone this tall, he’s surprisingly agile and fast, already disappearing behind a tall hedge towards the main building.

If that wasn’t the strangest conversation you’ve held with anyone, you don’t know what might excel that. Maybe it’s time you stop avoiding Sylvain.

The Training Grounds smells of sweat and oil. Many students and knights train, which is surprising at this kind of hour, the short break between afternoon and evening classes. You’d like to know what they’re working on, but Byleth doesn’t tolerate inattention in a classroom or on the battle field, and demands you do push-ups each time your eyes wander somewhere off. You hate her a little for that. For whatever reason, Claude has taken on the role of your partner in crime, and does whatever necessary to make Byleth punish him as well.

“What can I say, I like a good workout,” he said when you asked. He didn’t even try to hide his lie, looking as miserable as you felt. Probably hating Byleth a little as well.

It’s the fourth week of private training with her and the house leaders, and so far you can definitely say that you were not meant to fight on the field. You see how your opponent moves, you can somehow predict what they’re going to do next—but your body simply protests to act accordingly. You stumble, you fall, you need a second too long to get up and before you can do anything, a training sword is at your throat. Byleth always looks like she wants to facepalm her fist through her forehead. Or yours.

“Herald, this is not how you disarm someone,” she says, as always, and demonstrates it in one smooth, swift movement, as always. You blow hair out of your eyes, knowing you’re about to fail again. At least that gave Claude a reason to give you a new nickname, though if it’s better than the last is debatable.

“You gotta twist your wrist, duckling!” he calls from the other side of the hall, immediately drawing Byleth’s attention to him. He and Dimitri are facing off, both wielding a spear which should give Dimitri the upper hand. So far, he hasn’t landed a single hit on Claude.

“Keep your elbows in!” Byleth berates Claude. “Stop flapping them like some kind of chicken.”

Claude lets out a disturbingly convincing cluck.

You raise an eyebrow. “At least someone’s having fun.”

Byleth sighs. “He’s going to get himself killed sooner than later.”

“I don’t know. He’s managed so far, hasn’t he?”

“I’m not sure if it’s a talent or a fault.” She turns back to you and nods her chin towards the side. “Take a break. I’m going to see how the boys are doing.”

You nod, tensing all over because that’s where Edelgard is currently standing and picking out a training axe. You haven’t talked to her since lunch, and you can do without it for a couple more hours. She barely glances at you when you walk over, and instead checks out the edge of the wooden blade, turning it left and right.

“Is she as strict in the classroom as in here?” you ask, unable to go on in awkward silence. Edelgard hums, throwing a quick glance towards Byleth from under her long, white lashes. “She’s systematic and consistent. Capable in both fields. I have no reason to raise any kind of complaint.”

“That’s impressive.” You sure as heck still wouldn’t want her as a teacher. “Even though she’s been pushed into all this, she handles it like she’s never done anything else.”

“I think as a mercenary, she is used to changing approaches depending on the employer.” Edelgard is still looking at Byleth. Reading her expression is impossible, and you don’t want to point out that sticking a sword into thieves and bandits is not the same as teaching kids how to fight in a battle. Her head whips to you suddenly, and she considers the training sword in your hand. “Speaking of different approaches,” she continues, “have you considered that your field of combat might be magic?”

You have, so the answer comes immediately. “Chances are higher I set myself on fire.” You stare at her. “I didn’t mean it to rhyme.”

Edelgard ignores your last comment. “But you haven’t really tried it out, have you?” Your lack of response is answer enough for her, and she nods like that proves a point.

It’s complicated. You haven’t really tried it out because … the simple answer is, you’re afraid. It gets tricky once you try to search for the answer to that. There’s just a strange sensation when you try to use magic, like there’s a vast sea of possibilities and one step inside is enough to get you lost. It isn’t as bad with wind spells or white magic. You haven’t touched Fire spells because a crippling fear chills you to the bones every time you manage to nourish a small flame inside your palm—the complete opposite to Dark magic. When you tried a MiasmaΔ for the first time it felt strangely … secure. The rope tying you to a shore, it had felt like—

There’s a loud crash when the spears collide and Claude knocks Dimitri off his feet. The whole room is silent as everyone watches how Claude taps the blunt end of his practice spear against Dimitri’s chin. “Steady on there, darling,” he says with a smug grin. Dimitri flushes bright red, and pushes with more force than necessary the spear away, quickly climbing to his feet.

“That wasn’t bad.” Byleth quickly steps in before Dimitri can throttle Claude. “Dimitri, you rely too much on your brute strength. That’s a big disadvantage against someone like Claude. And you, young man,” she turns to Claude who’s been smiling victoriously, “are scheming too much and lose time to take action. In a serious battle, you won’t be as lucky as today.”

“Noted.” Claude whirls his spear from left to right, almost dropping it when Dimitri drills his elbow into his side. “But in a serious battle, I won’t be upfront. I’ll be hanging back nicely, and skewing my enemies with a myriad of arrows.”

“You can barely shoot three at the same time,” Dimitri grumbles, his cheeks still splotched with red specks.

“You wanna bet—”

“That’s enough, guys, save it for then next round.” Byleth ignores their sulky expressions and turns to you, raising a single eyebrow. The message is clear. What are you waiting for?

Your feet feel like they’re glued to the ground. Edelgard doesn’t hesitate at all. “Let’s go.”

She strides in the middle, training axe raised. It’s made out of wood, but you don’t doubt that she’s able to severe a limb from your body if she only tries hard enough—and what you know of Edelgard is that she alwaysexceeds even her own expectations. You grip your sword tighter. It’s a clear disadvantage, but better than anything else you can handle. Maybe it won’t be as bad.

The fight lasts for about seven seconds. The moment you raise the blade, Edelgard is on you and unleashes fierce strike after strike, the power behind each hit forcing you back. She doesn’t bat an eyelash when she easily disarms you, the wooden sword flying over your heads and the edge of her axe on your throat. Somewhere behind her, you hear Byleth sigh. “Again.”

The next hour is torture. Edelgard throws you to the ground, again and again. Byleth keeps telling you to get up, again and again. One might think they would cut you some slack, being the Herald and all, but it feels like Edelgard is so much more aggressive today because you’re the Herald. Or maybe it’s personal. Maybe she’s appointed you to be her sworn enemy, and won’t miss out any chance to make it as hard as possible for you.

This isn’t fun. Being watched by Dimitri and Claude, who whisper conspiratorially to each other isn’t fun. Luckily, Byleth notices them gawking and bellows them to focus on working on their stances. Right now, you’re thankful nothing escapes her eyes and she calls her students out on their bullshit. It doesn’t make your current situation easier though. Every muscle burns, just raising the sword is exhausting and your feet feel like they’re about to give out any second. This must be hell.

When Byleth finally ends lessons, you ignore everything and crumble to the ground, splaying your limbs out in all directions. Surely they can clean up without you, two hands less will barely make any difference.

A shadow settles over you. You know who it is, and don’t bother to open your eyes. “Go away, Byleth. I don’t want to hear how bad I am.”

“Personally, I think you have improved, Herald.” Your eyes snap open. Dimitri looks down at you, his forehead still glistening from perspiration. “But facing Edelgard as an opponent usually wields those results. Don’t let it bother you.”

You want to point out that he and Claude don’t seem to have as much problems as you, even though yes, none of them have defeated her yet in practice. He goes down to your level and sits beside you, and you hate how this all barely made him breath hard, like it’s just a stroll around the monastery whereas you’re trying to climb the mountains surrounding it.

“I think she hates me,” you blurt out. Luckily, most students have already left the hall, Edelgard included. Dimitri considers this a moment, and you don’t know what to make of his lack of immediate response.

“I doubt she hates you,” he finally says.

“But?”

“But she has a hard time warming up to people. Give her time. Once the ice is broken, you will see that her personality is one you’d like to have around.”

“Oh?” You watch him for a moment, but Dimitri doesn’t blush or look away. It was a heartfelt, sincere statement, which flusters you for some reason. No one should be that honest.

“Talking about breaking ice. Do you know if something happened to Sylvain?”

“Sylvain?” Dimitri raises both eyebrows. “Please don’t tell me he harassed you in some kind of way.”

“No, no, he just—” You finally get up from lying on your back, and try to explain it by frantically moving your hands. Dimitri still looks puzzled. “He said some weird things about Crests in general?”

“Hm.” Dimitri stares at your hands for a moment, then quickly raises his eyes back to your face. “It’s complicated.” Well, that answer is as good as none. “And I won’t go into details without his consent. I can only say that if he talked about Crests, in whichever way, his brother must have upset him again.”

“He has a brother?” Now you’re wide awake. Many students have siblings. You know of Hilda’s brother and Raphael’s sister. It shouldn’t surprise you Sylvain has one as well even though he’s never mentioned it before.

“Do you have siblings?” you ask, generously curious. As heir to a kingdom, it’s hard to imagine his parents would have settled with one child. But he hasn’t mentioned any sisters or brothers as well.

“Hmm, I have a step-sister,” he says, although very hesitant and you can see if someone doesn’t want to talk about a specific topic. He doesn’t return the question, which is kind of him and makes you wonder … maybe you have a sibling as well. Somewhere. Maybe somewhere in Adrestia or Leicester a younger brother or an older sister is currently looking for you, unrelenting in their journey to be reunited at last. The thought alone brings a flicker of hope alive. Maybe they'll come once word of the Herald’s return travels far enough.

“I guess as long as Sylvain doesn’t disturb classes or acts out of order, I would leave him to his brooding. I can tell out of experience, only Felix is capable of cheering him up.”

“Felix?” Your eyebrows rise to your hairline. “Are we talking about the same Felix?”

A smile forms on Dimitri’s mouth. “I understand why imagining that might prove difficult, but I assure you, Felix is one of the view exceeding in handling the mess Sylvain is from time to time.”

“Felix and Ingrid?” you guess, earning a nod from Dimitri. “Ingrid is a very nice girl,” you continue, picking at a loose thread from your uniform. “But Felix seems detests me. Every time he sees me, he looks like he wants to throw his sword at me.”

“That is—” Dimitri stops mid-sentence. “That might be not so far off from his true intentions.”

You groan.

“But I assure you it is for a different reason than you think. Felix is simply … difficult with people holding a commanding position.”

“He doesn’t seem to have the same problem with Byleth,” you point out. No, whenever he trains with her, he manages something close to a smile and accepts her guidance. Then again, she isn’t his teacher.

“I’m sure you’ll be able to make him consider his opinion on you during the Mock Battle. I as well am looking forward to how you will guide us.” Dimitri beams. You stare at him like he’s just lost his head.

“What?”

“The Mock Battle three nights from today?” Dimitri’s smile falters a little. “Have the Professor and Lady Rhea not told you yet? You are to participate in the Mock Battle as the commanding unit of the Blue Lions.” Now he’s pulling his eyebrows together in worry. “Herald?”

“I—” You jump to your feet. “I have to go.” Go far far away. Just yesterday you introduced the students to the tactic called Feigned Withdrawal, which involves staging a retreat in order to induce the enemy to abandon its position and plunge ahead in an attack. Dimitri abandons his position, getting up to go after you, but instead of turning back to surprise him with an ambush, you flee the battle and hope the enemy doesn’t pursue.

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bachanaliabutforfandom · 3 years ago

Text

DELETED SCENE CH 3 - TWBU

struggling with chapter 3 when I decided to do a whole pivot but I figured, people, can have the deleted scene if they want? lol

Blue text is my comments to myself

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

Orochimaru wakes up knowing that today will be a test of his will. Every bit of superiority he has earned over the years will be measured, his worth weighed. He grins. It’s been a while since he’s experienced a challenge.

A gentle smile graces his face as he walks into the kitchen. Anko’s cooking breakfast. A large part of him wants to wince at the future state of this room. Anko’s more than adequate at preparing meals. She just uses too many utensils and refuses to clean as she goes. It can be aggravating.

[change it, change it, change it, doesn't feel right]

“Good morning Anko.”

“Mornin’ Sensei!” She turns, lips already curved into her signature smirk but then she freezes.

“Anko?” She claps both hands to her mouth and squeezes her eyes shut for just a moment, before hesitantly peeking again. He feels concerned, but also vaguely offended. “Mitarashi Anko, is there a problem?” She straightens up, inhales deeply, and then bursts into laughter.

“Really Anko, a lesser nin would feel-” she doesn’t stay to listen, “-mocked.” runs down the hallway and bursts into Kabuto’s room. He hears a startled yelp and decides to take a seat. Kabuto will avenge him. They may both not understand why exactly vengeance is on the table, but even he wouldn’t go after a sleep-deprived medic-nin without every weapon in his arsenal. Especially not his youngest.

There’s a thump, a muffled shriek, and the sound of a drawn blade. Most probably a kunai, unless they’ve decided to break the “no large weapons in the house” rule. And so, early in the morning. He feels like a Nara, but his children really can be troublesome.

“Wait!” That’s Anko

“What!” Kabuto hisses back. Mm. Definitely sleep deprived. May not even have had three hours before Anko insisted on whatever this is.

“Sensei’s eyes are gold!”

A stilted silence before, “Yes? They always have been? Did you wake me up to-”

“Eyelids. The gold eyeshadow’s out!”

“...eyeliner?”

“Darker than Tenzo-nii’s eyes.”

A shuffle, two pairs of feet stomping in a run because apparently he’s raised elephants and not nin. Then Kabuto - hair a mess, dark circles ringing his almost manic eyes - vaults into the chair nearest to him and, for lack of a better word, examines him. Anko, close behind, leans over Kabuto’s shoulder and now two beloved but unnecessarily inquisitive faces are attempting to stare him down.

“May I help you?”

“Who?” both of them ask, in sync.

Tenzo, because his eldest always has the best or worst timing, takes that moment to walk in through the front door. Must have just gotten off-duty then. He makes a face at his siblings for acting weird before moving to greet Orochimaru. He too freezes. He narrows his eyes, blinks several times, then turns right round and is almost at the door when Orochimaru has had enough.

“Tenzo, sit. Anko, dish out breakfast - like you were supposed to be doing, Kabuto, go to bed or eat with us. The choice is yours.” They all hop to carry out their orders, Kabuto setting the table before slumping into his seat, his exhaustion catching up with him.

Anko, still plating food, seems ready to start interrogating him immediately. She’s been spending too much time with Ibiki again. “You can question me when we’re all seated, but breakfast Anko. Spill anything because you aren’t focused and I’ll sacrifice you to Manda.”

She narrows her eyes, “You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll mourn you and then I’ll grab another child. An even younger one. We’ll even name her Anko in your memory. Clearly, I have no trouble finding children.”

“Is that what we’re calling it now?” Kabuto murmurs a little too loudly. At the black look he receives, he cackles. “I’m just saying, ‘find’ is a term for polite company. More like, ‘staked your claim and dared anyone to refute it’. Speaking of,”

He turns his head towards the hallway, where Naruto is rubbing his eyes and failing to swallow back a yawn. Orochimaru opens his arms and the rest of his children watch as the four-year-old stumbles into his arms enthusiastically but with little grace.

“Did we wake you, kit?”

Naruto nods his head slowly, yawns again, and then mumbles, “Loud.”

“Yes, they are loud. You’d think they were civilians.” Kabuto straightens from his slouch in offense, while Anko, finally sitting down, squawks. Tenzo, who is amused if Orochimaru is reading the slight shake in his shoulders correctly, pours himself a cup of tea and like any smart eldest child, refuses to get involved.

Naruto, now firmly in Orochimaru’s lap and a bit more awake, ignores the circus in his periphery. “Oro looks pretty. Doing something?”

“Council meeting?” all heads turn to Tenzo. “No one else in-village is enough of a threat for this particular intimidation tactic.”

[add something additional here]

“Naruto, do you remember Tenzo?” he gestures at him, “and Anko, and Kabuto? You met when I took you to the other house.”

Naruto perks up.

“Y’smell like one of the masks, ‘ttebayo! And you!” He points at Anko. He then narrows his eyes at Kabuto. “You smell like doctors smell. Are you mean like them too?”

Kabuto blinks. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me how mean they are after breakfast, and I’ll tell you if I’m anything like them. Deal?”

“Good, then you can watch him today whilst I remind the council that my actions are not their concern. I shouldn’t be long.”

“Sensei-”

“Kabuto. Eat breakfast, have a nap with the clearly tired child, and then entertain them with stories of how you regularly terrorise jounin who don’t know how to behave in a hospital.”

Yes, Sensei.”

[SOMETHING IS MISSING. EDIT THIS ENTIRE SECTION HARD]

#That Which Binds Us #Deleted scene #Fanfic #Fanfiction #Fanfic writing #Ao3

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prose-for-hire · 4 years ago

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Childhood Sweethearts

Pairing: Cordelia Chase x fem!reader

Request: Hi! could i make another cordy request 🥺👉👈 i thought i would come off anon, for this one! How about cordy and reader are like childhood friends and she comes to sunnydale to visit and cordy is obliviabout readers feelings for her, and buffy is like “girl, are you blind, she likes you!” thank u! 🥺

Requested by: @onehellagaykid

You and Cordy had grown up together. You were so close, you had gone through everything together. She was the sweetest, but only ever to you. She was very protective of you, of your friendship. To anyone else she was blunt and sometimes accused of being a bit of a bully in the playground.

But the truth was, she was one of the kindest souls you had ever met even at your young age you knew there was nobody else for you. You imagined a wedding, planning it in secret and hiding the pages under your pillow, longing for this dream to be realised.

You still wore the best friends necklace you bought together before she had to move away. Before she moved to Sunnydale. It was cheap, but it meant more to you than the most precious bond.

It meant her. Her love. Friendship. You had one side of the heart pendant and she had the other.

You didn’t realise but she still wore it too. She had a more expensive taste now, but she did not want to part with it. She kept it under her clothes, snapping at anyone that dare say anything about it.

You were visiting Sunnydale for the summer. She had invited you to stay. You were so pleased, you had worried that she had forgotten about you.

The distance made you ache. Being apart from her, it almost physically hurt. You wanted to hold her hand, wake up to her face beside yours. You yearned for her in every sense, to have her attention for even a moment it made you happy beyond compare.

When she invited you, you worried that she may have changed. That she might not want to be your friend anymore. You knew she had been popular and you knew all about the things she faced in Sunnydale. You had met a vampire before and so you knew she wasn’t lying to you.

You spoke almost every week on the phone, shared all your secrets still, but you still worried that it may have changed when you saw her in person.

When you arrived, she embraced you in the biggest hug, gushing about how much she had missed you. It made you glow. Smile so wide. It was exactly like old times. You were so relieved so happy in her presence.

You relaxed together, her telling you everything she wanted to show you and do now that you were here. After a while, she did admit that you would have to go to a Scooby meeting at Giles’ house the next day. She couldn’t avoid it unfortunately, there was something spooky happening apparently.

You were a little disappointed, you wanted to have her alone. But you were excited to see the people she spent time saving the world with. You told her all the time how proud of her you were that she was one of the people that helped stop evil.

You arrived at Giles’ in the later morning and became introduced to her little group of friends she insisted to all except you that weren’t really her friends. She trusted you and so explained her weird fondness for them.

Buffy, Willow, Oz and Xander were very friendly and introduced themselves. As did Giles after he gave Cordelia a withering look for bringing a friend to a very important meeting. They began to try and speak in code in front of you, not realising that Cordelia told you everything.

“Um, the, uh, bumpy forehead brigade are out in force” Xander said from the corner of his mouth as if this was the height of secrecy.

“Gang! Local gang, very scary!” Buffy shouted, alarmed.

“Perhaps y/n should-” Giles started, concerned that this was going to prevent them all from serious discussion.

“Guys, chill. She knows all about demons and the gross ugly things around here!” Cordy announced and shrugged, turning to return her eye contact to yours. Both of you gazing longer than would be comfortable for anyone else. She looked away first, pretending to focus on the stake she was supposed to be whittling.

The meeting carried on and you picked up some wood and tried to copy Cordy’s actions. Now you knew why her grade had gone up so suddenly in woodwork, she had a lot of practice, even during Summer.

You were struggling with the stake and she took your hand in hers and tried to guide it. You shivered, smiling at her and not able to concentrate at all now. She whispered that you should probably just give up which made you laugh. She knew she could be honest, almost to a fault with you so you set it down and just listened.

The older man, Giles, spoke the most. With Buffy, the slayer chipping in and the rest adding a little humour here and there.

Cordy leaned in every so often, explaining all the gossip between all the people you had just met. She made you giggle and you were having trouble hiding it from them. As she spoke, she became so close you could smell her perfume. You watched her lips as she spoke. They looked so soft and she was wearing the strawberry scented lip gloss she always did. You wondered how it would taste. How her soft lips would feel against your own.

You were hers. Completely.

You were afraid she would never know. That she would never understand the feelings that you harboured. How your heart was, and always had been hers to do as she pleased with.

Talk then moved to the film that Xander, Willow and Oz planned to watch at the cinema later that day. It was one of your favourite genres. You got really excited and started to talk to them about it animatedly.

“Would you like to join us? We have a spare ticket” Willow offered as Oz just shrugged. He wouldn’t mind. Xander smiled too, you seemed nice and he decided it was better than playing third wheel to Willow and Oz.

“Do you mind?” You turned to Cordelia, making sure she wouldn’t be upset. You hated it when she felt left out. But she nodded, smiling. She knew how much you liked those films and she didn’t care in the slightest for them. She only ever watched them for you. Because she liked the way your face brightened and your smile never left your face. She usually watched you more than the film.

“Just come back to me at the end of the day” She whispered so you could hear and this made you drop your gaze to the floor and giggle slightly. You had goosebumps.

Your new acquaintances announced that you had better go so you wouldn’t miss the ads, which according to Xander were the best parts of any movie. This made you smile and roll your eyes, something Cordy warned you that you’d be doing a lot of around Xander. You waved, you eyes not moving from Cordy’s until you were out of the door.

“So… y/n seems nice” Buffy said slowly after you had left. She didn’t have time for a movie, she was supposed to be at home any minute. Family time that she had missed too much of.

“She is! She’s cute right? Thank me for her style”

“She really enjoys your company, huh?” Buffy hinted slowly. She saw the way you acted around each other. As if you were already dating. But there was something there. A missing link, which Buffy quickly discovered was Cordy’s self-awareness. Or, lack thereof.

“Yeah, we’ve always been close. She’s, like, the only opinion I trust when I shop. Apart from my own, obviously” Cordy smiled and started to take the stakes and put them away. She was over that activity.

But she didn’t realise that Buffy was staring. She couldn’t not say anything. Not when she saw the way that Cordy looked at you. She hoped this didn’t backfire, but she didn’t think twice. She just spoke.

“Oh my God, Cordy. Are you blind? She likes you. Like, really likes you”

“Really? Y-you think?” Cordelia said, a smile starting to form on her lips. Everything rushed back to her at once. Those sleepovers where your faces were so close together she wanted to lean in and kiss you. Hushed and whispered secrets. Cuddling together under blankets and promising never to forget the other. Times after school where you would only want to hang out the two of you.

The way you both blushed when she would do your makeup, because of the proximity. When she would dress you up and shower you with such praise that you would bashfully shrug and tell her to stop.

She had adored you for so long and she hadn’t even been able to call it what it was. She liked women. Well, a woman. You.

“I don’t think, I know. We’re in the everglades here, also known as pine central” Buffy stated, referring to both of you. She could see the way Cordy lit up whenever you were around. How she softened, but only slightly. Not wanting you to hear her harsh digs or think they were directed towards you.

Cordy wasn’t listening. How had she not seen it? How had she not noticed it in herself?

She missed you, thought about you constantly. Wanted to visit you but things always got so busy in Sunnydale.

In some way, she had needed someone to tell her this. Remind her that this was love. Something she had hidden deep down for such a long time. Whether is was shame or otherwise, she had never acknowledged these feelings long enough to figure it out.

But now she was. She was thinking about it. And coming to terms with it. She left for a while, shopping and thinking.

She loved you. She treasured you. She couldn’t imagine her life without you in it.

You both returned to her place after your respective days. You had missed each other, more so than when you lived away from each other. Because the other was right here in the same town. You were pleased to see her, although you gushed about the movie.

You always shared a bed growing up and this visit was no different. You felt a tension in the air as she got ready for bed, facing away from you. You slipped into your side of the bed, wrapping yourself up in the blankets waiting for her to join you.

She got in beside you, lying on her side and facing you. She nodded at herself, telling herself to ask.

“Do you, do you have feelings… for me?” She asked. Direct as always. Your eyes widened, you almost recoiled in horror. She knew. How could she know?

What if she wanted you to leave? Right now at night in a strange town where vampires were more common than humans. What if she thought you were disgusting? You couldn’t live with it if she wanted to stop being your friend. You were sure you would die right there beside her. You took a deep breath, it was now or never.

“I do…” You admitted. Barely blinking. Holding your breath. You were so scared, your palms slicked with sweat.

Your thoughts swirled around you, every horrible scenario flashing before your eyes. Your mouth went dry. The seconds it took her to react were so painful.

Your heart stopped beating, you were sure of it. That, or it was beating so fast that you couldn’t feel the separate beats.

He lips curved into a smile. Her eyes glassy, shining in the dim light from the hallway. You scanned her face, smiling was good. Smiling was… pleased... right? Happy?

Could she feel the same? Could she possibly love you the way you loved her? Adored her in the same way?

So many emotions were spinning around your mind that you hadn’t noticed her lips had started to move. She was explaining herself. Her lips moved and you only managed to process her words after she finished speaking.

“I’m new to this, but I think that I love you. That I want you, only you” Cordy said, her sentence tailing into a whisper. You had never seen her so apprehensive to speak. So concerned that she had only heard what she wanted to hear. That you didn’t really like her in that way.

She adored you, she wanted to spend every waking moment with you. She now found it ridiculous that she didn’t realise how she felt. All that time she had missed out on.

She leaned in, her eyes dropping from your eyes to your mouth. She positioned herself closer

She looked into your eyes. Deep. So deep she almost became lost again. She was asking you if it was okay as she moved her hand to lightly graze your cheek. You nodded, so slightly. But she caught it. She didn’t wait any longer. Couldn’t wait any longer.

Her lips met yours for the first time. It was perfection. The way she kissed with such feeling, such devotion. Her skin was so smooth and you enjoyed the way her skin felt against yours. Her lips slow and soft, telling you everything and more. You paused, looking back at each other, a breathy laugh you shared.

You couldn’t believe it, how lucky you were. You were really kissing. You were really hers. And she knew it. She finally knew she held your heart in her palm, the look you shared told you that she would do anything to protect it. So long as you did the same for hers.

She was new to this, new to the feelings she had only just been able to name.

But she never wanted to stop kissing you. Holding you. Telling you how much she loved you, making up for all that time you had missed.

You vowed to be by her side from that moment. To remind her everyday how much you cherished her.

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the-girl-in-the-box · 3 years ago

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Can You Imagine? XIII

A/N: And we’re back with an update for this, too! Wow! For those of you not reading my other fic, Not Today, why not?? I’m kidding- for those of you not reading that fic as well, I gave a brief update that basically just says, I am in classes again, so my posting was a little sporadic during that. But I think I’m getting into the groove, so hopefully updates will be more consistent! With that hope in mind, please enjoy this emotional chapter! Skål! (Also, as a note for the end- it feels a bit final, but I promise this isn’t over! Just something of a sectioning off, I think!)

Summary: Freydis was dead. At least, when she’d lost consciousness, she’d been sure she was. But now she has woken up in a cold, sterile environment, one she is certain is not Valhalla, and the world as she once knew it has changed. People now have strange abilities, some of them, and people they call ‘scientists’ are trying to give them to her. The bigger issue, though, is the fact they have also woken the very man who killed her. Ivar the Boneless lives again as well, in the same way Freydis does, and if they want to survive… she may have to learn to trust him again.

Masterlist

Forgiveness

“We go around. I will take the front, lock them in their minds, while you dispose of the others. Move fast, no hesitation. We can’t afford to mess this up.”

Ivar nodded once at Freydis’s instructions, watching her as she settled in. It wasn’t every day he took his orders from someone else, not on the battlefield, and hearing his wife lay out their strategy was different. It was a good sort of different, though, and he wondered how long she’d been working with strategy. Had this begun when they were in Kattegat still, when he had turned on her and forced her to turn on him in return?

It was hard to not let his mind wander there, back to that night where she’d gone to his brothers, and sold him out to them. What had she thought about, when she got up in the night and left Kattegat, went to the camp of Björn Ironside, and told him about the passages into Kattegat, which Ivar had had built for his family’s escape, and then the next morning when she’d let them in?

He remembered waking then, when she returned to bed after letting them in. He’d had no idea what was happening, just that she’d been gone, and come back. At first, he had let himself believe she’d simply gone… perhaps to relieve herself, and returned to bed then once she was finished. But when they had come under attack, when he realized where the attack was coming from, he’d known. Even if she had denied it, he would have already known the truth. He just couldn’t say, now, if he’d have done anything different if she’d denied it. How badly would he have wanted to forgive her? What would he have done to make himself believe her?

He swallowed hard as he thought about that, and took a deep breath in, before letting it out. “Do we trust each other?” he asked his wife, glancing over at her. She looked different like this, her hair pulled up into a ponytail- two of them, actually, one on top of the other- an almost skintight suit on, black and red in colour, very light on any tactical gear. Which, he was not light on at all. But he didn’t have the same powers as she did.

Freydis looked back up at him. In any other situation, that would have been hard to answer. Years before, before anything went wrong, she’d have answered with a resounding ‘yes’. After her son’s death, it would have been a scornful ‘no’. But now? She swallowed hard and looked back at their target, and answered him simply, “We must.”

Not the best answer, he thought, but an understandable one. After all the water under the bridge, water he knew he had unleashed, it was almost unfair to ask Freydis to trust him. But he had to, under these circumstances. Because their lives were at stake now, both of them. Because… if they got this wrong, if they blew it, they’d both take the fall, and who knew how that might look? If they didn’t have each other’s backs in here, they’d lose the chance to have them back there. That much, they were both certain of.

He still nodded, and shifted into a better position to get a good, running start from. The thought was almost strange to him that he’d be running at his enemy this time, as opposed to riding at them in a chariot. Or, hobbling at them with a crutch. His first fight standing on his own two feet, with ‘no hands’, he figured he could say. It almost brought a bitter chuckle from him. Fighting in his life before death, and fighting in this new one. Apparently, he wasn’t ever the type to be afforded a break.

A determined look had set on Freydis’s face as she watched their target, a warehouse being guarded by a handful of agents. The real target, of course, was inside. They were told to take in a thumbdrive, which they had been then taught how to use, to download two specific files. That was the extent of their mission, and then they’d be ready for extraction. Get in, get the files, and get out.

As the set of guards in front of the building changed, Freydis got into a position Ivar hadn’t yet seen her use, and he lifted a brow. “On my mark,” she muttered. He nodded, and looked ahead. They both watched as the guards from before went inside, and the new set settled in, and even then, Freydis gave it a few moments, letting the old guards get completely unready to come back out and fight. As soon as she calculated the right amount of time had passed, she gave a sharp nod.

Ivar watched with wide eyes as she suddenly launched up into the air, red glowing energy pouring from her hands and propelling her up. He’d never seen her do that before, and he blinked a few times, before shaking out his shock and taking off at a full run. It was much faster than he’d seen anyone run before, when back in Kattegat, and so he propelled himself as quickly as he could through the snow, arriving just after Freydis who landed in front of him.

It was a solid landing, one he thought might have broken his body even now had he attempted it. She landed firmly on her feet, and the poor guards in front of her looked suddenly as if they’d seen a ghost. And of course they had- they’d been so focused on Ivar running at them that Freydis had essentially been in complete cover.

The guards pulled their guns then, and Freydis lifted a hand. They suddenly found that their guns wouldn’t fire, and one of them suddenly turned his gun on another of the guards. His eyes had turned a glowy, almost bloodshot red, the sight striking horror into their hearts. She had him entirely under her control. With no other option, they all levelled their guns on him. Freydis smirked.

“He won’t fire, if you let my partner in with no trouble,” she said. “We don’t want to cause a scene, don’t worry, we just have to collect something and we’ll be on our way, hmm?”

One of them nodded eagerly, and so Freydis nodded to Ivar, who then stepped inside the building. He was gone for a while, as Freydis simply stood there with the guards, holding the one, and the others watched her fearfully. “How’s your day going?” she asked, smirking at them.

“It was alright…” one answered, after a very pregnant pause. “Kind of intense now, though.”

Freydis hummed as she sought out the one who spoke with her eyes, and used her free hand to wave him over. He obeyed shakily. “What’s your name?” she questioned him.

“Stevens,” he said. “Um. Private- Private Stevens.”

“Your first name is Private?” she asked, tilting her head in such a way she was clearly asking for his full name.

“No,” he answered. “It’s Roger.”

“Roger Stevens,” she said then, and nodded. “What is your worst fear, Roger?”

“Well, before today, probably something different,” he answered her honestly. “But, now, it’s um, it’s that.” He pointed to the man still under her control.

“Being under my control?” Freydis asked. He nodded shakily. “You won’t be. Not as long as this goes well. Tell me, who do you work for?”

“British Secret Intelligence, ma’am,” he answered.

“And what are you guarding, Roger?”

“Um, I’m not sure. They don’t tell us that much at this level. We just aren’t supposed to let anyone in.”

“And what will happen to you now that you have?”

He swallowed, and shifted on his feet. “Might get in trouble,” he answered. “We’ll have to report it. So.. yeah, maybe a few demerits or something, I don’t really know.”

Freydis lifted a brow. “Demerits?” she asked. “What is that?”

“Basically a bad mark on our file, we get too many and there’s disciplinary action. We can work them off, though. Or trade them out for merits, we get enough of those.”

She blinked a few times, looking back toward the building where Ivar was. “So… they would not… do something horrible, if you fail?”

“What?” the man asked. “‘Course not. They’re strict, but they aren’t evil.”

They aren’t evil…

Those words made something sink in Freydis’s chest, and she gave a small nod. “Thank you, Private,” she said. He could tell she seemed a little off now, and he lifted a brow, but didn’t say anything as he walked back to his position.

She was quiet, until Ivar returned, and even then, she wasn’t quite right as she released the one guard, and they walked away. “Did you get what we needed?” Freydis asked him.

“I did,” he answered, showing her the thumbdrive. She nodded.

“And deleted it from their systems?” This time, Ivar nodded. “Good. We should be alright, then.”

Ivar looked at her with a concerned expression. “Freydis…?” he began, and she looked up at him, swallowing and shaking her head. Don’t ask, she seemed to say, and Ivar nodded slowly. For the rest of their walk, silence reigned.

By the time they returned to their apartment, Freydis was still off. Neither Dr. Schmidt nor Professor Andersen had noticed anything, but Freydis had been Ivar’s wife for many years now, even if they’d been separated for a majority of that time, and he knew her better than she thought he did. She may have asked him to tell her the specific things, things like her favorite colors, or her favorite drinks, and maybe he hadn’t been able to answer her, but that didn’t mean he hadn’t observed her, closely, for well over a year in close quarters. He knew how to tell when something was bothering her now, far better than anyone else.

Some quiet part of himself, a part he wished was quieter than it was, began to question if she was dissatisfied with him again, or even angry with him, even though he could think of nothing he might have done to cause that concern. He supposed that was just left over from being blindsided before by her turning against him, and the realization he should have seen that coming from thirty miles off.

As soon as they were alone, Ivar asked her, “What is bothering you?” She didn’t answer, not aloud, but walked to him and put her hands up to the sides of his face. The same energy which had shot her across a field began to leak from her fingers, seeping into his mind. He let his eyes slip shut as this happened, and when they opened, he and Freydis were stood once more in Kattegat. He blinked a few times, remembering how she had done this once before, and his heart began to pound. Was this going to be another showing of his fears? Or would this be something else? He hoped, something better.

There was a slight bit of hope that actually did come to him when he realized they both appeared exactly as they had in their apartment. So… nothing yet that he was afraid of. What was this, then?

“I could not risk us being overheard,” Freydis told Ivar. “There are still cameras in our apartment, but in our minds, they cannot hear us. We are safe here, and we can talk.”

Ivar blinked a few times in confusion. “What do you want to talk about that they cannot overhear?” he questioned her.

With a deep breath, she answered, “I think something is very wrong here. When we were on that mission, I spoke with one of the agents who was guarding the building. I was trying to keep them intimidated and occupied, and I asked what their leaders would do when it was reported they had been robbed, and…” She paused, shifting uncomfortably. “It was nothing like what would have been done to us, had we failed.”

“It was better?” he asked, and she nodded.

“Far better. ‘Disciplinary action’, not being taken away from the only person you know, and locked in a cell alone as opposed to the apartment you share with that person.”

Ivar sighed. “Was I ever this cruel?” he asked her. “In Kattegat?”

Freydis swallowed. “I don’t know,” she said. “You… did kill people who you believed had committed treason against you, which is less cruel than what would be done to us for messing up, but you also would not need much proof there had been treason, before you would kill someone for it. Not to mention, Baldur, but even that you saw as mercy. So ultimately? I think you were not so cruel as this, even if you could have been perceived to be.”

Ivar sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “How do you not hate me, now?” he asked her. “I know, you say you had that vision, that it showed you we should be fought for, but how was that enough to erase the pain?”

“It erased nothing,” she confessed. “The pain was still there, I just saw that there could be something when the pain subsided. It is…” She paused, and gave a small chuckle. “Like having a baby. There is a lot of pain, in the hardest part, but then you are happier than you have ever been, holding your child. I think it is the same here. There was a lot of pain, there still is, sometimes, but the healing is happening. At least, I feel it, anyway.”

Ivar looked at her again in shock. Of all things he’d expected in this space, this confession was far from one of them. “You feel that we are healing?” he asked her, and she nodded.

“I do,” she said, and when he tilted his head, seeming about to ask her something, Freydis sighed gently and made her way over to him. She rested her hands against his chest, and his hands immediately came up to cup her cheeks.

It was like a flash from their shared history, and he realized why just as soon as she did. They had stood this way, exactly, when he killed her.

Ivar swallowed as he thought of this, his thumbs brushing over her cheeks gently, and she leaned into his touch. “We’ve been here before,” he said, his voice barely a whisper. “The day I…”

“I know,” she replied just as softly. “I know, Ivar. But you won’t do that again. I know you, you won’t.”

“I did once, though,” he reminded her. “I killed you, I killed our son, I… I was horrible to you. How can you stand here now and think I won’t do these things again, hmm?”

“Because I can see you have changed,” she said. “Before, you would have never confessed to these things, never shown remorse. But you do now. And when I look at you, I don’t see the man who killed Baldur, who killed me. I see a good man. I see my husband.”

Ivar swallowed hard, closing his eyes, and he leaned into her touch despite himself when he felt her hands on his cheeks. “How?” he asked, his voice breaking under the emotion, the ache in his chest. “How do you…?”

“You could have killed me many times over, Ivar, since we have been here,” she told him honestly. “And even so, I can sense you are a changed man. This is what my vision said, that I needed to fight myself for you. And do you know? I think I have finally won.”

“What do you mean you have won?” Ivar asked.

His heart was beating wildly in his chest, somehow terrified to hear her answer. But all the fear and pain in the world, all the love and healing in the world, could not have prepared him for what she said.

“I forgive you.”

He fell apart in her arms, clinging to her as she wrapped her arms around his shoulders, sliding her fingers through his hair. He didn’t deserve this, he told himself. He knew he didn’t. And yet, here she was, holding him and whispering words of encouragement, soothing words to him as he sobbed into her shoulder.

“I love you, Freydis,” he sobbed out. “I love you.”

“I know,” she replied. “I know, Ivar, my love. I know. I love you, too.”

Ivar blinked a few times, and they had returned to his apartment, and he was looking down into her eyes, still glowing red as the magic flowed back into her, releasing them from that place they had gone. As soon as her eyes cleared, Ivar took her face between his hands, and he kissed his wife. He kissed her with all the love he had for her, pent up over years and years of knowing what he had done, hating himself for it always. But now, she was here, she was real, and she loved him still.

Forgiveness. Can you imagine?

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius, @katfett, @sylki-simp, @heavenly1927, @punkrocknpearls, @pomegranates-and-blood

If you want to be added to the taglist, feel free to reach out either by commenting, reblogging, DMing me, or sending an ask, and I’ll be more than happy to add you!

#ivar the boneless #ivar #ivar ragnarsson #freydis #queen freydis #ivar x freydis #freydis x ivar #freyvar #alex hogh andersen #alicia agneson #ivar's heathen army #vikings #vikings history channel #history channel vikings #can you imagine?#chapter thirteen

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fantastic-rambles · 3 years ago

Text

Fandom: Sk8 the Infinity

Characters: Kyan Reki, Shindo Ainosuke, Kikuchi Tadashi, Kyan Koyomi, Kyan Chihiro, Kyan Nanaka, Shindo Ainosuke’s aunts

Warnings: Minor character death (Kyan Masae), funeral, car accident, drunk driving, adoption, family drama (Adam’s aunts are involved, of course there is)

Word Count: 2k

Summary: When Reki’s mother dies in an accident, he and his sisters are adopted by the Shindo family in order to give them a reputation for supporting humanitarian/charitable causes. However, since Ainosuke’s aunts cannot stand the children, they are relegated to the servants’ quarters, where Tadashi is assigned to help take care of them when he’s not attending to Ainosuke. While he struggles to take care of his siblings, Reki finds himself growing closer to the quiet, enigmatic man who serves the popular politician.

Chapter 1: In which the Kyans bid farewell to their mother and start a new life with the Shindos. [Written for TadaRekiWeek2021 | Day 1: Family]

Reki felt numb. It had already been a week, but he still couldn't believe that this was real. Koyomi clung to him, sobbing, while Nanaka and Chihiro wailed in the arms of two women he'd only just met. They handled the twins awkwardly, as if they'd never held children before, and their efforts to soothe them were largely fruitless.

"Mom! Mom!" Koyomi cried desperately, her tears soaking into the front of Reki's new suit. The tie was also too tight, but he couldn't find the strength to reach up and loosen it as he stared at the memorial photo of his mother. She was smiling at them, oblivious to their misery, and looking far more at peace than she did in the casket, her body mangled almost beyond recognition.

A drunk driver. A freak accident. They'd been orphaned by nothing less than sheer bad luck, and Reki had no idea what was going to happen to them now.

And he glanced sideways at a somber, older man whose head was bowed as they faced the altar. Shindo Ainosuke. He hadn't known anything about the man until he came into their lives, swooping in like some sort of hero to adopt the unfortunate children who were just as equally victims of the drunk driver. After they'd met a few days ago, though, Reiki had looked their savior up online, discovering that he was a member of the National Diet, elected to represent Okinawa. Even though Shindo was young, his political career seemed promising, having been active in writing and pushing through several bills on environmental issues. He was popular and handsome, and he seemed to be generally taken seriously even with a mostly female fan club that quickly caused tickets for any of his fundraising events to be sold out quickly.

Though Reki could understand why. He'd watched a couple interviews that had been uploaded online, and his new father--who wasn't even a decade older than him--seemed to be naturally charming as he demonstrated a breadth of knowledge and a sense of humor while explaining policies in a way that even he could understand. And more than that, Shindo's words could stir up his indignation or appease it. He was incredibly persuasive, but in a way that at least appeared to be entirely genuine.

What he couldn't understand, though, was why the man had decided to adopt all of them.

Shindo had been strangely tight-lipped on the matter, asking for the public to respect their privacy and grief, which was considerate of him, but the web was on fire with rumors. Of course, some of them were patently ridiculous, such as the one that had said the man had been having an affair with Reki’s mother, and others that claimed the twins were actually his children, even though they looked nothing alike and were clearly Reki and Koyomi’s siblings. But then there were others, the ones that said he was doing it for political clout, so that he could trot out the orphans and profit off their tragedy. Those ones seemed much more likely, even though the man had invested plenty of resources in keeping the media away: putting them up in a hotel when the paparazzi began to stake out their house, renting a private car service to drive them around, and and generally catering to their every need. In the appearances on TV that Reki had seen, Shindo always declined to discuss the siblings, deflecting the conversation to other topics and appearing appropriately somber.

But that wasn’t to say that he wasn’t deriving some sort of benefit from it. Even though Shindo didn’t discuss it, other programs did, some praising his generosity and humanitarian ideals while others took a more critical view of his decision to do so. So Reki didn’t know what to think. But he was sure that he’d figure it out eventually, since he was going to be living with the man.

When the funeral finally ended, Reki let Shindo lead them out to the car, a comforting hand laying on his shoulder. Koyomi’s cries had subsided to soft sobbing as she clung to her brother, and the man’s other hand rested on her head. He let them climb into the backseat first, with Koyomi half-falling over Reki, before taking a seat as well and accepting Nanaka and Chihiro from the women holding them. The twins had fallen asleep, exhausted from their wailing, and they stirred a little during the transfer, but the man gently rocked them until they were still again.

“Get the curtains, will you, Reki-kun?” he asked, his voice soft so as not to disturb any of the girls, and Reki nodded dully, reaching up to tug the curtain over his window while Shindo did the same on his side. And then Shindo leaned forward to speak to the driver.

“Bring us home, Tadashi.”

The other man nodded, and the car purred to life, pulling out of the temple and easing past the crowd of reporters outside until they reached the clear road. But Reki wasn’t looking at the passing scenery, just staring down at Koyomi sniffling in his lap as he patted her head mechanically. Home. It wouldn’t be the house that he’d grown up in for seventeen years, or the hotel that he’d lived in for the last few days. It would be somewhere new, somewhere he didn’t know, and he wasn’t sure how he was going to handle it.

Father. Dad. Papa. He glanced at the man sitting next to him with the twins settled on his lap. What did he call him? And as if he felt Reki’s glance, Shindo looked over at him, raising his eyebrows slightly.

“Can I do something for you?”

"Uh. No, it's fine," Reki mumbled, looking away again. He was sure that Shindo was still staring at him, but he didn't look back, staring at the dark curtain until the sound of the engine shutting off announced their arrival. But Shindo didn't move to open the door: instead, the driver--Tadashi--stepped out and opened it for his employer.

"Take one of the girls?" Shindo asked quietly, and Tadashi obeyed, bending over to gather Chihiro into his arms while Shindo got out with Nanaka. Reki had to wake up Koyomi so she could stumble out of the car ahead of him, and the two of them stared up at the enormous mansion that towered above them. This was where they were going to live from now on?

Another car pulled up beside them, disgorging another chauffeur who opened the door for three women. Two of them had been the ones who hadn't known how to handle the twins, and the third looked similar enough that they all had to be related: sisters, perhaps? Originally, Reki had thought they were other members of Shindo's staff, maybe part of his political entourage or something. But seeing them here, emitting a sense of confidence that bordered on arrogance, made his heart sink. There was something about them that he just didn't like, though he couldn't put his finger on it.

"Ainosuke. We've discussed this issue together, and we are in accord. You will keep the children in the servants' wing," one of the women declared. "They are simply too ill-mannered to be allowed in the main house as we had originally planned. We've never seen such awful behavior before in our lives. If they can learn to act like civilized people, then we can revisit this issue."

Reki's eyebrows snapped together at the insult to his family, and he took a step forward, only to be stopped by Shindo shifting his weight slightly to get in his way, a move that the man seemed to disguise by adjusting the girl in his arms.

"My dear aunts"--they were his aunts?--"please consider their circumstances. They are all still children, and they have all just lost the only parental figure that they know. If they are to become part of our family, then they must of course reside in the main house. We've already prepared rooms for them."

"Don't talk back to us, Ainosuke," the woman retorted. "We were against this from the beginning, but you insisted. We have already compromised this much for you, so you can do this for us. I'm sure that Kikuchi can find somewhere to get them settled. Handle it."

Then she turned on her heel, heading toward the entrance, and Shindo sighed, glancing over his shoulder at Reki with an apologetic expression.

"It's fine. I'd rather not live with her," Reki interjected before the man could say anything. "Just tell us where we're supposed to go."

Shindo seemed to hesitate, but then he nodded, glancing at Tadashi, who also nodded before starting to walk around the side of the house. There was an entrance there, and Tadashi shifted the girl in his arms to pull out a set of keys to unlock it and push the door open. Shindo let Reki and Koyomi follow the man inside before taking up the rear, and they walked in silence until Tadashi turned off the hallway into a room.

It was sparsely decorated, with a bed in the corner, a dresser with a mirror, and a wardrobe. Another door was slightly ajar, leading to what Reki assumed was a bathroom, and Tadashi carefully lay the girl in his arms onto the bare bed.

"This will be your bedroom, Reki-san. Please excuse our lack of preparedness; I will see to it that it is properly furnished and decorated by the end of the day. If there is anything else that you require, please inform me, and I will endeavor to fulfill your request, so long as it is reasonable. For larger requests, I may need to discuss it with Ainosuke first to receive his approval. Koyomi-san, you and your sisters will share the next room, and the same offer is extended to you. We have already hired additional staff to help take care of Nanaka-san and Chihiro-san so that the burden does not fall upon the two of you. Do you have any questions?"

Tadashi's formality, in addition to Shindo's aunt's statements, made Reki shake his head, feeling intimidated and out of place. But he caught Tadashi's glance at Shindo before Tadashi nodded slightly.

"Then I will go take care of that now. Please excuse me."

The man left, and Shindo stepped forward to lay Nanaka down next to Chihiro before crouching down to look at the other two.

"I'm sorry. This probably isn't the best first impression," the man apologized, grimacing slightly. "But I do want you to know that I really do want to be here for you. I'm too young to be a father to the two of you, so if you would like to treat me as an older brother, I'd like that. If you have any problems, if you need any help... just let me know, okay? Don't be shy, please. I am fairly busy with my work, but I'll always try to make time for you if you need it; for the times that I really can't, you can talk to Tadashi. Do you understand?"

"Yeah," Reki mumbled, a sentiment echoed by Koyomi, and Shindo smiled, a little sadly, as he reached out to place a hand on each of their shoulders.

"I truly am sorry for what you went through. I wish that this wasn't necessary. And I'm sure that you've already realized this, but... it's probably best if you stay away from my aunts."

Reki and Koyomi both nodded, and Shindo squeezed their shoulders reassuringly before he straightened up.

"Then I'll give you some time to settle in. If you need anything and you can't find me or Tadashi, just ask any of the other servants and they'll let us know."

Reki watched Shindo leave, passing by Tadashi as he came in with his arms full of linens. He still felt out of it, but he helped the man make the bed before they moved on to the girls' room to prepare that one as well.

#sk8 #SK8 the Infinity #skate the infinity #fanfic #fan fic #sk8 reki #kyan reki #Reki Kyan #sk8 adam #shindo ainosuke #ainosuke shindo #sk8 snake #kikuchi tadashi #Tadashi Kikuchi #mine

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marindram · 3 years ago

Text

(Omega Mart) Rose's Nula Notes

Rose - 1

Hey. Is this working? (taps the phone) Ok.

I went to the old OM today and got a book on Nula. I don't know. Usually that's not my thing. But weird things are afoot. So weird that it's less weird for me to buy woo at the supermarket. I was worried I'd run into Cici there, but let's be real: there's no way she shops at OmegaMart. Or shops for herself period.

Focus.

So: weird things. Yes. There's something crashing at my place. Only I can't talk to them. Or see them.

In fact, I'm pretty sure this person is, to paraphrase Marin, "living rent-free in my head." The old texts say that the Nula, those who built the Source well in the age before the Zenion, sometimes contact people like myself. A psychic connection.

And I need to figure out what's happening to me. I need to know where I go. When I wake up halfway around the Fork and don't know how I got there. Or when I find myself sitting on the couch, missing about five or six hours.

What's happening to me?

I'm going to explore the inside of my skull a little. See if I'm in contact with any of the cosmic scholars. In the meantime. I'll call into my VOCS account and have it take dictation. If my shadow Nula is out there: step up to the mic and say "hello," if you please.

And this part I'm saying right now? It's in case I go completely zip-zop-zoop during this journey. This is for the benefit of whoever comes across these recordings.

ROSE-2

Thali says the Zenion were brought up by the well. They didn't build the well. They didn't find the well. They were brought up by the well. Such a switchy way to think about one's genesis, but one I understand. And admire.

The well is a creative force. It is the sun. It is the trickle of water for eyeless fish in a dark cave. It made Charlie loquacious, and then there's Marin...

The Source is creation. The power to reverse inertia, entropy. We do not thrive without it.

Like a volcanic vent on the ocean floor raises bacteria mad enough to feed there, so too were the Zenion raised by the well.

ROSE-3

(channeling)

Diffusers, Bright shields, Blocking flow, Blocking spiral. No connection. No connection. Trying to reach them. Nothing.

(a door opens and the recording ends)

ROSE-4

Great. So I don't remember recording that last entry at all.

Excuse me.

(She leaves the room)

ROSE - 5

I'm sitting in here with all the lights on. Crazy. Crazy. I can't believe that was me. What the hell?

Charlie found me outside, I wasn't wearing shoes and I was walking toward the factory.

I always thought you weren't supposed to wakos sleepwalkers. Like it would break their heads or something? He woke me up and I'm just "whatever this happens every other night now."

The diffusers.

Bright shields.

We never messed with the well architecture. That was a big no-no. I mean, That's how everything got screwed for Thali and the Zenion, right?

What did Dramcorp build in there? What did they do to the well?

(To her Nula companion)

You know.... If you're going to keep sending me out beyond the rim of space every time you show up, then what good are you? What good are the fractals you show me when the wells all bricked up? The stars don't help. Tell me something useful or get lost.

God. I thought you guys were supposed to be smart.

ROSE-6

(channeling)

One million. One Million. The lock. The chain. Strange device. Breakable,though. The spiral coils through it. But slowly. Trying them. No connection.

Nothing. Hello? Nothing. One Million to Break the Lock. One Million to Break the Lock, One Million to Break the Lock, One Million. Trying them. Nothing.

Alone.

ROSE-7

Just played that one a few dozen times. I'm trying not to get too upset. I do see a connection between these episodes and runoff. I had a little with Charlie before turning in last night.

It's not just the runoff, though.

It was easy to forget -when people were here- that you were living in an other dimension. How, if there wasn't the portal in the desert, you could never ever walk back to Earth. Now post-Dramm, I think about every mile. I trace the labyrinth in my book and it doesn't calm me down anymore. It feels like I'm not getting out of here. "Trying them." Nope.

Is anyone going to be able to play this even? What format is this? I can't even remember my own phone number. Marin! How do I get these off the phone?

ROSE-8

It occurred to me last night that I might be taking the long way around on this thing. And that it would be a lot simpler if I were to confront this entity and say "Hello, I'm your next-door neighbor. Anything eating at your soul?"

I cooked something up. One of Asuncións recipes from back in the day. Strictly "not for publication." Well. Chug-a-lug.

It tastes like - ugh- damnation, but the lavender notes are pretty good. And the wildflower I put in the glass cheers me up.

This should keep me and the shadow Nula I'm channeling in the same head-space. I'll be able to see him. And then I'll demand some answers.

Or shoo him away.

Ugh. There it goes.

Spirals.

And.

Oh. Hey... ----- :

(the receiver falls over)

ROSE-9

God. I am really good at spooky stuff. I can read Nula fingerprints now. Pretty sure I'll be the first person since primordial time to have a face-to-face with a Shadow Nula. My friend (we're friends now, I call him "Shady") told some important stuff. About that lock. "One Million to Break the Lock."

Easy? It's a lot easier than I thought. The Drams built the center of their universe on this spot and staked it all on a janky lock. We just have to convince people to help us. A lot of them.

We're enough. We're resourceful. All Dramcorp can do is make locks. And they

have a Source well. No excuse for being that boring. You're asking to get your stuff broken into at that point.

ROSE-10

Marin's gone. She left us. She ran. Maybe she thought herself somewhere better.

The hand that reaches.

I hope she touched the lock before she left.

(Soft crying sounds)

Well. Got work to do. Busy. Busy.

#omega mart #omega mart lore

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softomi · 4 years ago

Text

Meet the Slayer and her Crew

Life wasn’t always peachy, sunshine, and rainbows; yours was filled with blood, gore, and constant running. Born in a bloodline of slayers, you were part of the few living lineages left. Raised with a tight collar, your free time was spent training to defend yourself. Your after school extracurriculars were mythology literature, weaponry, witch craft, and some days cooking.

“How come she gets to leave right after school?” Many watched you, the last bell ringing signaling class over and while the rest of the students linger for club activities, you entered the car that pulled up to the school gates.

“I heard her parents came and blew up a storm saying that she didn’t need club activities; she’s going to take over her family business or something.”

It was true, as the only daughter, you were to carry the lineage. You needed practice and training to pass on the knowledge.

You always found it lonely and because you were lonely, the world decided to bestow onto you, three losers.

You weren’t intending on running into anyone that night and if you did, you could always play it as a nightly running exercise; but how could you explain this. The pesky vampire’s fangs were mere centimeters from your skin, it drew blood and just as you think that maybe this would be the last time you would breathe; the vampire is thrusted off.

Your hands tightening on the crossbow, the vampire starts running; the aim is dead on, the arrow penetrating him in the heart, and he falls to ashes.

The knot in your shoulder tightens and you’re stretching it out as you turn with a grin, “You’re incredibly late.” You expected to see one of your family friends, they insisted on going out with you that night but what you’re met with is three pairs of eyes bulging out of their sockets.

“What the fuck was that?!” Atsumu falls to the ground, having been the one to touch the thing he suddenly feels infected.

Osamu is taking a step back, oddly aware of the crossbow in your hand, “What?”

The third, still and quiet, Suna almost passes as calm but his eyes show a sudden panic. He isn’t even saying anything, an awkward laugh coming from his mouth.

“I can totally explain!” You drop the crossbow, waving your hands in front of you.

“Explain what?!” Suna shouts.

“Why? The ashes? The crossbow?” Osamu is stuttering.

Atsumu has his hands in his hair, “I touched it. I touched it. I touched it.”

It makes you wonder some days, just how the three losers were so quick to adapt to your lifestyle. It was a secret at first, reluctantly, you let them follow you on your nightly adventures. They would watch in awe and fear at the way you’d handle the monsters. Monsters, that’s what they would constantly call them at first.

Three months, you spent three months with them trailing behind you; constantly bickering with them to stand down. Three months saving their asses as they ran from anything and anyone. They were so quick to act big but then shrink away when a newly turned vampire crawls from the grave.

But then it happened, you dreamed something that shook you to the core. You dreamed of their blood on your hands, sadness in their eyes as they looked at you. The moment your eyes opened; a chill ran down your spine.

So you did something you had never done before, you were going to fight for what you wanted.

“Let them join me.” You weren’t going to back down. The first time you asked, your parents responded with a harsh no. You jabbed the knife into your father’s desk, a cold stare into his eyes, “I am the future head of the household. I am only one person; I need people. I need people who are properly trained.”

“You’re asking us to train amateurs.” Your father speaks, “Little boys.”

“They’ve survived longer than most. I want them.”

And you got them. It was surprising just how quick they were to accept the ‘private tutoring’ as was listed in their formal invitations.

It was just as surprising how well they did in training. Atsumu competed with you in both combat and weaponry, you two have a little rivalry; but who’s keeping count on who knocks down the other the most. Atsumu is. You were a still a few points ahead, but he insists that the first few months don’t count; he was just getting the hang of it.

Suna seemed to fair better in mythology and demonology lessons. It was the one subject you still struggled with but it was one in which he soared in. You began to secretly think that he had been reading up during the three months they were following you. He’d snort seeing your latest grade on the quiz, his perfect hundred made your face red and you swore vengeance on the next quiz.

You weren’t surprised at how well Osamu excelled in witchcraft as well as cooking. He liked to think of the two as going hand in hand; something your mother noted as an excellent point. She hit your head when he made that comment, muttering about how at least someone understands.

“I take it back, I don’t want any of you here anymore!” You shouted one day when Atsumu landed you on the ground, “I used to be star student.”

“That was when you were the only student.” Suna remarks.

Atsumu leans over your body, a grin on his lips as his head blocks the sun from shining down on you, “Looks like we reached a tie sweetheart.”

“Guys, I think I finally did it. A potion that gives you extra speed.” Osamu appears from the house with glasses on a tray.

“Not it!” Suna and Atsumu shout in unison and you groan.

Osamu gives you a grin as you take the drink, the smell was wretched, “Couldn’t you have added vanilla into this?” You take a small sip, spitting it out immediately, “I swear to god Samu, if this gives me a tail again, I’ll bite you.”

Extras:

Miya Atsumu

“You need to cut off its head.” Suna’s voice was drowned out, the earbud in which is voice was coming from had fallen out of Atsumu’s ear.

“What!” Atsumu screamed as he struggled to keep the creature off, his shielded sword pressing against its neck, but it didn’t stop it from dripping drool on Atsumu, “The fuck this thing drooling so much for.”

“You need to cut off its head!” Suna was practically waking the whole neighborhood.

The creature hissed when a silver bullet penetrated its skin. It snarled, turning its body to you. Your own earbud had already fallen out at the front door when its sister creature had tackled you through a wall. You had told Suna the earbud idea was dumb. You continued to shoot the shotgun, your silver bullets running out as he neared you.

“Atsumu!” You’re calling out, “It’s your turn!”

“What the fuck am I supposed to do?” Atsumu was too distracted wiping the saliva off his face, picking up the earbud and shoving it in his ear, “I’m going to kill you Suna!”

“Cut off the head!” Suna shouts in his ear.

The slime splattered across your face, green coated your skin. You spat out what reached your mouth, the thing fell and behind it Atsumu stood with heavy breaths. Atsumu tossed the earbud onto the ground, stumbling to you. His footsteps are heavy, the sword clattering to the ground, he rests his head onto your shoulder.

“It drooled on me.” Atsumu whines.

You shove him off, “Yeah well you got slime in my mouth, we’re even.”

Miya Osamu

“Uh, Samu!” You were currently backed into a wall, your eyes looking all around, “It’s gone!”

“Just give me a second!” He’s calling from the first floor of the library.

You heard scuffles, you’re trying your hardest to listen keenly. The light footsteps to your left make you turn and throw a fist; you’re not sure if it makes a dent into what you’ve hit; but they’re definitely angry. It lifts you by the waist, your body hoisted into the air, your back colliding with one of the shelves.

You’re groaning loudly, “Samu! Any minute now!”

“What’s taking so damn long!” Atsumu barges into the room.

“Got it!” Osamu starts reading the literature, dusts of light grow from his palms; when he finishes the last line, he blows the dust. It spreads quickly, it disappears when it touches plain surfaces but the creature screeches as the dust paints its body.

“Catch!” Osamu throws a gun to you, it bounces off the railing and back to the first floor, “Sorry!”

You’re sighing deeply, hands gripping a chair to break its wooden legs. You use one of the legs as a stake, driving it into the heart of the creature. It falls to the ground, lying limp as the twins finally make their way up to the second floor.

Osamu presses a hand to your shoulder, “That was a close one right.”

You punch him in the gut, “Suna would know it off the top of his head!”

Suna Rintarou

“What’s it look like?!” Suna calls within the forest.

“Ugly!” You’re calling back as it knocks you down, it’s long arms reaching to pull you by the leg. Your foot meets its face, its teeth snarling when it’s kicked back.

“You gotta be a bit more specific!” The fog is frustrating Suna, even the twins have found themselves lost, you were the only one who called out to him.

“Suna!” Your yelling more as it cuts you with its nails across your stomach, “It’s shape shifting! What the fuck are you!” Your hands shake as the bullets do nothing to it, “Four legs! It’s torso is flipped backwards, fucking looks like Slenderman on meth.”

It pops into Suna’s head, “Oh! You’re not supposed to look at its face!”

“Well, it’s too late now!” You’re staring directly at it. You’re on your feet, the silver dagger in your hand as you hold its gaze, “How am I supposed to kill you!”

“You need to take out its heart!” Suna sees you, through the foggy air, he’s finally reached you, “Hey. I’m here.” You shiver at his touch, “If you give me a second, I can clear the fog. The twins can come.”

“No.” Your own blood drips from your skin, you strike the dagger sharp into the air; it extends tenfold, “I’m finishing this.”

You rip the heart out from its chest, its blood dripping through your fingers. Your foot atop its lying body; the fog settles and the twins appear not far. Suna stares at the way you’re waving the heart in the air.

“Can you not.” He states.

“Suna! Take a picture!”

“No.”

#Halloween special #haikyuu x reader #atsumu x reader #suna x reader #osamu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu #atsumu #suna #osamu

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that-scouse-wizard · 4 years ago

Text

Tigress and Hound, a Friendship in Many Parts. (Part 1)

[A/N: Hi everyone, this is just going to be a little series of loosely connected one-shots mostly based on ideas I and @judediangelo75 have discussed about our characters. Essentially, a catalogue of David and Judith’s friendship, from humble and slightly awkward beginnings to the epic duo that they are. Hope you all enjoy!

Summary: The introduction between the duo who will become known as the Tigress and the Hound.

Word count: 2151

MC friends: Judith Harris (@judediangelo75)

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

1st of September, 1985 (second year)

David

Thick steam hung in the air, courtesy of the Hogwarts Express as David made the familiar first steps onto Platform Nine and Three-Quarters. Two other pairs of footsteps following close behind him.

“Wow!” Came the fascinated tone of Amelia, grey eyes on a swivel. Marvelling at the bright red train, the throngs of witches and wizards with their parents, and even at how they entered into this new place for the muggleborn witch, “We just went through a wall, we just went through a wall!” The young witch was practically bouncing with excitement

“This brings back memories...” David’s father, Matthew sighed nostalgically, giving a chuckle at Amelia’s attitude.

A smile tugged at the corner of David’s lips fondly, "And next year, you'll be coming with me to Hogwarts, Amy." He said as he pushed his luggage cart through the dense crowd that thankfully was parting in the wake of his trolley. Though Goliath didn’t seem to appreciate the rattling, the owl giving an annoyed chirp. One that David didn't pay any mind to, his owl was always in a bad mood when confined to a cage.

After handing his luggage over to be loaded onto the train, he turned to his father and soon-to-be step-sister, "I'll see you guys at Christmas then."

"Right, until then." Matthew said, sticking his hand out, “Best of luck to you, do well in school and please stay out of trouble.” David looked down at it, deciding he would cut his dad some slack. He ignored the outstretched limb, going in for a hug.

“I’ll try dad.” David said as he pulled away from his now-surprised father, giving Amelia one too, one that the young witch happily returned. He stepped onto the train, giving one last wave to them, now all he needed to do was find a compartment.

“Oh, David, over here!” Came a familiar voice, the source of it being a beaming Penny Haywood, “We have a seat going spare, would you like to join us?”

“Sure, cheers Pen.” David grinned, counting himself lucky he’d found a seat so soon, and with good company to boot. He soon found out the identity of the other two people who were occupying the area he would be sharing with Penny.

One was Rowan, who’s face lit up at the sight of her best friend, in letters they had exchanged she had detailed her own research into the Cursed Vaults. David would gladly listen if it brought him closer to finding Jacob.

The second person was someone both familiar yet not. Dark skin, pale gold eyes, there was no mistaking who it was as David froze in place. Judith Harris, Jamal Harris’s little sister, a boy who had been a friend of Jacob’s. A person who had also gone missing alongside him.

What exactly were they supposed to say to each other? ‘Hi, our brothers went missing together, let’s be friends!’ As if to make things even more uncomfortable, Penny took a seat, leaving the only one for David to occupy situated directly opposite Judith.

Just great...

Judith glanced at him as he sat down next to Penny, a mixture of shy and wary. The train soon pulled away from the station, “Oh, you two haven’t met before, have you? David, this is Judith Harris. Judith, meet David Willows.”

“Hi...” She said shyly, her voice so soft David almost didn’t hear.

“Likewise.” He said coolly in response, trying not to sound like he really didn’t want to be forced into an interaction. It didn’t help that Penny and Rowan had now struck up a conversation about potions, leaving David and Judith to avert their gazes from each other. David was seriously regretting his choice to not bring a textbook or something to distract himself with. At least then he’d have an excuse not to make eye contact.

“What were you guys up to over the summer?” He asked, not completely rude on his part but at least the question wasn’t just directed at Judith. David could have sworn Rowan sent a quick glance Penny’s way, as if she knew something he didn’t before his question was answered.

“I worked on some potions as some extra homework for professor Snape.” David smirked at Penny’s answer, should have expected that, her love of potions was as uncommon as her admiration for their normally dour professor.

“Well you already know what I’ve been up to.” Rowan stated excitedly, “I’ve been taking a closer look into Hogwarts’s history, aside from Sir Cadogan and a couple of other mentions in portraits of the castle, there’s nothing much about knights. Especially not about-” Rowan was quickly cut off when Penny slapped a hand over her mouth.

“Especially not about...?” Judith asked curiously. David internally swore, the last thing he needed was more people involved in the Cursed Vaults business... even if she did have a personal stake in it herself.

“The weapons that they used!” Penny answered, taking back her hand as Rowan gave the blonde a brief glare, “David is interested in muggle weaponry, he knows about maintaining and how to use a shotgun.” She elaborated

“That’s right and Judith can use Dao swords.” Rowan said, trying to shore up the ploy, “Come to think of it, David knows how to fight hand-to-hand as well, and so does Judith.”

“Really?” David cocked an eyebrow at that, a clear interest in his tone encountering another magic user with any knowledge of non-magical self-defence was definitely rare in wizarding world.

“I do Tae Kwon Do.” Judith confirmed, though she did give a slightly pointed look to the other two for giving away that fact about her.

“Muay Thai.” David clarified succinctly.

“What’s the difference?” Rowan asked, confused. That was when David and Judith were united, giving their mutual friend an incredulous look, then turning back to each other. A silent understanding passing between the two, Rowan Khanna not knowing about the differences in their respective fighting styles simply would not do.

“Ro, how would you like to learn something new?” David’s fellow Hufflepuff looked surprised, eyes widening at his question. A grin slowly spread across her face, all too eager to be educated.

“That has to be the best thing you’ve ever said to me, yes please.”

-----

Judith

It had taken a while for the two of them to explain the differences and similarities between their respective styles but Rowan had hung on their every word. Excitedly writing down notes and asking various follow-up questions. Even after it had ended, their fellow Hufflepuff still eagerly went over her bullet points.

David had even seemed a bit interested in hearing about Tae Kwon Do and she couldn’t deny, Muay Thai certainly seemed effective as a fighting style. Then... despite something they could have potentially bonded over, David had opted to sleep the rest of the journey off.

Judith was somewhat glad for the relief from the awkwardness on though she couldn’t deny she was somewhat miffed at his rudeness. Although, with him softly snoring as his head was lolled back, and Penny having fallen asleep against him, now would be the best time to ask Rowan anything she needed to without the threat of interruption.

“Rowan, what were you going to say before?” She asked. Immediately, her friend stiffened, turning to face her like a deer caught in headlights.

“Nothing.” She answered quickly.

“It didn’t sound like nothing.” Judith retorted quietly, her tone making it clear she wasn’t in the mood for games.

Rowan paused, glancing at the two friends opposite her while briefly mulling it over, and answering nervously, “Alright, fine. We’re looking into the Cursed Vaults. David didn’t want anyone else involved so I didn’t tell you...” She trailed off, noticing her friend’s fists had curled up.

Judith took a deep breath to calm herself. Her first year had been uneventful aside from bullying that came from being Jamal’s relative. She hadn’t uncovered anything about the vaults and now she knew why. David Willows had been keeping secrets.

“Judith, I’m sorry-” Rowan began but was swiftly cut off.

“I’m not mad at you, Rowan.” Judith said reassuringly, “Any issues I’ve got is between me and David.” Rowan seemed to accept that answer, distracting herself with looking out the window as the train weaved through the countryside. The sky being lit up orange indicated it wouldn’t be long before they reached Hogwarts.

Judith focused on David. On one hand she could understand him not bringing her into the fold in searching for his brother. On the other, if Jacob Hall was found, then maybe Jamal wouldn’t be far behind. If there was a chance of getting her own brother back, she would gladly take it. She’d need to get him alone, the question was how.

That was something she would need to ponder...

------

David stirred from his sleep, being awoken by the high-pitched screech of the train’s brakes as it pulled into Hogsmeade station. Blinking sleepily, he could have sworn he saw Judith staring at him, though her head was turned away from him by the time he next looked so he couldn’t be too sure.

There was no rush for any of them, their path being blocked by throngs of students eager to be off the train. From bright-eyed first years to seventh years who looked quite nostalgic at the thought of this being one of their last journeys on Hogwart’s Express.

Eventually, the crowd cleared, leaving their group straggling behind as they tried to follow the flow of the crowd. Hagrid’s tell-tale call for the first years sounded out as they stepped into the chilly air of the September night. In contrast to the first years who would make their voyage across the Black Lake, the older Hogwarts students would be taking carriages up to the castle grounds.

They made their way through the lit, paved streets of Hogsmeade, Rowan excitedly pointing out some of the wizarding village’s landmarks such as the Three Broomsticks. One of the carriages passed by, bound to pick up students that were further ahead. David wondered if they were enchanted, seeing as there was nothing pulling them.

Penny broke into a light jog as they approached the lane the carriages would initially travel down, waving for one of them to hold on. There was just one issue, the carriage in question already had four students, there were just two seats left for any additional passengers.

“Sorry everyone.” Penny said, scratching the back of her head sheepishly.

“David and I can stay behind.” Judith offered, taking a hold of his arm. David gave her a puzzled look, prompting to lean in and whisper in his ear, “There’s something you and I need to talk about.”

He understood, keeping her out of the loop had finally caught up with him, “Pen, Ro, go ahead.” David spoke up. Reluctantly, Penny and Rowan climbed aboard the carriage.

David turned to Judith as the transport pulled away, not speaking up until the clicking of the wheels had disappeared. Leaving the two of them alone on the paved lane, “What do you want?” He asked shortly.

“Answers,” Judith shot back, “I know you’ve been looking into the Cursed Vaults, I want in on it.”

“I dunno what you’re talkin’ about.” He answered curtly, hoping that would throw her off.

“Rowan told me.” She clarified.

“Listen to me,” David began after a brief pause to gather his thoughts, “The vaults are my business, no one else’s. If I had my way, no one but I would’ve gotten involved in them.”

“And now you have at least Rowan helping out, so what difference does one more person make?” Judith asked rhetorically.

“Because my brother-” David began before Judith cut him off.

“Our brothers, like it or not David, you’re not the only one with a personal stake in this. Please, I want to find my brother just as much as you want to find yours, it makes no sense for us not to work together.” She stated, “Look, Rowan and Penny like you, so I want to trust you, all you need to do is trust me.” She finished, sticking her hand out.

Having more people to help out could be beneficial but still David was unsure...

“Please.” Judith sniffled, sounding somewhat desperate.

David was take aback by that, feeling a pang of sympathy for his fellow Hufflepuff, this really was important to Judith. He sighed in resignation before clasping Judith’s hand with his own.

“Fine, I don’t know how this is goin’ to go between you and me but if you’ve got my back, I’ve got yours.”

Judith’s face lit up in gratitude at his answer, nearly knocking him off his feet as she slammed into him with a brief hug,

“Thank you.”

David chuckled at that, maybe this wouldn’t be so bad after all...

#harry potter hogwarts mystery #hphm #jacob's sibling #david willows #judith harris #hphm mc #hphm oc #hufflepuff!mcs #hufflepuff!mc

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hailing-stars · 4 years ago

Text

@febuwhump day 12 who are you

the world minus one

summary

“Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Woo,” he says.

“Ha,” says Peter. He grins. “That rhymed.”

“I’ve been assigned to oversee your home detainment,” he tells him, flashing his card as if he were a magician, and they were at a magic show, instead of the most boring place on planet earth

Agent Jimmy Woo is assigned to oversee Peter's house arrest post far from home, and Peter's eyes see probation officer but his brain screams FRIEND.

Peter considers chopping his foot off.

Did he really need two feet? Maybe Mr. Stark could fashion him a prosthetic like he did for his own Infinity Gauntlet damaged arm, or maybe Peter could spend one of his annoyingly long days trapped inside this apartment figuring out how to do it himself.

He’s exiled to a much larger apartment than the one he and May share in Queens, but somehow, it still manages to be cramped and suffocating, as if the air there was thick and might smother him before the boredom drove him up the walls.

That is if his ankle monitor doesn’t choke the life out of him first.

He pulls at it, itching at it from his place sitting in the middle of the living room floor, when the doorbell rings and Peter stops, he frowns. Mr. Stark isn’t expected to visit him today, and May isn’t due for dinner until a couple of hours.

With a sigh, he stands and walks across his apartment. He opens the door to an unfamiliar face wearing a familiar and unwelcome FBI jacket.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Agent Woo,” he says.

“Ha,” says Peter. He grins. “That rhymed.”

“I’ve been assigned to oversee your home detainment,” he tells him, flashing his card as if he were a magician, and they were at a magic show, instead of the most boring place on planet earth.

It’s an awkward moment. Him just standing there, in the hall, and Peter basks in his ability to make a Fed sweat.

“Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

“Are you a vampire?”

“...I’m sorry?”

“Vampires,” sighes Peter. “They have to be let in. Feds usually don’t wait for an invitation. Not used to one having manners.”

Peter walks away from the door, leaving it open, and hoping that’s enough of an invitation. It isn’t like he has a choice anyway.

Agent Woo shuts the door behind him, and something stabs at Peter. He’s being rude. His aunt taught him better than that, and there’s something about Agent Woo that Peter decides he likes. The magic trick, maybe.

Peter offers him coffee. Agent Woo looks over at the kitchen, which is admittedly a disaster zone, and politely declines.

“So, what’s your job?” asks Peter. He clears a space off of the dining room table for them to both sit down. “Making sure I’m not staging an escape attempt?”

“Basically, I’ll be dropping by from time to time, to ensure you’re behaving yourself,” says Agent Woo. “Tony Stark did bribe me to harass you about your online classes and that’s not typically part of my job description, I need the money for my children’s college -”

“-you have kids?”

“Not yet, but I plan to, and with the way the economy is-” Agent Woo pauses. “We’re really supposed to be talking about you.”

“I’m behaving myself,” says Peter. “I’m attending my online classes, and I’ve got no plans to take up a new identity and flee the country. Now back to you. Anyone special you’re planning on having these kids with? I need all the details.”

It’s true. He does.

There isn’t much entertainment in his life what with being locked up in an apartment, spending most of his days alone. It’s for May’s safety that they aren’t able to live together during his house arrest, during the massively long stretch of time before his trial, but that doesn’t mean Peter likes it.

Agent Woo spills something about a doctor before pausing a second time and getting back on track. He recites the same information Peter’s heard before. It’s really boring and a waste of time, but Peter supposes he’s got lots of it to waste, anyway.

“Any questions for me?” Agent Woo asks, once he’s finished with his spiel.

“Can you show me how to do that magic trick?”

“Maybe another time,” he tells him, then looks around. “You know, a lot of people in your situation find it helps to form a routine and create a clean living space. Waking up in the morning, showering, putting on normal clothes.”

Peter frowns at the sudden callout. “Who says pajamas aren’t normal?”

“Just offering some friendly advice.”

He stands, and heads for the door, telling him he’ll be by in a couple of weeks, when Peter feels the throbbing near his ankle.

“Agent Woo,” says Peter, before he gets to the door. “You wouldn’t, um, know how to loosen the ankle monitor? I may have been what Mr. Stark fondly refers to as tactless with the agent who put it on and they may have retaliated just a little bit.”

So, Agent Woo loosens the ankle monitor, and Peter, once he’s alone in the apartment, collapses on his couch and decides that he and Agent Woo are going to be friends, despite the unsolicited advice.

Peter’s prepared the next time Agent Woo visits.

Coffee is going, the apartment is clean, and he’s got five packs of playing cards laid out on the kitchen table. It had been a lot of whining on his part to convince Mr. Stark to drop everything and run to the store and buy them, but this is an emergency. A magic emergency.

He’s also ordered a pizza, and it arrives just as Agent Woo starts his regular round of checkup, interrogation questions.

“Oh, that’s the pizza,” says Peter, when the doorbell rings.

Agent Woo opens his mouth as Peter leaps up from his chair, but ultimately doesn’t say anything. Once Peter’s back to the kitchen table, he opens the box and lets the aroma fill the apartment.

“Want a slice?”

“That would be crossing professional bounds…” says Agent Woo. His voice trailed off. He stared at the pizza. “But that pizza looks really good, and I haven’t had lunch…”

Peter pushes the box closer to the FBI agent. Agent Woo grabs a slice, and official talk about Peter’s detainment falls to the wayside.

“Tell me about the doctor,” says Peter. “Is she pretty?”

Agent Woo obliges, and Peter begins to understand why Woo’s crushing on her so hard. She sounds kickass. And Peter’s rooting for them.

“You gotta ask her out, man,” says Peter. A string of melt cheese hangs off his mouth and swipes it away. “I mean, Agent Woo.”

The agent laughs, and by the time he leaves, Peter knows how to do the magic trick and almost no time was spent talking about his upcoming trial or the conditions of his house arrest.

Peter bleeds out on his living room floor.

He hadn’t meant to get stabbed. He hadn’t even meant to step out of his apartment, but it’s getting to him. The confinement. The crime happening below his apartment and he’s expected to sit by and let happen.

Mr. Stark is going to kill him, and he wouldn’t have called him if not for the pain, the unbearable pain of his skin stitching itself back together. Superpowered healing doesn’t come without it’s trauma.

To make matters worse, his doorbell rings, and he isn’t expecting anyone, so he knows it’s Agent Woo.

He inhales deep. He tries freeing his face from displaying the terrifying agony he’s experiencing in his leg, and he limps over to answer the door.

Agent Woo isn’t fooled. “Jesus Christ, is that blood?”

“Is that Delmar’s?” Peter momentarily forgets his situation when he spots the brown bag in Agent Woo’s hand, and when he smells the unforgetful aroma of Delmar’s Deli.

“Forget the sandwiches,” says Agent Woo. He walks into the apartment, helps Peter back to the couch, and places the bag on the coffee table. “What happened to you?”

“Don’t freak out,” he tells him. “I accidentally stabbed myself with a steak knife.”

Agent Woo stands, crosses his arms. “I’m supposed to believe you did that to yourself? On accident?”

“To be fair,” says Peter. “You’ve known me long enough to know that’s also extremely probable.”

“How could you do this,” says Agent Woo. He isn’t angry. His voice sounds the same as Mr. Sark’s had on the phone. Worried. Afraid for him, and what’s done, putting his own privilege of pretrial house arrest on the line for a few minutes fighting petty criminals. “You know what’s at stake if you break the rules.”

“I know,” says Peter, softly. “I’m sorry.”

“We need to put pressure on that.”

Agent Woo disappears from his sight and returns with a towel he carefully ties around Peter’s leg wound.

“Are you sure you don’t need a hospital?”

Peter shakes his head. “Spider healing will work it’s magic.”

He closes his eyes and tries to block out the pain, and when that doesn’t work, he decides a distraction is what he needs.

“Tell me about Dr. Lewis,” he says, through a grimace. “Have you asked her out yet?”

Agent Woo sits on the couch next to him. “Not yet.”

“You gotta get on that,” says Peter. “Before someone else does.”

“I don’t know about that, Pete,” he tells him. “I don’t know if someone like her would say yes to someone like me.”

“Someone like you? Someone who’s a nice person? And likes all the same cheesy sit-coms as her?” asks Peter. “Dude, you two are perfect for each other. You’re gonna ask her, and she’s going to say something like geez, finally, I was waiting for you to get a clue, and then you’ll have little Dr. Lewis-Woos running around all over the place.” He stops, the pain stabs, and he keeps going. “She’d be lucky.”

“Thanks, Peter.”

“Anytime,” says Peter, his voice cracking. The edges of his vision blur, but he’s able to focus on the brown bag on the coffee table. “You really brought me Delmar’s?”

“Last time I was here you said how much you missed it.”

“Make a habit of doing favors for murders? Fun.”

The pain’s making him more bitter, more honest, more angsty about the fact that the entire world thinks he’s killed that clown Mysterio. Maybe that’s what his temporary escape is really about. Trying to prove that he’s good. That he’s against the crimes people say he’s committed.

“I know you’re not a murderer.”

The entire world minus one, he guesses, along with his friends and family.

“You believe me?”

“I’ve dealt with killers before,” says Agent Woo. “You’re not one of them.”

Peter feels lighter, better even in his leg, by the idea of someone like Agent Woo believing his innocence. Gives him hope maybe his house arrest will end with freedom instead of prison, like Mr. Stark has been telling him from the start.

His good feeling doesn’t last long, though, because Mr. Stark barges through the door and Peter’s spidey senses know he’s about to get a lecture.

“How could you be so stupid?”

“Mr. Stark -”

“-No,” says Mr. Stark. “No excuses. I’ve warned you over and over again. Where is it?”

Peter pulls the device he’d built to interfere with the ankle monitor out from his pocket, and hands it over to Mr. Stark, who breaks it.

“For a genius,” says Agent Woo, as he eyes the broken parts of the interference device. “You really lack common sense.”

Mr. Stark turns his attention to Agent Woo. “Look, Agent -”

“-I’m off duty,” says Agent Woo, standing up from the couch. “Just a guy bringing some sandwiches, and I’ve really got no reason to believe he didn’t slip and fall, uh, on a kitchen knife. Just… never again.”

Peter nods his head. “Okay, yeah, never again.”

Agent Woo leaves them, Mr. Stark softens and gives him his extra strength pain relievers, and Peter drifts off, but not before devouring the sandwiches he loves and dwelling on the tiny spark of hope Agent Woo offered to him.

Not everyone believes he's a murderer, and for that moment, it’s enough.

#febuwhumpday12 #Peter parker #house arrest #agent jimmy woo

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blueluneacy · 4 years ago

Text

Familiar Shore

Hey, so this is a commission for the lovey @lliminall! Thank you so much for commissioning me, it means a lot! This is a continuation of Black Ocean, so go check that out if you haven’t! It’s Bruno bucciarati x reader timeeee

Word Count: 2.8k Warnings: kidnapping, suicide, transformations, just general angst and comfort vibes

The ocean no longer had any color. It was like the moment you woke up on this terrible island, most everything lost color, the strange world you now found yourself in feeling small compared to the extent of the Labyrinth you once knew. You tended to sit by the ocean nowadays, watching the fish that swam up to the shores to see the strange being that liked to sit and watch them. When Bruno first dropped you in his little lair, some minor beasts that inhabited the ocean and the island, but it seemed that in the days that Bruno was gone, he quickly straightened them out. This place was strange in the sense that everyone seemed a lot more docile. You supposed that most people would have considered that ocean uncrossable and that the local wildlife wasn’t used to humans like yourself, leaving to strange circumstances, like finding that the many tailed foxes seemed to like your company, or that after giving some of the gray birds some of your dinner, they perched near you and cawed at the beasts that came towards you.

Of course, that’s not to say things were sunshine and roses. For example, Bruno was actually terrible. A few times you had tried to pull together a raft and get back to shore, only from Bruno to simply tear it apart and carry you back to your little island. A paradise, he called it. Yeah, what a paradise. And you had gone to Jurassic measures. You remembered waking up in that cave after doing something terrible, stepping out to find Bruno sobbing over your lifeless body. You actually felt bad enough to sigh, only for Bruno’s new keen ears to pick up on it and lunge back to you, thanking whatever Gods there were looking out for the two of you that they set your spawn to here, that you would be with him, that he wouldn’t lose you. You cursed those same gods.

But for now, Bruno seemed to leave you alone. Whether it was because he understood that you needed space and time to process this, or just because he was busy with who knows what, you weren’t sure. Maybe he needed a steady supply of torture to sustain him. It would make sense, the way beasts seem to just thrive on destroying any human being that they came into contact with. But, there was also another problem, one that plagued you. It had to be a lie, right? Bruno couldn’t have possibly actually… Turned into a beast, right? No, he had to be one beforehand. There’s no way that a human being could turn into a beast, and even so… Why would he? Bruno was kind and caring… Unless he wasn’t. Until he was completely deranged, dragging you under the depths until you passed out. You didn’t like to think about it, didn’t like to think about those eyes. You just closed your eyes, telling yourself in just another minute, you’d walk the fifty feet back to the cave you had now found as your home, finding the stone becoming increasingly more smooth, the terrible thing that was keeping here making it more homey day by day. What started off as a simple cave with furs on the ground now had furniture, actual walls, even a bed. You still preferred to sleep on the floor if it meant it kept Bruno from holding you. It didn’t.

After a few moments and a lot of convincing yourself to get up, solely just to eat and get some rest as you plotted your way out of this mess, you made your way over to the cave only to stop when you heard voices. One of them you recognized, Bruno, but there was someone actually responding to him. You swallowed, unable to help yourself from hiding at the edge of the cave to listen in to what they were saying.

“I just don’t know if I can make it work, is all. I mean, you’ve seen them. They’re horrified of… This.” Bruno spoke out, leaving the other beast just to scoff.

“They’re horrified that you’re no longer human. Something that you can’t change. Do you honestly believe that you can make them separate this idea of who you once were versus who you are now?” The other beast, for what other creature would be able to speak out with such calm in front of Bruno in the state that he was in now, replied, sounding simply skeptical.

“But you don’t understand, it’s not like I’ve changed. I’m still the same person, I just-”

“Happened to have turned into an eldritch horror beyond basic human comprehension now trapped in a liminal space shaped like a labyrinth. Good pitch.” He sounded so curt, leaving Bruno just to huff.

“I don’t know why I even bothered to ask you.”

“Because you knew I would be honest with you. It would be easiest if you just gave up on the human, Buccellati. Humans are odd, fragile, and emotional. You could easily find a nice beast girl to settle down if you really wanted.” He replied, leaving you just to… ponder. You never really thought of beasts actually speaking to each other, much less loving each other.

“You act as though we’re not humans.” Bruno replied sharply, leaving the other beast to sigh.

“You’re not. We’re not. Sure, maybe at one time, but there’s no way back. Who knows, maybe you and Dio can laugh over this one day.”

“He’s on the other side of the Labyrinth. Speaking of which, how are there other Beasts in this territory? I thought it was supposed to be mine.”

“Oh, only stronger beasts deal with things like territory. Pathetic ones like me, we don’t have that luxury. It’s easier to say you’re with the biggest guy in the room than to try and stake out your own claim in the world. Plenty of territories are filled with beasts that simply stick around for protection or just because they feel like it. I’m surprised you don’t have a line out the door with Beasts asking for your blessing to move in, this is prime real estate.”

“They’re too dangerous for my beloved to be around. I’m particular about the things that might feel too comfortable to try and hurt them.”

“If you’re choosey, then you really made a bad choice in letting me stay.”

“You don’t like humans. I figured you didn’t have the spine to break theirs.” You gasped at that, Bruno’s fine tuned ears finally picking up on your listening in to their conversation and standing up.

“Cara, you can come in. It’s rude to listen in.” He called out to you, leaving you to swallow as you stepped out into the low candlelight of the cave, making your way inside. You just stared at the ground, not wanting to respond for fear of… You weren’t really sure. Bruno didn’t tend to get mad at you, but you didn’t know anything about this other beast. When you caught a glimpse of him, you were a bit skeptical. While Bruno tended to hide his more… Er, Inhuman qualities, this other beast had no qualms about being comfortable. You saw how his silvery hair fell over his shoulders, his painted lips barely concealing rows of sharp teeth and neatly done nails actually claws.

“Tesoro, this is Leone Abbacchio. He’ll be staying near the Shore, so you may see him often.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to roll your eyes.

“Oh boy, another terrifying monster I get to live near! I’ll make sure to bake cookies for the house party.” You replied, leaving Bruno’s face just to set into a grimace while Abbacchio just smiled and rolled his eyes.

“I have no interest in humans, and much less one this scrappy.” He replied, standing up. It took a moment for his insult to click, but once it did, you were ready to fucking fight. Would you lose? Probably. But your honor. But, before you could get a word out, Abbacchio just brushed himself off of bits of sand that seemed to stick at his body, and turned to Bruno.

“I’ll let you two have your lovers quarrel in peace.” And with that, Abbacchio quickly was out of there, leaving you alone with Bruno, who just shook his head as he sat down, motioning for you to sit with him. You did not obey.

“Don’t just stand there, tesoro. Perhaps we should talk. I hate the idea that there’s something wrong with our relationship.” Bruno told you, leaving you just to scoff as you crossed your arms.

“It’s fundamentally wrong, because it’s based on a lie. Me being here isn’t because of love! It’s because of… Because you… I’m your prisoner, Bruno!” You didn’t know why tears were welling up in your eyes, why the pain hit your heart as you spoke the truth, but it did. Your dreams of escaping with Bruno to the outside world, outside of this hell, were crushed entirely. Everything was just a wreck, Bruno had lost it, and beyond it all, he still gave you a pang in your heart. Bruno just shook his head, standing up and you released how much taller than you he was. Was he always this much taller than you? Still, it didn’t matter, you didn’t have the chance to step away before Bruno wrapped his arms around you, holding you tight. It was possessive, but his hand came behind your head, pressing your face into his chest. You gasped as you released he still smelled the same as before, of coastal air and cypress.

“I… I don’t care about that, (Y/n). I can’t lose you, not like everyone else. Please, just stay with me. If I lose you, I know… I know I’ll become like the rest of them. Please, I really do love you. Don’t you love me back?” Bruno’s voice was shaking, as if he were about to cry. You had the instinct to try and comfort him, holding yourself back the best you could.

“I… I don’t know anymore. It feels like… I’m haunted by you at this point. This person you once were and the… Thing you are now.” You replied, leaving Bruno just to sigh and let you go.

“I… But I haven’t changed. I haven’t hurt a single human. If anything, I’m safest out here. No one could possibly come out here, it’ll just be you and me. We can make the life you spoke about here, we can get married and have a family-”

“Bruno, no! We can never have that! You know that! Deep down in your heart, you know that just as well as I do, that this will never work! Even before... “ You looked away, hoping to find some sense of reality in a pace that seems to lack it. God, this was terrible. “We were just chasing after affection, weren’t we? Did we really love each other, or were we just so lonely that we didn’t know what to do and threw ourselves at the idea of human contact?” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“(Y/n), do you remember how you entered into the Labyrinth?”

“I…. What?” That was out of nowhere. You wondered if maybe he was trying to change the subject, but nonetheless, you shrugged and decided to answer.

“I don’t remember. I was walking through the woods one day, and it was like I got lost… Well, lost forever. I don’t really… Know what I did to deserve all of this.” You replied, leaving Bruno to sigh.

“Is there something back in your old life so pressing that you have to return to it? Is the world outside better than something we could build?” Bruno asked. You wanted to argue so bad, but he was right in a way. There really was nothing that you had going for you back at home. You would go back to work, live your boring, mundane life, but…

“You’re holding me hostage here, Bruno.”

“I’m protecting you. (Y/n), there’s no way out of the Labyrinth unless you have someone from the outside to pull you out. There’s no exit. That is the main secret of the Labyrinth.” He told you, his voice serious, and you knew he was telling the truth.

“I-I… T-Then, what were we searching for all that time?! Why were we… What kind of torture is all this?!” You replied, shaking a bit. You didn’t notice the way your hands were starting to fade and distort, but you didn’t care. “What kind of being would create such a terrible place?!”

“I… I don’t know, tesoro. I really don’t know. But… If there’s no one outside looking for you, you have to understand. Travelling back to the main portion of the Labyrinth is…” He didn’t have to say it. It was a death sentence, a world of torture waiting to happen. You just collapsed, feeling yourself collapse into a pile as you sobbed, trying to find some way, some reason for your entire existence here. You wanted to believe this was a lie, you really did, but something about Bruno’s tone.... How did he even learn this? Did that other beast tell him? Maybe it was just a lie that that beasts told, and Abbacchio knew that Bruno would try to be a sap with you. Torture by proxy. But still… Bruno’s hand hit your back, rubbing it gently as he sat down next to you.

“I… I know. Apparently… Every Beast that is in the Labyrinth was once a human being. One that was never saved.” He told you, leaving you just to go silent. You looked at your hands, the twisting of your own flesh and the accenting of claws that you had been telling yourself was just your nails growing jagged from lack of care. You turned to Bruno, lip quivering.

“I’m just haunted by the ghost of the person I thought I loved, and I don’t know if that person truly is you, or if he was killed in the fire.” You whispered, almost hoping that Bruno wouldn’t hear it. He just pulled you closer, wiping away your tears.

“I… I honestly don’t know. I feel like I am the same person, but who knows. I don’t know what has changed about me, and what hasn’t. All I know is… (Y/n), you keep me whole. You keep me… Good. I can’t explain it. I know you loved that person before, but… Could you ever be able to love me too?” He asked, leaving you just to look at the ground.

“I… I think so. I…” Your eyes just welled up with tears again as you grabbed onto Bruno, sobbing. You mourned for him, for yourself, for the hell that dozens were put through.

“What’s going to happen to me, Bru? Am I going to become a monster?” You asked, leaving the man to just pet your hair, hushing you.

“No matter what you become, you’re still going to be mia cara. And I’ll always love you, no matter what. I promise.” He told you. You looked up, letting your hand run along his cheek as you pressed your lips against his for the first time in forever. And he wasn’t warm the way he once was, but the kiss was still real, and his lips were still soft. When he pulled away, Bruno just held you in his arms, the two of you sharing a soft moment as you both tried to process the new reality that had come upon you. This was now the world you lived in, a world of Beasts and humans who would someday become beasts. If there were gods, they were only malevolent.

“I… I really do love you, (Y/n). I want a life with you. Even if it has to be in this hell, I really do mean what I meant. I think we could create a paradise here. A place just for us, forever.” He told you, and in your week state, you just nodded, letting Bruno hold you as you closed your eyes.

“I… I love you too. I’ve always loved you.” You told him, feeling your eyes get heavy as you cuddled up with Bruno. You looked into his eyes again, seeing that blue you had fallen in love with in the beginning, the Fisherman’s son who was determined to get home, with that serious look on his face, but full of hope. His eyes still had hope, though. For some reason, that seemed to comfort you, seemed to make you feel like things… Might be okay. Maybe not now, but someday.

For the last time that night, you dreamed of that idyllic life you once wanted with Bruno, in the old world on the ocean, a family and kids and peace. When you awakened in the arms of the beast, you were finally ready to throw it away.

#bruno bucciarati x reader #bruno bucciarati/reader #writing #My writing #mine #sfw #yandere x reader #yandere/reader #jjba imagines #jjba x reader #jjba/reader #commission #labyrinth au

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cali-holland · 4 years ago

Text

Golden Hearts, Ch. 2: Martinis, Girls, and Guns

Harrison Osterfield X Reader, James Bond AU ~ Sequel to Golden Bullets

Following a messy split, Harrison, Agent 007, resumes his role as an elite womanizer, after his recovery from his previous mission; meanwhile, you’ve stepped back from your 00 status, taking on cases as MI6’s assistant director from your office. When a new threat emerges to MI6 and a dear friend gets kidnapped, can you and Harrison set aside your differences to save special agent Q, better known as Tom? Or will the stakes- and your love, push you two further apart?

Word Count: 3800

Gif is not mine

Golden Hearts Masterlist

Masterlist Harrison Osterfield Masterlist

Let me know if you want to be added to the series tag list

Warnings: sexual themes, maybe some swearing, harry and harrison and reader all being jealous idiots

Featured Song: “Tomorrow Never Dies” by Sheryl Crow from Tomorrow Never Dies (1997)

~ “You're not the only spy out there, It's so deadly my dear, The power of wanting you near”

A/N: Special shoutout to @duskholland for helping me come up with ways to write “sensual” scenes and to @allegra-writes for helping me learn more about the tango (which idk if this even counts lmao, don’t hate me yall it’s just a steamy dance). Also, the tango sequence was inspired by an episode of Chuck... but idk if anyone’s seen that.

~~~

“She’s not coming.” Harrison said, irritation clear in his voice as he stepped out of his BMW. Leaning against his own car, Harry grabbed his duffel bag from his feet with a frown.

“But you said you could convince her.” Harry answered, and the blond shrugged, running a hand through his hair. He went around to the back of his car and opened up the trunk for him to get out his two bags.

“I thought wrong.” He muttered. With their bags slung over their shoulders, they made their way across the tarmac to the jet that they were absolutely legally borrowing from MI6.

“We’ll just have to go on without her.” Harry paused, “I still think maybe I could’ve-“

“Harry, don’t take this wrong, but if I couldn’t convince her, then no one could.” Harrison stated definitively.

“Why’s that?” The younger agent asked, his eyebrows furrowing as he tried to understand the sudden irritation in his friend.

“No reason.” He replied, biting his tongue. With Harry following him, he entered the jet’s cabin. Harrison shuffled to put away his two bags, one full of weapons and one of his actual things.

“I’ll get the jet ready.” Harry stated, setting his bag in a seat. As he made his way to the cockpit, Harrison noticed a fourth black duffel bag in the cabin. He eyed it suspiciously, but, before he could question it, he heard his friend speak again. “You’re here!”

“You think I’d leave saving Tom to you two divs?” You questioned with a laugh from the pilot’s seat as the surprised Harry took a seat in the copilot’s seat.

Harrison stepped into the doorway of the cockpit, looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face; like he too was surprised you were here, but also like he was proud that you had come. You smiled softly at him, “I thought I should save the person who’s the reason that we’re alive today.”

Registering your words as a repeat of his own, he couldn’t help the fond smile that crossed his face. “Get this thing in the air, yeah?”

“Prepare for takeoff.” You told him, before turning to the controls before you. With your back turned to him, you missed the bittersweet look on his face as he eyed you over one last time before he left for the cabin.

The air was silent between you and Harry while you two got the jet ready for takeoff. You weren’t quite sure what to say about the delicate situation that was this new, top secret mission, so you did your best, “We’ll find him, Harry.”

“I hope so.” Harry mumbled, trying to keep his focus on the jet and his emotions under control.

“He’ll be alright. He can handle himself out there.”

With the jet cruising on autopilot, you followed Harry out of the cockpit to find Harrison hunched over his laptop, checking Tom’s encrypted message again. You weren’t sure how many times he’d examined the message, but yet again you weren’t sure how many times you repeatedly looked at the images until you stumbled upon a discovery last night.

Seeing him look at the one image in particular of the one man who the database could not identify yesterday, you sat down across from him, simply stating, “His name’s Mr. White.”

“Mr. White? Didn’t 009 detain him three years ago for involvement in S.P.E.C.T.R.E.?” Harrison asked, glancing up from his computer to look at you. Whether subconsciously or not, he sat up straighter, his shoulders back with meaning.

“Yes, and, since we had little to no evidence of major involvement, MI6 released him on parole. Last known file was that he was dying from thallium poisoning, and guess where he went to live out the rest of his days.”

“Spain.” Harry answered.

“Barcelona to be exact.” You stated. “And, according to MI6’s database, Mr. White’s back profile matches that of the mystery man in Tom’s photos.”

“So you think White took Tom?”

“Yes.” You nodded, definitively. “White’s our best lead right now. Besides, M has suspicions that Oberhauser has returned, and, if he has, then he’ll be looking to regroup S.P.E.C.T.R.E. with White.”

“Oberhauser’s dead.” Harrison argued, his eyes narrowing at you.

“It wouldn’t be the first time MI6 has mistaken a case.”

“This Mr. White,” Harry trailed off, “How do you suppose we find him if he is in Barcelona?”

“He has a mansion just outside of the city.” You replied, a proud smile on your lips. “I hope you two brought your dancing shoes because we’ve got a party to crash tonight.”

~~~

Light streamed in through the open window, perfectly angled to strike in your sleepy eyes. You shuffled awake, rolling over away from the window. Your eyes peaked open, and you smiled at the site before you.

With his hair a mess and his lips parted enough that a bit of drool was slipping out, the fast asleep Harrison was your favorite thing to wake up to. Feeling your shift in the bed, he subconsciously tugged you into him with his arm wrapped around your waist. You smiled to yourself, feeling his feet nudge your legs; even asleep, he wanted to be as close to you as possible. Ever so gently, you reached a hand up to run through his hair as you tried to memorize every detail of his face. Your hand slowly shifted downwards, running over his puffed out lips.

“Why are you staring at me?” He mumbled against your fingers, eyes still closed tight.

“You’re drooling.” You teased, your finger running over the small wet spot in the corner of his mouth. Blindly, he puckered his lips out to kiss your hand, making you laugh.

Harrison chuckled as he opened his eyes and shifted closer to you to give you a proper good morning kiss. Caving into him, you rolled onto your back and his lips chased yours, never breaking the kiss while he climbed on top of you. You let out a moan, one of your legs wrapping around his hips.

The moment his fingers began to lazily tug on the hem of your t-shirt, which was really his, his phone began to buzz with the sound of his alarm. At first, neither of you made an effort to turn it off, enjoying the simplicity of each other’s embrace, but, as it continued, Harrison regretfully pulled his lips from yours.

“I need to get going.” He mumbled, moving off of you to reach his phone.

“Do you really have to go?” You asked, and he let out a small laugh.

“Duty calls.” He leaned over and gave you one last kiss before he climbed out of the bed. You sat up against the pillows, white bed sheets falling around you. You watched with a small frown on your face as he moved about your room, collecting his clothes for the new day. Your eyes drifted over to the luggage at the front door. He was off on another mission in Luxembourg this time… or maybe it was Switzerland. Ever since you stepped back from your 00 position, you had a hard time keeping up with it.

“What if you didn’t go?” Your voice was so quiet that Harrison almost thought he had imagined the whisper. Tugging on his white button up, he looked at you with a lopsided smile.

“Love, you know I have to. Besides, it’s only a week. I’ll be back from Austria before you know it.” He answered. He could sense that there was something unsure in your voice, and he gingerly sat on the bed beside you, his blue eyes searching for an answer in yours.

“Runaway with me.” You said faintly, but definitively, as your hand clasped his, “Let’s go somewhere, somewhere where it’s just us. No more sneaking around, no more MI6, no more missions, none of it.”

Harrison looked at you for a moment, and you could see him going through his options in his head. Instead of saying anything, he just pressed his lips to yours tenderly. He pulled back and rested his forehead against yours, “I’d follow you anywhere. Just let me do this mission first.”

“I love you.” A small smile slipped past your lips as you tried to contain the eager feeling inside you.

“I know.” He answered, flashing you that signature smirk.

“Y/N, come on, you gotta wake up.” Harry’s voice pulled you from your dream, or rather another memory, as he shook your shoulder lightly.

“Yes?” You mumbled, blinking your eyes open.

“Harrison’s starting the descent now. We’re here.” He explained. As you took a moment to clear your head, he studied you curiously. “Were you having a bad dream?”

“Not at all.” You gave him your best smile, but he could still register the uneasiness in your figure.

You wouldn’t call it a bad dream, per se. It was just a rather sad thing to think about now. That morning two months ago was the last morning you were truly happy and it was the last morning you spent with the one person that you wanted to wake up to every morning.

Figuring it’d be best to change the topic, Harry did just that. “While you were sleeping, I got the three of us rooms at the hotel closest to White’s mansion. MI6 has no blueprints of his house, but it’s secluded enough that-”

“That Tom might be there?” You finished his thought for him, and he nodded, biting his lip nervously.

“That’s the hope.” He replied.

“Did you two come up with a plan too?” You asked, and he nodded again.

“White will most likely have cameras everywhere and guards in areas where we can’t go. If I can get to his computer, I can hack the security system to search for Tom.” Harry explained.

“And what would Harrison and I do?”

“Keep an eye on White and watch for any trouble in the ballroom.” He stated. At his words, a smile of admiration came across your face. He didn’t sound like the cocky wannabe 00 agent anymore; no, he sounded like a true MI6 special agent. “What’s that look for?”

“You’re really coming into your title, 003.” You teased, making a small blush hit his cheeks.

“I learned from the best.” Harry winked cheekily.

Just a few hours later, the three of you were settled into your individual hotel rooms that Harry had acquired. You busied yourself with getting cleaned up for tonight, trying your best to not think about the fact that Harry’s plan ignored the very fact that it’d entail for you and Harrison to spend actual time together. You couldn’t really blame him though; he was oblivious to the history between the two of you. All he knew was that he was on a mission to save his brother with MI6’s best. And, for the sake of Tom and Harry, you needed to remain focused tonight.

“Are you sure you don’t want me to help you out tonight?” Harrison asked as soon as Harry stepped out of his hotel room.

“I don’t need help. Tom taught me how to hack; it’ll be a breeze.” Harry reassured his friend. He adjusted his cufflinks while they made their way down the hall to your room. Laughing a little, he inquired, “Why do you keep asking? Do you not want to be on White watch with Y/N?”

“I wouldn’t say-” He started, but the curly haired boy walking beside him cut him off.

“You’ve got a thing for her, don’t you?” Voicing the speculation that had been brewing in his mind for the past few hours, Harry had an accusatory sense about his words as they came to a stop in front of your door. He looked at Harrison with questioning eyes.

“No, definitely not.” Harrison just about scoffed in response. Defensively, he turned to Harry, “Do you have a thing for her?”

“No.” Harry answered too quickly for his own liking. They stood like that for a moment, staring at each other with suspicious eyes, as if they were silently daring the other to move.

It was Harry who caved first, turning to open your door with the keycard. With the door wide open, Harry and Harrison stood frozen staring at you as you had a leg up on the footrest, strapping your heel in place. You looked over at them, questioningly, “Is there a problem?”

Both boys shook their heads and stepped inside, the door shutting behind them. You switched your feet to put on your other shoe, trying to pay no mind to the two sets of prying eyes across the room. You completely knew you were showing a little in a dress perfectly tailored to your body, cutouts along your torso to emphasize all the right places, complete with a deep v neck and a high leg slit. With your heels on- specially equipped with your favorite secret knife stilettos, you stood to your full height to look at Harrison and Harry properly. You’d be lying if you said your eyes didn’t immediately catch onto Harrison and his tight, yet perfect fitting tux. The dark navy blue ever so slightly highlighted his eyes even more. Noticing your gaze on him, his lips twitched into a small smirk, and you immediately turned around to the set of ear pieces on your hotel desk.

“Here.” You handed them their ear pieces, and all of three of you put them in.

“Are you ready?” Harry asked you.

“Just about.” You said, slipping a couple lipsticks into your bag.

“I’ve missed those.” Harrison stated. He’d recognize those gold and silver lipsticks anywhere. Harry looked at him, raising his eyebrows curiously. “Gold are grenades, silver are tranq darts.”

“Genius.” He replied in awe.

You quickly applied one final touch up of your own lipstick, nothing special, before looking at them with a nod. “Ready.”

Riding in the classically styled Aston Martin DB5 from MI6, the three of you arrived to White’s party and easily blended into the crowd of people. The ballroom was busy, packed with people dressed to the nines. Splitting up, you all mingled your way around the room, taking in as much surveillance as you could.

“Two guards at the south exit.” Harry murmured into his ear piece.

“And two at the east exit.” Harrison added quietly.

“The west exit has three.” You mumbled. “Something’s got to be hiding back there.”

While you stationed yourself by the live band, pretending to be interested in their music, Harrison made his way to the bar, his personal favorite vantage point. He slid into his seat, eyes scanning the bar as a bartender approached him.

“Martini. Shaken, not stirred.” He ordered and you bit back an eye roll at his words.

“Keeping it classy, I see.” You said through the ear piece.

“Love, you know I can’t say no to a martini.” He replied, a cocky smirk resting on his face.

“Champagne?” Harry asked, holding out a flute of the golden liquid to you as he came to stand beside you, effectively drawing your attention away from Harrison.

“Thank you.” You took the flute from his hand and swirled it lightly.

“I didn’t poison it.” He joked before taking a sip of his own.

“She’s not a fan of champagne.” Harrison’s voice came through your ear piece. You glanced over at the bar to see him watching you and Harry, his fingers wrapped around his martini glass. Never breaking eye contact with him, you drank the bubbly champagne down in one quick motion.

“There’s White.” Harry pointed out, spotting the host across the room. “He’s out here, so I’m going in.”

“Be careful.” You said quietly. You watched him as he disappeared through the crowd. While you had faith in your former trainee, that didn’t mean you couldn’t still be concerned about him.

“Don’t worry about him.” You heard Harrison say through the ear piece and also behind you. You turned to see him standing there, half- full martini glass in his hands.

“I thought you were staking out by the bar.” You motioned to the drink in his hand, and he smiled before finishing it off.

“The view’s much better over here.” He took your empty flute from your hands and placed it on a waiter’s tray, right beside his own now empty glass. The waiter moved along swiftly. “You know what the best way to survey a room is?”

You crossed your arms in front of your chest, shaking your head at him, already knowing his suggestion. “Not here.”

“Dancing.” Harrison sent you his signature smirk, his hands reaching to unravel your arms. “Come on, remember Argentina?”

“I do remember, but we can’t exactly tango in Spain.” But it was too late as he pulled you out onto the dancefloor, just as the musicians picked up their tempo with a new song.

“Sure we can.” He winked. Despite your protests, you still let him take one of your hands in his and rest his other hand on your waist, holding you close enough that you could smell the martini in his breath. To prove his point, he spun you in time with the music. He tried to take the lead, but you wouldn’t let him off that easily as the two of you danced and spun around the dancefloor; hips, feet, arms, all of you moving together in a fluid motion. With his warm hands trailing over the open slits in your dress, he quietly breathed out, “I see you’re still a great dancer.”

“You’re a little rusty.” You answered, your chest pushed against his. Your eyes briefly scanned the room, looking at the security guards at the exits and White. “Aren’t we supposed to be observing the room?”

“I am observing.” He argued, and you narrowed your eyes at him, stepping with him in time to the musician’s beats, your legs brushing against his sensually.

“Observing White, not me.”

“He’s not nearly my type.” He joked, his smile beaming as he looked at you. You went out for a spin again, but when you came in this time, you brought your leg up, hitching it to his waist with ease, thanks to the slit. Instinctively, Harrison’s hand grabbed under your thigh, his calloused fingers running over your smooth skin. His other hand splayed across your bare back, holding you up as he dipped you down quickly.

“White’s on the move.” You whispered to him when you were brought back up, your leg still clinging to him tightly.

“I’m watching him.” Harrison mumbled back to you, before dipping you again. This time, he dipped with you, drinking you in with his nose tickling your collarbone and trailing up your neck until his eyes were level with his. It wasn’t until then, under his electrifying stare, that you realized just how fast your own heart was racing. Still holding you tightly in the dipped position, Harrison darted his eyes down to your lips, and, for a split moment, you weren’t even sure if you’d mind if he kissed you right then.

“Harrison?” A voice asked from in front of him. His head darted up to see the stranger that somehow knew him.

“Madeleine?” He brought you back up to a standing position. His hands immediately dropped from your side, and you stepped away from him to see the stranger. You felt yourself stand a bit taller seeing the other woman before you. This Madeleine was by all means a standard model looking woman- tall, thin, fragile features, and a beautifully simple periwinkle silk dress.

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here. How are you?” She asked with a genuine smile, and you quickly picked up on a slight French accent when she spoke with a hint of an Austrian accent.

“I’m good, yeah. And you?” Harrison replied, almost nervously. You glanced between him and Madeleine, confused by the exchange occurring, and that’s when you saw it. The small spark in Harrison’s eyes as he looked at her, a spark that was once reserved for you. You felt an unfamiliar feeling begin to twist in your gut.

“Never been better.” She smiled, and even her smile was perfect. She looked over at you, laughing a little. “I’m so sorry, I should introduce myself. I’m Madeleine Swann. I met Harrison back in Austria.”

“Y/N.” You answered, shaking her hand gracefully, despite that feeling growing inside you. Austria. Of course it had to be that mission.

“What are you doing here? In Spain?” Harrison asked her with a smile.

“This is my father’s party.” Madeleine explained and you bit back your surprise. “We haven’t talked in years, though, so I’m not quite sure why he invited me tonight.”

Before the conversation could carry on further, Harry’s voice came through the ear piece that you almost forgot was in, “I’m coming back out. I checked every bit of his system and Tom’s not here.”

“I’ll let you two catch up. I really should be going.” You told Madeleine and Harrison, who sent you a quick nod.

“It was lovely to meet you.” Madeleine called after you before you could fully walk away. You gave her one last fake smile and turned to go find Harry in the crowd. Just as you saw the familiar head of curls through the sea of people, you heard a sharp scream from the other side of the room, sending the civilians into a frenzy as they tried to run away. Through the commotion, Harry managed to reach you.

“What happened?” You asked him, and Harrison ran up to the two of you with a distressed Madeleine behind him.

“White’s dead.” Harrison stated. “We need to leave.” You glanced over at Madeleine, and he reached to grab her hand, “We can trust her. She comes with us.”

“We don’t have time to debate it.” Harry said, pointing towards the armed security as they drew their weapons. Quickly, the four of you ran with the crowd of terrified guests back to your cars.

“I’ll go with Madeleine to get her car. Rendezvous at the hotel.” Harrison announced, not giving you or Harry time to react before the two of them disappeared into the crowd.

You and Harry ran back to the DB5 as fast you could. He slipped into the driver’s seat, and you took one last glance back at the chaos leaving the party. You felt your breath catch in your throat as you saw the one person you thought you’d never see alive again.

“Y/N, come on!” Harry urged, pulling you from your thoughts. Shaking your head, you got into the car.

No. There was no way you just saw him.

~~~

General Tag List: @viagracex @theamazingtomholland @Hellomoveonby @heyitsshrez @harrisonosterfieldhazmyheart @joyleenl @t-o-m-holland @lonikje @sleepybesson @sunkisseddreamer @hollandsamor @in-a-lot-of-fandoms-tbh @gorillaglue23 @petersoftboyparker @musicalkeys

Harrison Tag List: @Calhtlland @tomkindholland @where-art-thau-romeo

Original Series Tag List: @quinjetboi @baby-haz @kickingn-ames @rougese7en @hollandsosterfield @nj01 @it-is-rebel-owl-ma-dudes @spencerreidxoxo @duskholland

#harrison osterfield #harrison osterfield x you #harrison osterfield x reader #harrison osterfield imagine #harrison osterfield x y/n #harrison osterfield series #harrison osterfield fic

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